"Don't mention it. You're welcome to browse any of the books here; just handle them gently. Some of them are nearly as old as I am."
The gray-haired Priest opened the window for his two visitors. Light from outside, long absent, entered the little church's only locked room, illuminating the shapes beneath the dust covers.
The wooden floor creaked underfoot, and a few old grains of bran lay scattered in the cracks.
"Sorry about the dust. It's been a long time since I opened this room." The Priest broke into a fit of coughs, then lifted half the dust cover, revealing several shelves piled with books and little bags of crushed lime.
"Since then, it's been hard to find young monks willing to stay here for long. Without enough hands, these can become a real burden. Plenty of people don't understand the value of knowledge, but few don't know how much books cost."
He wiped the dust from a book with the corner of a cloth. The collection had clearly grown old, but it was in decent condition. The dry, cracked leather covers bore hand-painted holy images and Holy Emblems. Most of the books had been stitched rather than glued, and some even had decorative panels—features suited to preserving them for a long time.
For a village church kept running by a single old Priest, the collection was far too large. Even keeping the books in good condition was a challenge.
"Go ahead and look around. I'll pick some peas from the backyard first, and you can try my cooking at dinner."
"Thank you for your generosity."
Dominic thanked the respected elder, covered his nose, and slowly lifted the other half of the dust cover, revealing the entire bookshelf.
Things had gone more smoothly than they'd expected. They had simply