Continued from Chapter 4-Sold
"Sorry, I'm late," Patrick apologized as he walked vigorously into the meeting, greeting everyone. As a leader in his church, he did his best to not miss any services or meetings, but last week with everything that happened, it couldn't be helped.
Father Faricy smiled. The Protestant priest was taller than many and was well known for his talking the ear off anyone who listened. It wasn't unusual to see him in the local tavern enjoying a pint, chatting with his parishioners about any subject including science and politics, two subjects many avoided out of sheer desire for harmony.
"Good to see you, Patrick. We were discussing a new mission that's come to my attention."
"Oh?" Patrick uttered as he took his seat.
"Yes, it's to a small community in southern Africa called Eyubea. Their leader wants to share the good word with his people as well as educate the children and civilize them so that they can walk in the light and glory of God, saved and sanctified."
“Eyubea?” Patrick mused knitting his eyebrows.
“Yes,” Father Faricy noted. “They are located somewhere near Rhodesia and Portuguese East Africa, I believe. If I read that map right. The funny thing is that no colonials will touch them!”
The men all looked at each other while the priest smiled and explained.
“Back in the 1800's, the British sought to colonize the “dark-skinned heathens”, as they sometimes called them. They sought to expand the empire, as it were. While other Africans were defeated in every effort and subsequently dominated, the Eyubeans gave the empire no ends of troubles. Germans, Portuguese, the lot of them. Eyubea fought them tooth and nail, measure for measure, with tactics that seemed to defy reason. The fighting was so furious and deadly for the colonials that it was agreed that European nations would leave the Eyubeans alone. It's one of a handful of independent areas in the continent.”
Boyce Fabrey, who fancied himself a progressive and a pacifist, laughed. “I would have loved to have seen the look on the colonials' faces when these people practically threw them out.”
“Aye,” the priest chuckled, “it must have been quite a sight. But to this day, Eyubea has remained the only independent region within southern Africa. The crown has never spoken of it, of course. Never mentioned it as it's a thumb in the eye of the empire. The community is self-governing and has agreed to some influence from Britain as some of her citizens have taken up residence in the region. But from what I've read, their leader,” Father Faricy looked at the paper in front of him, “an Afa—Afa-ba-kar O-bib-wo, I hope I pronounced that correctly, wants to move the community into the new era.”
"So," Patrick muttered. "Are they looking for volunteers?"
"Actually, they have a young man by the name of Graham Tate-Fuller."
"That name is familiar…"
"He is the elder son of Samuel Tate-Fuller, the butcher, and his lovely wife Miriam." Patrick nodded. Samuel was not only a butcher, but a shop owner that supplied meat and dairy to most of Shaffshire and other surrounding towns. "Graham had thought of following his father's footsteps into the family business but got the call to a higher purpose, it seems. He had the good fortune to happen upon this opportunity and his father, as well as some other prominent businesses, have funded his mission."
"Now all he needs is a wife," one of the other men blurted, causing the lot to chuckle.
"Well," Father Faricy drawled, "having a help mate can be a wonderful experience. A woman of God is a joy and being on the African continent, he will definitely need someone he can talk to from time to time as the natives can sometimes be less than conversant."
Patrick grinned. Father Faricy had a bit of poetry in him. He had shared stories about how he had met his late wife Linda with the help of Shakespeare's Sonnets. Patrick couldn't help but envy the man at times.
"Well, there are more than a few eligible ladies in Shaffshire. Not sure which of them would welcome such an exotic mission."
"Precisely, Patrick. And that's why I have invited him to service on Sunday. I hope you are able to make it this week." Father Faricy had a way of asking without asking, but Patrick was sure he wouldn't want to hear the details. In truth, it was probably better that he kept that to himself, at least for now.
"I'm sure we'll be making an appearance this Sunday, Father."
Father Faricy had wanted to probe further but decided against it. It was an open secret that Vivian was habituated with the drink as well as other vices and he prayed that one day she would find her way back. Until then, he waited, watched and hoped for better for the entire Caldwell clan.
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