Captive Magics

12 - Confessions

"Bastard."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, I am sorry!" Leander said in alarm, realising the priest was standing at the end of the pew. For some reason his unhelpful mind had wandered away from escape and instead to Trenthurst, where a bitter seam of resentment waited. "I'm in a predicament. I didn't mean to say..."

"Can I help?" the priest asked, moving generously on from the awkward moment. His smile was encouraging, and this was enough to convince Leander he had found his saviour.

"I should appreciate it," he replied. The priest entered the pew and they sat side by side in the cool dark space of the church, lit by crystalline shafts of light passing above their heads.

He found himself explaining how he had been to war, discovered he was a coward and come back feeling less than himself, though it was surely more than he needed to explain his predicament.

"There's a certain amount of courage involved in admitting your own failings," suggested the priest. He was older than Leander but still young, and folded his hands thoughtfully on the back of the next pew forwards as he spoke. "In many ways, perhaps it's the bravest thing we can do. You shouldn't be so hard on yourself for cowardice in the theatre of war: not everyone can be brave there."

"It's not the worst that I've done, though," Leander told him flatly. "I got myself into trouble...there's a lady, and I did something I oughtn't, and now she's entrapped me."

"I'm not sure I can help you escape that, sometimes we have to take responsibility for the repercussions of our mistakes."

"No, no it's not like that," Leander said quickly, seeing where his vagueness had pointed. "Not at all like that. I, er, I..." he rubbed his face with his hands, helplessly. "I don't seem to be brave enough to say it."

"Admitting it to yourself is the main thing," the priest said kindly. He was entirely wrong: Leander knew exactly what he'd done wrong, and this wasn't going to help him.

"She decided to take revenge on me and now she keeps me as some sort of slave or servant," he explained. Measured and calm as he was, the priest's eyebrows shot up comically, lodging high on his forehead.

"Ah..."

"Yes."

"Are you in any danger? Is she cruel?"

"No, nothing like that. Vindictive though, I suppose," he added, "But then I brought it on myself." It was difficult to think of the last time anyone had listened to him with as much undivided attention and he found himself disturbed by it. Admitting the finer points of his current situation felt yet more impossible with this man, but getting his memories of war off his chest had left him feeling lighter.

He stood, deciding to return before she realised he was gone. "Thank you for listening, I wish I had the courage to explain myself," he told the priest.

"Perhaps the constabulary might be able to help you?" the priest suggested, confusion and worry etched in the lines of his face.

"No," he replied gloomily. "I'd like even less to explain it to them. So I'm stuck for now." But outside her house he saw things differently. He had been humiliated but not hurt, and he didn't really believe she would keep him as her pet forever. Somehow, in the spirit of honesty the priest had suggested he pursue, he realised he wasn't the slightest bit scared. Just incredibly annoyed at her.

"Ultimately, we none of us can save ourselves, but perhaps you will find a way out of this. I shall pray of course, but I wish there was more I could do myself to help you; do let me know if you think of something." The priest followed Leander to the door as he made his way out.