The illness that had started with Maldwyn Cook spread like a summer fire through the crowds at the Fleece Fair. On Monday it leaped from the hospital to the taverns, then on Tuesday from the visitors to the townspeople. Caris noted its characteristics in her book: it began with stomach pains, led quickly to vomiting and diarrhea, and lasted between twenty-four and forty-eight hours. It left adults not much the worse, but killed old people and small babies.
On Wednesday, it struck the nuns and the children in the girls' school. Both Mair and Tilly were affected. Caris sought out Buonaventura, at the Bell, and worriedly asked him whether Italian doctors had any treatment for such diseases. 'There's no cure,' he said. 'None that works, anyway, though doctors nearly always prescribe something just to get more money out of people. But some Arab physicians believe you can retard the spread of such illnesses.'
'Oh, really?' Caris was interested. Traders said that Muslim doctors were superior to their Christian counterparts, although the priest-physicians denied this hotly. 'How?'
'They believe the disease is acquired when a sick person looks at you. Sight functions by beams that issue from the eyes and touch the things we see - rather like extending a finger to feel whether something is warm, or dry, or hard. But the beams may also project sickness. Therefore you can avoid the disease by never being in the same room as a sufferer.'
Caris did not think illness could be transmitted by looks. If that were true then, after an important service in the cathedral, everyone in the congregation would acquire any illness the bishop had. Whenever the king was ill, he would infect all the hundreds of people who saw him. And surely someone would have noticed that.
However, the notion that you should not share a room with someone who was ill did seem convincing. Here in the hospital, Maldwyn's illness seemed to spread from a sufferer to those nearby: the sick man's wife and family were the first to catch it, followed by people in neighboring beds.
She had also observed that certain kinds of illness - stomach upsets, coughs and colds, and poxes of all sorts - seemed to flare up during fairs and markets; so it seemed obvious that they were passed from one person to another by some means.
On Wednesday night at supper, half the guests in the hospital were suffering from the illness; then by Thursday morning every one of them had it. Several priory servants also succumbed, so Caris was short of people to clean up.
Surveying the chaos at breakfasttime, Mother Cecilia suggested closing the hospital.
Caris was ready to consider anything. She felt dismayed at her own powerlessness to combat the disease, and devastated by the filth of her hospital. 'But where would the people sleep?' she said.
'Send them to the taverns.'
'The taverns have the same problem. We could put them in the cathedral.'
Cecilia shook her head. 'Godwyn won't have peasants puking in the nave while services go on in the choir.'
'Wherever they sleep, we ought to separate the sick from the well. That's the way to retard the spread of the illness, according to Buonaventura.'
'It makes sense.'
Caris was struck by a new idea, something that suddenly seemed very obvious, though she had not thought of it before. 'Perhaps we shouldn't just improve the hospital,' she said. 'Maybe we should build a new one, just for sick people, and keep the old one for pilgrims and other healthy visitors.'
Cecilia looked thoughtful. 'It would be costly.'
'We've got a hundred and fifty pounds.' Caris's imagination began to work. 'It could incorporate a new pharmacy. We could have private rooms for people who are chronically ill.'
'Find out what it would cost. You could ask Elfric.'
Caris hated Elfric. She had disliked him even before he had given evidence against her. She did not want him to build her new hospital. 'Elfric is busy building Godwyn's new palace,' she said. 'I'd rather consult Jeremiah.'
'By all means.'
Caris felt a rush of affection for Cecilia. Although she was a martinet, tough on discipline, she gave her deputies room to make their own decisions. She had always understood the conflicting passions that drove Caris. Instead of trying to suppress those passions, Cecilia had found ways to make use of them. She had given Caris work that engaged her and provided outlets for her rebellious energy. Here I am, Caris thought, plainly incapable of dealing with the crisis in front of me, and my superior is calmly telling me to forge ahead with a new long-term project. 'Thank you, Mother Cecilia,' she said.
Later that day she walked around the priory grounds with Jeremiah and explained her aspirations. He was as superstitious as ever, seeing the work of saints and devils in the most trivial of everyday incidents. Nevertheless, he was an imaginative builder, open to new ideas: he had learned from Merthin. They quickly settled on the best location for the new hospital, immediately to the south of the existing kitchen block. It would be apart from the rest of the buildings, so that sick people would have less contact with the healthy, but food would not have to be carried far, and the new building could still be accessed conveniently from the nuns' cloisters. With the pharmacy, the new latrines, and an upper floor with private rooms, Jeremiah thought it would cost about a hundred pounds - most of the legacy.
Caris discussed the site with Mother Cecilia. It was land that belonged neither to the monks nor the nuns, so they went to see Godwyn about it.
They found him on the site of his own building project, the new palace. The shell was up and the roof was on. Caris had not visited the site for some weeks, and she was surprised at its size - it was going to be as big as her new hospital. She saw why Buonaventura had called it impressive: the dining hall was larger than the nuns' refectory. The site was swarming with workmen, as if Godwyn was in a hurry to get it finished. Masons were laying a floor of colored tiles in a geometric pattern, several carpenters were making doors, and a master glazier had set up a furnace to make the windows. Godwyn was spending a lot of money.
