Nay, it was neither death nor the suspicion thereof that pricked sharply at his heart. He knew that well enough. It was the knowledge that he must send Sayer into a trap, one that might well lead to the man's hanging. The earth joined his spirit in protest and seemed to snatch at his feet to keep him from his destination.
When Thomas reached the inn, he stopped, willing a firmness of purpose to fill his soul. After all, Prioress Eleanor had ordered him to perform a task, and he owed her obedience. He might be blinded by the wiles of the Prince of Darkness, but she was not. He had no right to whine like some swaddled babe. He must…
"Why such hesitancy, Brother? After two visits, you have second thoughts about entering our inn?"
Thomas spun around.
Sayer stood behind him.
The monk swallowed, the flame of guilt turning his face hot. "I am distressed," he said quickly. "Will you share some ale with me?"
"More questions, monk? I weary of them and even the promise of ale is not tempting enough to make tolerance bloom."
"I am through with that. Amesbury Priory must find someone else to solve their problems."
Sayer's look softened. He stepped in front of the monk and held the door open for him. "The priory coin has come most often from your hand, Brother. Let it now drop from mine. Enter and tell me what troubles you."
Thomas walked inside. Behind him, the door creaked shut. He blinked at the smoky darkness and breathed in the sour reek of old sweat.
Sayer gestured for the monk to follow.
Can I do this? Thomas asked himself as he settled on the bench. But once the drink arrived and they were alone, he willed himself to the game and uttered a painful sigh.
"What causes your brow to furrow so, Brother?"
"My prioress says we must leave on the morrow. Although I have ignored all this until now…" He gestured at the ale, then nodded in the direction of the vanished serving wench. "My heart grieves for I shall have no such joys at Tyndal."
Sayer gazed at him in silence. "Then your last evening must be especially memorable."
Thomas tried to look both sheepish and eager, an effort made more difficult by the new chill in the roofer's voice.
"I could promise you such a time but do ask if you can leave the priory tonight?"
Thomas nodded. "I believe that I can."
"The wall has been repaired, and the ghost lurks."
Was the man trying to dissuade him? Thomas asked himself. Was he ignorant of the toeholds scraped into the repaired wall? Hope warmed his heart. "I have seen no ghost. Since Brother Baeda's death, Sister Beatrice has ordered me to lock the library after Compline. Now I sleep apart from other monks and patrol outside the building with a cross in hand to protect the sacred works therein from any hellish imps."
"How clever of Sister Beatrice."
He shrugged. "None would know if I slipped away as long as I returned by Matins."
"Then come to the inn when darkness falls, Brother."
"After Compline…"
"Nay, before. Pray if you must, but remember that Matins comes early. I would not have you cheated of any joy when none will warm you once you return to your own priory."
"The library…"
"… shall be safe enough for one night. You have seen no ghost. Most likely, the queen's spirit has found whatever she went there to seek. She might well choose to trouble the monks in their dorter next, or else she has gone back to Purgatory." He bent his head to one side and studied the monk. "If you come early enough, I can promise you a private room and an able woman to serve you the inn's best wine."
Thomas put a hand to his heart as if to still its sinful beating. "Barring some demand by my prioress, I will meet you after the evening meal and before Compline."
Sayer nodded, slid from the bench, and left the monk alone.
A black robe of mourning draped over Thomas' heart.
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.