'Very questionable conduct, brother Cedric,' I began reasonably. I groped for an inoffensive word, rejected 'grope', 'I noticed you fondling the innocent brother Jerome.' I observed that the word 'innocent' seemed to provoke a flicker of merriment.
'I know I am frequently sorry, but this time, Holy Father, believe me, I could not be sorrier.' Cedric's role in the order was a clerk, his hand was mediocre and his attention to detail incomplete.
'I shall have to purge you of this errant behaviour and sin.' I stated in a sullen thunderous rumble of anger. My words hung tremulous in the nasty long blot of silence. A look of genuine pain filled Cedric's face.
Cedric knew that I possessed a stout leather strap; perhaps he suspected that I enjoyed employing it to lash the bare buttocks of errant monks and novices, but he would certainly be able to recall how much it scalded and hurt when applied with vigour to his own rump.
You can read about Cedric's punishment by the Abbot at:
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