First, who would have wanted to steal them?
They were obviously taken, not for their religious significance, but for their value.Anyone who needed or wanted wealth could have been responsible.Which left a lot of suspects.
And that led to his second question.What would the thief have done with them?
He might have sold them.The jewelry could be marketed to a merchant.But anyone could see the silver cross and gold chalice were religious items.So if they’d gone to a merchant, it would have to be a disreputable one.
He might have had them melted down.That would require a small crucible.Crucibles were used mostly by silversmiths and goldsmiths, who resided in the village.
He might have run away with them.But Hew didn’t think so.The thief had returned again and again to the monastery.He likely lived nearby.
He might have hidden them to be sold later, when less suspicion would be roused.That would be the worst possibility.Hew couldn’t very well ransack the whole village, searching for stolen goods.
The third question was how had the thief gained access to the monastery?
It was well known that nobles sent their valuables to monasteries for safekeeping since it was considered a mortal sin to rob a holy place.Most thieves would think twice before risking their soul by filching God’s property.
The monks were up for worship all night and all day.Matins.Prime.Terce.Sext.None.Vespers.Compline.A thief would have to time his entry into the monastery to dodge the sessions of prayer.
A stranger wouldn’t know the layout of the monastery.Where the treasures were kept.Who resided where.Which rooms were occupied at which hours.
Only someone familiar with the building could easily carry out such thefts.That meant the thief had to be someone who currently resided at the monastery, had lived there once, or visited regularly.
Hew would be sure to ask the prior who made deliveries of food and supplies.He’d learn which outsiders serviced the monastery in terms of cleaning or repairs or harvesting.And he’d ask the abbot whether any novices had recently changed their minds about entering the order.
Armed with those questions and his trusty axe, he figured he could get answers fairly quickly.
What he couldn’t do so quickly was get past the appetizing array of lasses who populated the village streets.
He tried.He glowered as he walked along, training his eyes on the ground a few feet ahead of him.
Even then, his ear caught on snippets of conversation, feminine laughter, and a few speculative whispers as he passed.
He happened to brush a lady’s skirts, and he lifted his gaze only momentarily to apologize.But the lass caught his eye and smiled.And of course, she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.At least the most beautiful in a sennight.
Tightening his jaw, he murmured an apology and swiftly ducked into the first doorway he found for refuge.It was an alehouse.Perfect.He could use the distraction of a pint.And the local alehouse was the best place to collect gossip about a village’s residents.
The place fell silent at the sight of his axe, as if they feared he was a Viking on the rampage.He supposed that was understandable.He was taller than most, with long straw-colored hair and pale gray eyes, and his sister said he was as broad as an ox.But he was Scottish, born and bred, not a rampaging Viking.It was his ancestors who had been the rampaging Vikings.
Hanging his plaid on a peg, he nodded a greeting to the attractive apple-cheeked alewife.She had a twinkle in her eye that told Hew she liked the cut of his trews.He tried not to think about it.
“An ale, I pray you,” he said, averting his eyes.Then he reconsidered.“Got anything cooking on the fire?”
“Mutton pottage, m’laird,” she said.“Warm.Tasty.And satisfyin’.Or so I’m told.”
Hew couldn’t mistake the innuendo in her voice.But he could ignore it.“A trencher of that as well then.”
He chose a seat against the wall, propping his axe beside him, and nodded to the other inhabitants of the alehouse.
A velvet-clad nobleman scowled into his ale.A pair of laborers warmed their knees by the fire.Two dusky-skinned foreigners played at dice on a table.And three well-dressed commoners chatted animatedly in the corner.
Hew listened.The three were merchants, discussing the upcoming village fair.According to their discussion, they felt there were too many wool merchants being allowed in from other parts.Woolmakers Row, they said, was going to be crowded with competing vendors.
That wasn’t useful to Hew.Wool merchants had no use for crucibles.Nor would they be likely to try to sell religious artifacts.
His trencher of pottage and ale arrived, and he dug in at once.He hadn’t realized how hungry he was.But the simple peppery stew with its chunks of mutton, leeks, and kale tasted like food of the gods.
He suspected hunger had likewise clouded his judgment about the alewife’s attractiveness.On second glance, she was at least a dozen years older than him and lacking two of her front teeth.
