Aldoux

Aldoux

Look no further for your murderer than the man you see in front of you, My Lord.

When Majere came to the parish a few years ago, he quickly became familiar with the darker secrets of my Lord’s house, and other Lord’s houses. Majere had a taste for power, and no scruples to impede his gain.

In confession Majere tricked from me an admission of my love for Bishop Beddleton by disguising his voice as my dear friend and entreating me to tell lascivious stories of our affection for one another. You will know now that my penance is long and hard for that act; for my sin, and what danger it brought to my dear friend.

Majere became cruel thereafter, taunting me with hurtful words and hinting that he “had the ear of the Father” and could divulge my admissions at any time. I knew not to whom he would tell my tale, but his connections ran deep and fast in our beloved Church and I was afraid. That gutter tripe made me do things to him so perverse…wicked things, and returned my efforts in kind, though I an unwilling recipient. His heart was stone. Majere expressed no compunction at engaging in carnality with a man old enough to be his father, and indeed shouted the name of our heavenly Father many times in his sick passions. Bishop Beddleton knew nothing of this affair. I feared what my dear friend might do if it were revealed, and I hoped that my participation in these twisted acts would keep my dear friend him shielded from an even more unpleasant unmasking.

One of my torturer’s favorite “games” was knife play, wherein he would run a razor-sharp dagger along my skin, piercing it and causing blood to run. Not deep, but painful, and when one is bound to a bed it can be most exquisite torture. Majere loved this game, and loved to have me draw his blood as well. He asked repeatedly to be marked with the letters of his father’s name; the V that became deeply incised into his chest was hard and red with the scars of so many sessions. I asked no questions about this peculiar fetish, for why should V be the symbol of his father when our Lord’s name contains no such character?

On our last session, as a result of long hard thought and no small amount of fear that the threat of the undoing of my master by this Churched whelp could still happen, I bound him tight to the whorehouse bed, trussed like the swine he was. I drew the blade firmly against his chest. The blood welled exuberantly from the hard wound, and as Majere began to panic, realizing my intent, I closed my eyes and punched the blade deeply into his strong chest, killing him at the moment of his most intense joy and fear.

For I could not let him discover the real truth of my bishop, my dear friend to anyone. If my affair with Beddleton became known, the bishops place in the Church would be threatened. But if it became known my lover possessed not all the requirements of a bishop, a priest, a man, her very life could be in danger. That is why, my Lord, though it may mean my own death, I must say: Bless me father, for I have sinned.