Southern Ireland, early 17th Century
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”
“”Of course you have. And how long has it been since your last confession?”
“Never, Father. I’m a Puritan.”
“And what would be bringing a Puritan swordsman into my confessional?”
“My church doesn’t have tiny rural chapels whence I can escape without hurting anyone if the clergy decide I should be burned at the stake.”
“That’s a new one, certainly. And I appreciate your concern for my safety. So say on. It’s been some time since I had a chance to threaten an Englishman with hell fire.”
“Three years ago, I was in northern Scotland. I had been chasing rumors of a powerful witch, and I had hopes of bringing her to God’s justice.”
“Such an Englishman. Go on.”
“I found her one night, just after sunset. I kicked open the door to her cottage, and she was sitting beside the fire. She said, ‘About time you got here,’ and threw something into the fire. The room filled with smoke, and I lost consciousness.”
“And here I had taken you for a teetotaler.”
“I am, Father. But when I woke up, it was day, and we were in a clearing, somewhere. And… I know it was the same woman, I’m sure of it, but I had been chasing an old woman, and now she was young and beautiful. SO beautiful. I blustered at her. I made noises about black magic, and punishing the wicked, and the duty of the righteous, and… I don’t really know. My brain wasn’t working quite right.”
“Which is the most sensible thing you’ve said so far.”
“After a while, she just sighed, and I sank into the earth up to my knees, and she put a hand against my chest and pushed me over, and the grass, or vines, or something grabbed my arms and tied them down. And then she said that I should struggle all I wanted to, because she wanted me to be absolutely sure I couldn’t get away. And I thrashed a bit, and when I stopped, she said, ‘Now that we have established that, I want you to remember that you have no choice at all about what is going to happen next– including the fact that you’re going to enjoy it.’ And then my clothes disappeared, and her clothes disappeared, and she climbed on top of me, and we… fornicated. For a LONG time.”
“And did you enjoy yourself?”
“I tried not to. First I was angry, and, well, kind of frightened, since I was trapped, but… Yes, I did.”
“And you think that this is enough to merit death at the stake?”
“Oh, no Father. That was only the beginning. Because… while we were fornicating, something happened. She got inside me. She went through my memories like they were books in a library. and then, eventually, when I was so tired I couldn’t have moved even if I hadn’t been trapped, she said that she was convinced that I was a good man, even if I did have a head full of rocks. And she told me where there was a monster that needed someone to kill it, and she told me how to do it. And then she said that we were linked, now, and from that day forward, whenever I… fornicated, I would come back to that meadow, with her, for a time, and she would tell me things I needed to know. And when I said that I would never fornicate again, she just smiled, and said that if she wanted to talk to me, she would make sure that it happened.”
“And was there a monster? And were you able to kill it?”
“There was, and I did.”
“And have you heard from this woman since?”
“I have, Father, and that’s why I’m here. I have heard from her so many times. A woman will come up to me, and say that she has a message for me, and then… I try to resist, but she laughs at me, tells me that I have never had any more choice than I did the first time. And then she tells me about another monster, or some other threat that I need to deal with, and I deal with it, and…”
“And what, exactly, brings you to me?”
“I feel unclean, Father. The woman is still a witch, and I have fornicated with so many women, and she tells me I have no choice, but…”
“Son… Are you aware that there is a heirarchy of sins? It’s worse to fornicate than to lie, and it’s worse to murder than it is to fornicate. Do you understand that?”
“I… This is not what I expected. But I do, Father.”
“So, if I understand your story, every time this woman has contacted you, which, I acknowledge, always involves an act of fornication, a deadly monster, a multiple murderer, has been destroyed.”
“Yes…”
“So… If the world was damaged by the fornication, it was healed, many times over, by the destruction of the monster. So if the world is better in the end, and you had no choice in the fornication, how have you done wrong?”
“But it’s WRONG, Father. And… I love it.”
“Then try not to enjoy it so much. Go and continue to make the world a better place.”
“That is not… Are you a heretic, Father?”
“I’m Irish. And I was Irish long before I became a priest. Now go!”
July 24, 2023
Blame Robert E. Howard. I was speculating on the fact that, while I enjoy Howard’s stories, most of his heroes are pretty reprehensible. Of the four most-trafficked Howrd Sword and Sorcery heroes (Solomon Kane, Kull, Bran Mak Morn, and Conan), only Kane is anything like ethically functional, and he has a stick so far up his backside that he gets splinters when he sneezas. This led me to speculate on what it would take to get Kane to loosen up without turning him into a Conan clone. The obvious answer was a vice he despised but couldn’t control. Kane the drunk wasn’t an attractive path, but maybe Kane the INVOLUNTARY womanizer? This led pretty quickly to Josiah Abel, the swordsman of the story you have just read, and a character that I intend to get some additional use out of.
If you would care to read another story about Josiah, you can find it here.