The Grail Murders

you ate?'
    'Yes, yes,' I murmured bitterly, half-asleep. 'Something I ate.'
    My next awakening was more harsh. I was in the middle of my favourite dream, standing in the dungeons, sipping a cup of claret whilst masked torturers had Fat Henry spread-eagled on the cruellest rack. I could smell smoke and hear the most terrible screams. Suddenly I shook myself awake, realising it was no dream; smoke was drifting under my door and, in spite of the thickness of the walls, I could hear the most awful groaning and crashing. 'For pity's sake, fire!' I shouted.
    I opened the door and went out. The gallery was filled with smoke, the guttural screams and crackling sounds coming from the chamber occupied by the secretary, Cosmas. Quick-witted as usual, I snouted: 'Fire!' and dived back into my room with only one thought in my mind. The cornerstone of Shallot's philosophy: when danger threatens, collect your possessions and flee like the wind. I ran to find my master who was still fully dressed. 'For God's sake, Roger,' he said, 'what's happening?'
    'For God's sake, Master!' I snarled back. 'Isn't it obvious? The silly bastard next door started a fire and I have no desire to join him!'
    Benjamin stared at my cloak full of the little trinkets and valuable possessions I had collected.
    'Roger, Roger, don't be so modest, you can't break the door down with those!'
    He snatched the cloak out of my hand and threw it on the bed. Outside, I could hear doors opening on the gallery and running footsteps. At Benjamin's urging I helped pick up a wooden chest. We staggered out and began to use it as a battering ram against the locked door.
    Mandeville and Southgate appeared, followed by the other secretary, Damien, his pallid face even more ghastly as he stared in terror at the fire enveloping his brother's room. He beat the air with his hands and made the most heart-rending cries. God be my witness, Mandeville was as tender with him as a mother with a baby. He grabbed the poor creature by the neck and drew him close, then gazed savagely across at us.
    'Come on, you poltroons! Break the bloody door down!'
    Assisted by Southgate and two sleepy-eyed, half-dressed servants we hammered again at the door until it buckled, creaking and groaning, before snapping back, breaking the lock. The smoke billowed out, forcing us to drop the chest. Benjamin scurried back to his room and brought napkins soaked in water, flung these at us and told us to cover our mouths and eyes. Other servants appeared led by Santerre. A chamber was opened and I realised that, like many wise householders, Santerre used one room to store huge vats of water against the very fire we were now fighting.
    Benjamin and I, however, were first into the room. My master staggered over and opened the nearest window and, as the smoke cleared, we saw that the huge four-poster bed was now a sheet of flame.
    It was one of the most curious things I had ever seen. You must remember Templecombe was made of stone and the chambers on the top gallery had no wooden wainscoting so the fire hadn't spread. Oh, two rugs on the stone floor were smouldering but the fire was contained. It looked as if the entire bed had simply erupted into a ball of flame.
    Even then, as servants pushed by us with buckets of water and began to douse the flames, I knew there was something wrong. Both the braziers near the door had not been disturbed. The fire in the hearth was now a heap of white ash. So where had the flames sprung from? I concluded that I had done enough and was getting ready to sidle away when a servant pushed a large bucket of water into my hands and I realised that, under Santerre's direction, a human chain had been formed. At first the water made no difference but eventually the flames began to die until what was left of the bed was nothing but black smouldering ash.
    Mandeville was the first to approach it and, amongst the remains of the bed, we found the charred body of Cosmas. His corpse was nothing but burnt flesh, his features indistinguishable. I glimpsed white teeth and a gaping jaw but the sight of the eyeballs turning to water and the blackened flesh of the man's hands proved too much. I fled back to the privacy of my own room to retch and vomit. Further down the hall, Santerre shouted for the windows to be opened, canvas sheets to be brought, and issued curt requests that Rachel and his wife go back to their rooms.
    Mandeville's curses rang out interspersed by the awful, mournful sounds of