Dissolution

He gave me directions and I plodded off, the snow creaking under my overshoes. The precinct was much quieter today, people and dogs keeping indoors. The more I thought, the more I considered only an expert swordsman would have had the confidence to step out behind Singleton and strike off his head. I could not imagine any of the people I had seen managing it. The abbot was a big man, and so was Brother Gabriel, but swordsmanship was a craft for gentlemen, not monks. Thinking of Gabriel, I remembered the cook's words. They puzzled me; the sacrist had not struck me as the kind of man to hang around a kitchen to steal food.

I looked around the snowy courtyard. The road to London would be impassable now; it was not pleasant to reflect that Mark and I were more or less trapped here, with a murderer. I realized that unconsciously I had been walking in the centre of the courtyard, as far as possible from shadowy doorways. I shivered. It was strange walking alone through this white silence under the high walls and it was with a sense of relief that I saw Bugge by the gate, shovelling a path through the snow with the help of another servant.

As I approached the gatekeeper looked up, red-faced with effort. His companion, a stocky young man with a face disfigured by warty growths, smiled nervously and bowed. Both had been working hard, and gave off a vile stink.

'Good morning, sir,' Bugge said. His tone was unctuous; doubtless he had been ordered to treat me with respect.

'Cruel weather.'

'Indeed it is, sir. Winter is come early again.'

'Now we are met, I would like to ask about your night-time routine.'

He nodded, leaning on his shovel. 'The whole precinct is patrolled twice every night, at nine and three-thirty. Either me or David here makes a complete round, checking every door.'

'And the gates? Are they locked at night?'

'Every night at nine. And opened at nine in the morning, after Prime. Not a dog could get in here when the gates are shut.'

'Not a cat,' the boy added. His eyes were sharp; he might be ugly but he was no fool.

'Cats can climb,' I suggested. 'And so can people.'

A touch of truculence appeared in the gatekeeper's face. 'Not a twelve-foot wall, they can't. You've seen it, sir, it's sheer; no one could scale it.'

'The wall is secure all round the monastery?'

'Except at the back. It's crumbled in places there, but it gives straight onto the marsh. No one would go wading through that, especially at night. People have taken a wrong step and disappeared over their heads in the mud-' he lifted a hand and pushed it down – 'glug.'

'If no one can get in, why do you patrol?'

He leaned close. I recoiled from his stench, but he seemed not to mind. 'People are sinful, sir, even here.' His manner became confidential. 'Things were very lax in the days of the old prior. When Prior Mortimus came, he ordered the night patrols, anyone out of bed reported straight to him. And that's what I do. Without fear or favour.' He smiled happily.

'What about the night of Commissioner Singleton's murder? Did you see anything that might indicate someone might have broken in?'

He shook his head. 'No, sir, I'll swear all was as it should have been between three-thirty and four-thirty, I made that round myself. I tried the courtyard door to the kitchen as usual and it was locked. I saw the commissioner, though.' He nodded self-importantly.

'Yes, I heard you did. Where?'

'On my round. I was passing through the cloister when I saw something moving and called out. It was the commissioner, fully dressed.'

'What was he about at that hour?'

'He said he had a meeting, sir.' He smiled, enjoying the attention. 'He said if I met any of the brethren and they said they were on their way to see him, I was to let them pass.'

'So he was on his way to meet someone!'

'I would say so. He was near enough the kitchens, as well.'

'What time was this?'

'I'd say about a quarter past four. I was near the end of my round then.'

I nodded at the great bulk behind us. 'Is the church locked at night?'

'No sir, never. But I went round it as usual before checking the cloister, and all was normal. Then I was back in my house at half-past four. Prior Mortimus has given me a little clock,' he said proudly, 'and I always check the time. I slept a little, leaving David on watch, then I was woken by the great hue and cry at five.'

'So Commissioner Singleton was on his way to meet one of the monks. It does seem then that the great crime committed here a week ago was the work of a monk.'

He hesitated. 'I say no one broke in, that's all I know. It's impossible.'

'Not impossible, but unlikely, I agree.' I nodded. 'Thank you, Master Bugge, you have been most helpful.' I set my staff before me and turned away, leaving them once more to their labours.

***