He bowed his head and sat in silence for some moments.

'It's all over, isn't it?' he said suddenly, his voice muffled.

'What do you mean?'

'Our life here. The monastic life in England. I have been deluding myself, haven't I? Legalities will not save us. Even if Commissioner Singleton's killer should turn out to be from the town.'

I did not answer him.

He took a paper from his desk, his hand trembling slightly. 'Earlier I looked again at the draft Instrument of Surrender Commissioner Singleton gave me.' He quoted: '"We do profoundly consider that the manner and trade of living which we and others of our pretensed religion have practised and used many days, doth most principally consist in dumb ceremonies and in certain constitutions of Roman and other foreign potentates." I thought at first Lord Cromwell wanted our lands and wealth, that passage was merely a bonus for the reformers.' He looked up at me. 'But after what I have heard from Lewes – it's a standard clause, isn't it? All the houses are to come down. And after this Scarnsea is finished.'

'Three people have died most horribly,' I said, 'yet you seem concerned only with your own survival.'

He looked puzzled. 'Three? No, sir, only two. One, if the girl killed herself-'

'Brother Guy believes Simon Whelplay was poisoned.'

He frowned. 'Then he should have told me. As abbot.'

'I asked him to keep it to himself for the time being.'

He stared at me. When he spoke again it was almost a whisper.

'You should have seen this house just five years ago, before the king's divorce. Everything ordered and secure. Prayer and devotion, the summer timetable then the winter, unchanging, centuries old. The Benedictines have given me such a life as I could never have had in the world; a ship's chandler's son raised to abbot.' He gave a sad flicker of a smile. 'It's not just myself I mourn for, Commissioner; it's the tradition, the life. Already these last two years order has started to break down. We all used to have the same beliefs, think the same way, but already the reforms have brought discord, disagreement. And now murder. Dissolution,' he whispered. 'Dissolution.' I saw two great tears take form in the corners of his eyes. 'I will sign the Instrument of Surrender,' he said quietly. 'I have no alternative, have I?'

I shook my head slowly.

'I will get the pension Commissioner Singleton promised?'

'Yes, my lord, you will get your pension. I wondered when we would come to that.'

'First, though, I will have to obtain the formal agreement of the brethren. I hold everything in trust for them, you see.'

'Do not do so quite yet. But when I give the word, tell them.'

He nodded dumbly, lowering his head again to hide his tears. I looked at him. The prize Singleton had sought so earnestly had fallen into my lap, the murders had broken the abbot. And now I thought I knew who the murderer was, who had killed them all.

I found Brother Guy in his dispensary. Mark sat on a stool beside him, still in his servant's clothes. The infirmarian was cleaning knives in a bowl of water, stained brownish-green. The cadaver lay on the table, covered with the blanket, for which I was grateful. Mark's face was pale, and even the infirmarian's dark features had an underlying pallor, as though there were ashes under his skin.

'I have been examining the body,' he said quietly. 'I cannot be sure, but from her height and build I think it is the girl Orphan. And the hair was fair. But I can tell you how she died. Her neck was broken.' He lowered the blanket, exposing that dreadful head. He rotated it slowly; it swung loose, the vertebrae dislocated. I fought down nausea.

'Murdered then.'

'She couldn't have done that going into the pond. Master Poer says the bottom is thick silt.'

I nodded. 'Thank you, Brother. Mark, those other things we found, are they in our room? We have a call to make. Have you a change of clothes?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Go and put them on. You shouldn't be going around dressed as a servant.'

Mark left us and I took his stool. The infirmarian bowed his head.

'First Simon Whelplay poisoned under my nose, and now it seems this poor girl who used to be my assistant murdered too. And I thought her a thief.'

'How long was she with you?'

'Not long, a few months. She was hard-working enough, but I found her withdrawn, a little surly. I believe she trusted Brother Alexander, but no one else. I was preoccupied with putting the infirmary in order; he had left it in a poor state. I took less notice of her than I should.'

'Did she say anything about unwanted attentions from the monks?'

He frowned. 'No. But one day I came in and found her struggling with one of the brethren, in the corridor outside her door. She had the room Alice occupies now, at the end of the corridor. He was trying to embrace her, making lewd remarks.'

'Who was it?'

'Brother Luke, the launderer's assistant. I sent him away and complained to the abbot, though Orphan did not want trouble made. Abbot Fabian said he would speak to Luke. He told me it was not the first time. After that Orphan seemed more friendly, though she still spoke little. Then, not long after, she vanished.'

'No one else troubled her that you know of?'

'Not that I saw. But, as I say, she did not confide in me.' He smiled sadly. 'I don't think she ever became used to my strange colouring. Not surprising, I suppose, for a girl from a small town.'

'And afterwards Alice came.'

'Yes, and I resolved to win her trust from the beginning. That, at least, I believe I have done.'

'You are treating Brother Jerome. What would you say is the state of his mind?'

He looked at me carefully. 'As well as a man can be who, for good or ill, devoted his life to demanding ideals and a harsh way of life, and then was tortured into a betrayal of them. His mind is sore troubled, but he is not mad, if that is what you mean.'

'Well, it seems madness to me further to weaken a wasted body by wearing a hair shirt. Tell me, does he ever talk of his time in the Tower?'

'No. Never. But he was grievously racked. That I can swear to.'

'He told me about that. More too, but I think it was just tales to vex me.' Brother Guy did not respond. I stood up and as I did so a spasm ran through my back. I winced, grasping the table.

'What is the matter?'

I took deep breaths. 'I twisted something as I rose. I will suffer for days now.' I gave him a bitter smile. 'You and I both know what it is like to have people stare at us as oddities, eh, Brother? But at least your appearance is a natural phenomenon, it does not cause you pain. And there is a land where it is normal.'

Mark had changed into his spare shirt and doublet and was sitting on my bed. His face looked drawn.

'Are you all right?' I asked gruffly.

He nodded. 'Yes, sir. That poor creature-'

'I know. I am sorry you were put through that. It was a fearful shock. I had no idea-'

'No. Nobody could have known-'

'Mark, we need to put our – differences – aside. We have one aim in common, I think. To find the cruel murderer at large in this place.'

He stared at me. 'Of course, sir. How could you ever doubt that?'

'I don't, I don't. Listen, I have been thinking. The only reason Gabriel's habit could have been thrown in the pond was because it was soaked in blood. The murderer wore it to kill Singleton, then threw it in there with the sword.'

'Yes. But – Brother Gabriel, the killer?' He shook his head.

'Why not? Why shouldn't he be? I thought you despised him as a pederast?'