Honoring the National Religion

Today was the day the roving minister came to the village. I was able to feed Marduke and explain to him that he needed to stay hidden in an empty stall in the barn, and to leave Daisy, the cow alone. We needed the milk.

I went into the village to the open air chapel. It was basically a platform with benches secured in straight rows, all facing a large cross. If the meeting lasted long enough, the sun would set behind it.

Horses and ox carts were parked side-by-side around the platform. The traveling minister wore long brown robes. He stood at the front, holding a book.

We listened, we said “Amen” in the right places, bowed our heads at the right time, stood and sat together like trained dogs. But my mind was in the barn.

After service, Katra, with her long blonde hair and amber eyes, sauntered over to me.
“Ma says you’re invited to supper, Kira. Can you come?”
Katra’s Ma had been inviting me every meeting day since the Sheriff took Papa. I knew it was really because of Katra.
“I can’t.”
Her face fell.

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