Free Dissolution (Matthew Shardlake Mysteries) by C. J. Sansom Page B

here, my lord.’
     
    ‘Of course, sir, of course.’ His eyes followed my hands as I laid the seal back on his desk. ‘You must be hungry after your long journey; shall I order some food?’
     
    ‘Later, thank you.’
     
    ‘I regret keeping you waiting, but I had business with the reeve of our Ryeover estates. There is still much to do with the harvest accounts. Some wine, perhaps?’
     
    ‘A very little.’
     
    He poured me some, then turned to Mark. ‘Might I ask who this is?’
     
    ‘Mark Poer, my clerk and assistant.’
     
    He raised his eyebrows. ‘Master Shardlake, we have very serious matters to discuss. Might I suggest that would be better done in confidence? The boy can go to the quarters I have prepared.’
     
    ‘I think not, my lord. The vicar general himself requested me to bring Master Poer. He shall stay unless I wish him to leave. Would you care to see my commission now?’
     
    Mark gave the abbot a grin.
     
    He reddened and inclined his head. ‘As you wish.’
     
    I passed the document into his beringed hand. ‘I have spoken with Dr Goodhaps,’ I said as he broke the seal. His expression became strained and his nose seemed to tilt upwards as though the smell of Cromwell himself rose from the paper. I looked out at the garden, where the servants were making a fire of the leaves, sending a thin white finger of smoke into the grey sky. The light was starting to fade.
     
    The abbot pondered a moment, then laid the commission on his desk. He leaned forward, clasping his hands.
     
    ‘This murder is the most terrible thing that has ever happened here. Accompanied by the desecration of our church, it has left me - shocked.’
     
    I nodded. ‘It has shocked Lord Cromwell too. He does not want it noised abroad. You have kept silence?’
     
    ‘Totally, sir. The monks and servants have been told if a word is breathed outside these walls they will answer to the vicar general’s office.’
     
    ‘Good. Please ensure all correspondence arriving here is shown to me. And no letters are to go out without my approving them. Now, I gather Commissioner Singleton’s visit was not welcome to you.’
     
    He sighed again. ‘What can I say? Two weeks ago I had a letter from Lord Cromwell’s office saying he was sending a commissioner to discuss unspecified matters. When Commissioner Singleton arrived, he astonished me by saying he wished me to surrender this monastery to the king.’ He looked me in the eye, and now there was defiance as well as anxiety in his gaze. ‘He stressed he sought a voluntary surrender and he seemed keen to have it, alternating promises of money with vague threats about misconduct - quite without foundation, I must add. The Instrument of Surrender he wanted me to sign was extraordinary, containing admissions that our life here has consisted of pretended religion, following dumb Roman ceremonies.’ An injured note entered his voice. ‘Our ceremonies faithfully follow the vicar general’s own injunctions, and every brother has sworn the oath renouncing the pope’s authority.’
     
    ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Otherwise there would have been consequences. ’ I noticed he wore a pilgrim badge prominently on his habit; he had been to the shrine of Our Lady at Walsingham. But then, of course, so had the king in days past.
     
    He took a deep breath. ‘Commissioner Singleton and I had a number of discussions, centring on the fact that the vicar general has no legal right to order my monks and me to make over the house to them. A fact which Dr Goodhaps, a canon lawyer, could not dispute.’
     
    I did not answer him, for he was right. ‘Perhaps we could turn to the circumstances of the murder,’ I said. ‘That is the more pressing matter.’
     
    He nodded sombrely. ‘Four days ago Commissioner Singleton and I had another long and, I fear, fruitless discussion in the afternoon. I did not see him again that day. He had rooms in this house, but Dr Goodhaps and he had taken