A Masquerade in the Moonlight(109)
“My friend, listen to me. Come back from wherever your mind’s travels have taken you, my friend, and hear my voice. I have put to you a question. If you did not understand, I will rephrase it. Are you back to elementary nonsense, such as tarot cards and the reading of palms—or are you still interested in learning the secret of the Shield of Invincibility? Tell me, my friend, for I am, as always, at your service.”
My friend. My friend. How silly he was being. Maxwell was his heaven-sent angel—his friend. He could trust him; he would do anything to please him; he believed in him utterly. “I’m ready,” Sir Ralph said, his tongue thick, his speech slow, but his mind so very much at peace. He wanted nothing more than to please Maxwell, his friend. He stood, going to his desk to remove two packets of bills. He had been thinking ridiculous thoughts, acting like an old woman afraid of villains hiding under her bed. Maxwell wasn’t involved in anything devious. Maxwell was his friend, the man who would help him to cheat death. My friend. “I have it all here. The money for charity—and the rest.”
He placed the packets on the table, then sat down across from Maxwell. “This can’t be all that’s necessary, can it? What do I have to do next?”
Maxwell picked up the packets, pocketing one and pushing the other toward Sir Ralph. “No, my friend, you keep this one. I cannot take your money and still help you.”
Sir Ralph was confused. “But you asked for it.”
Maxwell smiled, his dark eyes looking at him levelly, so that Sir Ralph found himself relaxing even further, as he always did in Maxwell’s presence. “Only so that I could return it to you, my friend, and prove my honesty. The money I have just taken will go to charity, as I promised. You have shown good faith. I have shown good faith. Now, my friend, we can proceed.”
Sir Ralph swallowed down hard on any small, niggling doubts and gave himself up to Maxwell’s melodious voice, Maxwell’s deeply compelling dark eyes, Maxwell’s promise. No more fear of dying. No more nightmares about death. Only life, sweet life, awaited him! “I’m ready,” he said, sitting up very straight, like a child at his lessons.
“You are to take paper and pen—not now, but when I am gone—and write down every secret you have ever held dear to your heart, every hurt you have caused another, every pain you have made your fellowman to suffer. You are to write a full, last confession, my friend, a complete listing of your sins, and those of any who have been your partners in those sins. Everything, my friend, holding nothing back, or else—”
“Yes, yes. Or else?”
Maxwell smiled. “You seek a higher power today, my friend. You wish to place yourself in the hands of one who can banish your fear of death by granting a most wonderful boon, that of the coveted Shield of Invincibility, which guarantees eternal life and protection from your enemies.”
“Pro-protection from my enemies? Yes, yes. The Shield of Invincibility. No one will be able to hurt me! Oh, Maxwell—thank you!”
“There is more, my friend. I know how desperately you seek peace, a return to innocence, a way to sleep at night without suffering terrible dreams.”
“Ah, Maxwell. You are so wise. So infinitely wise. But hurry, please. Tell me what I must do!”
“The path is easy, for those who are sincere. To do this your old life must die, so that you may be reborn. Did not your beloved mother teach you the only way to gain eternal life was to make yourself as a child, an innocent newborn babe, free from sin, safe from the corruptions of the world?”
Sir Ralph nodded once more, unable to disagree. His dear mother, dead all these years, had taught him just that. Maxwell knew him so well. Maxwell. His friend.
“You have today placed your life in the realm of divine will, my friend, a higher power that will give you the answer you seek. You have proven your charity, you have proven your willingness. Now you must rid yourself of guilt. You must write the names of those who drew you into your transgressions, then shun them forevermore, as you would shun any occasion of sin. Your confession, my friend. You must take this next step. Give me your sins and let me destroy them. Give me your problems and let me solve them.”
Sir Ralph blinked several times, trying to clear his head. He’d had so much on his mind these last weeks, so much intrigue, so many problems. But his suspicions were aroused once more, even through the fog of his mellow feelings. “What—what happens to this confession once it is written? I—I won’t give it to you, I won’t be blackmailed, Maxwell. I’m not so desperate as to open myself to—to anything like that.”