A man of God is seeking a situation to exterminate nocturnal vermin. The fee is fifty pounds, half of which will be due in advance.
He checked the notice for errors and grunted in satisfaction when he found none. The advertisement was vague enough to discourage those with rat or badger problems, yet contained just the right information for those who truly understood the threat that loomed over mankind. And if some individuals mistook his use of the term “man of God” to believe that he was a priest or a vicar? Well, he didn’t mind in the slightest. He had been meant to be one, though the fools at St. Damian’s had failed to see that.
As the second son of an impoverished baron, Ben had had the church as his only hope of a career that would keep his belly full. For the sake of having one less mouth to feed, his father had him sent off to St. Damian’s priory school in Kilkenny every autumn after the harvest was in.
Learning to read and write had captivated him at first, but before long he began to crave something more. He admired the great power of the bishop. The man could bless anything he desired, pardon sins, sentence people to penance, even condemn someone to hell if he so chose. Ben longed for such power. He dedicated himself twice as hard to his lessons and soon became the shining star of the class. The prize neared his hand.
As he grew to adulthood, his responsibilities and authority rose. And as his power accumulated, so did his pride. Indeed, Ben was told that it was one of the many sins that barred him from consideration for the priesthood, although that vice wasn’t the main problem.
Ben’s strictness, verging on bullying, with the young novices wasn’t what caused the bishop to summon him to his quarters. Nor was it the incident in which he beat a beggar nearly to death after he caught the thief stealing bread meant for the Holy Sacrament. It wasn’t his fault that he forgot his own strength in the face of his pious rage at such blasphemy.
No, the final incident that had caused him to be called to the carpet and chastised like a recalcitrant schoolboy was so paltry that the memory still made Ben gnash his teeth. Someone had tattled to Bishop O’Shay that Ben had been seen pinching Sister Clarence’s bum. Bishop O’Shay believed lust was the worst of all sins and he was determined to stamp it out of his flock.
“But surely the nun should be the one to be punished,” Ben protested. “She’d been wriggling her charms at me like a ripe piece of fruit. A man can only take so much temptation.”
The bishop’s bushy brows drew together sternly, almost obscuring his eyes. “So Adam spoke of Eve and thus Man was banished from Paradise. I will not have a clergyman who is unchaste.” He advanced upon Flannigan like Moses calling God’s wrath down upon the Pharaoh. “Tomorrow you will pack your belongings and leave. Your time here with us is finished.”
“But can I not repent?” Ben asked, unable to believe the sentence heaved upon him.
“I think not,” Bishop O’Shay replied with a regretful sigh. “If your sinful lust were not enough, your other sins are more than sufficient to give credence to the wisdom of my decision. You have no mercy or compassion within your spirit. You are too quick to anger and filled with far too much pride. You had years to repent and turn to the path of righteousness, but you did not. Such a man is not suitable for the priesthood.”
By the time Ben had packed his meager belongings and left his room, word of his dismissal had spread throughout the entire priory. A classmate’s smug grin was too much for Ben’s frayed temper, and his fist connected with the lad’s face with a crack that echoed through the cloisters. A faint twinge of pleasure filled him at the sight of the blood gushing from the boy’s nose. No more smug stares were upon him as all hurriedly turned their faces away.
His good feelings dissipated the moment his feet began to trod the long path home. What was he to tell his father? How long would he be welcome at the small estate? His older brother was due to marry this year, and soon the land would be signed over to him. Where would he go then? Ben’s heart grew heavier with despair every step he took.
“I heard what happened, lad,” a voice called, penetrating his gloomy thoughts.
Donald O’Flannery walked beside him, and the understanding and sympathy in his eyes made Ben stop short. Donald was not a church member as far as he knew, but he was a frequent visitor to the priory and the school. No one was really certain of the purpose of the man’s visits. He appeared to run errands for another church because Ben had once seen him leave with jugs of holy water, rosary beads, and a crucifix.
“What do you want?” Ben asked, unable to keep the petulance out of his voice.