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On the first warm night of spring, God gave me a vision, a vision made flesh. How blessed I thought myself to have been given such Grace! To see such sweet sorrowfulness, her face turned up to me in need and contemplation. To lay my hand upon her head, and speak to her words of our Lord, and the wisdom of his great plan for us all. That perhaps even the loss of her father was simply a way to bring her to me, so that I could bring her closer to Him. At my benevolence, she turned her head away, soft eyes cast down. So modest, so innocent, this creature God had entrusted her into my spiritual care. I vowed that I would forsake neither Him nor her. Instead, I set myself the task of sharing the wisdom of our Lord with her. I thought always to have time for such an innocent creature of God.
Oh, how wrong I was! How misguided, how trusting! An angel? No. I had thought so – and yet … my loins burned in her presence. Nay, they tightened and throbbed with merely the memory of her. I yearned to kiss her, to touch her tender breasts, and lay between her sweet thighs. I, a man of God … it cannot be borne. These thoughts, these images, they continue to plague me. No, she is a whore, I have discovered the truth. She looks to be as innocent, but the Devil always wears such sweet disguises. A whore? No, she is a demon. For what ought could tempt a man of God? I, a man of God, devoted, to feel such lust in her presence! That is not the work of some mere mortal woman. No, demon or witch, Isabeau is one or the other. But in thankfulness, through His great Grace, the Lord has sheltered me and kept me from the full foulness of her touch.
As always, he works through the mouthpiece of his servants. Imperius, who spoke of her beauty, and let slip the truth. Isabeau is no innocent. She is no sweet angel, but a corrupter of all that she touches. To seduce the very Captain of my Guard! Navarre – a man who I entrusted with my life, who I believed as devoted to the Lord as I. Yet her vile touch stole him from my side and their legacy of sin … he has touched her sweet breasts, caressed her skin. The truth is revealed to me – I close my eyes at night, and I can see it.
Why? Why does the Lord still torment me with these visions of their flesh made one? At night, I struggle to sleep, but I can hear the whispered moan of her breath, the guttural groan of his reply. I can smell the sweat and the stink of his spunk, covered over with the perfume of roses. Isabeau’s perfume. Once sweet, now the memory is thick and cloying. And yet, I can force it from my head. It is all I can think of … I spent hours upon my knees in prayer, swearing to our Lord that I am his most faithful of servants and beseeching him to remove these unholy thoughts from me. All for naught.
And that tells me, that this, too, is a message from our Lord. He is the one who sent her to me, and showed me the truth behind her smile. She is a demon, a witch. If she can corrupt a man of Faith such as myself, seduce a man as loyal as I know Navarre to have been, what man is safe from her evil wiles? There is none. God has given me a great task. To protect this world from sin, and to protect this world from Isabeau d’Anjou. My tomes of lore, passed down through the Church for generations, my years of study. All that I have done, and all that I am, it is for this moment. To rid the world of this demon.
Would that I were strong enough to kill her. I tried, once. I gripped a dagger, hidden in my robes, and thought to plunge it into her heart. But she looked up at me, those false blue eyes brimming with tears, as she claimed that she and Navarre were as man and wife. That there was no sin, that Imperius – a drunken fool, but yet still a man of God, a man through whom God speaks at times, as he does through fools and madmen – that Imperius knew the truth in the confessional. I should have plunged the dagger into her breast. But something stayed my hand – her wiles were still working strong upon me. I even thought I heard God’s voice, telling me ‘Hold’ and thought – perhaps she is innocent. Perhaps she is yet a creature of our Lord.
‘Hold’? Nay, more likely He spoke to me and told me to ‘Hold Fast.’ To hold fast my resolve. To ignore the sweetness of that perfume, the tremble of her lips weakened me, weakened my Faith. My God forgive me for my moment of doubt.
Isabeau – I once believed her as sweet and innocent as a dove. But she is predator, not prey, clawing and biting her way into a man’s heart. Ripping it out. I shall do God’s will upon this earth, their outer shells shall match their inner truth. It is in this way, I will save the world from her depravity, save the souls of men weaker than I. And Navarre – perhaps I should feel guilt, for I believe that once he was indeed a good and loyal man. But he let lust weaken him and turn him into as mindless as a beast with it. So it is fitting that he shall be as mindless as a beast in truth.
Tonight, I shall descend into the catacombs beneath the cathedral. There, I shall take what I have learned from my tomes of lore – peasants fear curses as demonic and evil, but what is a curse but that done with ill intent? My intent is as pure as my Faith – it is but to protect the souls of others. To keep them from the fiery pits of Hell by removing any chance that they will fall into the temptation of Isabeau’s touch. For if she can affect a Man of God, what could she do to those fragile souls within my charge?
No, it is with no guilt and little sorrow I go forth tonight. God has entrusted me with this task. Isabeau and Navarre are merely reaping the sowing of their sin.