Chapter 26 Borders of the Heart #2
“Do you need me to do something?” he asked, springing off the sofa. “I can chop wood, haul water, carry something heavy. I want to repay you for letting me stay here.”
“Nonsense!” Henry held up a palm. “My pastor says God loves a cheerful giver, and we should always treat our guests with kindness, ‘cause you never know when you might entertain an angel in disguise. Why don’t you wash up for breakfast and then catch a trolley downtown with me?”
“Thank you,” Nathan said, interested to hear more about these people’s religion.
At the breakfast table, Viola blessed the food, and Henry passed around the serving platter.
“I’m curious,” Nathan began. “I saw many churches in town yesterday, and they all looked different. Where I come from, they’re all the same.”
“Oh, Lord, have mercy!” Viola declared with a laugh.
She was a buxom woman with a round face, a shade lighter than her husband’s.
Both appeared to be about ten years older than him.
“There’re as many churches around here as ticks on a hound, and every one of ‘em is different. You’ve got the Old Religion, the New Religion, the hybrid churches, a Jewish synagogue, the Logical Minds fellowship, the Reign of Fire folks, and even an agnostics meeting house where they sit around and discuss what might or might not be true. ”
Nathan’s mouth watered as he sampled Viola’s delightful cooking, the buttery cornbread and smoky bacon with eggs, a warm sense of wonder filling him from the inside out.
“Back home, there’s only one church, and everyone is required to attend.
The buildings all look the same, they sing the same songs, and the shepherds deliver the same messages.
It was …” he thought for a moment, his hosts waiting for him to finish. “Stifling.”
“Uh, uh, uh,” Viola vocalized, lips pressed thin, head shaking.
“Here in Verdancia, we support everyone’s right to believe whatever they want to—even if they’re wrong,” she added with a sly wink.
“But really, if the Old Religion was good enough for my parents and grandparents before the war, it’s good enough for us, isn’t that right, Henry? ”
“Sho nuff, Vi.”
“Mr. Dawson, are you allowed to answer a question honestly?” Nathan rested his fork, noticing his plate was empty.
“I’m allowed to. Whether I choose to, depends on the question.”
“Does the government, Lord Whitfield, or Queen Frost, tell you what to publish in your newspaper?”
Henry pursed his lips, wiping his fingers with a cloth napkin, his gaze fixed at a point on the far wall.
“There are some rules in place, and my paper could be shut down if I violate them. For example, we are only allowed to report as news, substantiated facts. We can’t just say, ‘Lord Whitfield painted graffiti all over Clemson Stadium’ without evidence or witnesses.
We aren’t allowed to fabricate stories just to sell papers.
There are libel laws. Newspapers can have an opinion column, as long as it constitutes no more than ten percent of the edition’s content, and it must be labeled ‘Opinion.’ But does someone else write our script, tell us what stories we can or can’t print?
No. While we don’t have an elected government here, the constitution protects freedom of speech, freedom of religion, as well as many personal freedoms.”
“Like who you marry?” Nathan had to be sure. It seemed too wonderful to be real.
“Especially who you marry,” Viola answered.
“So, the queen isn’t all-powerful? There’s a—what did you call it? Constitution?” Nathan wasn’t well educated—only six years of school before he’d had to work full time. But he’d learned a lot about how the Oligarchy operated in Appalachia. People there didn’t get a vote either.
“Oh, she’s powerful, all right,” Henry answered.
“But even she must abide by the law. That’s the way the founders set it up.
The constitution was written to ensure fairness and personal liberties while giving one individual authority to conduct most kingdom business in a timely, efficient manner.
If a monarch behaves badly, the lords can cast a vote of no confidence and force him or her to step down. ”
“Interesting.”
“I know you must have many questions, but I have to get to work, and you need to go wait for VERT to come collect you.” Henry pushed up from the table, brushing a kiss to his wife’s cheek. “Thanks, lovie. Breakfast was delicious.”
Nathan also stood. “Yes, thank you, Mrs. Dawson. I’m sure your God is pleased by your display of hospitality.” She beamed at him in response.
The trollies were nothing like those in Clover Hollow.
A team of four horses pulled a long, open-sided car on wheels with benches fixed in rows.
The iron-rimmed wheels rattled over old brick streets as the horses snorted and jingled their harness bells.
There were dozens of them, moving in all directions with no tracks.
Even the trollies are free here, he thought in awe.