Justice for the Damned Read Free Page A

keep
that from happening." He put his hands on his hips and gestured with his head
in the direction of a nearby tree. "The crow has a nest there. I had come
too near her young. When she flew at me, I lost my footing." He bent
backward and fell. The scaffolding groaned, and the wooden walkway bent
alarmingly.
    Thomas
cried out, instinctively raising his arms as if he might truly and safely catch
a man falling from such a height.
    The
roofer jumped up, laughing like a boy caught in an innocent lark. "That
slip was but a jest. The monks lead such dull lives. I do them some service
with a harmless scare from time to time. Something must be done to keep their
humors from growing too sluggish."
    "I
fear that kindness was lost on me, friend, for I am not from
Amesbury."
    "I
did not think I had recognized you. I beg pardon, Brother...?"
    "Thomas
of Tyndal. And you?"
    "Sayer."
As a gust of wind shook the scaffolding, the man kept his balance like a sailor
on a ship. "Were you to slip over these walls for a bit of joy in the
town, as some of the religious in this priory have been wont to do, you would
hear me called anything from a fellow most fond of japes to an irresponsible
and heartless knave. You may believe most of that but never that I am
heartless." He slowly tightened his braes around the waist. "And
might you be a monk who finds he prays more diligently after refreshing his
sense of sin?"
    A
feeling, akin to that of a virgin boy alone for the first time with a girl,
inexplicably hit Thomas. A lump formed in his throat. He swallowed. "And
if I am?" he asked as an idea forced the discomfort aside.
    "I
must warn you that the Saxon queen, who founded this priory as penance for her
own misdeeds, has returned to torment the monks here. Some say that the wicked
ways of the religious have angered her, and she roams the path from priory to
village on many a night, bringing the fear of Hell to all she meets." He
shrugged. "Now the monks stay inside and pray for her earlier release to
Heaven as they were paid to do." Sayer's grin destroyed any righteous
meaning to his speech.
    Either
this Sayer was only repeating gossip or else he was telling him that he knew
how to provide men, weary of hot dreams, with soft flesh for pleasuring. Might
he also know something about men who lusted after precious manuscripts as well?
"Yet she might not trouble strangers to the priory for these would not be
beholden to her." Thomas wondered what the man would say.
    "You
may be correct, Brother, for her quarrel should only be with those who promised
to stay on their knees praying for the peace of her soul. If that is the case,
a stranger could seek me out at the inn without fear of her wrath. I can be
helpful—and discreet."
    "Especially
if graced with a flash of the king's face?"
    "I
love King Henry, Brother. He looks most noble on silver."
    "Such
loyalty is no sin," Thomas replied and smiled back in spite of himself. If
Sayer provided whores for monks, he might well know others who worked outside
the law. Thomas groaned in silence. Such a man would be useful if he could ever
determine how to get outside the walls without provoking either suspicion or
gossip that might get back to the ears of Prioress Eleanor. Coin would also be
needed. Once again he cursed his spy master. The man was a fool to think a monk
in the company of his prioress was suited to this sort of investigation.
    "In
the meantime, do not worry about me, Thomas of Tyndal. The fog might make this
surface slippery, but God must love those who repair priory roofing. I have yet
to fall to my death." Sayer tossed his head, his hair falling back to
frame his beardless face.
    Somewhere
beyond the priory walls, a man shouted, his words lost in the breeze.
    The
sound made Thomas blink, and he realized he had been staring at Sayer. A
handsome fellow, one that would have little trouble finding women to bed, he
thought, then felt his face grow hot with embarrassment. He should not make
such an