You have a grand sleep, and awaken feeling much refreshed, to the sound of someone knocking on your door. You open the door, to see another monk standing there, his eyes cast down shyly. "It is time for chapel, and then dinner will be served," he tells you. You straighten your clothes a little and follow him down the long corridor, filled with doors identical to your cell door.
There are a few other visitors in the chapel, and you sit with them and watch as the monks file in. You can't help frequently glancing at one of the other visitors, though. He is tall and spare, with an aristocratic air about him, and fine silk clothing and jewels. The service is long, but you enjoy the singing, and find it soothing in spite of the growing rumbling in your stomach.
Dinner is humble fare, but plentiful and good; fresh-baked bread in abundance, plenty of butter and cream along with a hearty stew. Everyone treats the well-dressed man with particular courtesy, especially the Prior. He is seated near the head of the table.
After dinner, you go for a stroll in the gardens. There isn't much growing yet, but the orchards are fragrant with apple and pear blossoms. You don't feel very sleepy, but after your stroll you return to your room. A small candle sits beside your bed. You sit for a while, looking over your map and your scrolls, then finally blow out the candle.
You try to sleep, but your nap was much too recent for you to drift off. After tossing and turning for a while, you are debating whether or not to light your candle again when you hear a soft noise outside your door. You lie still, straining your ears and wondering what it was. You fervently hope there aren't any rats in here.
As you lie there, you hear the door handle turn, and then see a line of flickering candle light. Someone is opening the door to your cell! You wonder if perhaps they've got the wrong room, and think of saying something, but decide to hold your tongue for a moment to see what they do. Surely there wouldn't be a thief here in the monastery? Yet one of the visitors could be a thief. What better place to hide from the law?
The candle light goes out, but you can see a faint patch of grey where the dim torchlight from the hall illuminates the open doorway. The patch grows larger, then suddenly a cowled figure appears silhouetted against the grey light. As you lie there wondering whether to say something or not, the figure lifts its arm, and you catch the glint of light on metal.
That's enough of a hint for you; you quickly roll off the mattress and onto your feet.