Justice for the Damned (27 page)

"Bring
your light."

As
the small flame flickered with weak warmth over his face, Thomas willed himself
to look like a man who had just died. He should have seen enough of them, he
thought, to feign the expression well. If he failed, he would no longer have to
pretend.

"He's
bled enough to be a dead man," Sayer said, touching the monk's neck gently
with his fingers. The light moved quickly away.

Thomas
prayed God would take mercy on his soul.

"I
will make sure of it."

"You
need not bother. I felt his neck. There is no life in him." Sayer's voice
was angry.

"Fancied
him, did we?" the man scoffed.

Sayer
did not reply, but Thomas heard a noise as if something was being shaken.

"Stop
that, whelp! Have you no idea what a valuable work the Psalter is? You'll
damage it!"

"Then
take the thing if you do not want harm to come to it."

The
light went out, and Thomas heard a grunt. As much as he longed to rise, he knew
he might faint from his injury. There was nothing he could do but lie in his
own blood.

Sayer
laughed. "A child could have done more harm with that blow. I think I
shall keep this for myself."

"Mock
if you will, but the Psalter is worthless without me."

Thomas
felt himself drift toward unconsciousness. He willed himself back.

"I
might have another buyer."

"Your
lies are as wanting as your manhood."

"You
are not the only one in Amesbury who needs money and knows the worth of this
piece of painted sheep skin."

The
man hissed. "You could not have found another."

"Can
you afford to doubt me? Or consider this: I might choose to save my soul,
rather than take money, and confess who has led me to this crime."

"You
would gain nothing by trying to expose me. Who would believe you, blasphemous
rogue that you are?"

"Dare
you chance that? You have now killed three men, including my own father."

"A
robber? Two womanish monks? Killing your father was but long-delayed justice
for ancient sins. As for the monks, I was kind, sending them to Heaven sooner
than either had dared hope."

"And
Eda? Even you dare not claim she killed herself. You drowned her, did you not?
She had overheard us talking about plans to steal..."

"I'll
kill you!" the man roared.

Sayer
laughed.

"Give
me the manuscript, cokenay."

"Only
if you can catch me."

The
sound of running feet echoed in the floor under Thomas' ear. He heard the door
crash against the wall.

Slowly
he opened one eye. Both men must be gone, he decided, but hesitated a moment to
make sure. Weak and dizzy, he began struggling to his knees.

A
hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"It
seems you are still alive, Brother," a man said.

Chapter
Thirty-Eight

Brother
Infirmarian cursed the clouds that had just covered the moon. His phrasing was
most secular.

"Brother
Thomas has not called for help, and the light has been extinguished in the
library." A lay brother pointed to the now dark window.

"The
agreement was to do nothing until our brother gave the signal," the
infirmarian whispered back. "We must wait a while longer before going
inside." He fell silent and stared with evident unease at the gloomy
building. "I dare not spring the trap too soon, but I do not wish harm to
come to our brave monk either."

"Wait!"
another exclaimed softly. "I heard a man's voice. That must be the
sign!"

Brother
Infirmarian rose and called for the group of lay brothers to follow him. As he
did, the clouds mercifully parted like a fortress gate and the moon shone forth
just enough to outline two figures emerging onto the scaffolding high above the
band of monastic rescuers.

The
first shadow leapt onto the roof, scrambling loudly up the steep incline. The
second stumbled, caught himself, and awkwardly crawled after him.

Brother
Infirmarian ordered his men to halt.

"Is
one Brother Thomas?" a lay brother asked him.

A
cloud drifted back across the moon, dimming the light.

"I
think not, but I cannot be sure. They could both be the Devil's imps."
Brother Infirmarian quickly ordered several of the lay brothers to assail the
library but gestured for one to remain behind with him. The two men slipped
closer to the walls and stared upward, raising their crosses to frighten any
demon that might lurk there.

The
grey forms on the roof looked like sooty ghosts against the darker roofing. The
apparition higher up laughed with wicked merriment.

The
men below clutched their crosses to their hearts. "Has the Devil released
his minions to befoul God's priory with obscene antics?" the lay brother
whispered.

The
moon once again escaped its cloud, and the men on the ground could see one
apparent mortal stand and wave something over his head.

"Give
me that!" the other shadow shouted.

Brother
Infirmarian looked at his companion. "Do you recognize that voice?"

The
lay brother said nothing, his eyes wide-open with terror.

"Catch
me if you can," the first one sang and climbed farther upward.

"Devil's
spawn!"

"How
fond you are of slandering others! I may be a rogue, but I would never defame
the innocent. Now that you are on God's ground, surely you must confess that
you lied about Eda. She never committed adultery, did she? Shout the truth to
God, and I may give you this Psalter."

"She
never forsook virtue," Herbert roared. "Give me the manuscript!"
He pulled himself closer to the desired object.

The
leaner shadow waved it over his head once again. "And a woman who so loved
God would never have committed self-murder, would she? Even you could not claim
otherwise, although you let others condemn her. Come," he said, holding
the Psalter just out of reach. "Tell me how she died, and I shall release
this."

"I
held her head under the water until she drowned." The vintner grabbed at
the Psalter, then slipped. As he slid down the roof, he screamed, but he landed
safely on the scaffolding.

"On
this holy ground, will you not ask His forgiveness?"

"Give
me that Psalter! Dare you call me a sinner when you are Satan's own
bedmate?"

"Now
you have hurt my feelings."

