Julian the Killer

When Julian was 15 years old, Sir John caught him wearing one of Lady Dolichena’s dresses, a gold and crimson floor-length gown with yellow and white roses embroidered around the puffed sleeves. He grabbed the boy by his braided hair, dragged him into the hallway and slammed him into a chair. Julian trembled in fear and started to weep, his black eyeliner running down his cheeks.

“Stop crying, boy. Tell me, which one of your bastard brothers did this to you?” “No, no, no, no, no one…” “Do not lie to me. You will pay if you do.” “No one. I swear on my honor!” “If you leave this chair, I will kill you.”

Sir John walked down the hall and came back dragging Julian’s older brother Morris by a rope around his neck. Morris was choking and spitting and his lips were blue. Sir John planted his boot on Morris’ chest.

“I know it was Morris. The boy has a devil inside of him. Tell me it was him and I will let him up.” “No, father, it was not him.” “I will chop off his feet, Julian, if you do not say his name. I know it was him!”

Morris’ screams alerted a young, deformed servant girl named Joanne, who was collecting daisies and pansies down by the river for a bouquet for Sir John. She ran up the path, her crimson skirt flapping in the breeze, and charged past the guard at the west gate. He was surprised by her towering hump so he swatted her across the face. She dropped the bouquet in the dirt, spitting blood and a front tooth.

“Do not worry, Sir Morris, I will save you!”

The guard kicked her in the back and sent her flying into a steaming mound of sloppy, yellow horse shit. She looked up with flies and grain in her teeth and saw Sir John marching toward her. She lowered her head and curled up into a twisted ball. She was certain Sir John was going to flay her alive. He grabbed the guard instead, and she saw it was his second oldest son, James. He punched James in the throat, threw him over his shoulder and carried him inside the castle.

*

“It must have been James, Julian. He is your mother’s son. He is cruel and heartless. Say his name and I will take him apart.” “Please, father, do not hurt him. I am my own person. He had nothing to do with it!”

Sir John clamped his hand around James’ throat and squeezed. James kicked his legs and flailed his arms helplessly.

“I know he is the one, boy. Say it is so.” “I cannot, father. It is not true. It was my choice…”

Sir John dropped James on the floor in a choking, wheezing heap. He crawled away after cursing Julian under his breath to an endless life of torture.

“Why would you do this to yourself?” “I wanted to play king and queen of England.” “But you are dressed like a queen. Who was going to be the king?”

Edward strolled around the corner as if on cue, wearing an oversized ermine robe and a huge crown of figs and oak leaves on his head. Sir John looked at him, back at his son and then very calmly raised his hand and punched his youngest son in the face, breaking his jaw. Julian screamed, choked on his own blood and fell out of the chair. Sir John kicked him in the stomach so hard it lifted him off the floor and slammed him against the stone wall. Edward dropped the robe and threw off the crown. Sir John grabbed Julian by the right arm and started to twist against the joint.

Edward had no choice. He pulled a small blade, crept up behind Sir John and slashed him across the thigh, cutting the femoral artery.

“No! No! Oh dear God!”

Julian crawled through the spreading pool of blood and cradled his dying father in his arms…

“How could you, Edward? How could you?” “You are my friend, Julian. I did not have a choice…” “My brothers will crucify me.”

The two frail boys dragged the heavy wet corpse into a bedroom. It left a long smear of blood and shit on the cold stone floor. Edward ripped down a heavy brocaded drape and they tried to wipe it up.

“Hurry, hurry, please, my brothers will be here any second!” “I am going as fast as I can…”

All they succeeded in doing was making large circles of chunky, bloody excrement.

“What do we do, Edward?” “We need water. Send for a bucket of water.” “You are going to need more than water.”

The two boys looked up and saw James standing at the end of the hall. His hand rested on the hilt of his broadsword. They stood up at the same time.

“What happened here? Did the old man beat you so bad you shit blood?”

The two boys took a step back.

“Did he catch you playing some filthy little game? Why is he not still beating you? Where is he?” James noticed the trail leading into the bedroom. He smiled, clapped his hands and did a little jig. “Please let it be so!”

Julian tried to stop James from entering the bedroom and he swept him aside.

“No, James, please!” “Get out of my way, princess!” When James saw the corpse, he shouted for joy. “Praise be to God! The beast is dead!“ He grabbed up Julian and swung him around. “Did not think you had it in you, boy!” “It wasn’t me. It was Edward.” James put down Julian and offered his hand to Edward. “You have done this family a great service, Edward. Let me offer you a token of my appreciation…”

James pulled his broadsword and with one mighty being, hacked off Sir John’s left leg, just below the buttock. The other brothers, all victims of John’s wrath, had the same reaction. Soon, all that was left of Sir John was a penis, a pelvis, and a spine…