Dissolution (Matthew Shardlake Mysteries)

by C. J. Sansom

  ‘It is good for shocks, sir, it settles the humours.’

  ‘It is comforting. Thank you.’

  She stood with her hands clasped before her. ‘Sir, I would apologize for my words earlier. I spoke out of turn.’

  ‘No matter. We were all troubled.’

  She hesitated. ‘You must think me strange, sir, that I said I did not fear the work of devils after what I saw.’

  ‘No. Some are too ready to see the Devil’s hand in every piece of ill they do not understand. It was my own first reaction to what I saw, but I think Brother Guy has some other explanation in mind. He is - investigating the body.’

  She crossed herself.

  ‘Although equally,’ I continued, ‘we must not be blind to Satan’s workings in the world.’

  ‘I think—’ She paused.

  ‘Go on. You may speak freely with me. Sit down, please.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She sat, fixing me with her keen blue eyes. They had a watchful quality. I noticed how clear and healthy her skin was.

  ‘I think the Devil works in the world through men’s evil, their greed and cruelty and ambition, rather than possessing them and driving them stark mad.’

  I nodded. ‘I think so too, Alice. I have seen enough of the qualities you mention in the courts. Not just among the accused either. And the people who possessed them were all too sane.’ Lord Cromwell’s face suddenly appeared in my mind’s eye with startling vividness. I blinked.

  Alice nodded sadly. ‘Such evil is everywhere. Sometimes it seems to me the wish for money and power can turn men into roaring lions, seeking what they might devour.’

  ‘Well put. But where can a young maid have encountered such evil?’ I asked gently. ‘Here, perhaps?’

  ‘I observe the world, I think upon things.’ She shrugged. ‘More than is proper in a woman, perhaps.’

  ‘No, no. God allowed reason to women as well as men.’

  She smiled wryly. ‘You would not find many here to agree with you, sir.’

  I took another swig of the potion. I felt it warming and relaxing my tired muscles. ‘This is good. Master Poer was telling me you are skilled in the healing arts.’

  ‘Thank you. As I told him, my mother was a wise woman.’ Her face darkened a moment. ‘Some in the town associate such work with the dark arts, but she merely gathered knowledge. She had it from her mother, who had it from her mother in turn. The apothecary often sought her advice.’

  ‘And you became an apothecary’s assistant.’

  ‘Yes. He taught me much. But he died and I came back home.’

  ‘To lose your house.’

  She set her lips. ‘Yes, the tenancy expired on my mother’s death. The landlord demolished the house and enclosed our bit of land for sheep.’

  ‘I am sorry. These enclosures ruin the countryside. It is a matter of concern to Lord Cromwell.’

  She looked at me curiously. ‘Do you know him? Lord Cromwell?’

  I nodded. ‘Yes. I have served him a long time, in one way and another.’

  She gave me a long, deeply curious look, then dropped her gaze and sat silent, her hands in her lap. Work-roughened hands, but still shapely.

  ‘You came here after your mother died?’ I asked her.

  She raised her head. ‘Yes. Brother Guy is a good man, sir. I - I hope you will not think badly of him for his strange looks, sir. Some do.’

  I shook my head. ‘I must look deeper than that, if I am to be any good as an investigator. Though I confess I had a shock when I first saw him.’

  She gave a sudden laugh, a flash of white even teeth. ‘So did I, sir. I thought it was a face carved in wood, come to life. It was weeks before I came to see him as a man like others. He has taught me a great deal.’

  ‘Perhaps one day you will be able to put that knowledge to use yourself. I know in London there are women apothecaries. But they are mostly widows, and doubtless you will marry.’

  She shrugged. ‘Maybe one day.’

  ‘Mark said you had a swain who died. I am sorry.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said slowly. The watchful look was back in her eyes. ‘Master Poer seems to have told you much about me.’

  ‘We - well, we need to learn all we can of all who live here, as you must realize.’ I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

  She stood up again and walked over to the window. When she turned her shoulders were tensed and she seemed to have come to a decision.

  ‘Sir, if I were to give you some information, would you keep it in confidence? I need my position here—’

  ‘Yes, Alice, you have my word.’

  ‘Brother Edwig’s clerks, they said that they had brought all the current account books, at your request.’

  ‘That is so.’

  ‘But they have not brought all, sir. They have not brought the account book Commissioner Singleton had the day he died.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Because all the books they carried are brown. The one the commissioner was studying had a blue cover.’

  ‘Had it indeed? How do you know this?’

  She hesitated. ‘You will keep it to yourself that I told you?’

  ‘Yes, I promise. I would like you to trust me, Alice.’

  She took a deep breath. ‘On the afternoon of Commissioner Singleton’s death I had been into town to buy some supplies. On the way back I passed the bursar’s young assistant, Brother Athelstan, and the commissioner standing outside the counting-house door.’

