Read Online Dissolution (Matthew Shardlake Mysteries) by C. J. Sansom - Free Book Online
Authors: C. J. Sansom
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hunting scenes.
‘Perhaps you would wait in the reception room,’ the prior suggested.
‘Where is Dr Goodhaps?’
‘In his room upstairs.’
‘Then we will see him first.’
The prior nodded to the servant, who led us up a broad staircase to the upper floor. The prior halted before a closed door and knocked loudly. There was a squeal from within, then we heard a key turn and the door opened a crack. A thin face topped with untidy white hair peered out anxiously.
‘Prior Mortimus,’ the old man said in a squeaky voice, ‘why clout the door like that? You startled me.’
A sardonic smile flickered briefly across Mortimus’s face. ‘Did I? Forgive me. Ye’re safe now, good Doctor, Lord Cromwell has sent an emissary, a new commissioner.’
‘Dr Goodhaps?’ I asked. ‘Commissioner Matthew Shardlake. I have been sent in reply to your letter. I come from Lord Cromwell.’
The old man stared a moment, then opened the door, admitting us to a bedroom. It was well appointed, with a curtained four-poster bed, fat cushions on the floor and a window overlooking the busy courtyard. A pile of books lay on the floor, a tray containing a pitcher of wine and pewter cups balanced on top. A log fire burned in the grate and Mark and I made for it at once, for we were both chilled to the bone. I turned to the prior, who stood in the doorway, eyeing us watchfully.
‘Thank you, Brother. Perhaps you could inform me when the abbot returns.’ He bowed and closed the door behind him.
‘Lock the door, in Our Saviour’s name,’ the old man squeaked, wringing his hands. He made a sorry sight with his white hair disarrayed and his black cleric’s robe creased and stained. From his breath I gathered that he had already sampled the wine.
‘The letter arrived? Thank the Lord! I feared it would be intercepted. How many of you are there?’
‘Only we two. May I sit?’ I asked, lowering myself carefully onto the cushions. As they took my weight the relief to my back was wonderful. Master Goodhaps noticed my disability for the first time, then looked at Mark, who was unbuckling his heavy sword.
‘The boy, he’s a swordsman? He can protect us?’
‘If need be. Are we likely to need protecting?’
‘In this place, sir, after what happened - we are surrounded by enemies, Master Shardlake—’
I saw he was terrified, and smiled reassuringly. A nervous witness, like a nervous horse, needs to be soothed along.
‘Calm yourself, sir. Now, we are tired and would be grateful for a little of that wine while you tell us exactly what has happened here.’
‘Oh sir, by Our Lady, the blood . . .’
I raised my hand. ‘Start at the beginning, from your arrival.’
He poured us wine and sat down on the bed, running his fingers through his shock of white hair.
‘I did not want to come here,’ he sighed. ‘I have laboured hard in the vineyard at Cambridge, working for Reform since the start, and I am too old for assignments like this. But Robin Singleton was my student once, and he asked me to help him try for the surrender of this pestiferous house. He needed a canon lawyer, you see. I could not refuse a summons from the vicar general,’ he added resentfully.
‘That is difficult,’ I agreed. ‘So you arrived here what, a week ago?’
‘Yes. It was a hard ride.’
‘How did the negotiations proceed?’
‘Badly, sir, as I knew they would. Singleton went blustering in, saying this was a decayed and sinful house and they would be well advised to take the pensions he offered and surrender. But Abbot Fabian wasn’t interested; he loves his life here too much. Playing the country squire, lording it over the stewards and reeves. He’s only the local ship chandler’s son, you know.’ Goodhaps drained his cup and poured himself another. I could not blame the helpless old noddle, all alone here, for seeking succour in his
‘Perhaps you would wait in the reception room,’ the prior suggested.
‘Where is Dr Goodhaps?’
‘In his room upstairs.’
‘Then we will see him first.’
The prior nodded to the servant, who led us up a broad staircase to the upper floor. The prior halted before a closed door and knocked loudly. There was a squeal from within, then we heard a key turn and the door opened a crack. A thin face topped with untidy white hair peered out anxiously.
‘Prior Mortimus,’ the old man said in a squeaky voice, ‘why clout the door like that? You startled me.’
A sardonic smile flickered briefly across Mortimus’s face. ‘Did I? Forgive me. Ye’re safe now, good Doctor, Lord Cromwell has sent an emissary, a new commissioner.’
‘Dr Goodhaps?’ I asked. ‘Commissioner Matthew Shardlake. I have been sent in reply to your letter. I come from Lord Cromwell.’
The old man stared a moment, then opened the door, admitting us to a bedroom. It was well appointed, with a curtained four-poster bed, fat cushions on the floor and a window overlooking the busy courtyard. A pile of books lay on the floor, a tray containing a pitcher of wine and pewter cups balanced on top. A log fire burned in the grate and Mark and I made for it at once, for we were both chilled to the bone. I turned to the prior, who stood in the doorway, eyeing us watchfully.
‘Thank you, Brother. Perhaps you could inform me when the abbot returns.’ He bowed and closed the door behind him.
‘Lock the door, in Our Saviour’s name,’ the old man squeaked, wringing his hands. He made a sorry sight with his white hair disarrayed and his black cleric’s robe creased and stained. From his breath I gathered that he had already sampled the wine.
‘The letter arrived? Thank the Lord! I feared it would be intercepted. How many of you are there?’
‘Only we two. May I sit?’ I asked, lowering myself carefully onto the cushions. As they took my weight the relief to my back was wonderful. Master Goodhaps noticed my disability for the first time, then looked at Mark, who was unbuckling his heavy sword.
‘The boy, he’s a swordsman? He can protect us?’
‘If need be. Are we likely to need protecting?’
‘In this place, sir, after what happened - we are surrounded by enemies, Master Shardlake—’
I saw he was terrified, and smiled reassuringly. A nervous witness, like a nervous horse, needs to be soothed along.
‘Calm yourself, sir. Now, we are tired and would be grateful for a little of that wine while you tell us exactly what has happened here.’
‘Oh sir, by Our Lady, the blood . . .’
I raised my hand. ‘Start at the beginning, from your arrival.’
He poured us wine and sat down on the bed, running his fingers through his shock of white hair.
‘I did not want to come here,’ he sighed. ‘I have laboured hard in the vineyard at Cambridge, working for Reform since the start, and I am too old for assignments like this. But Robin Singleton was my student once, and he asked me to help him try for the surrender of this pestiferous house. He needed a canon lawyer, you see. I could not refuse a summons from the vicar general,’ he added resentfully.
‘That is difficult,’ I agreed. ‘So you arrived here what, a week ago?’
‘Yes. It was a hard ride.’
‘How did the negotiations proceed?’
‘Badly, sir, as I knew they would. Singleton went blustering in, saying this was a decayed and sinful house and they would be well advised to take the pensions he offered and surrender. But Abbot Fabian wasn’t interested; he loves his life here too much. Playing the country squire, lording it over the stewards and reeves. He’s only the local ship chandler’s son, you know.’ Goodhaps drained his cup and poured himself another. I could not blame the helpless old noddle, all alone here, for seeking succour in his
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