And now I have chance. A prospect of her love. An opportunity for requital. She wants me to steal from the cathedral, it should be simple. A little too simple perhaps, I am not yet so sunk in her inky infinity that I am utterly disconnected from our ordinary plane. I am not so far on the road to Arcadia that I forget what lies behind. However much I love her I cannot trust her. A thief trusts no one as no one trusts a thief. Her heart lingers on the Cornish wrestler, he who deserted her. Where is he now? Does he risk his life to buy her eardrops to shine beside that chthonic hair? Does he run mortal danger to put rings upon her elegant finger? He does not!
No matter, if she does play me false I shall requite her ill will as she would not requite my love. I have spoken to my brother, it is all arranged. No. She would not. No such seraph could. If I truly suspected her I would not go on with it but I am and by tomorrow she will have her ear drops, she will have her rings. And the shining metal will dazzle her eyes and the sparkling jewels will blind her and she shall see the wrestler nevermore. Those unreal eyes will look only to me and I will live happily in their depths.
I smile still as I slip out of my hiding place in the cathedral; I have been waiting since Vespers for the last of the priests to leave. It is of no importance, thinking of her passed the time easily. I look over the precious objects around the altar with a practised eye, immediately I discard those too big or of too little value to take and slip a few choice items into my bag. With unhurried, noiseless steps I walk over to the vestibule. I slip the bolts I could not have undone from the outside, pick the lock and step out into the bitter night air.
Darkness is no longer my ally, now it is complicit in ending my liberty. Before me stand the legalised ruffians known as the city watch, the only group of thugs or other less than law abiding citizens in the surrounding area who lack even an ounce of finesse in their activities. The leader, a man I might have been doing business with on any other night, smiles at me. It is not a comforting smile; it is the smile of the wolf as it steps out of the sheep�s clothing. It is the smile of a vulture descending on a body making its last feeble movements.
Damn her eyes! Such thoughts occupy me until I am thrown into a stench so tangible I almost bounce off. God upon high! I need to chew this foul air before it is of any use to my body. But still I savour every gulp of the fetid stew for I know where tomorrow will find me. The gallows. I sit on the ruthlessly hard stone all night, extending my stay before I reach Hades. When the cold, hard light of dawn forces its way through the obstructive filth which constitutes the air down here I know it will be soon. I hear steps come muffled down the corridor; I am accosted by a being of sound long before the warders arrive. I shuffle stiffly down the corridor between them like a zombie, too soon a dead thing. With all the power of my senses I imbibe all my last morning on earth has to offer. The laughing of children and the shouts of stallholders. The lifeless grey sky and the town square which is full of life, come to see my death. The food available at the many stalls and the animals who have hauled it there. Only my mouth receives no stimulation. It is a waste to feed a dead man.
When I reach the platform my senses are closed again. They are all concentrated on finding one being, on those dark eyes and darker hair. All that remains to me now is that dark and infinite abyss. As they tie the knot and stand me on the trapdoor my eyes search frantically, frenetically. She is not there. They pull the lever. I have found her! I have my glimpse of infinity; it is more than a glimpse now. I touch the black Hades, a smile plays on my lips.