My Lord,
I write in haste and send this letter by a boy of the town as I dare trust none in this place. My master Singleton is foully murdered in the heart of the monastery, in a most terrible manner. He was found this morning in the kitchen, in a lake of blood, his head cut clean off. Some great enemy of Your Lordship must have done this, but all here deny it. The church has been desecrated and the Great Relic of the Penitent Thief with its bloody nails is vanished away. I have told Justice Copynger and we have adjured the abbot to keep silence. We fear the consequences if this be noised abroad.
Please send help my lord and tell me what I should do.
Lawrence Goodhaps
'A commissioner murdered?'
'So it appears. The old man seems to be in terror.'
'But if it was a monk, that would only ensure ruin for the monastery.'
Cromwell nodded. 'I know. It's some maniac, some cloistered madman who hates us more than he fears us. But can you see the implications? I seek the surrender of these monasteries as a precedent. English laws and English ways are based on precedent.'
'And this is a precedent of another sort.'
'Precisely. The king's authority struck down — literally. Old Goodhaps did the right thing to order this kept quiet. If the story got abroad, think of the notions it would give to fanatics and lunatics in every religious house in the land.'
'Does the king know?'
He stared hard at me again. 'If I tell him, there will be an explosion. He would probably send soldiers in and hang the abbot from his steeple. And that would be the end of my strategy. I need this resolved quickly and secretly.'
I could see where this was heading. I shifted in my seat, for my back pained me.
'I want you down there, Matthew, at once. I am granting you full powers as commissioner under my authority as vicar general. Power to give any order, obtain any access.'
'Would not this be a task better suited to an experienced commissioner, my lord? I have never had official dealings with the monks.'
'You were educated by them. You know their ways. My commissioners are formidable men, but they're not known for finesse and this needs delicate handling. You can trust Justice Copynger. I've never met him but we've corresponded, he is a strong reformer. But no one else in the town is to know. Fortunately Singleton had no family, so we won't be pestered by relatives.'
I took a deep breath. 'What do we know of this monastery?'
He opened a large book. I recognized a copy of the Comperta, the report of the monastic visitations two years before, whose riper parts had been read to Parliament.
'It is a large Norman foundation, well endowed with lands and fine buildings. There are only thirty monks and no less than sixty servants — they do themselves well, typical Benedictines. According to the visitor the church is scandalously over-decorated, full of plaster saints, and they have — or had — what is alleged to be a relic of the Penitent Thief crucified with Our Lord. A hand nailed to a piece of wood — part of his cross, they say. Apparently people would come long distances; it was supposed to cure cripples.' He glanced involuntarily at my twisted back, as people do when cripples are mentioned.
'Presumably the relic Goodhaps referred to.'
'Yes. My visitors found a nest of sodomites at Scarnsea, as happens often enough in those filthy dog-holes. The old prior, who was the chief offender, was removed. Sodomy is punishable by death under the new Act, it's a good pressure point. I wanted Singleton to see how things stood in that regard as well as investigating the land sales Copynger wrote to me about.'
I thought a moment. 'Wheels within wheels. Complicated.'