My heart raced, partly with the Absinthe, and partly with the horror of this stranger speaking in such an unorthodox, blasphemous manner.
“If your God is love and he made you in his image. He made you to love without fear.”
“But…but the scriptures—“I protested.
“—Are an interpretation of Hebrew and Aramaic texts. They were translated by monks whose life experience was from within the walls of a monastery.” Blake insisted.
“Why would your God create man with a special place inside—a place that assists him to release his soul—if man was not to use it?”
My mouth was full of the taste of wormwood, anise, and fennel, and I could not look up at Blake anymore. My whole belief system was being turned on its head. In my heart I knew that laying with Sebastian was joyful, life-affirming—the purest act of selflessness I had committed in years. Opening one’s heart, trusting—these make a man vulnerable, and in that place of vulnerability, I found freedom to be my true self. I did not believe my affection for Sebastian was wrong; therefore, what Blake was saying must be correct and true!
“Our brotherhood, Fratres Seminis consists of intelligent men, powerful men all of whom share our desires and our wisdom. We believe that homosexual love is right and we aim to share our selves and our wisdom.” Blake explained, toying with the ring that held the seal upon it.
“Your name was put forward by a member, a man who believes you are wise, pure of heart, and perfectly suited to join us.” He revealed. I must have looked like a startled rabbit for then Blake carefully said,
“I understand that this is a great deal to take in.”
“It is indeed. You have given me much to think about.” I thought for a moment that he would let me leave to consider the invitation, but then Blake continued.
“You were invited tonight because we are to begin our work, entwining brother to brother. I would be delighted if you would observe the ritual we call The preparation of the Vessel. Afterward, you can decide if you would—give yourself to our cause.”
I was intrigued, and yet, terror gripped at my gut with the swirl of strong alcohol. I had heard whispers of a secret society of homosexuals, but I was sure it must have been a fantasy. I had never heard, apart from in antiquity, of men who worshiped semen and ingested to share wisdom and life. Why had young Leopold become mixed up in this nonsense?
“No matter what you decide, after the ritual, you will keep all that you have learned a secret. Our connections are a gossamer spider’s web running throughout polite society. We are quite prepared to ruin the reputation of any man who spreads slander.” Blake warned his peculiar eyes devilish while his mouth made a crescent of a smile. From the malevolent look in his two-tone eyes, I did not doubt that I would be in a great deal of trouble if I breathed a word of what happened tonight. I gulped and my thoughts swam. I felt an uncharacteristic lightness in my limbs and the judgment of what is right and wrong started to slip from my mind. The mantel clock sounded a dull ominous chime for nine-thirty. Lawrence Blake clapped his hands together.
“It is time. Come with me.”
I had not consented to anything, but I found that in my relaxed state I was curious as to what this ritual was, and indeed the identity of the Brothers of the Seed. What did Blake mean by ‘exchanging wisdom’ and what was this vessel?
I stood and with my limbs moving in what felt like a puppet fashion, I followed Lawrence Blake.
The Vessel
Blake led me from the anteroom and along an empty hallway as if he were tugging me with an invisible string. My head felt fuzzy and I was surprised that just one glass of that green liqueur could make me feel this inebriated. The walls in the hallway were tiled halfway and bottle green in colour. There was a smell in the air which poked and prodded at my memory…yes, it was from my school days—the pungent odor of sweaty armpits and feet—the scent of boys changing rooms.
Blake paused outside a pair of wide double doors. Above the doors, there was a line of Latin: Mens sana in corpore sano. I was the worst pupil in my Latin class and so when the study of the language was done, I seemed to have rid my memory of it. Therefore, for a devout man, my Latin was embarrassingly poor, but I was sure I could remember the phrase well enough. To the left of the double doors, there was a single door with a sign on it saying ‘Caretaker’s Closet’.
“You will observe the ritual from here,” Blake instructed. He opened the closet door and gestured for me to enter.
With automaton movements, I stepped in without question. Part of my mind was calling to me, asking why I had become so tractable! When Blake closed the door behind me I discovered I had not entered a closet at all, but a darkened secret passage. I saw a shaft of flickering light and ten steps in I found an open hatch in the wall at eye height. It was just wide enough for me to see into the large room within. The walls were half tiled in turquoise. There were strange timber bars, like ladders, and hooks in the ceiling. I did
