Janiff

Janiff

All the misfortunes in my life were caused by dead men. From my father’s early death to the brutal murder of Majere, I have suffered the indignities of time only because God’s grace has shone upon his humble servant. Despite the rigors of my vocation and the earthly temptations of women, power and pride, I have never considered myself out of the Lord’s favor.

My name is Bishop Daniel Janiff and this is my story.

Bishop Valetti greeted me in his private chamber. I sat down and poured tea, readjusted my glasses, and helped myself to a smoke from the hookah.

“My Lord, you should know immediately that I had nothing to do with the murder of Majere, whom I held in the highest regard.”

I noted that the insignia branded onto Majere’s chest is an obvious sign that Y’Nobe was involved, and the whore seemed to fixate on Y’Nobe. Perhaps I would keep that to myself…for now.

“It just so happens that I was hearing confessions all day, and I had overheard one that still freezes my heart with fear and shame.”

I paused for effect.

“I believe we are among a living, breathing Judas.”

Valetti’s eyes widened, which for him was as a gasp from any other man. I knew he was receptive to my testimony. In my years of loyal service to God, I have learned that man’s truths are like sand: easily moved with the ocean’s tide.

“Continue, my son.”

I inhaled deeply and began to explain how I alone knew the secrets of Majere’s past. He had grown up among society’s elite, but none knew his parents or how he rose to power. Majere’s interest in whores and wine was contrasted to his piety and devotion to the church. In light of his social connections, these indiscretions were ignored for many years.

“Those social connections,” I told Valetti, “Were there for a reason. Do you remember when I had left the province for a year?”

He nodded, perhaps for the first time just a tad uneasy.

“I had hypothesized that Majere had come from a poor family, and sought out the secrets to his past. Those secrets were revealed to me. Majere’s father, Bishop Valetti, is you.”

The old man kept his cool, but I knew he must be confused and surprised. After all, if I were telling him this, what would I want to keep silent? I knew that my revelation was powerful, and I prepared to make my end move.

He tried a shift. “Continue my son. What of the confession?”

By Vow, I was bound to silence, but the truth is an entirely different matter. I continued my story after I helped myself to another tea and cleaned my glasses.

“As you know, my dear Bishop Valetti, confession is a sacred gift given to us by the Lord. I would never break the trust bestowed upon me…under normal circumstances.”

I paused and waited a minute, thinking of how these next words would affect the old man. Would it be enough? I prayed for the strength to speak the truth, and knew that I would be forgiven for what was about to occur.

“My dear Bishop, my confessor stated today that a man would be dead by sunset and the Son’s sins will be brought to the Father. I am not alone in my knowledge, and I consider you warned.”