Justice for the Damned

Chapter Twenty-Four

"Come join me, monk!" Sayer sat on the library roof and waved his hammer. "You will feel closer to God."

"Come down to earth," Thomas countered, unable to hold back a grin. Then a heavy darkness settled around his heart. "I want to talk to you."

"I have work to do and what light remains is precious." He gestured for Thomas to go inside. "There is a way to the roof up some stairs. At the top you will find an opening that leads onto the scaffolding. Once there, I will help you climb to a seat, and we can talk while I continue at my task."

"I have not your firm footing."

"Afraid of dying, monk? What sins do you fear might send you to Hell if you fall unshriven?" Sayer's smile suggested he was jesting, but his tone did not match the look.

Thomas recoiled from the blow to his honor. If the man was suggesting he was a coward, he would prove otherwise. "Which stairs am I to climb?"

The steps were steep, and the window through which he edged was small. Now as he balanced himself on the narrow scaffolding and stared at the sharp angle of the roof, Thomas asked himself whether a true monk would have surrendered his pride and turned down Sayer's implied dare. How often did he betray his insincere calling in just such ways?

Whatever the roofer's intent, he showed gentle courtesy by helping the monk climb the steep pitch to a safe place. Once settled in, Thomas gazed at the view and understood why some envied soaring birds. From here he could see beyond the walls and across the river to the strange mounds the monks mentioned only in hushed tones. The village was also on the other side, quite tiny from this great height and filled with bustling miniature people. Do we look that small to God, he asked himself.

"You have fallen silent, monk. I thought you wanted to talk with me." Sayer raised his hammer with a flourish and whacked a new nail into the slate patch.

"I wonder at what a man can observe when raised higher than he might otherwise be. Now I see why angels have a far greater understanding of the earth from their vantage point in Paradise." Or so Thomas decided he might have been thinking if his eyes had not slipped from contemplating the heavens to Sayer's muscular stomach. He looked away.

"A most philosophical monk. Surely you did not wish to talk of angels with me, for I shall confess I much prefer the feel of the earth than any angel's breath." Sayer studied Thomas with mock gravity.

"Where were you last night?" The monk cursed himself for such an unsubtle question. He should tease the truth from this man, not bludgeon it.

"Surely anything you might need me to do for you can be done tonight."

"I am afraid to come to the inn. The ghost has struck again. We had a murder here."

Sayer froze, then dropped his hammer.

In silence, the two men watched the tool tumble to the ground.

"Who died?"

"Brother Baeda."

"I grieve." Sayer swiftly rubbed at his eyes. "He was a virtuous man."

"You knew him well, did you not? So well, in fact, that he told me with what delight he had answered your many questions about the Psalter belonging to Prioress Ida."

Shifting his crouch, Sayer stared down at the distant ground.

"Your interest both amazed and pleased him."

"I may be unlettered, Brother, but I am not stupid."

"I do not understand what you mean." Thomas cursed himself again. The tips of his fingers burned to touch the man. He hid them in his sleeves.

"I shall rephrase: I am no fool. Do you wish to cast suspicion on me?"

"I meant no such thing! Surely you were elsewhere last night. At the inn? With many witnesses?"

Sayer rose and balanced himself with care. His face reddened. "I was enjoying what you have foresworn, Thomas of Tyndal, and that is more than you need to know."

"A witness!"

"None that I will name." He turned away and eased himself from the roof to the scaffolding.

"Wait!" Thomas called out. "I cannot get down from here."

"Find your own way out of your predicament, monk. I shall not help you." The man stood on the scaffolding and glared at Thomas, but his expression soon softened. "Although I believe you have some reason for wanting to call me Cain and mark me for his deed, I would not have you die here from your womanish fears." He gestured with a mocking toss of his hand. "Slide on your belly like a snake, and you will slip into the scaffolding like a birthing babe."

Thomas reached out his hand, but Sayer had already left.