Leo said: “This is my assistant, Pendred.”

Aldred said: “I’m Aldred, prior of Dreng’s Ferry.”

Leo explained: “Aldred and I were novices together here.”

Aldred knew immediately, just by the way Pendred stood close to Leo, and by the hint of nervousness in Leo’s voice, that they were intimate friends—how intimate, he could not tell and did not want to know.

No doubt this was the secret Leo had been hoping to hide.

Aldred felt that Pendred might be dangerous. He could become jealous and try to discourage Leo from helping. Aldred needed urgently to show that he was no threat. He gave a frank look and said: “I’m glad to meet you, Pendred.” He spoke in a serious voice so that Pendred would know this was not mere courtesy.

Leo said: “Aldred and I used to be great friends.”

Aldred immediately said: “But that was a long time ago.”

Pendred nodded slowly, three times, then said: “I’m pleased to meet you, Brother Aldred.”

He had got the message, and Aldred felt relieved.

Leo said: “I’m going to take Aldred to see Theodric. Give the dairy the price of three cheeses and say we’ll pay for the fourth when we get it.” He led Aldred out.

One ally confirmed, Aldred thought, and a potential opponent neutralized: so far, so good.

As they crossed the grounds Aldred caught sight of the canal and said: “Does the channel run through clay all the way?”

“Almost,” said Leo. “Just at this end the ground is a bit sandy. It has to be lined with puddled clay, and the banks are braced—the technical term is ‘revetted’—with planks. I know that because I ordered the timber last time it was renewed. Why do you ask?”

“A builder called Edgar has been interrogating me about the Glastonbury canal, because he’s digging one at Outhenham. He’s a brilliant young man, but he’s never attempted a canal.”

They went into the abbey church. Some younger monks were singing, perhaps learning a new hymn or practicing an old one. Leo led the way to the east side of the south transept, where a heavy ironbound door with two locks stood open. This was the treasury, Aldred remembered. They stepped into a windowless room, dark and cold and smelling of dust and age. As Aldred’s eyes adapted to the dim illumination of a rush light, he saw that the walls were lined with shelves bearing a variety of gold, silver, and wooden containers.

At the back of the room—the east end, therefore the most holy zone—a monk knelt before a small, simple altar. On the altar stood an elaborate box of silver and carved ivory, undoubtedly a reliquary, a container for relics.

In a low voice, Leo explained: “The feast day of Saint Savann is next week. The bones will be carried into the church in procession for the celebration. I expect Theodric is asking the saint’s pardon for disturbing him.”

Aldred nodded. Saints did in some sense live on in their remains, and were very present in whatever holy institution guarded their bones. They were pleased to be remembered and venerated, but they had to be treated with great respect and caution. Elaborate ritual surrounded any movement to which they were subjected. “You don’t want to displease him,” Aldred murmured.