Justice for the Damned (25 page)

"This
holy Psalter was handled without due reverence, and God does not forgive those
who treat the work of devout monks, created with pious sweat, in such a casual
manner." Jerome slammed the wooden lid shut.

Several
silverfish skittered out from under one metal-encased corner and disappeared
into a crack in the floor.

"Indeed,
Brother, indeed." Thomas rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Considering the
fate of Jerome's depiction of Eve with Eden's snake, he suspected the monk's
present outburst had more to do with the deeds of unruly young novices than any
failure committed by the murdered librarian. "Yet I am at a loss to
understand why a ghost would choose to visit it."

Brother
Jerome opened his gap-toothed mouth, looked puzzled, and shut it.

"You
were about to say...?"

Jerome
blinked rapidly. "I was? Aye, I was!" He struck his chest. "My
spirit trembles at the thought, but I believe that Satan was at work here.
Brother Baeda was an honorable man, and I shall pray for his early release to
Heaven, but I fear he suffered from the sin of pride just before his
death."

"Ah,
pride!" Thomas nodded grave agreement. "Tell me the tale, for we
learn most about the Devil's subtleties from the failings of honest men."

Jerome
exhaled through his mouth with virtuous disgust.

Thomas
was reminded of a horse.

"The
Psalter is a most prized possession. When I saw the tear, I told Brother Baeda
that I could mend it. My talents in manuscript work may be modest, but they are
a God-inspired skill." He bent his head with due humility.
"Nonetheless, Prioress Ida decided that no one here was worthy of touching
it. Our dear brother informed me that some monk with special expertise had been
summoned. Until this
expert
came, the Psalter should have been stored safely
away. I think any reasonable man would agree?" He sniffed.

Thomas
inclined his head with the anticipated concurrence.

"Bound
as I am to obey, I did not argue with our leader's decision, but I was struck
with wonder at the careless manner in which the manuscript was treated. Brother
Baeda was so willing to show it to anyone at all—even that young rogue
Sayer—and thus I saw how Satan had filled our brother's heart with pride. Of
all the monks in the priory, he had been found worthy enough to care for the
Psalter, and he wanted all to see the treasure he was given to protect."

"I
concur. When I asked to see it, he let me view any page I wished."

Brother
Jerome turned red, a color that gave bright contrast to the sparse white
bristle on his cheeks. "I have no quarrel with a noble and godly interest
such as yours. Sayer, on the other hand, is of base birth and the son of a
thief. Our librarian should not have allowed a man like that to sully the holy
work with his profane gaze."

"Of
course."

"Besides
being proud, Brother Baeda was too tolerant of young men's sinful ways and
often turned a blind eye on their wicked follies. In the afternoon, before the
sad evening of his death, he told me that Sayer had come to talk with him yet again
about the Psalter." The monk pursed his lips with disgust. "How he
could have ignored that youth's wickedness is beyond my comprehension."

"Did
Brother Baeda say why Wulfstan's son was so interested in the holy work?"

Jerome
winced as if he had just bitten into a bitter fruit. "I am sure Sayer gave
him some plausible reason. Our dear brother did not tell me what it was, but I
made sure he knew of my disapproval."

"And
so you believe the ghost came that night for good purpose?"

"There
could only be one reason: to bring the message of God's displeasure."

"A
phantom you believe might be...?"

"Queen
Elfrida, without a doubt." Jerome's eyes glazed with recollection.
"The spirit was tall. A noble lady would be of greater height than one of
lower birth." He nodded thoughtfully. "I was confused when she struck
me down with unwomanly force, but a soul released from Purgatory would be
possessed of far greater strength than any mortal."

"Edifying
visions are so rare in these wicked times, and you have surely been granted
one. Please tell me more."

