‘How long do I wait?’ said the young man at the right hand of Jesus.
‘Be patient, Frank. All in good time.’ Jesus raised his voice. ‘Recharge your glasses, gentlemen.’
He poured wine into his neighbour’s glass and his own. He watched the other men obeying him like sheep.
‘One more toast,’ he murmured in Frank’s ear. ‘Then we have the ceremony. And then the sacrifice.’
‘Pray tell me,’ Frank said, resting his elbow on the table and turning towards Jesus. ‘Does Mrs Whichcote know I am to be sanctified tonight?’
‘Why do you ask?’
Frank’s face had grown very red. ‘I – I merely wondered. Since I am to spend the night here, I thought perhaps she must know.’
‘She does not,’ Jesus said. ‘She knows nothing. And you must tell her nothing. This is men’s business.’
‘Yes, of course. I should not have asked.’ Frank’s elbow slipped and he would have toppled from his chair if Jesus had not steadied him. ‘A thousand apologies. But you’re a lucky dog, you know, she’s so very lovely – oh damnation, pray do not take it amiss, Philip, I should not have said that.’
‘I was not listening.’ Jesus stood up, ignoring Frank’s desire to continue apologizing. ‘Gentlemen, it is time for another toast. All rise. I give you damnation to the Great Whore of Babylon, his foulness of Rome, Pius VI, and may he rot in hell for all eternity along with his fellow Papists.’
The Apostles drained their glasses and burst into applause. The toast was traditional, and dated back to the earliest days of the Holy Ghost Club. Jesus had no personal animosity towards Papists. In fact his own mother had been raised in the Roman Catholic Church, though she had laid aside her religion at the time of her marriage and adopted her husband’s, as a good wife should.