He and Philemon were showing the new building to Archdeacon Lloyd, the bishop's deputy. Godwyn broke off as the nuns approached. Cecilia said: 'Don't let us interrupt you - but, when you're finished, will you meet me outside the hospital? There's something I need to show you.'
'By all means,' said Godwyn.
Caris and Cecilia walked back through the marketplace in front of the cathedral. Friday was bargain day at the Fleece Fair, when traders sold their remaining stocks at reduced prices so that they would not have to carry the goods home. Caris saw Mark Webber, round-faced and round-bellied now, wearing a coat of his own bright scarlet. His four children were helping at his stall. Caris was especially fond of Dora, now fifteen, who had her mother's bustling confidence in a slimmer body.
'You're looking prosperous,' Caris said to Mark with a smile.
'The wealth should have come to you,' he replied. 'You invented the dye. I just did what you said. I almost feel as if I cheated you.'
'You've been rewarded for hard work,' she said. She did not mind that Mark and Madge had done so well out of her invention. Although she had always enjoyed the challenge of doing business, she had never lusted for money - perhaps because she had always taken it for granted, growing up in her father's wealthy household. Whatever the reason, she felt no pang of regret that the Webbers were making a fortune that might have been hers. The cashless life of the priory seemed to suit her well. And she was thrilled to see the Webber children healthy and well dressed. She remembered when all six of them had to find sleeping space on the floor of a single room, most of which was taken up by a loom.
She and Cecilia went to the south end of the priory grounds. The land around the stables looked like a farmyard. There were a few small buildings: a dovecote, a henhouse, and a tool shed. Chickens scratched in the dirt, and pigs rooted in the kitchen garbage. Caris itched to tidy it up.
Godwyn and Philemon joined them soon, with Lloyd tagging along. Cecilia indicated the patch of land next to the kitchens, and said: 'I'm going to build a new hospital, and I want to put it there. What do you think?'
'A new hospital?' Godwyn said. 'Why?'
Caris thought he looked anxious, which puzzled her.
Cecilia said: 'We want a hospital for the sick and a separate guest house for healthy visitors.'
'What an extraordinary idea.'
'It's because of the stomach illness that started with Maldwyn Cook. This is a particularly virulent example, but diseases often flare up at markets, and part of the reason they spread so fast may be that we have the sick and the well eating and sleeping and going to the latrine together.'
Godwyn took umbrage. 'Oho!' he said. 'So the nuns are the physicians now, are they?'
Caris frowned. This kind of sneering was not Godwyn's style. He used charm to get his way, especially with powerful people such as Cecilia. This fit of pique was covering something else.
'Of course not,' Cecilia said. 'But we all know that some illnesses spread from one sufferer to the next - that's obvious.'
Caris put in: 'The Muslim physicians believe illness is transmitted by looking at the sick person.'
'Oh, do they? How interesting!' Godwyn spoke with ponderous sarcasm. 'Those of us who have spent seven years studying medicine at the university are always glad to be lectured on illness by young nuns barely out of their novitiate.'
Caris was not intimidated. She felt no inclination to show respect to a lying hypocrite who had tried to murder her. She said: 'If you don't believe in the transmission of illness, why don't you prove your sincerity by coming to the hospital tonight and sleeping alongside a hundred people suffering from nausea and diarrhea?'
Cecilia said: 'Sister Caris! That will be enough.' She turned to Godwyn. 'Forgive her, Father Prior. It wasn't my intention to engage you in a discussion about disease with a mere nun. I just want to make sure you don't object to my choice of site.'
'You can't build it now, anyway,' Godwyn said. 'Elfric is too busy with the palace.'
Caris said: 'We don't want Elfric - we're using Jeremiah.'
Cecilia turned on her. 'Caris, be quiet! Remember your place. Don't interrupt my conversation with the lord prior again.'
Caris realized she was not helping Cecilia, and - against her inclination - she lowered her head and said: 'I'm sorry, Mother Prioress.'
Cecilia said to Godwyn: 'The question is not when we build, it's where.'
'I'm afraid I don't approve of this,' he said stiffly.
'Where would you prefer the new building to be sited?'
'I don't think you need a new hospital at all.'
'Forgive me, but I am in charge of the nunnery,' Cecilia said with asperity. 'You can't tell me how I should spend our money. However, we normally consult one another before putting up new buildings - although it has to be said that you forgot this little courtesy when planning your palace. Nevertheless, I am consulting you - merely on the question of the location of the building.' She looked at Lloyd. 'I'm sure the archdeacon will agree with me on this.'
'There must be agreement,' Lloyd said noncommittally.
Caris frowned, baffled. Why did Godwyn care? He was building his palace on the north side of the cathedral. It made no difference to him if the nuns put up a new building down here in the south, where most monks hardly ever came. What was he worried about?
Godwyn said: 'I'm telling you that I do not approve of the location nor of the building, so that is the end of the matter!'
