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The Church of the Mission was the most glorious thing in the lives of the people of
Dentonsville. The God they worshipped there was not stark or spartan but grand and
shimmering. He filled His house with gold and jewels beyond belief. Its windows were
stained with pieces set in lead, slivers of a great antiquity, and from them their savior
smiled down, raising his hands in benediction, or stretching his arms wide reflecting an
agony much greater than their own simple torments. Most wonderful of all was the music; the music and the bells. When the bells range out upon a wedding day they reached to every corner of the town, to the enclave of the 'Men Apart' and far beyond, creeping into every heart to whisper the message of happiness and joy. Then, even those of the lowest station whose status did not permit their entry into God's House knew of His existence, believed and were in awe. And they began their pilgrimage to wait beside the way and cheer the passage of the virgin bride. It was the custom in those days for the eldest son to lead his sister to the church and so Carl was at the head of this procession, formally holding his sister's arm. Close behind followed his mother and father and the other members of their family, then the town notables and finally the procession of the groom. Carl was very self-conscious, unhappy with his duty and acutely aware of the people lining the procession route. By now there was hardly a face he didn't know and more than a few he would rather never have known. He thought he heard some jeers and jokes at his expense but it was bad luck to turn his head. He wondered if Thomas was among the crowd. He didn't see him but he was looking forward to his appointment with him that evening when perhaps he would discover what the old man though of marriages like this. The Pastor waited at the Church door, dressed in traditional robes of gold and white for the wedding service. He viewed the crowd with only a moderate interest and he did not know Carl at all, though the Rev. Williams had pointed the boy out as someone to be watched when he had first arrived two years before. Well, some Pastors are more dutiful than others, that's all. This one thought of little beyond tomorrow and the Festival of Renewal and his departure from this place. Tomorrow the Rev. Zawicki would leave and the Rev. Churtschya would take his place, but nothing would change: to the natives both would look the same. When the procession reached the Church the crowd clapped the bride politely and closed in behind. Carl blushed, encountering the Pastor. His keeping of the corkscrew was an offense punishable by hanging since, after he had told his father he would trade the object to a metal worker, he had entered a false record of the transaction in the Book of Records. If the Shopkeeper himself had done such a thing he could have escaped detection indefinitely, but Carl was not yet the Shopkeeper only his assistant. In the church was an air of dark, warm mystery. The sun played among the pillars onto a marble floor before the altar where the couple stood being bound before the priest and the families of the notables sat upon velvet cushions. A thin organ played itself. 'Who gives this woman...?' As the Shopkeeper stepped forward the Rev. Zawicki's mind was on taking up the violin again. An activity he dearly loved but which he needs must forgo in this place. 'The ring... ' He also needed some new shirts badly and must remember to warn the new Pastor about the washing machine... 'I do.' Looking forward to doing some climbing too... 'Repeat after me, I... 'And even more to seeing Jane again. '... to have and to hold from this day forth...' Confounded organ! No repertoire! Always getting stuck! 'Oh Lord, who loves those who love the things He loves the best, bless this happy pair! Rise! Place the ring on Ruth's finger, Iram. ' The ring was made of wood. 'By virtue of the Authority... ' At last, he thought, it's over! 'I now pronounce you man and wife.' A touching couple. But the music is so loud! |
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