"What mean you?" Thomas asked, peering down at the item in question, now resting securely inside the priory book chest.
"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."