"The
queen's ghost had much reason to be here. Her sins were so heinous, and despite
the wealth she gave at our founding, we had grown lax in our prayers for her
soul. Prioress Ida punished the monks who..." He swallowed, unwilling to
even name the sin, then continued. "Perhaps that problem was solved, but
the queen still had cause for outrage when Brother Baeda gave more attention to
young men on their way to Hell than he did to the proper care of her priory's
most sacred work."

"Did
the spirit tell you this?"

"She
had no need for speech. By her presence at the library door, she made her
message clear, as she did by our brother's death." His expression grew
sad. "I grieve that she found it necessary to kill him so cruelly, but
might he not have died from the shock of seeing her unearthly face?"

"Mayhap."

"I
pray hourly for his soul."

Thomas
nodded respectfully. "As a consequence, you have kept the Psalter away
from impious eyes. For that zeal, both the ghost and God must praise you."

Jerome
slammed his hand on the flat lid of the chest, drew in his ill-defined chin,
and straightened his narrow shoulders. "When Sayer came to me, asking to
see the Psalter, I vigorously refused, telling him that his filthy hands would
never again soil the illuminations on that precious work!"

"And
I am sure you showed him the strength of that chest, lest he try to open it
when you were away at prayer."

"He
was most curious about that, Brother, so I made sure he got a close look at the
metal corners and heavy wood." Jerome shook the key that hung from his
waist. "He also knows that I keep this with me at all times."

Thomas
raced from the library, his heart pounding with fear. Brother Jerome might be
the next to die if this mystery was not quickly resolved.

Was
Sayer both murderer and thief? Although Thomas' heart shouted that the roofer
was incapable of such brutality, his monk's mind argued with equal force that
Satan was blinding him to the truth. Hadn't he just seen a man, struck by Sayer
in a fight at the inn? Was that not proof enough of the roofer's violence?

"Prioress
Eleanor will see everything with the light Satan has chased from my soul,"
Thomas whispered as he sped through the priory. Indeed she must.

Chapter
Thirty-Four

Silence
fell while the servant laid refreshments on a table.

Sister
Anne followed the woman from the chambers, paused to make sure no one was
outside the door, then shut it. "Our brother is right when he says we must
delay no longer," she said.

"Sayer's
unusual interest in the Psalter suggests he may be the thief," Eleanor
said, turning to Thomas.

"I
agree, yet..." Thomas looked away. ".. .yet Wulfstan's son may be
innocent or only a pawn in this game, my lady. Are you sure no one from the
priory could be involved?"

"It
would be difficult for a monk to sell a Psalter, Brother."

Thomas
folded his arms. "For cert, but that also applies to Sayer. Where could a
mere roofer sell such a manuscript? Someone else must be involved, making
Sayer's crime a limited one. He might be acting on behalf of a monk, stealing
the Psalter which he would then deliver to a man outside the priory who could
sell it. If he did this while all monks were at prayer, no accusing finger
could be pointed at any monastic. He may be little more than a courier."

Eleanor
nodded for him to continue.

"He
may even be innocent. When I first met the man, he showed no distress that this
priory's monks had ceased to visit the inn, although he was willing enough to
offer a complete stranger, me, a way to break my vows." The monk swallowed
audibly. "If Sayer had some way to sell the Psalter, or else knew someone
who could do so, he might have arranged with some monk to deliver the
manuscript to him at the inn long before now."

"I
understand your argument," Anne said, "but he has not given you a
good reason for his current and most unusual interest in this sacred work.
Reverence does not appear to be one of his virtues. We must conclude he has
another purpose."

"I
agree that there is no explanation for his questions about the storage of the
work." Thomas took a deep breath. "On the other hand, he is only in
the priory during the day. How could he steal the Psalter then? It would have
to be done at night. Only a monk would know the habits of the religious best
and when it would be safe to remove the work from the library without the
chance of witnesses."

