Obscurity, The Thirty-Second Chapter

In which the philanthropist prepares for his pending nuptials.

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e last read The Thirty-First Chapter—in which we spent a sleepless night in the care of those left behind by the widow. If you have recently joined us, start with The Prologue.

The Christmas season was upon them, and the philanthropist’s wedding hung suspended above it as the star that once guided the magi to their new king. In the courtyard, where the cathedral was still under construction, preparations were being made for that most anticipated moment, a menagerie of sorts filling the square with performers and sellers and carolers.

Holly was draped about the lampposts; a giant tree was erected in the square and decorated with cranberries and candles. Chestnuts popped over street fires, persimmons appeared as jewels upon sellers’ carts, vintners mulled wine in barrels and ladled it out to passersby. The air smelled of cinnamon and cloves and the occasional meddling of frankincense, boughs of which lay bundled upon the cathedral floor for the coming revelries.

Before the steeple, members of the free black militia heaved a giant brass bell into the heavens. The bell was commissioned from Spain and had spent months being hammered by hand, etched by artisans, and tested by monks for pitch and timber before traveling across the ocean where it would toll from the cathedral’s tower, forever a testament to the philanthropist’s glory.

The philanthropist watched from his salon, and even stepped out to his balcony for a brief benediction. He said only a few words to remind them of his importance and benevolence before a member of the battalion wrapped the rope about his arm and pulled with all his might. The bell tolled once, then twice, its song slow and methodic as the bells of a Buddhist temple summoning young monks to prayer. The sound was elegant and warm—it echoed in all their hearts and minds with the sentiment of the season.

Obscurity, The Thirty-Second Chapter

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