April 23, 1382

Dear Janae,

	I am sorry to have delayed this letter for so long, but your 'proposal' 
stirred such uneasiness within the depths of my very soul that a proper 
response seems impossible to obtain.  After you offered me a chance to share 
in your 'good fortune', I began to fear for your very soul, for nothing good 
can ever come of such an evil.  You must understand that nothing you could 
ever say to me could allow me to take so much as a shilling from Lord 
Talgon's treasury; whether the man was found dead of natural causes or not.  
My resolve in this matter is made even stronger by recent events in my life.  
I witnessed a most foul deed last year.  You know well that my very spirit 
abhors the horror and disgust of greed.  I work as a wench in the tavern inn 
on the 'night owl' shift now.  Bradley, of course, constantly objects.  He 
claims that no wife of his should work in a smelly bar (he recovers even as 
we speak).  But so many people fall prey to the Plagues every day...  God 
graced me with a respectable job, convenient hours, and such good wages!!  I 
broach the subject of the Plagues only because it ties in with my story.  I 
have held it inside for such a long time that if I do not tell someone, I 
will surely fall ill and die as our Lord's punishment on me.

	As you know and I just affirmed (please tell my mother for me), I work 
as a bartender as of late.  Three young men entered the tavern that night two 
months ago, and I knew right away that something was going to happen to them.  
The looks on their faces said that they simply _needed_ conflict that night.  
The silly barmaid kept serving them drinks until they would not have known 
The Blessed Mother from The Fiend.  Their sheer disrespect of all in the 
tavern was appalling:  I have never heard such rudeness and irreverence.  
They talked loud and long about anything that came to their drunken minds.  
The Plagues and their victims were no exception.  They really began to worry 
me with their talk of "killing Death".  My employer, knowing that no good can 
come of such talk, asked me to follow them when they finally reeled out into 
the pre-dawn stillness to seek out their quarry.  I believe that he even 
sensed some grave evil, some horrible tragedy, lurking about the edges of 
their swaggering manner and bravado.  God has neither patience nor tolerance 
for such conference and even less for any resulting action - I know that now.

	I shadowed the trio discreetly, though I realized that a blind fool 
could follow them with no difficulty.  They swore great oaths and 
continuously pledged their lives to each other as the stumbled along their 
way, eventually meeting a feeble old man in the street.  In their drunken 
rage with Death, they showed him no respect.  His loathing of these foolish 
rioters led him to suggest that Death may be waiting for them under a distant 
tree.  They took off in a mad dash for that tree, a sight that would have 
been extremely comical but for the oppressive atmosphere of the dawn.  By the 
time I reached them, they has sobered considerably.  I believe that the gold 
under the tree may have brought about this miracle.  The amount of gold there 
would have made a rich man weep.  Dreaming that such an abundance of wealth 
can exist ANYWHERE would surely condemn your soul to the eternal fire.

	As isolated and desolate as the area was, the three decided to take no 
chances.  They determined that it would be best to move their found fortune 
under the cover of darkness.  This, of course, left one very apparent 
problem: who would gather the provisions that they would need until 
nightfall?  The two elders decided that their young cohort, Patrick by name, 
should go.  I did not like the looks on the faces of the other two as they 
watched the boy go about his appointed task, so I eavesdropped during their 
conversation.  The two miscreants wanted the gold for themselves.  I did not 
wait to hear what they planned to do with young Patrick because I rushed away 
to warn him.  When I finally located Patrick, I found that he had bought the 
food as agreed.  However, he was heading into the local apothecary.  He asked 
the chemist for his strongest poison under the pretense of killing rodents in 
his house.  When he returned to the tree, his 'friends' killed him.  Then, 
satisfied that his soul resided in the netherworld, they ate the feast that 
the boy had carried.  They drank a toast to unimaginable wealth and died 
before a full minute passed.

	I will tell you the end, but only because you always know then I am
leaving out details.  But this remains between you and me.  

	As I stood over the dead bodies and pondered the progression of these
events, the old man appeared before my very eyes.  He told me that in all of 
his years never had he come upon a more atrocious motivation for evil than 
greed.  He said that the gold belonged to him and offered it to me.  When I 
refused his offer three times he smiled and said to be cautious of Greed 
because 'he' lurks around every corner.  As he said this he began fading away 
into the mist until all that I could see of him was his dazzling blue eyes.  
Then they too were gone along with the treasure, and I was alone with only 
this incredible tale.


	I have been so afraid to discuss it with anyone for fear that I would 
surely be locked away for the rest of my days.  You know that I do not drink 
and that I would never lie to you.   I never saw the old man again but have 
taken his message to heart.  I know that I have written much too long a
letter, but you needed to know what I now know.  I hope that this letter 
finds you in good health.  May our Lord bless you and keep you, Janae.