NaNoWriMo 2022

Saul the Apostle

American Kingdom: Day 18

Previous chapter:

Once again we assembled after evening quiet and walked across to the mess hall as a group.

This time it was Nathan who escorted Hazel, and I allowed Oscar to lead Annie and me across the courtyard.

Of all of us, he looked best in uniform. The evening uniform that is. In camos, he was pretty much a sack of shit tied in the middle.

But he wore the more formal uniform as if it had been tailored. Maybe it had been, I thought. I knew that he had a paunch on him but it was concealed well by the drape of the jacket.

We dined inside tonight. The table had been dressed up with candles and silver and wineglasses — in a baroque contrast to the stark blue plates and condiments of the breakfast service — and again the instructor staff had the head of the table and I took the foot as the junior.

But it was Oscar who received the look and he rose to say a blessing — without the linking of hands of my effort the previous night — in a tone of solemnity and occasion.

Let us proclaim our gratitude to our Heavenly King for manifold blessings and let us resolve to share those blessings and those ideals with our fellow human beings throughout the world. On this day let us gather in groups of the faithful to express our gratitude for the glorious gifts of God; and let us earnestly and humbly pray that He will continue to guide and sustain us in the great unfinished tasks of achieving divine harmony among all peoples and nations. Together we take food and drink as sustenance in our shared mission to proclaim His rule and authority over all of humanity. Amen.

Oscar, I suspected, had his sights on high office within the Kingdom. He wasn’t a bad shot with a pistol but he was likely aiming carefully at the stars.

Why was it, I wondered, that so many politicians were lawyers? Was the same true here?

One thing I was learning was that the Kingdom was big on rank and precedence. We were seated according to gender and seniority, with Nathan as the junior male on my left, and Hazel as the second most junior female on my right. With myself as the lowest of the low at the foot of the table.

Apart from the stewards and cooks and drivers and cleaners, I guess. Perhaps they ate in some downstairs mess where the food was riper and the conversation saltier.

From one side I had Hazel on philosophical implications of scripture, and from the other there was the rattle of machineguns as Nathan discussed firearms and battle tactics.

Maybe I should just concentrate on my lemon pepper catfish. Despite the warnings, Camp Whiffie had not served me up anything that was hog jowl, beans, spam, or not thoroughly delicious.

If I were running this outfit I’d promote the cooks a few notches. The Peanut Butter Lust pie served for dessert was appropriately heavenly.

Dinner over, Sir Duane rose, indicated that our evening was our own, tomorrow would be classroom lectures, and bade us good night.

“Who’s coming to the club?” Nathan asked.

Oh yeah, I could do with a few beers.

Hazel begged off. She was a little tired after the day on the range, she said. I privately thought that a few more days spent outside doing physical activities might fix that better than an early night, but I told her to sleep well.

One of the stewards tended bar in the club; its own building set apart from the barracks. Sitting on a rise at the intersection of two cleared vistas it had a pleasant outlook. Not that we four could see much, even under the moonlight; we sat inside.

“A local beer, if they have any,” I asked when Nathan offered to buy a round.

“Probably Budweiser,” Oscar said.

“Oh, right.”

And so it was. Budweiser isn’t a bad beer. It’s just that they put more effort into marketing than brewing it.

Maybe they sponsored the Kingdom, I thought cynically.

We lifted our glasses to each other. Probably ungenerous of me, considering the man had just bought me a drink, but if I was going to have to drink Bud and fend off Nathan’s attempts at romance while secretly wishing to get a lot closer to his well-built body, I might as well save myself the stress and head back to my bunk where I could ease the strain in my own way.

“What do you drink in Charleston, Molly?” asked Annie, who had opted for a gin and tonic.

I looked around the club. Just we four in a room that could easily seat a hundred or more.

“A place like this would likely have some of the big brands and some local brews on tap. I usually go by the name; if it sounds interesting I’ll try it. Otherwise, Palmetto is always good.”

“I had some of their mango IPA once,” Oscar offered. “It wasn’t something I’d drink for actual enjoyment. But, you know, when in Rome…”

I smiled at that. “I hear you. Sweet up front and hoppy in the back. No, it’s one of those try-once beers. There are some that like it but I wouldn’t say it defines Charleston.”

“Not mint juleps and iced tea, then?”

“Not nowadays, Annie.”

“Once you get the first one down, there’s no such thing as a bad beer,” Nathan said. “But I agree with Oscar. You pull into a new port, you try out the beer and the entertainment. Charleston’s a place I’d come back to.”

“So would I, my friend,” Oscar said. “Lovely city, full of history.”

Maybe he was trying to draw me out. If so, it worked. I could talk about Charleston for some time once that button was pressed.

“You have that famous intersection there,” Annie said. “Four Corners of the Law.”

“That’s right. City hall, State court…”

“I think that’s where we ended up,” Nathan said, taking a long swig of his suds.

“…Federal court, and Saint Michael’s where God’s Law rules above all.”

“Oh, no no no no no,” Oscar said. “I wouldn’t hang religious law that high, no, not at all.”

Next chapter:

The whole story (NaNoWriMo novel in progress):

Notes

A counterpoint — and a cynical one — from a brilliant legal mind. Mine, I guess, since I’m writing this rubbish. Expect this chapter to evolve as I research my position. The role of law in a faith-based society is not so simple as merely proclaiming the Ten Commandments.

Oscar’s blessing before the evening meal is modified from one given by John Kennedy. Oscar, I think, has a better eye for the aims and purposes of the Kingdom than does the rather more innocent Molly. Who will rise higher in this organisation, I wonder?

With this post, Helen becomes Hazel. I’ll have to do a bit of backfill to get that done before the court order arrives.

I’ll leave this book on a cliffhanger. You’d expect a lawyer in the King’s service to look to Divine Law as overriding all, but apparently not.

We’ll find out next chapter.

One problem I’ve been having, and it’s actually not that much of a problem so much as a good way for me to push forward with the wordage, is that I’ll give a chapter a name based on my ideas for the plot and theme, and then find myself sidetracked, writing more words than I’d really intended, just sort of clearing the ground for what I really wanted.

If I’m to have shortish chapters of three to five minutes of reading time, then I find myself ending the chapter and beginning the next before I’ve got to the point of the name.

Oh well, it’s just a name, and fixing it is more trouble than it’s worth. Think of it as a puzzling glimpse into the future.

On that point, I see that I’m nearly two-thirds of the way through my thirty days and fifty thousand words, and nowhere near two-thirds of the way through the story. Maybe a third, indicating either a length of about a hundred thousand words — a decent novel length — or a need to cut out a lot of the flab.

I don’t know yet. I’ll review it later, much later.

But goodness, does this mean I have to fill up December with writing as well?

Perhaps my life from now on will be writing writing writing.

Molly