"We
cannot dismiss the wandering phantom that has been seen both inside and without
the priory walls," Eleanor said. "The library is on the monks' side.
If the ghost was created to keep formerly lusty monks quivering fearfully in
their chaste beds, someone could climb the wall at night and steal the
manuscript without fear of detection. Although this could have been a monk, I
suspect the spirit has a more secular form. Based on Brother Jerome's
statement, all religious were at prayers when Brother Baeda faced his killer.
Therefore, no monk is guilty of this deed, an act that must have occurred
during one attempt to steal the Psalter." Her expression was grim.
"These two murders continue to trouble me. Brother Baedas death might be
easily explained, but I fail to comprehend why Wulfstan should have died. I
asked myself if he was involved because he repaired that wall and may have left
the toeholds. Nonetheless, all have claimed he was a man who honored the law
for so very many years." She stopped. "I need your thoughts,
Brother."

"I
cannot cast light on your questions, my lady, yet I see no fault with your
conclusions," Thomas replied, his tone hesitant.

Eleanor
put her hands together and studied the monk over the tips of her fingers.
"Although I believe our roofer is the thief, your argument that someone
else has to be involved is well-considered." She frowned. "Tell me,
Brother, do you think Sayer capable of murder?"

Thomas
gazed at the ground. "He fought with his father before Wulfstan died and
even threatened to kill him. Although I cannot discover the reason for the
argument, we know that father and son have worked outside the law, both the
king's and God's, for personal gain. The father may have reformed, but the son
has not, if his attempt to draw me into sin is any indication. If a man commits
one crime, may he not be suspect for another?" His voice faded on those
last words.

Eleanor
grew thoughtful as she mulled over her monk's question. "If you mean the
corruption of weak-fleshed monks, I agree that was a wicked deed." She
knew the reason for the quarrel but would not speak of it. Cold reason might
dismiss Drifa's easy forgiveness and her own aunt's fond tolerance of the man,
but her mind could not reject one doubt about the accusation of sodomy:
Wulfstan might have been mistaken in what he saw. There was no corroborating
evidence. She closed her eyes and said, "Man may sin, yet not be guilty of
all evil. Nor is he beyond redemption in God's eyes." At least she had
faith in that, no matter how confused she was about the rest of this matter.

"And
repent he may have done. As you yourself have said, only one religious has
visited the inn of late, and that man is you," Anne added.

"Despite
your last words, Brother, I have also heard you express doubt about the
roofer's guilt. Do you believe Sayer is innocent in the murder of his father
and Brother Baeda?"

"He
has charmed me, my lady." Thomas' voice broke, his words stumbling out of
his mouth as if he hated to say them. "Perhaps Satan has blinded me to his
evil, but I do not think he killed his father. I heard love in his voice when
he spoke of Wulfstan. Nor can I imagine that Sayer murdered Brother Baeda. The
method of killing was a ruthless act, and I have not seen such cruelty in the
roofer. Nonetheless, I cannot overlook his unusual interest in the
manuscript." Thomas exhaled, the sound akin to a sob. "Nor can I deny
that Satan might not have given him a pleasing countenance to hide a dark
soul."

Eleanor
said nothing for a very long time.

Sister
Anne looked from one to the other, then rose and poured a mazer of wine for her
prioress and the monk. "If Sayer is working on behalf of someone else,
might that person be involved in the murders instead?"

Eleanor
nodded in agreement. "Someone who has access to buyers of precious
manuscripts, and someone who sells at some distance."

"And
that might be who?" Anne asked.

"Merchants
travel," Thomas said, looking hopeful.

"Bernard
the glover needs money to win the hand of his beloved Alys." Eleanor put
her mazer down without tasting the wine. "He himself creates most artful designs
and might well know others who appreciate beautiful things. Among such men
there may be those who, if their own eyes covet it, choose to ignore that a
work was intended to please God. I also saw him walking by the river with
another of like enough age who might have been Sayer. Were they plotting?"
She looked upward in silence for a moment. "Yet Satan may have blinded me
as well, Brother. I cannot believe the glover is a murderer, and my woman's
frail heart hopes that he and Alys can wed. I see no great evil in him."