'I am obliged. Now, my lord Abbot, last night I visited that unfortunate novice. Young Whelplay.'

The abbot nodded seriously. 'Yes. Brother Edwig and I will be visiting him later.'

'I have the m-month's dole accounts to check,' the bursar muttered.

'Nevertheless, as my most senior official after Prior Mortimus, you must accompany me.' He sighed. 'As a complaint has been made by Brother

Guy-'

'A serious complaint,' I said. 'It appears the boy might have died-'

Abbot Fabian raised a hand. 'Rest assured, I shall investigate the matter fully.'

'Might I ask, my lord, what exactly is the boy supposed to have done, to earn such punishment?'

The abbot's shoulders set with tension. 'To be frank, Master Shardlake-'

'Yes, frankness, please-'

'The boy does not like the new ways. The preaching in English. He is much devoted to the Latin Mass, and the chant. He fears the chant will be put in English-'

'An unusual concern for one so young.'

'He is very musical, he assists Brother Gabriel with his service books. He is gifted, but has opinions beyond his station. He spoke out in Chapter, although as a novice he should not-'

'Not treasonable words, I hope, like Brother Jerome?'

'None of my monks, sir, no one, would speak treasonable words,' the abbot said earnestly. 'And Brother Jerome is not part of our community.'

'Very well. So Simon Whelplay was set to work in the stables, put on bread and water. That seems harsh.'

The abbot reddened. 'It was not his only failing.'

I thought a moment. 'He assists Brother Gabriel, you said. I understand Brother Gabriel has a certain history?'

The abbot fiddled nervously with the sleeve of his habit. 'Simon Whelplay did speak in confession of – certain carnal lusts. Towards Brother Gabriel. But sins of thought, sir, only thought. Brother Gabriel did not even know. He has been pure since the – the trouble two years ago. Prior Mortimus keeps a close eye, a very close eye, on such matters.'

'You have no novice master, do you? Too few vocations.'

'Numbers in all the houses have been falling for generations, since the Great Pestilence,' the abbot said in tones of gentle reasonableness. 'But with a revived religious life under the king's guidance, perhaps now our houses will be revitalized, more will choose the life-'

I wondered if he could really believe that, be so blind to the signs. The pleading note in his voice made me realize he could; he really thought the monasteries could survive. I glanced at the bursar; he had taken a paper from his desk and was studying it, divorcing himself from the conversation.

'Who knows what the future may bring?' I turned to the door. 'I am obliged to you, gentlemen. Now I must brave the elements again, to see the church – and Brother Gabriel.' I left the abbot looking after me anxiously, while the bursar examined his double-entries.

As I crossed the cloister yard an uncomfortable ache told me I needed to visit the privy. Brother Gabriel had pointed it out to me the night before; there was a quick way via the back of the infirmary across a yard to the reredorter, where the privy was housed.

I went through the infirmary hall again and out into the yard. It was enclosed on three sides and I saw a little stream had been culverted, running under a small bath house attached to the infirmary and on under the reredorter, so it could drain both. I had to admire the ingenuity of the monastic builders. Few houses, even in London, had such arrangements and I sometimes thought with foreboding of what would happen when the twenty-foot cesspit in my garden eventually filled up.

Chickens ran squawking round the yard, from which most of the snow had already been swept. A couple of pigs peered over the walls of a makeshift sty. Alice was feeding them, pouring a bucket of slops over the wall into their trough. I went over to her. My bodily need could wait a little.

'You have many duties, I see. Pigs as well as patients.'

She smiled dutifully. 'Yes, sir. A maid's work is never done.'

I looked over the sty, wondering whether something could be concealed among the straw and mud, but of course the brown hairy creatures would have rooted anything out. They might eat a bloody robe, but not a sword or a relic. I looked out over the yard. 'I see only hens. Have you no cockerel?'

She shook her head. 'No, sir. Poor Jonas is gone. It was he who was killed at the altar. He was a fine bird, his strutting antics used to make me laugh.'

'Yes, they are comical creatures. Like little kings marching and preening among their subjects.'

She smiled. 'That is how he was. His wicked little eyes would look at me with challenge as I approached. He would flap his wings angrily and shriek, but it was all for show. A step too close and he would turn and run.' To my surprise her large blue eyes filled with tears and she bowed her head. Evidently she had a warm heart as well as a stout one.

'That desecration was a wicked thing altogether,' I said.

'Poor Jonas.' She shook herself and took a deep breath.

'Tell me, Alice, when did you notice him gone?'

'The morning the murder was discovered.'

I glanced round the yard. 'There's no way in here, is there, save from the infirmary or the reredorter?'

'No, sir.'

I nodded. Another indication the killer had come from inside the monastery and knew the layout. A griping in my guts warned me not to tarry. Reluctantly, I excused myself and hurried off to the reredorter.

I had never been in a monks' privy. At school in Lichfield there were many jokes about what the monks got up to in there, but the privy at Scarnsea was ordinary enough. The stone walls of the long chamber were undecorated and the room was dim, for the only windows were high up. Along one wall lay a long bench with a row of circular holes, and at the far end there were three private cubicles for the obedentiaries' use. I made my way towards them, passing a couple of monks seated on the communal row. The young monk from the counting house was there. The monk next to him stood up and bowed to me awkwardly as he adjusted his habit before turning to his neighbour.

'Are you going to be there all morning, Athelstan?'

'Leave me be. I have the colic.'

I went into a cubicle, bolted the door and took a seat with relief. When I had finished I sat listening to the stream tinkling far below. I thought again of Alice. If the monastery closed she would be without a place. I wondered what I might do for her; perhaps I could help her find something in the town. It saddened me that such a woman had ended up in a place like this, but likely as not her family were poor. How sad she had been at the loss of a bird. I had been tempted to take her arm and comfort her. I shook my head at my weakness. And after what I had told Mark, too.

Something snapped me out of my reflections, made me jerk my head upright and still my breathing. Someone was outside the cubicle, moving quietly, but I had heard the soft footfall, leather on stone. My heart pounded, and I was glad now of the sense of danger that had kept me away from the doorways. I tied up my hose and rose soundlessly, reaching for my dagger. I leaned over and put my ear against the door. I could hear breathing on the other side; someone was standing right against the door.

I bit my lip. That young monk would probably be gone by now; I could be alone in the reredorter save for the man outside. I confess the thought that Singleton's assassin might be waiting for me as he had waited for him unnerved me.

The cubicle door opened outwards. With infinite care I slid back the bolt, then stepped back and kicked it open with all the force I could muster. There was a startled yell from outside as the door flew open to reveal Brother Athelstan. He had jumped back and stood waving his arms in the air to keep his balance. With a wash of relief, I saw his hands were empty. As I advanced on him with my dagger held high, his eyes widened like saucers.