Caris suddenly saw, in a flash of inspiration, the reason for Godwyn's behavior. She was so shocked that she blurted it out. 'You stole our money!'
Cecilia said: 'Caris! I told you - '
'He's stolen the legacy of the woman of Thornbury!' Caris said, overriding Cecilia in her outrage. 'That's where he got the money for his palace, of course. And now he's trying to stop us building because he knows we'll go to the treasury and find that our money has vanished!' She felt so indignant she might burst.
Godwyn said: 'Don't be preposterous.'
As a response, it was so muted that Caris knew she must have touched a nerve. Confirmation made her even angrier. 'Prove it!' she yelled. She forced herself to speak more calmly. 'We'll go to the treasury now and check the vaults. You wouldn't object to that, would you, Father Prior?'
Philemon chipped in: 'It would be a completely undignified proceeding, and there is no question of the prior submitting himself to it.'
Caris ignored him. 'There should be one hundred and fifty pounds in gold in the nuns' reserves.'
'Out of the question,' said Godwyn.
Caris said: 'Well, clearly the nuns will have to check the vaults anyway, now that the accusation has been made.' She looked at Cecilia, who nodded in agreement. 'So, if the prior prefers not to be present, no doubt the archdeacon will be happy to attend as a witness.'
Lloyd looked as if he would have preferred not to get involved in this dispute, but it was hard for him to refuse to play the role of umpire, so he muttered: 'If I can help both sides, of course...'
Caris's mind was racing on. 'How did you open the chest?' she said. 'Christopher Blacksmith made the lock, and he's too honest to give you a duplicate key and help you steal from us. You must have broken the box open, then repaired it somehow. What did you do, take off the hinge?' She saw Godwyn glance involuntarily at his subprior. 'Ah,' Caris said triumphantly, 'so Philemon took the hinge off. But the prior took the money, and gave it to Elfric.'
Cecilia said: 'Enough speculation. Let's settle the matter. We'll all go to the treasury and open the box, and that will be an end to it.'
Godwyn said: 'It wasn't stealing.'
Everyone stared at him. There was a shocked silence.
Cecilia said: 'You're admitting it!'
'It wasn't stealing,' Godwyn repeated. 'The money is being used for the benefit of the priory and the glory of God.'
Caris said: 'It makes no difference. It wasn't your money!'
'It's God's money,' Godwyn said stubbornly.
Cecilia said: 'It was left to the nunnery. You know that. You saw the will.'
'I know nothing of any will.'
'Of course you do. I gave it to you, to make a copy...' Cecilia tailed off.
Godwyn said again: 'I know nothing of any will.'
Caris said: 'He's destroyed it. He said he would make a copy, and put the original in the chest, in the treasury...but he destroyed it.'
Cecilia was staring openmouthed at Godwyn. 'I should have known,' she said. 'After what you tried to do to Caris - I should never have trusted you again. But I thought your soul might yet have been saved. I was so wrong.'
Caris said: 'It's a good thing we made our own copy of the will, before handing it over.' She was inventing this in desperation.
Godwyn said: 'A forgery, obviously.'
Caris said: 'If the money was yours in the first place, you will have had no need to break open the casket to get it. So let's go and look. That will settle it one way or another.'
Philemon said: 'The fact that the hinge has been tampered with proves nothing.'
'So I was right!' said Caris. 'But how do you know about the hinge? Sister Beth has not opened the vault since the audit, and the box was fine then. You must have removed it from the vault yourself, if you know that it has been interfered with.'
Philemon looked bewildered, and had no answer.
Cecilia turned to Lloyd. 'Archdeacon, you are the bishop's representative. I think it's your duty to order the prior to return this money to the nuns.'
Lloyd looked worried. He said to Godwyn: 'Have you got any of the money left?'
Caris said furiously: 'When you've caught a thief, you don't ask him whether he can afford to relinquish his ill-gotten gains!'
Godwyn said: 'More than half has already been spent on the palace.'
'Building must stop immediately,' Caris said. 'The men must be dismissed today, the building torn down and the materials sold. You have to return every penny. What you can't pay in cash, after the palace has been demolished, you must make up in land or other assets.'
'I refuse,' Godwyn said.
Cecilia addressed Lloyd again. 'Archdeacon, please do your duty. You cannot allow one of the bishop's subordinates to steal from another, no matter that they both do God's work.'
Lloyd said: 'I can't adjudicate a dispute such as this myself. It's too serious.'
Caris was speechless with fury and dismay at Lloyd's weakness.
Cecilia protested: 'But you must!'
He looked trapped, but he shook his head stubbornly. 'Accusations of theft, destruction of a will, a charge of forgery...This must go to the bishop himself!'
Cecilia said: 'But Bishop Richard is on his way to France - and no one knows when he will be back. Meanwhile, Godwyn is spending the stolen money!'
'I can't help that, I'm afraid,' Lloyd said. 'You must appeal to Richard.'
'Very well, then,' said Caris. Something in her tone made them all look at her. 'In that case there's only one thing to do. We'll go and find our bishop.'