I told Mark to run and fetch the abbot, as fast as he could to warm his blood. I watched him plough away through the snow, then turned back to the pond. Bubbles were still rising from the silt, churning the surface. I wondered if the relic was down there, and perhaps the chalices the poor girl was supposed to have stolen.

I made myself approach the cadaver. There was a thin silver chain round its neck and after a moment's hesitation I bent and took it, snapping the links easily between my fingers. There was a tiny medallion on the end, with the crude figure of a man bearing a load on his back. I pocketed it and took up the sword. It was an expensive weapon, a gentleman's sword. A maker's mark was stamped into the blade: JS. 1507, above the effigy of a square building with four pointed towers.

I went and sat down on the pile of rubble by the wall. I was stiff with shock as I sat staring at the bundle among the reeds. Between that and the cold my fingers and toes soon became numb and I got up, waving my arms and stamping my feet to restore the circulation.

I walked up and down, the snow creaking under my boots, pondering what these discoveries meant. I began to see a pattern, facts slotted into place in my head. After a while I heard voices from the orchard, and saw Mark hurrying back, accompanied by two black-habited figures, the abbot and the prior. Prior Mortimus carried a large blanket. Abbot Fabian's face was aghast as he came to a halt and stared at the thing on the bank. He crossed himself and muttered a prayer. The prior went over to the body, his face contorted with disgust. His eyes went to the sword, which I had placed on the bank.

'Was the woman killed with that?' he breathed.

'I do not think so. The body was preserved under the silt; I think it had been there a long time. But I believe this is the sword that killed Singleton. This pond has been used as a hiding place more than once.'

'Whose corpse is it?' There was a note of panic in the abbot's voice.

I gave him a level stare. 'I have been told a former assistant of the infirmarian disappeared two years ago. A girl called Orphan Stonegarden.'

The prior looked at the body again. 'No,' I heard him mutter. There was anger in his voice and sorrow too, disbelief. 'But – she ran away,' he said. 'She was a thief…'

We looked round at the sound of more people approaching. Four servants, carrying a stretcher between them. The abbot nodded to Prior Mortimus, and he threw the blanket over the body. The abbot leaned towards me.

'There is a great hue and cry at the monastery. People saw Master Poer come running to my house; he told me you had found a body and I asked the servants to bring a stretcher to carry it back. But – please – may we keep it covered, just say someone drowned in the pond for now, not that it is a woman-'

'For the present,' I agreed. I hid the sword in the soaked habit as the servants approached. They hung back, crossing themselves. 'Mark, help them,' I said. I noticed that under his coat he had exchanged his wet clothes for a blue servant's shirt. He helped them lay the blanket-covered form on the stretcher and lifted it; it seemed light as paper.

'Take the stretcher to the infirmary,' I said. We formed a procession behind the servants. I glanced at Prior Mortimus once or twice and he looked away. Discoloured water dripped from the body, staining the snow.

A crowd had gathered, monks and servants buzzing around in the orchard like a swarm of bees. The prior called to them angrily to go about their business and they dissipated with many backward glances at the blanket-covered stretcher. Brother Guy approached us.

'Who is it? They say someone drowned in the pond.'

I turned to the bearers. 'Take the corpse to the infirmary for Brother Guy to examine. Mark, go with him. And take this, put it in our room.' I handed him the soaked habit. 'Careful of the sword,' I murmured. 'It is sharp.'

'I should tell the brethren something,' the prior said.

'Only that a body has been found in the pond. Now, my lord Abbot, I would talk with you.' I nodded towards his house.

Again he faced me across his desk, still covered with papers and with the abbey seal resting on its lump of red wax. His face seemed to have aged a decade in a few days, the confident glow in his cheeks replaced by grey, exhausted fear.

I laid the sword on his desk. He looked at it with distaste. I placed the little silver chain beside it, and pointed at it. 'Do you recognize that, my lord?'

He bent and looked at it. 'No, I have never seen it. Was it on – on-'

'The body. Yes. And the sword?'

He shook his head. 'We have no swords here.'

'I won't ask if you recognize that body as Orphan Stonegarden, it is beyond recognizing. I will have to see if Goodwife Stumpe recognizes the pendant.'

He looked at me with horror. 'The poorhouse overseer? Does she have to be involved? She has no love for us.'

I shrugged. 'And she will have less if it transpires her ward was murdered and thrown in your fish pond. She told me the girl was unhappy working here. What can you tell me about that?'

For answer he buried his head in his hands. I thought he would begin sobbing, but after a moment he lifted his face.

'It is not good to have young girls working in monastic houses. There I agree with Lord Cromwell. But Brother Alexander was infirmarian then, he was getting old and needed help. The girl was sent and he wanted to take her on.'

'Perhaps he liked her looks. I hear she was comely.'

He coughed. 'Not Brother Alexander. In fact I thought it safer than having a boy to assist him. That was in the days before the visitation, when – er-'

'I see. When a boy might have to watch his arse. But Brother Guy was infirmarian by the time she disappeared?'

'Yes. Brother Alexander was named in the bishop's visitation. It broke him, he died of a seizure soon after. Then Brother Guy came.'

'So who was it that bothered the girl? I believe somebody did.'

He shook his head. 'Commissioner, it is a temptation to have a pretty girl around the cloister. Women tempt men, as Adam tempted Eve. Monks are only human-'

'From what I have heard she did no tempting, but was harried and pestered. I ask again, what do you know?'

His shoulders sagged. 'There were complaints from Brother Alexander. A young monk called Brother Luke, who works in the laundry, was said to have – molested her.'

'You mean he took her forcibly?'

'No, no, no. It did not go so far. I spoke to Brother Luke, forbade him her presence. He troubled her again and I told him if he did not stop I would make him leave.'

'And others? Obedentiaries, perhaps?'

He looked at me with scared eyes. 'There were complaints against Brother Edwig and Prior Mortimus. They had – had made lewd suggestions, Brother Edwig persistently. Again I – I warned them.'

'Brother Edwig?'

'Yes.'

'And your warnings had effect?'

'I am the abbot, sir,' he said with a touch of his old pomposity. He hesitated. 'Could it not be the girl drowned herself, if she was – in despair?'

'The story was she stole two gold chalices and fled.'

'So we thought when they vanished from the church at the time she went. But – could she not have repented of what she had done, thrown them in the pond and drowned herself?'

'I want the pond drained, but even if those chalices are found it proves nothing. Her killer could have taken them and tossed them in after her, to throw enquiry off the scent. This matter must be fully investigated, my lord. It may need the involvement of the civil authority. Justice Copynger.'