Tangmer winced. ‘It was an accident. We are bursting at the seams with lunatics, so every building is needed to accommodate them all, even ramshackle ones that go up in flames when candles are knocked over.’
Eudo glared at Michael. ‘Which is your fault for foisting those nuns on us.’
Michael raised his eyebrows. ‘I did it because you told me that all your patients are held in secure accommodation inside the hall, and that the guesthouse was never used for that purpose. If you had been honest with me, I would have billeted my sisters elsewhere.’
‘I did not know you were fishing for beds at the time,’ retorted Eudo sullenly. ‘I thought you wanted assurances that your precious University is in no danger from escaped madmen.’
‘So the nuns’ arrival meant that some patients were moved to the shed?’ asked Tulyet. He waited until Eudo and Tangmer nodded before continuing. ‘You are lying again – yesterday, you told me that it was full of tools and building supplies.’
Tangmer gave a pained smile. ‘It is. However, the Girards elected to use it anyway – like a family house.’
‘There were no windows,’ added Eudo, ‘so you had to use candles or a lamp inside. It was also full of dry timber, so if one of the youngsters knocked one over …’
‘The door was open when the alarm was first raised,’ said Tangmer, his heckling defiance replaced by anguish. ‘I ordered it closed, thinking it was the best way to contain the blaze. There had been plenty of time for anyone inside to get out, so I do not understand how this terrible thing could have happened. Goda said the shed was empty.’
‘I was sure it was empty,’ put in Goda, shaking her head unhappily. ‘I could not believe it when voices …’
‘Did you search it?’ asked Tulyet. ‘Properly?’
Goda grimaced. ‘I went in as far as I dared, but no one was there. All I can think is that they were hiding behind the logs at the very back.’
Tulyet frowned. ‘Why would they hide?’
‘Because we had a visitor, and they were terrified of those,’ explained Goda. ‘I see now that I should have looked harder, but it never occurred to me that they would be more frightened of strangers than a fire.’
‘What visitor?’
‘Sister Alice, who came to see the nuns. I do not know why, as they loathe each other.’
‘Alice did not mention that to us just now,’ muttered Bartholomew. ‘Curious.’
‘She came today as well,’ Goda went on, ‘even though it was early and we were not really ready for …’
She trailed off, chagrined, when she realised she had almost let slip something that was meant to be kept quiet. Eudo blundered to her rescue.
‘Ready for the day’s chores,’ he blustered. ‘Some patients were not even dressed, and we were afraid that Alice would go away thinking we are all as lazy as … as Frenchmen. That race is worthless, and we hate them.’
‘We do,’ agreed Tangmer with a sickly smile. ‘After what happened at Winchelsea, I shall kill any Frenchman on sight. We all would – every last soul among us.’
‘Does that include your wife?’ asked Bartholomew archly. ‘Or is she exempt?’
‘Amphelisa?’ gulped Tangmer, eyes wide in his panicky face. ‘She is not French!’
Tulyet indicated Bartholomew. ‘I have brought the University’s Corpse Examiner to look at the bodies, because I find it very strange that an entire family would rather roast alive than meet a nun.’
‘Do you?’ Tangmer exchanged an agitated glance with Eudo. ‘Well, I suppose there is no harm in it, but I have a condition – that none of you speak to our patients. They are in a very fragile state after yesterday, and we cannot have them distressed further.’
‘Where are the bodies?’ asked Tulyet briskly. ‘Still in the shed?’
‘We retrieved them and put them in the chapel,’ replied Tangmer. ‘Poor souls.’
The Spital’s chapel was a pretty place adjoining the central hall. There were two ways in – a small priests’ door in the north side and a larger entrance from the hall itself. Tangmer opted to use the former, clearly to prevent his visitors from seeing more of his domain than absolutely necessary. As soon as they were inside, he dismissed Eudo and Goda, obviously afraid one would inadvertently say something else to arouse suspicion.
Inside, the first thing that struck Bartholomew was the smell – not the scent of damp plaster, incense and dead flowers that characterised most places of worship, and not the stench of charred corpses either. Instead, there was a powerful aroma of herbs, so strong that he wondered if it was safe.
‘Amphelisa distils plant oils in here,’ explained Tangmer, seeing his reaction. ‘Under the balcony at the back. Well, why not? It uses space that would be redundant otherwise. Come. Allow me to show you.’
The chapel comprised a nave and a chancel. The balcony was suspended over the back half of the nave, reached by a flight of steps with a lockable door at the top. A knee-high wall ran across the front of the balcony, topped by a wooden trellis screen that reached the roof.
‘We installed that so lepers can watch the holy offices without infecting the priest,’ explained Tangmer, as Bartholomew, Michael and Tulyet stopped to stare up at it.
‘But lepers are rare these days,’ Bartholomew pointed out. ‘So why bother with something that is never likely to be used?’
Tangmer looked pained. ‘We had no idea they were scarce here until after we opened our doors, because there are plenty of them in Fra–’ He stopped abruptly, alarm in his eyes.
‘In France?’ finished Bartholomew. ‘You may be right.’
‘In Framlingham, where Amphelisa comes from,’ blurted Tangmer unconvincingly, and hastened on before anyone could press him on the matter. ‘So it was a shock to find our charitable efforts might be wasted. Then Amphelisa suggested taking lunatics instead, on the grounds that they are also shunned by society through no fault of their own.’
The area below the balcony was low and dark. The left side was stacked with unseasoned firewood, while the remainder served as Amphelisa’s workshop – two long benches loaded with equipment, and shelves for her raw ingredients. She was there when they arrived, bent over a cauldron, wearing another burgundy-coloured robe. Bartholomew recalled the reek of powerful herbs around her the previous day, strong enough to mask the reek of burning shed.
‘As we have no lepers, we use the balcony to store her finished oils,’ gabbled Tangmer, obviously aiming to distract his visitors in the hope of preventing them from asking more awkward questions. ‘It locks, which is helpful, as most are expensive to produce. And some are toxic. Would you like to see them?’
He indicated that Amphelisa was to lead the way before they could decline. She nodded briskly and hurried up the steps to unlock the door with a key she kept around her neck, calling for them to follow. Bartholomew was willing, although Michael and Tulyet were less enthusiastic, neither liking the aroma of the highly concentrated oils.
The balcony was a large, plain room, lit only by the light that filtered through the screen at the front. Peering through the trellis afforded a fine view down the nave and into the chancel beyond. Opposite the screen was a stack of crates. Amphelisa opened the nearest to reveal a mass of tiny pots, each one carefully labelled – Bartholomew read lavender, rosewood, pine and yarrow before she closed it again.
‘We send them to London,’ she said. ‘And as we spent nearly all our money on building this Spital, every extra penny is welcome. Would you like a free pot of cedar-wood oil, Doctor? There is nothing quite like it for killing fleas and other pestilential creatures.’