Dissolution

'Well then, you have one friend.'

She nodded. 'Yes, he is a good man.'

'Tell me, Alice, did you ever hear of a girl who worked here before you, a girl named Orphan?

'I heard she took some gold cups and ran away. I do not blame her.'

I decided to say nothing of Goodwife Stumpe's fears; I did not wish to worry Alice further. I felt an overpowering urge to rise and clasp her to my breast, to ease the ache of loneliness in us both. I fought it down.

'Perhaps you too could leave,' I suggested diffidently. 'You did once, when you went to work for the apothecary in – Esher, was it not?'

'I would leave this place if I could, all the more after what has happened these last ten days. It is full of dusty old men and there is neither love nor warmth in their ceremonies. And I wonder still over what poor Simon meant about warning me.'

'Yes, so do I.' I leaned forward. 'Perhaps I may do something to help. I have contacts in the town, and in London too.' She looked at me curiously. 'I can feel for your position, truly I can, and I would help you. I would not have you-' I felt myself blush – 'put under any – any obligation to me for it, but if you would accept help from an ugly old hunchback I would gladly give it.'

Her look of curiosity deepened. She frowned. 'Why do you call yourself old and ugly, sir?'

I shrugged. 'I am approaching forty, Alice, and I have always been told I am ugly.'

'It is not so, sir,' she said hotly. 'Why only yesterday Brother Guy remarked how your features have a rare combination of refinement and sadness.'

I raised my eyebrows. 'I hope Brother Guy is not of Gabriel's inclination,' I said jokingly.

'No, he is not,' Alice said with sudden heat. 'And you should not insult yourself so, sir. Is there not enough suffering in the world?'

'I am sorry.' I laughed nervously. I was overcome with embarrassment and pleasure at her words. She sat looking at me sadly and despite myself I lifted a hand to reach across and touch hers. Then we both jumped as the church bells began to peal, clashing and echoing through the night. I let my hand fall as we both laughed nervously. The door opened and Mark walked in. Alice at once rose and went to a cupboard; I guessed she did not want him to see her tear-streaked face.

'I am sorry I took so long, sir.' He spoke to me but his eyes were on Alice's back. 'I went to the privy and then stopped in the infirmary hall. Brother Guy is there, the ancient monk is very ill.'

'Brother Francis?' Alice turned quickly. 'Then please excuse me, sirs, I must go to him.' She brushed by us, her footsteps pattering up the corridor. Mark's face was concerned.

'Has she been crying, sir? What ails her?'

I sighed. 'Loneliness, Mark, only loneliness. Now come, those infernal bells are tolling for the vigil.'

***

As we passed through the infirmary hall, we saw Alice and Brother Guy standing over the old monk's bed. Blind Brother Andrew sat in his chair as usual, cocking his head from side to side to catch the sounds of Alice and Brother Guy's movements. The infirmarian looked up as I approached the bed.

'He is sinking,' he said quietly. 'It seems I must lose another.'

'It is his time.' We all looked round as the blind monk spoke. 'Poor Francis, he has watched nearly a hundred years as the world falls down to its end. He has seen the coming of the Antichrist, as was foretold. Luther, and his agent Cromwell.'

I realized he had no idea I was there. Brother Guy stepped hastily towards him, but I laid a restraining hand on his arm.

'No, Brother, let us hear.'

'Is that a visitor?' the blind monk asked, turning his milky eyes towards me. 'Did you know Brother Francis, sir?'

'No, Brother. I am a – visitor.'

'When he was professed it was still the time of the wars between Lancaster and York. Think of that. He told me there was an old monk at Scarnsea then, as old as Francis is now, who had known monks who were here at the time of the Great Pestilence.' He smiled softly. 'Those must have been great days. Over a hundred brothers here, a clamour of young men seeking the habit. This old man told Brother Fabian that when the Pestilence came half the monks died in a week. They partitioned the refectory, for the survivors could not bear the sight of the empty tables. The whole world was stricken then as it fell a further step towards its close.' He shook his head. 'Now all is vanity and corruption as the end nears. Soon Christ will come and judge all.'

'Quiet, Brother,' Brother Guy murmured anxiously, 'quiet.' I looked across at Alice; she dropped her eyes. I studied the ancient monk; he lay quite unconscious, his wrinkled face calm.

'Come, Mark,' I said quietly. 'Let us go.'

***

We muffled ourselves up and went out. The freezing night was still, moonlight glinting on the snow as we crunched along to the church. A subdued glow of candlelight was visible from the windows.