To
the right, two more men could be seen pulling themselves through a window onto
the narrow wooden walkway.

The
figure high on the roof lifted the Psalter over his head. "Beg for
this." Suddenly he lost his footing. "Here! Catch it!" the man
cried out, tossing the manuscript out into the darkness as he tumbled downward.

Master
Herbert bent backwards to seize the manuscript as it flew over his head. The
thin railing at his back snapped.

Brother
Infirmarian, ignoring the screams above him, raced to the man who had just hit
the ground.

"The
hangman has been thwarted," he said softly.

The
vintner's neck was broken in two.

Chapter
Thirty-Nine

Sayer
lay in the monks' infirmary, his face pale and one arm bound to his chest.

"Does
your shoulder hurt?" Bernard asked with frank concern.

"Brother
Infirmarian pushed the bone back in quickly enough." Sayer's expression
spoke more of indifference than any relief. "I am weak and may not move
this arm. That is all."

"When
we pulled you back onto the scaffolding, I wept for your pain." The glover
wrung his hands and glanced over at the monk beside him. "Had Brother
Thomas not been with me, you would have died. I did not have the strength to
save you by myself."

"I
should thank you both for that," the roofer said, "but I heal only to
face the hangman. You should have let me fall to my death and saved the cost of
a rope."

"You
have killed no one," Brother Thomas replied.

"If
I had not agreed to play a ghost to keep everyone inside at night so the
vintner might steal the manuscript, my father would have lived. Although I did
not strike the blow, I still murdered my father with my greed and wicked
foolishness."

"God
wants to forgive, and your actions tonight will do much to assuage the evil you
have done in the past," Thomas replied, touching the binding around his
head without thinking. He winced. "You did not know that my prioress had a
plan to catch the guilty, yet you had already plotted to expose both killer and
thief."

"Then
only my hand will be cut off for my own part in attempting to steal the
Psalter? I would rather kill myself than become a further burden to my
mother."

Bernard
gasped. "Your mother loves you as does Alys. Why make them suffer by
committing that cruel and sinful act?"

"When
the sheriff chops off the hand, I may die anyway. Satan will get a fine jester
when he receives my soul."

"Justice
will not be a secular one," Thomas said. "Your sheriff has
proclaimed, in front of witnesses, that Church law rules in the matter of
ghosts. Since you were the ghost, the priory will decide your punishment."

"Have
I not profited from leading monks to sin? Did I not agree to help steal a holy
work? Surely the Church would say that I am to blame for the death of my father
and Brother Baeda, a most virtuous monk who joyfully shared the Psalter's
sacred beauty with this wicked man." He turned his face away. "The
Church will love me even less than King Henry's men."

"You
conspired to catch Master Herbert in the theft and arranged for me to witness
his confession of murder." Bernard folded his arms. "Does that not
show repentance for any past sins?

"Repentance?"
Sayer laughed. "I but wanted you and Alys to marry! Once the vintner's
crimes were exposed and your courage in catching him out was told, my aunt
would accept your suit."

"More
is involved, I think," Thomas added.

"Consider
the advantage to me if Bernard heard the vintner's confession. It absolves me
of killing my father. When he was murdered on the path outside the priory, I
suspected who had done it. Only Master Herbert knew about the toeholds I had
gouged into the mortar when I finished repairing the wall for my father. When I
confronted the man, he did admit the deed, claiming my sire had to die because
he recognized him escaping from the priory after a monk cried out in
fear."

"If
he confessed, why did you not report it?"

"He
reminded me that many had heard how my father and I quarreled and the threat I
made in the heat of it to kill him. It would be easy to make sure I was
arrested for my father's murder."

"A
threat most did not believe you meant," Thomas added.

"Dear
cousin, why do you continue to cover your soul with foulness? Admit your honest
deeds."

Sayer
raised an eyebrow. "Cousin? You should not stain your honor by adding me
to your family."

"As
Alys' beloved cousin, you are mine as well." Bernard raised his chin.
"If you insist on confessing your evil deeds, at least add how you planned
to trap the man."

"And
failed to do so before a kind monk was killed." The roofer's mouth
trembled. "Since the vintner had not asked my help in his first attempt to
steal the Psalter, I should have known he did not trust me, or else had grown
impatient with greed. Once again and without my knowledge, he climbed the wall
and managed to slip into the library. Brother Baeda caught him and died. For
that, I grieve."

Thomas
shook his head. "Yet you came for the Psalter last night. How did you regain
the man's trust?"

"I
squirmed on my knees and beseeched him for coin, a longing he well understood.
Since he had failed twice, I convinced him to let me try. I knew the building
best, having reached the scaffolding to the roof from inside the library."
Sayer shrugged, then winced with the pain. "When he agreed, I knew he
would probably follow, hoping to kill me as soon as he could get the manuscript
in hand."

"Surely
the ghost could only be accused of so much violence before someone suspected a
human hand. How dare he chance another corpse?"

"Queen
Elfrida would be blamed for only two murders. Need I remind you how cleverly he
disguised his wife's death, Brother? He was most confident, and, although I
think his guilty soul may have really wanted hers to seem an accident, he would
have had no scruples about making mine look like suicide."

"From
guilt because you sold women's flesh? London would be bereft of whoremongers if
men were so conscience-stricken."

"This
is Amesbury, Brother. Some here would most certainly conclude I had killed
myself over sins of the flesh." Sayer's smile was fleeting.