  ‘Brother Athelstan?’

  ‘Yes. Commissioner Singleton was holding a large blue book in his hands, shouting at Athelstan. He did not bother to lower his voice as I passed.’ She gave a sardonic little smile. ‘After all, I am only a woman servant.’

  ‘And he said?’

  ‘ “He thought he’d keep this from me, hidden in his drawer?” I remember his words. Brother Athelstan stuttered something about his having no right to ferret about the bursar’s private room while he was away, and the commissioner replied he had the right to go everywhere, and the book put a fresh light on the year’s accounts.’

  ‘What did Brother Athelstan say to that?’

  ‘Nothing. He was in a great fright, he looked like a dog thrown from a window. Commissioner Singleton said he was going to make a study of the book, then he stalked off. I remember the triumphant look on his face. Brother Athelstan just stood there some moments. Then he saw me. He gave me a glare, then went inside and banged the door shut.’

  ‘And you heard nothing more about this?’

  ‘No, sir. Night was just falling when this happened, and the next I heard the commissioner was dead.’

  ‘Thank you, Alice,’ I said. ‘That could be very helpful.’ I paused, studying her carefully. ‘By the way, Master Poer told me you have had some trouble with the prior.’

  The bold look came back to her face. ‘In my early days here he sought to take advantage of my position. It is not a problem now.’

  I nodded. ‘You speak straight, Alice, I admire that. Please, if you think of anything that may help my enquiries, come to me. If you need protection, I will give it. I will follow up this missing book, but I will take care not to mention that you have spoken to me.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. And now, with your pardon, I should assist Brother Guy.’

  ‘That is a grim job for a maid.’

  She shrugged. ‘It is part of my duties, and I am used to dead flesh. My mother used to lay out people who died in the town.’

  ‘You have more stomach than I, Alice.’

  ‘Yes, my life has left me few gentle qualities,’ she said with sudden bitterness.

  ‘I did not mean that.’ I raised a hand in protest. As I did so my arm brushed against my cup, almost knocking it over. But Alice, who had walked back to the table and stood opposite me, reached swiftly across and grasped it, setting it upright again.

  ‘Thank you. By heaven, you have a quick hand.’

  ‘Brother Guy is forever droppi
ng things in the infirmary. And now, sir, with your leave I must go.’

  ‘Of course. And thank you for telling me about the bursar.’ I smiled. ‘I know a king’s commissioner can be an intimidating figure.’

  ‘No, sir. You are different.’ She looked at me seriously a moment, then quickly turned and left the room.

  I NURSED MY POTION, which slowly warmed my vitals. The thought that Alice appeared to trust me also sent probing fingers of warmth through me. If I had met her in another context, and if she had not been a servant—

  I thought on her last words. How was I ‘different’? I supposed what she had seen of Singleton had led her to think all commissioners were hectoring bullies, but had I sensed something more in her words? I could not imagine she felt attracted to me in the way I realized I was to her. I realized too that I had revealed that Mark had repeated all she told him. That might undermine her trust in him; a thought that I was alarmed to realize gave me a twitch of pleasure. I frowned, for jealousy is one of the deadly sins, and turned my mind to what she had said about the account book. That sounded a promising line of enquiry.

  After a while Mark reappeared. I was relieved to note, as he opened the door, that the sawing had stopped.

  ‘I have signed for the account books, sir. Eighteen great tomes. There was much grumbling from the bursar’s men about how this will disrupt their work.’

  ‘A pox on their work. Did you lock our room behind you?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Did you happen to notice whether any of the books had a blue cover?’

  ‘They were all brown.’

  I nodded. ‘I think I know why Brother Edwig has been giving young Athelstan a hard time. There was something he did not tell us earlier. We will have another talk with our bursar, this could be important—’ I broke off as Brother Guy came in. His face was drawn and pale. Under his arm was a stained apron which he threw into a basket in the corner.

  ‘Commissioner, might we have a private word?’

  ‘Of course.’

  I rose and followed him. I feared he would take me to poor Whelplay’s body, but to my relief he led me outside. The sun was beginning to set, casting a pink glow over the white herb garden. Brother Guy picked his way among the plants until he came to a large, snow-covered bush.

  ‘I know now what killed poor Simon, and it was not possession by a demon. I also noticed him twisting his body over and waving his hands. But it was nothing to do with you. The spasms are characteristic. And the loss of voice, the visions.’

  ‘Characteristic of what?’

  ‘Poison from the berries of this bush.’ He shook the branches, to which a few black dead leaves still clung. ‘Belladonna. The deadly nightshade, as it is called in this country.’

  ‘He was poisoned?’

  ‘Belladonna has a faint but distinctive smell. I have worked with it for years, I know it. It was in poor Simon’s guts. And in the dregs of the cup of warm mead by his bed.’

  ‘How was it done? When?’

