“Very good sir.” He replied courteously, although I could see from the wan smile that he was not impressed. I’d bet he was the kind of valet who got a near-sexual thrill from being of service.
I undressed slowly, deeply embarrassed to have Ashe’s artist's eyes perusing me as if I were a study in his life-drawing class.
Monkman took a red robe from a hanger and helped Ashe into it. “Bet you can’t guess where these robes came from?” He said rhetorically. “We borrow them from the choristers upstairs in the Great Hall. I do get quite an indecent rise when I attend a concert and see the red-robed chorus, singing so properly.”
I removed my suit jacket, cravat, waistcoat, and shirt and, trying to make my disrobing last as long as possible, placed them carefully on hangers. The neckerchief remained around my throat just as Sebastian had requested. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ashe lick his lips hungrily at my nakedness. I turned away and threaded my head and arms into the red robe, pulling it down over legs before I removed my shoes, socks, trousers, and undergarment. It was so damnably cold that my manhood felt like it wanted to shrivel up and crawl back inside my body for warmth. I stood to see both Ashe and Monkman watching me with lecherous eyes.
“The robe looks very fetching on you my man!” Ashe said, and my heart recoiled from the flirtation. Charles stepped forward, picked up the gold half-face mask, and with a prickling feeling of unwanted intimacy and his breath against my skin; he positioned it on my face and tied the ribbon behind my head.
“You have such lustrous black curls. Are they natural?” Ashe praised.
“Eh… yes, my Grandfather kept his dark hair until well into his dotage.” I informed, unable to keep the tremble from my voice.
“There!” Charles Ashe delighted, “You look like you were made for us, Brother Hannan”, he said gleefully. My guts curdled. I was a lamb to the slaughter.
“What’s going to happen for this… initiation? I don’t know what I should do.”
“You haven’t worked out the book yet, have you?” Again, just like Leopold, there was a smile in his voice, as if he knew a delicious secret.
“No. To me, it is filled with blank pages.” I complained.
“Only the enlightened will see!” Ashe said as Monkman fitted his mask for him. Leopold had said the very same thing and I still didn’t understand. Ashe reminded the valet,
“Leo should be along any minute. Remain here and attend to his needs.”
“Indeed sir. It will be my absolute pleasure to serve him.”
“Come, Benedict”, Charles Ashe said in an all too familiar way. “Just follow my lead, answer questions when you are asked, and answer truthfully. Brother Blake really can see into your soul.” Ashe warned.
And so, with my heart pounding, we padded silently, bare feet on ice-cold floors. I followed the younger man out of the changing room and across the hall to the room Cavell and I had perused before—the reading room. There we met the other acolytes, all masked and robed, lounging in chairs, and reading newspapers. It reminded me of a theatrical Green Room full of players.
“We are ready!” Ashe said. The masked form of Lawrence Blake stood and strode to stand in front of me. I knew I was trembling inside but I hoped that my fear was not reflected in my body.
“You are here willingly, without coercion?”
“I… I am,” I stuttered. Blake watched me for a moment, then nodded and smiled with satisfaction. He passed by me and exited the room. I must have passed his first test. The other six acolytes filed out behind him and then I joined at the back of the line. I hoped Sebastian genuinely had something up his sleeve, for every cell in my body wanted me to run and not stop until I was safely hidden in the secret room behind my bedroom wall with my most personal prized collection.
The sight that met my eyes when I entered the gymnasium was not the same view I had seen through the hatch in the wall. Being inside the room that was set up for an erotic ritual was stranger than being on the outside as a voyeur. Again, candelabrums were set in each corner, sending dancing candlelight to make eerie shapes on the walls, at once disguising the utilitarian use this room saw by day. A large luxurious Persian rug was laid out, and there were purple cushions laid in a circle. A purple and gold silk covered table sat in the position it had before when I’d witnessed Leopold’s defilement. Today the silver chalice for the collection of ejaculate sat beside a coil of thin red rope. But it was when my eyes set on a sight at the back of the room that I was horror-struck and unable to move my feet to walk further inside.
Not only were all six acolytes who had indulged in the last ritual in attendance, but there was another man. Gymnastic apparatus had been put to torturous use. The naked man at the far end of the room was facing the leather pommel horse. His arms were tied to the apparatus. A black hood sat over his head. A cleaner’s broom had been tied to his ankles to keep his legs spread apart and so his pale backside was on display in the most humiliating way. Why was he being held in such a frightful position? I worried for a moment that this could be Sebastian, for the prisoner’s physique was similar. Could he have slipped up and been caught by Blake? I recoiled from the sight and made to step back, but then Benjamin Cavendish returned and took my arm, again, he had no qualms
