Following Feld's gaze, it was easy to find the ledger entry that was so glaringly out of place.
Someone—or, more accurately, a group of people—had traded an entire set of ceremonial vessels for a large quantity of provisions and the Church's livestock.
It was a terrible deal. Ceremonial vessels wouldn't be made from impure silver, so the materials alone would cost a great deal. Add to that the long hours of skilled work by jewelers and silversmiths, and even churches in wealthy regions might not be willing to keep a set on hand.
After all, they were only used a few times a year. If the need arose, silver-plated or gold-plated vessels would do.
So, what place in the diocese could afford a set of pure silver ceremonial vessels? There was hardly any need to guess at the answer.
"The Monastery? What were they doing here?"
Dominic traced the crumpled writing with his fingers. Like a mess of wagon tracks across muddy ground, it wound toward the unknown.
"That's what's so strange. Even if they were short on grain, there were plenty of other villages and towns closer to the main road where they could get more. There was no reason they had to come here just to take a share." Feld was baffled. "They took everything. They practically cleaned this place out."
Only because of the ceremonial vessels would the church's administrator have been willing to risk running out of food and empty the place's stores.
If anything went wrong before the harvest, they'd be in serious trouble.
"And why trade the ceremonial vessels?" That was the hardest part to understand. It was like a farmer trading away the land he depended on for a little food to tide him over—a desperate measure taken when his very survival was