  ‘This morning, without doubt. The onset of symptoms is rapid. I blame myself, if only Alice or I had stayed with him all the time—’ He passed a hand over his brow.

  ‘You could not have known this would happen. Who else spent time alone with him?’

  ‘Brother Gabriel visited him last night late, after you retired, and again this morning. He was most upset, I gave him permission to pray over the boy. And the abbot and bursar came to see him later.’

  ‘Yes. I knew they were coming.’

  ‘And also this morning, when I went in to check on him, I found Prior Mortimus there.’

  ‘The prior?’

  ‘He was standing by the bed, looking down at him, a worried look on his face. I thought he was worried about the consequences of his harsh treatment.’ He set his lips. ‘Belladonna juice is sweet-tasting, the smell too faint to be noticed in mead.’

  ‘It is used as a remedy for some ailments, is it not?’

  ‘In small doses it relieves constipation, and has other uses. There is some in my infirmary, I often prescribe it. Many of the monks will have some. Its properties are well known.’

  I thought a moment. ‘Last night Simon began to tell me something. He said Commissioner Singleton’s death was not the first. I intended to question him again today when he woke.’ I gave him a sharp look. ‘Did you or Alice tell anyone what he had said?’

  ‘I did not, and nor would Alice. But he might have rambled deliriously to his other visitors.’

  ‘One of whom decided his mouth must be stopped.’

  He bit his lip and nodded heavily.

  ‘Poor child,’ I said. ‘And all I could think of was that he was mocking me.’

  ‘Things are seldom what they seem.’

  ‘Here least of all. Tell me, Brother, why have you told me this rather than going straight to the abbot?’

  He gave me a bleak look. ‘Because the abbot was among his visitors. You have authority, Master Shardlake, and I believe you seek the truth, however much I suspect we might disagree on matters of religion.’

  I nodded. ‘For the moment I instruct you to keep secret what you have told me. I must think carefully how to proceed.’ I looked at Brother Guy to see how he would take orders from me, but he only nodded wearily. He looked down at my mud-caked leg.

  ‘Have you had an accident?’ he asked.

  ‘I fell in the bog. I managed to get myself out.’

  ‘The ground is very unsafe out there.’

  ‘I think there is no safe ground under my feet anywhere here. Come inside, or we’ll catch an ague.’ I led the way indoors. ‘Strange that my misplaced fear he was mocking me should lead to this discovery.’

  ‘At least now Prior Mortimus cannot say that Simon is surely in hell.’

  ‘Yes. I think that may disappoint him.’ Unless he is the killer, I thought, in which case he knows already. I gritted my teeth. If I had not allowed Alice and Brother Guy to dissuade me from talking to Simon last night, not only might I have had his full story, not only might I have been led to the killer, but Simon would still be alive. Now I had two murders to investigate. And if what the poor novice had muttered in his delirium about Singleton not being the first was true, then there were three.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I HAD HOPED TO GO into Scarnsea that afternoon, but it was now too late. In the last glow of the sunset I trudged again through the precinct to the abbot’s house, to talk to Goodhaps. The old cleric was again bibbing alone in his room. I did not tell him that Novice Whelplay had been murdered, only that he had been very ill. Goodhaps seemed uninterested. I asked him what he knew of the account book Singleton had been studying just before his death. Singleton, he said, had told him only that he had prised a new book out of the counting house, which he hoped would be useful. The old man muttered in a surly tone that Robin Singleton kept much to himself, using him only to burrow in books. I left him to his wine.

  A cold, keening wind had risen, cutting through me like a blade as I made my way back to the infirmary. As those loud bells pealed out again for Vespers I could not help reflecting that anyone who might have information was at risk: old Goodhaps, or Mark, or me. Whelplay’s killing had been carried out with a cold and ruthless hand, and might have escaped detection had I not put Brother Guy in mind of belladonna by mentioning Simon’s strange postures and gestures. We might be dealing with a fanatic, but not someone ruled by impulse. What if he was planning to put poison in my dinner plate, or sought to make a gap between my head and shoulders such as he had with Singleton’s? I shivered and pulled my coat tighter around my neck.

  BOOKS WERE STACKED on the floor of our room. Mark sat staring into the fire. He had not yet lit the candles, but the firelight cast a flickering glow over his troubled face. I sat opposite him; the chance to rest my poor bones by a warm fire was welcome.

  ‘Mark,’ I said, ‘we have a new mystery.’ I told him what Brother Guy had said. ‘I have spent my life deciphering secrets, b
ut here they seem to multiply and grow more terrible.’ I passed a hand over my brow. ‘And I blame myself for that boy’s death. If only I had insisted, last night, in pressing him. And there in the infirmary, when he bent his poor body and waved his arms, all I could think of was that he might be mocking me.’ I stared bleakly before me, momentarily overcome with guilt.