Justice for the Damned

Chapter Thirty-Six

At the appointed time that night, Thomas went to the inn. He sat on a bench, called for ale, and waited for Sayer, but his hand shook when he reached for the tankard soon placed in front of him. Firmly grasping the thing with both hands, he managed to quell the disloyal tremor.

Anyone seeing this sign of apprehension would surely blame it on his great struggle between the demands of frail flesh and his equally great longing for Heaven, or so he told himself. Unfortunately, his flesh showed no evidence of interest in this planned tryst, an observation he hoped no one else made.

Sayer arrived shortly after, and Thomas persuaded him that he longed for the most popular serving wench. Maybe he only imagined the hint of disappointment on the man's face, but once he had given Sayer payment for his night of pleasuring, the man spoke to the innkeeper and disappeared.

The moment Thomas and the woman had closed the door to the private room, he fell to his knees, raised his still trembling hands heavenward, and loudly thanked God for granting him the strength to win his battle over the flesh.

At first the woman expressed indignation, but he assured her that he would slip away unnoticed and the money agreed upon would not be taken back no matter his change of heart. Her weary face brightened and she winked at him, assuring the monk that she would enjoy the wine and an empty bed.

Thomas soon found himself back in the night and hurrying along the path to the priory and the dark library.

That the sheriff was still in distant pursuit of his fowl and boar mattered not. Sister Beatrice had agreed to her niece's plan and promised there would be men in the shadows surrounding the building, robust lay brothers armed with blessed cudgels, most likely under the command of Brother Infirmarian. Thomas would not be alone.

He looked around. At least I trust the men are there, he said to himself. He could see no one but took comfort in the hope that they were ready to come to his rescue with due speed if needed.

In truth, he did not know exactly what to expect inside the library, although he had ardently beseeched to go there alone. Prioress Eleanor had conceded that one man would be less likely to betray the trap, thus increasing the chances of catching the thief in the act, but she did not think his plan quite safe. Only when he promised to cry out for the aid of others once he had caught the man had she agreed. Thomas prayed she was not angry with him, seeing his stubborn insistence as either disrespectful or disobedient.

He had another reason for wanting to be alone. Although he knew that Sayer would be the one most likely caught with his hand on the Psalter, the monk's unruly heart refused to be silenced, arguing with growing persistence that the roofer was more misguided than evil. Might Thomas not reason with him tonight, persuading the man to reveal who was behind the theft and even agree to give witness to the murderer's deeds? If so, the monk could argue for leniency on Sayer's behalf.

If he was wrong and the roofer was a brutal killer, he should be able to detain him for a short time until the others arrived. The other problem lay in the number he might meet in the darkness of the library. If more than one was there, he would be in great danger. In that case, he must count on his own strength, wits, and the element of surprise to get him out of the situation.

The library was as profoundly silent as it was deep in shadow. Although Thomas' eyes were used to the gloom, he felt his way to a hiding place with difficulty. At least anyone else who came through the darkness would be at equal disadvantage, he thought, settling into a crouch behind Brother Jerome's work area. The book chest was directly in front of him.

His ears prickled. Had he heard a sound or was it just a mouse skittering along the floor? The silence now seemed full of tiny noises, but as he strained to hear, he was almost certain that someone was coming.

The door opened.

A man entered. He was holding a flickering light.

Silently Thomas swore at himself for not considering this possibility. Could he be seen by the light of that flame? He bent down as much as he could.

His pounding heart quieted as he realized that the thief would not have brought light if there was anyone outside to see it. That meant he knew the monk was the only one who might be nearby, and he was supposedly across the river, busily swyving a woman. The lay brothers must have seen it as well and known that the thief had arrived. He should take comfort in that, Thomas decided.

The man hesitated, then silently walked to the book chest.

Thomas was sure it was Sayer. So that there would be no doubt about the man's intent, he would wait until the roofer began to leave with the Psalter in his arms.

The figure bent, holding the light close to the storage box. Within the briefest of moments, he had broken the lock, lifted the lid, and grasped the Psalter. The lid dropped with a dull thud. The man turned and walked toward the monk.

Thomas rose to face him, but something to his left caught his attention. He jerked to one side. The blow struck the side of his head. Light flashed before his eyes, and everything went black.