Brother Gabriel's voice rang round the refectory. 'Does Brother Guy have your authority to take Simon to the infirmary, or do I go to Abbot Fabian?'

'Take the churl!' the prior snapped. He strode back to the table. 'Softness! Softness and weakness. They'll be the end of us all!' He glowered defiantly around the refectory as Brother Gabriel and the infirmarian supported the weeping, coughing novice from the room. Brother Edwig cleared his throat.

'Brother Prior, I think we may say g-grace and rise now. It is nearly time for C-Compline.'

Prior Mortimus said a perfunctory grace, and the monks rose, those at the long table waiting until the obedentiaries had filed out. As we went through the door, Brother Edwig leaned over to me, his voice unctuous.

'Master Shardlake, I am sorry your meal should have been disturbed t-twice. Very r-r-regrettable. I must ask you to forgive us.'

'Not at all, Brother. The more I see of the life of Scarnsea, the more my investigations are illuminated. Speaking of which, I would be grateful if you could make yourself available tomorrow, with all your recent account books. There are some matters arising from Commissioner Singleton's investigations I would like to raise with you.' I confess I enjoyed the disconcerted look that came into the bursar's face. I nodded and passed on to where Mark stood, looking from a window. The snow still fell, covering every surface with white, deadening all sound and blurring sight as hunched, cowled figures began to make their way across the cloister yard to the church, and Compline, the day's last service. The bells began to toll once more.

When we regained our room Mark lay down once more on his cot. But though I was as tired as he, I needed to organize my impressions of all that had happened at the meal. I dashed water from the pitcher over my face, then went to sit by the fire. Very faintly, through the window, I heard the sound of chanting.

'Listen,' I said, 'the monks at Compline. Praying to God to watch over their souls at the day's end. Well, what do you think of this holy community of Scarnsea?'

He groaned. 'I am too tired to think.'

'Come on, it's your first day inside a monastery. What do you make of it?'

Reluctantly, he heaved himself up on his elbows and his face assumed a thoughtful impression. The first faint lines in his smooth features were emphasized by the shadows the candles cast. One day, I thought, they would deepen into real lines and furrows as they had in mine.

'It appears a world of contradictions. On the one hand their life seems a world apart. Those black habits they wear, all their prayers. Brother Gabriel said they are separate from the sinful world. Yet did you see how he looked at me again, the dog? And they live so well. Warm fires, tapestries, food as good as any I have eaten. Playing cards like men in any tavern.'

'Yes. St Benedict would be as disgusted as Lord Cromwell by their rich living. Abbot Fabian disporting himself like a lord – and he is a lord, of course, he sits in the House like most of the abbots.'

'I think the prior dislikes him.'

'Prior Mortimus paints himself a reformist sympathizer, an opponent of easy living. He certainly believes in giving those under him a hard time. And enjoys it, I would say.'

'He reminds me of one or two of my schoolmasters.'

'Schoolmasters do not drive their charges to collapse. Most parents would have something to say about the treatment he gave that boy. There is no separate novice master, apparently; there are not enough vocations. The novices are wholly under the prior's power.'

'The infirmarian tried to help. He seems a good man, for all he looks like he's been toasted on a spit.'

I nodded. 'And Brother Gabriel helped too. He threatened the prior with the abbot. I can't imagine Abbot Fabian being over-concerned with the novices' welfare, but if the prior's taste for brutality sometimes goes too far, he would have to keep it in check to avoid scandal. Well, we've met them all now; the five who knew why Singleton was here. Abbot Fabian, Prior Mortimus, Brother Gabriel, Brother Guy. And the bursar, of course-'

'B-b-brother Edwig.' Mark imitated his stutter.

I smiled. 'He's a man of power here for all he trips at his words.'

'He seemed a slimy toad to me.'

'Yes, I took a dislike to him, I must say. But one must not be deceived by impressions. The greatest fraudster I ever met had the most chivalrous demeanour a man could possess. And the bursar was away the night Singleton was killed.'

'But why would any of them kill Singleton? Surely it gives Lord Cromwell stronger grounds for closure?'

'What if the motive was more personal? What if Singleton had found something out? He had been here several days. What if he was about to expose someone for some serious crime?'

'Dr Goodhaps said he was investigating the accounts books the day he was killed.'

I nodded. 'Yes, that's why I want to see them. But I come back to the manner of his death. If someone wanted to silence him, a knife in the ribs would have been so much easier. And why desecrate the church?'

Mark shook his head. 'I wonder where the murderer hid the sword, if it was a sword. And the relic. And his clothes, they would have been bloody.'

'There must be a thousand hiding places in this great warren.' I thought a moment. 'On the other hand, most of the buildings are in constant use.'

'The outhouses we saw? The stonemason's and brewery and so on?'

'Them most of all. We must keep our eyes open as we get to know this place, look out for likely spots.'

Mark sighed. 'The killer might have buried his clothes and the sword. But we won't be able to go looking for mounds of fresh earth if this snow lasts.'

'No. Well, I shall start tomorrow by questioning the sacrist and the bursar, those two brotherly foes. And I would like you to talk to the girl Alice.'

'Brother Guy warned me from her.'

'I said talk to her. Do no more than talk, I don't want trouble with Brother Guy. You've a way with the women. She seems intelligent and probably knows as many secrets about this place as anybody.'

He stirred uneasily. 'I would not wish her to think I – liked her – if it was only to wring information from her.'

'Getting information is our duty here. There's no need to give her wrong ideas. If she reveals anything that helps us I'll see she's rewarded. She should be found another place. A woman like that shouldn't be mouldering away among these monks.'

Mark smiled at me. 'I think you like her too, sir. Did you note her bright eyes?'

'She is out of the common run of women,' I said non-committally.

'It still seems a shame to be cozening information from her.'

'You must get used to cozening things from people, Mark, if you are to work in the service of the law or the State.'

'Yes, sir.' He sounded unconvinced. 'It's just – I would not like to place her in any danger.'

'Nor would I. But we could all be in danger.'

He was silent a moment. 'Could the abbot be right about witchcraft? That would fit with the desecration of the church.'

I shook my head. 'The more I consider it, the more I think this killing was planned. The desecration may even have been carried out to throw enquirers off the scent. The abbot, of course, would much prefer for it to have been done by an outsider.'

'No Christian would desecrate a church in such a way, papist or reformer.'

'No. The whole thing is an abomination.' I sighed and closed my eyes, feeling my face sag with tiredness. I could think no more today. I opened them again to find Mark looking at me keenly.

'You said Commissioner Singleton's body reminded you of Queen Anne Boleyn's beheading.'