Manuscript
thief, brigand, highwayman, scholar, the man who once again lives above an antique books store, has served his latest prison term, and now he is free. The vintage books in his shop were legitimately sold and acquired, but like the oddly resonant name of "bookie", his exorbitant wealth did not come from buying and selling the books in his store. It came from the theft and undercover sale of medieval books of hours, an art form about which he has much knowledge. He knows precisely where to look for centuries old book treasures, how to steal them, and to whom to sell them.
Late medieval books of hours were less likely to be made by monks. With their textual and image-based calendars, prayers, narratives of the lives of saints and exquisite gold-infused paintings of domestic scenes bordered with local plants and animals, they were less inclined to contain the warnings to thieves that monks in earlier eras had inserted in manuscripts. With good reason, the twice-cursed man known as El Ladron took these warnings seriously. Threats of damnation, dire warnings of attacks by monsters, threats that the book or even he himself would turn into a devil or serpent were so vivid that manuscripts created by monks were now immune from his well practiced and effective methods of theft.
In fear that their very words would reveal what he had stolen, he never spoke aloud the curses which appeared on early medieval manuscripts. A curse, he advocated, should not be so blood thirsty towards thieves.
The Music Box Book of Hours contained no such worrisome threats, and he was looking forward to stealing it. No monsters would appear when he held this beautiful object in his glove-wearing hands. How lucky he was that his new associate -- pink mobile home dwelling and brilliant possessor of magical communications devices had discovered how and where this book would be moved. Although removing it from a University Library was within his current practice, his new associate had a much better plan.
