“He’s done
it again!” Borium and Truman heard Ilirium complain. “That Celtic clown is
going to drive me insane. Five monks assaulted in just one week. How does one
protect oneself when one is meek?”
“Something
has to be done about Brother Blaine,” said Borium. “Perhaps the solution is
Mistress Paine.”
“I think he
should be tortured and slain,” stated Brother Truman. “Have them cut out his
eyes and suck out his brain.”
“A bit
drastic,” said Ilirium. “But part of me thinks it sounds fantastic.”
Outside the
room there was a terrible noise
And they
heard the sound of the now familiar voice
“Top o’ the
mornin’ to ye, boys!”
The three
brothers stared with mouths agape
At the
Celtic madman with the intimidating shape
“Saints and
angels and Bringer of light, I sincerely promise that I won’t bite,” said
Blaine. “I’m just here to tell ye that somethin’ isn’t right. There are
brothers out there shiverin’ with fright, and one or two look like they’ve been
in a fight.”
“All things
beautiful and all things bright!” cried Brother Ilirium. “You mean to tell me
that you don’t remember last night?” asked Brother Ilirium.
“No, try as
I might.”
“If I were you, I’d be contrite.”
“Contrite?”
“It’s chaos in
the monastery every night, with your drunken aggression and desire to fight.
Last night you threatened to set the place alight.”
“But that’s
insane.”
“Yes,
Brother Blaine. Ale seems to have a terrible effect on your brain. If you must
partake, we’ll have to restrain. But it would be better for us all if you just
abstain.”
“Oh, the
shame! A thousand pardons if I’m to blame. Violence and mayhem goes against my
grain. How am I ever goin to show my face again?”
“Atonement
will require hours of pain.”
“I’ll do
anythin’ to achieve respect once again. I cannot lose, I can only gain.”
“Very well.
Borium and Truman shall deliver you to Mistress Paine.”
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