Raphael has done some awful things in his life. Things unbefitting of anyone, let alone a priest tasked with taking care of an entire village. When he kills, it is at Martel’s command or in his own self-defense. That is all. He loathes it except for the fleeting moments where he doesn’t; where it feels good to have that much power over someone.
Right now, standing over David, he can feel that power running through him. More than that, he’s angry: angry that he knows what David is, angry that he wants to kill him but can’t. Angry at the smirk that tugs at David’s mouth when they both hear those footsteps and Raphael freezes, realising how this will look.
“Try and put me in one, then,” he says quietly. He flexes the fingers of his right hand, which doesn’t hurt. “See what happens.” He wants to tell him Martel doesn’t like women-beaters but there isn’t time: there’s a shadow in the doorway and he knows before he even looks that it is the last person he wants to see.
“G-d, I leave you two alone for five minutes,” Martel blinks, rushing forwards to offer David his hand. “Don’t tell me you provoked him,” he says, frowning as he pulls David up to his feet, eyeing the state of his face. “He can be touchy about some things. You know how Indians are. What happened?”
He hasn’t even looked at Raphael, who stares hard at the floor.
David doesn’t for a second consider how this is his fault. Raphael has meddled where things don’t concern him, and let himself be influenced by Jane’s childish fantasies. She likes to pretend that her life is oh-so-hard and that David is a cruel man, because it’s fun when somebody wants to jump in and save her. David knows he’s never done anything cruel to her, never a single thing that wasn’t done out of love. If she wants to hate him, let her, but he won’t have anybody giving him a beating over a little girl’s make-believe game.
When Martel pulls him to his feet, David edges around behind him so that the other man stands between him and Raphael -- partly for the line of defence, and partly so that Martel won’t see David smirking.
“Your savage attacked me,” he says. “I didn’t provoke him. He approached me -- and he didn’t even have a reason.” Wild animals rarely need a reason, he wants to add, but he doesn’t want to risk angering Martel as well. He knows that the two of them are close and isn’t sure how far bullying Raphael will actually get him.
David, once again wiping his bloody face, spits. “I want him locked away while I’m in this house. And I want him kept away from the girl. Fuck their little lessons. I won’t have him making her feral, too.”
