It was just after Lammas Day, a holy holiday celebrating the wheat harvest and usually a holiday where the nobles spent days celebrating with ale and rich foods. It was a festival ripe with debauchery and Jonas was anticipating a host of wild stories as the nobles began to infiltrate the church just after noon. For a man who lived cleanly, there were times when those stories would keep him up at night, wondering what it would be like, just once, to know a woman in the Biblical sense. Sitting in the confessional bank, in the large confessional at the end where most of the upper crust attended, he could see the light flashing as the door to the church opened and closed. The sunset was glowing, the day growing cool as night set in. He knew it had been a balmy day because he had been outside earlier, enjoying the day and thinking on his conversation with David de Lohr. Twice, he almost wavered and went back on his word, but the more he thought on the situation, the more he understood that what was considered wrong was, in fact, right. The Queen of England was a wreck of woman, vile and appalling, and any man who would openly cavort with her was surely the same. Perhaps it was a matter of saving Lady de Moyon from her husband’s debaucherous soul. Surely such a man was not a man of God.
