'That balance is not c-correct,' he was saying. 'You have altered the payment for hops.' He waved a receipt angrily, then, seeing us, bowed and gave his insincere smile.

'Commissioner, good evening. I trust my b-books are in order?'

'What books we have. I would speak with you, please.'

'Of course. One moment, I pray.' He turned back to his assistant. 'Athelstan, I see as plain as day you have altered a figure in the left-hand column to disguise the fact your figures do not balance.' I noticed that his stutter seemed to vanish when he was angry.

'Only by a groat, Brother Bursar.'

'A groat is a groat. Check every entry till you find it, all two hundred. I will see a true balance or none. Now go.' He waved an arm, and the young monk scuttled past us.

'Pardon me, C-Commissioner, I have to deal with b-blockheads.'

I motioned Mark to guard the door, and he stood, hand on sword. The bursar gave him an uneasy glance.

'Brother Edwig,' I said severely. 'I have to charge you with concealment of a book of account from the king's commissioner, a book with a blue cover which you attempted to hide from Commissioner Singleton, which you repossessed after his murder and have concealed from me. What do you say?'

He laughed. But many men charged with a true bill of crime will laugh to disconcert their accuser.

'God's death, sir,' I shouted. 'Do you mock me?'

He raised his hands in demurral. 'No sir, I beg pardon, but – you are incorrect, this is a m-misunderstanding. Did the Fewterer girl tell you this? Of course, Brother Athelstan told me that malapert s-saw him arguing with Commissioner Singleton.'

I cursed inwardly. 'How I came by my knowledge is no concern of yours. I will have your answer.'

'Of c-c-course.'

'And do not tumble and spit your words to gain time to think up lies.'

He sighed and clasped his hands together. 'There was a m-misunderstanding with Commissioner Singleton, may God rest him. He asked for our ac-c-c-'

'Account books, yes.'

'-as you did, sir, and I gave them to him as I have to you. B-but, again as I have told you, he often came into the counting house on his own, when it was shut, to see what he could f-find. I do not deny his right, sir, only that it m-made for confusion. On the day before he was killed he came up to Athelstan as he was Mocking the doors, and waved a book at him, as the girl no doubt told you. He had taken it from my inner office.' He spread his hands. 'B-but, sir, it was not an account book. It contained mere jottings, p-projections of future income I made some time ago, as he would have seen as soon as he examined it properly. I can show it to you if you wish.'

'You took it back from the abbot's house after his death, without telling anyone.'

'No, sir, I did not. The abbot's servants found it in his room when they cleared it, s-saw my writing and returned it to me.'

'But when we spoke earlier you said you were unsure which book Commissioner Singleton took.'

'I – I had forgotten. The book is unimportant. I can s-send it to you, sir, you can see for yourself.'

'No. We will come with you now and fetch it.'

He hesitated.

'Well?'

'Of course.'

I motioned Mark to stand aside, and we followed him across the cloister yard, Mark taking up a lamp to light the way. Brother Edwig unlocked the counting house and we climbed the stairs to his private office. He unlocked his desk and pulled a thin blue book from a drawer.

'This is it, sir. See for yourself.'

I looked inside. Indeed there were no neat columns, only scrawled jottings and arithmetical reckonings.

'I will take this for now.'

'B-by all means. B-but may I ask, as this is a private office, if you would come to me before taking any more books? To prevent confusion?'

I ignored the question. 'I see from your other records that the monastery has a large surplus, larger this year than last. Sales of land have brought in fresh capital. Why then is there objection to Brother Gabriel's proposals for repair of the church?'

He looked at me seriously. 'Brother Gabriel would spend everything we have on the r-repairs. He would allow all else to f-fall down. The abbot will give him money for repairs, but we have to beat him down or he will take all. It is a matter of negotiation.'

It was all so plausible. 'Very well,' I said. 'That is all. For now. One thing more. You mentioned Alice Fewterer. The girl is under my special protection, and if any harm befalls her you will find yourself at once under arrest and sent to London for enquiry.' I turned and marched out.

'Ways of negotiation, indeed,' I said as we walked to the infirmary. 'He's as slippery as they come.'

'He could not have killed Singleton, though. He was away. And a fat little hog like that couldn't have struck his head off.'

'He could have killed Simon Whelplay. Perhaps there is more than one of them acting together in this business.'

Back in our room, we studied the account book. It seemed, as the bursar said, to contain nothing more than random calculations and jottings, all in his neat round hand, going back years by the faded look of the ink in the earlier part. I tossed it aside, rubbing my tired eyes.

'Perhaps Commissioner Singleton thought he had found something when he had not?'

'No. I don't think so. From what Alice said his accusation was specific, he said the book shed new light on the year's accounts.' I exclaimed and banged my fist into my palm. 'Where are my wits? What if he has more than one book with a blue cover? This may not be the one!'

'We could go back now, and turn the counting house upside down.'

'No. I am exhausted. Tomorrow. Now let's rest, it will be a busy day. There's Singleton's funeral to get through, then we must go to Scarnsea to see Justice Copynger. I want to talk to Jerome too. And we should investigate the fish pond.'

Mark groaned. 'Truly there is no rest for Lord Cromwell's emissaries. At least we may find ourselves too busy to be frightened.'

'With any luck. And now I am going to bed. Say a prayer for some progress tomorrow.'

We woke early next morning, just as dawn was breaking. I rose and scraped frost from the inside of the window. The rising sun was casting fingers of pink light across the snow. It was a beautiful but sterile scene.

'No sign of a thaw.' I turned to find Mark standing shirtless by the fire, a shoe in his hand, staring around the room with a puzzled expression. He raised a hand.

'What was that? I heard something.'

'I heard nothing.'

'It was like a footstep. I did hear it.' Frowning, Mark threw the door open. There was nobody there.

I sat down on the bed again; my back was stiff and sore that morning. 'You are imagining things. This place is unsettling you. And don't stand there half-bare. The world doesn't want to see your belly, flat as it may be.'

'Sir, I did hear something. I thought it was outside.' He thought a moment, then crossed to the cupboard, which served as a storage space for clothes. He threw open the door, but it contained only dust and mouse-droppings. I looked down at him, envying the play of smooth, symmetrical muscles down his back.

'Only mice,' I said. 'Come on.'

As we sat at breakfast we had a visit from the abbot, ruddy-cheeked and swathed in furs against the cold. He was accompanied by Dr Goodhaps, who cast nervous, rheumy eyes about the infirmary, a dewdrop on the end of his nose.

'I have sad news,' Abbot Fabian began in his pompous way. 'We must postpone the late commissioner's interment.'