Page 54 of Infernal Vices

CHAPTER 28

ST FABIANS

“It is a most pleasing vista,” Charles said brightly when the remainder of our party reached the top of the hill and paused to catch their breath. Charles, Leo, and Arthur looked virile and handsome in white shorts, long socks, and vests displaying hairy legs and the taught muscles of their arms, while us older gentlemen had donned our regular attire suitable for a country walk. The young men had run on ahead while we older fellows took a more leisurely pace on the deceptively steep incline. The day was a little on the chilly side but the azureous sky was cloudless, and at the flat pinnacle of the hill I could see for miles. There were rolling green field, pastures, and a meandering river, which I understood to be the Thames, which was named The Isis for its Oxfordshire stretch. I could also see a village with a church spire that I supposed was Abbotsham.

The last to reach the brow of the hill was Sir Percy Faulkner. “Who won the race?” he wheezed as he huffed and puffed to catch his breath.

“It was me,” Charles called out with boyish delight.

“And what’s your prize dear boy?”

“Spencer’s getting on his knees for me,” Charles said excitedly.

“Excellent, excellent. I’m game for that spectacle,” Faulkner said rubbing his meaty hands together with glee.

I felt for a moment as if I was having an out of body experience as I watched these men converse. I wondered if men truly ever grew up, or if we remained suspended in that boyhood phase between fifteen and twenty where our desires must be catered for and our appetites were king.

I turned and took in the medieval church and graveyard. I inhaled in a deep lung full of sweet clean air and exhaled.

“Ah, this is indeed invigorating,” I announced, stretching my limbs.

Cavendish removed a silver hip flask from his jacket pocket and took a deep swallow.

“Hey there, don’t be shy!” Jack Dancer cajoled reaching for the flask.

Cavendish stepped away, moving the flask from Dancer’s reach. “Sorry friend, this is medicinal, doctor’s orders!” I doubted that excuse and regretted forgetting my own flask!

My compatriots mulled around the hilltop taking in the views. Blake stood with his arms crossed and glared at Leo, who was with Ashe and Spencer, the men behaving like pups off the leash, chasing one another around the gravestones. Blake had spouted so much nonsense about Fratres Seminis happily sharing one another’s bodies and wisdom, and yet his true behaviour was of a man fighting the green-eyed-monster of jealousy. Both he and Benjamin didn’t want to share their plaything.

“And so, this church, how old is it?” Judge Morehead asked as he sidled up to Cavendish.

“St Fabians is quite the survivor. Have you heard of the Battle of Chalgrove Field?”

“Oh yes,” Faulkner butted in, “First battle of the Civil War, what was the date now? Yes…18th of June 1643 if I’m not mistaken. A Royalist cavalry from Oxford led by Prince Rupert raided Oxfordshire villages. They wanted to infiltrate and capture a Parliamentarian convoy carrying twenty-one-thousand-pounds in gold coin.”

“Well remembered, my friend. Indeed. Chalgrove is five miles south as the crow flies. St. Fabians was originally a church for the abbey. The priests offered sanctuary to villagers whose homes were destroyed during the raids. And after the Dissolution of the Monasteries in 1536 the land was gifted to the Forsythe’s by Henry VIII. It became a private church for the Forsythe family. The Forsythe’s used to have a lot of power in the region, but alas, by the time my wife inherited Seabourn it had seen better days. It’s become quite the money pit! I’ve had to invest a great deal on its upkeep. But I won’t bore you any further with a history lesson. There is an ulterior motive for asking you to accompany us to this sacred space.” Cavendish sent a secretive smile to Blake. What the devil were they up to?

The two men set off then, striding through the lych-gate built over the entrance to the church grounds that marked the division between spiritual, consecrated and earthly, temporal ground. They continued down the pathway through the graveyard towards the arched doorway of the church with us acolytes behind them. There was a sign on the door, white with red print. PRIVATE. KEEP OUT. TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED, BY ORDER OF THE SEABOURN ESTATE.

Cavendish did not open the Gothic arch door, but continued on around to the far side of the building and to the rear where there was a side door into the vestry. He removed a huge iron key from his inner jacket pocket and thrust it into the ancient keyhole.

“Does anyone use the church for religious purposes anymore?” I asked as he entered.

“Oh no, it’s deconsecrated. It’s nought but a folly now, “Benjamin explained.

We stepped into the vestry, a room where traditionally the vestments—religious garments worn by priest, and the sacred items used during worship were stored. There was a line of coat hooks on the wall, several shelves, and a carved stone sink where customarily religious cups and other blessed items used in worship would be washed to return the water directly to the earth, and not the sewer. It seemed Lawrence and Benjamin had been busy with their preparations over the past months. The red robes we had worn at Exeter Hall were lined up in readiness of our final ritual. Another Gothic arch door brought us into the church proper. I’d expected the church to appear abandoned and dusty inside, but I was wrong. We were at the eastern end of the church beneath the chancel arch, there was a large stone alter on a dais, and behind, light shone through exceptional arched stained glass windows to illuminate the nave where the congregation would gather. Old timber pew benches had been moved into the two side aisles to skirt the walls and in the nave, the tiled floor was covered by several huge plush Turkish rugs and piles of luxurious silk pillows, making this ancient place of worship look more like a harem. I was also surprised to see that several modern gas-powered radiators were on and the large room was now unseasonably warm.

Once we were all inside Benjamin locked the side door and Blake took a turn around the room and lit candles. The light through the stained-glass windows mingled with the illumination from the candle light and shone upward making the A-frame construction visible. I was fascinated.

Blake then turned to us and said, “Welcome brothers. Bless-ed is the seed.”

“Bless-ed is the seed,” we parroted.

“Benjamin and I have brought you here to show you where the final ritual will take place. Our dear vessel is with us again and can share himself with us, and us with him as it is meant to be.”

“Isn’t this place wunderbar. I used to come here a lot last year to play and dance,” Leo revealed. He had been seconded to Seabourn to be at the beck and call of the appetites of both Blake and Cavendish for months before Sebastian and I ensured his removal from England. He must have been very lonely.”

“It has been so very long my loves. I have missed you all. We should take this opportunity, yes? I’m so needy for your cocks,” Leopold admitted shamelessly. The response to that wanton request was murmurs of pleased agreement.