Dissolution

'Nothing is straightforward there, certainly.' I indicated Mark. 'My assistant.'

He nodded briefly. 'Come through to my study. You will take some refreshment? I think the Devil himself has sent this weather. Are you kept warm at the monastery?'

'The monks have fires in every chamber.'

'Oh, I don't doubt that, sir. I don't doubt it at all.'

He led us down the hall to a cosy room with a view of the street, and cleared papers from stools before the fire. 'Let me pour you both some wine. Forgive the disorder, but the paperwork I have from London… the minimum wage, the poor laws…' he sighed. 'And I am required to provide reports of any treasonable mutterings. Fortunately there are few of those in Scarnsea, but sometimes my informers make them up and I have to investigate words that were never said. At least it means people realize they have to be careful.'

'I know Lord Cromwell sleeps easier knowing there are true men such as yourself in the shires.' Copynger nodded gravely at the compliment. I sipped the wine. 'This is excellent, sir, thank you. Now, time presses. There are matters on which I would welcome information.'

'Anything I can do. Master Singleton's murder was an insult to the king. It cries out for vengeance.'

It should have been a relief to have the company of a fellow reformer, but I confess I did not take to Copynger. Although the Justices were indeed burdened with an ever-greater workload from London on top of their judicial duties, they did well from it. It has ever been the custom for Justices to profit from their functions, and more duties meant more profit even in a poor town, as Copynger's wealth bore witness. To me his ostentation sat ill with his humourless, pious air. But that was the new type of man we were breeding in England then.

'Tell me,' I asked, 'how are the monks regarded in the town?'

'They are loathed for the leeches they are. They do nothing for Scarnsea, they don't come into the town unless they have to and then they are haughty as the Devil. The charity they give is tiny and the poor have to walk to the monastery on dole days to get even that. It leaves the main burden of maintaining the indigent on the ratepayers.'

'They have a beer monopoly, I believe.'

'And charge an extortionate price. Their beer is filthy stuff, hens roost in their brewhouse and drop dung in the brew.'

'Yes, I saw that. It must be vile indeed.'

'And no one else may sell beer.' He spread his arms wide. 'They milk their lands too, for all they can get. Don't let anyone say monks are easy landlords. Things are worse since Brother Edwig took over as bursar; he would skin a flea for the fat on its arse.'

'Yes, I believe he would. Speaking of the monastery's finances, you reported to Lord Cromwell there had been land sales at undervalue.'

He looked crestfallen. 'I fear I have no details. I'd heard rumours, but word got out I'd been making enquiries, and now the big landowners keep their doings from my ears.'

I nodded. 'And who are they?'

'Sir Edward Wentworth is the biggest hereabouts. He's in close with the abbot, for all he's related to the Seymours. They go hunting together. There have been rumours among the tenantry that monastery lands have been sold to him secretly and the abbot's steward now collects rents on Sir Edward's behalf, but I've no way of finding out for certain, it's beyond my authority.' He frowned crossly. 'And the monastery owns land far and wide, even out of the county. I am sorry, Commissioner. If I had more authority…'

I thought a moment. 'It may be stretching my brief, but as I have power to investigate all matters involving the monastery I think I could extend that to enquiring about land sales they have made. What if you were to renew your enquiries on that basis? Invoke Lord Cromwell's name?'

He smiled. 'A request in that name would bring them running. I will do what I can.'

'Thank you. It could be important. By the way, I believe Sir Edward is cousin to Brother Jerome, the old Carthusian at the monastery?'

'Yes, Wentworth's an old papist. I hear that the Carthusian speaks open treason. I'd have him hanged from the cloth-hall steeple.'

I thought a moment. 'Tell me, if you did hang Brother Jerome from the steeple, how would the townsfolk react?'

'They'd have a feast day. As I said, the monks are hated. This is a poor town now and the monks make it poorer. The port is so silted up you can hardly get a rowboat through.'

'So I have seen. I hear some have turned to smuggling. According to the monks, they use the marshes behind the monastery to get to the river. Abbot Fabian tells me he has complained, but the town authorities wink at it.'

At once Copynger's face was watchful. 'The abbot will say anything to make trouble. It's a matter of resources, sir. There is but one revenue man and he cannot be out watching the ways through those marshes every night.'

'According to one of the monks there has been activity out there recently. The abbot suggested it may have been smugglers who broke in and killed Singleton.'