“You threatened my employee and her family—the very innocents you claim to want to protect. I will not stand for it. Now move on before I call the constable to move you.” The clouds overhead were moving quickly, snow heavy in the air. I didn’t fancy arguing with a lunatic in the snow.
“I will remain here until your establishment is shut down and every pornographic book you produce is burned.” Brownpointed a gnarled finger at me, his wild hair making him look more crazed.
“It will snow soon. Are you that ignorant that you would freeze to death simply to prove your baseless theory correct?” I would put this back on him. The traffic had slowed substantially, with more onlookers gathering to hear our argument.
“Mr. Moran, or should I say,Lord Moreland?Unlike his dearly departed uncle—my generous benefactor—he is using his exalted title to intimidate a man of the gospel. I will tell you now I am not intimidated by anyone save the good Lord, Jesus, my savior,” Brown shouted, red-faced and spewing spittle beneath his bowler hat.
“I sincerely doubt you have the fear of God in you. If you did, you would know what was good for you and leave the premises.” If I was smart, I’d leave him to freeze while I enjoyed a hot bath. No matter what he said, I wasn’t about to close my publishing house.
“Again, I am on public property, not your private property,Lord Moreland.”
Hearing the name grated against my nerves and I wanted to tell him to stop calling me that, but a small part of me said not to. He’d play upon any show of weakness. Given my personal experience, I was tired of men of power abusing others, hence my aversion to the aristocracy. But Birdie's words came back to me and she was right. People should be judged for whom they were, not what situations they were born into.
“Moran, you having problems with this bloke?” Chester, a local bobby, asked, glancing between the two of us. He gripped his stick in both hands, eyes narrowed.
“Yes, I am. His name is Brown and he is a public nuisance.” I had lived in the neighborhood for twenty years, and one thing about its inhabitants was that we protected our own. Cheapside had embraced me and given me a home when I didn’t have one.
“I am peacefully protesting,” Brown said. “Moreland can throw names at me all he wishes, but right is on my side.” The protestors, mostly women and frail old men, circled around him, staring at the man in hero worship. “If any of you good people wish to join our cause, we have plenty of signs.”
I rolled my eyes, wishing Ash were present to hear this claptrap.
Chester grinned. “Youarestalling traffic, Mr. Brown. You must move, or I shall be forced to move you myself.”
“I am a man of God. OnlyHemoves me.” Brown was playing this up for all he was worth. While I had a sense he was an intelligent man, intelligence and mental instability could prove a lethal combination. “And He has spoken to me, brothers and sisters. He has said I must inform the masses of the sins being perpetrated right under their noses.”
“Again, you accuse me of something without proof. I have lived here for twenty years. These people know me and what I have brought to the community.” The entire neighborhood was woven together with people from all walks of life. In times of trouble, we helped each other, in times of strife we gave support.
I didn’t like to speak about my charitable work, but at one point or another, I had helped every business along this road, asking for nothing in return. “I also know that they work hard, and their shops are being obstructed because you are protesting something that’s just not happening.”
Not the entire truth, but I would never admit it to him. My books were meant for adult audiences, and hurt no one.
“Here, here. Me shop is blocked by those women with the white signs. I got a business to run. Move down the road if you know what’s good for you,” the butcher said, glowering at Brown.
“These women are doing the work of God.” Brown wasn’t to be put off. He continued to have a counterargument for everycomment and turned each claim back to his own purposes. “If you are a Christian man, you would join them and not berate them for wanting good for your children.”
The butcher waved away his comment, disgust curling his lips. “Move your bloody arse, or you’ll be praying to God after I pummel you.”
“Vice had made you a violent man. Repent now, and I will pray with you!”
“Is he slow in the head?” the butcher asked me, scratching at his ginger-haired mutton chops. Blood splattered his leather apron, and the sour stench of dead meat clung to him.
I stifled a laugh. “It would seem so.”
“Mock me all you wish, but we will see who has the last laugh.” Brown glowered at me and pulled out a Bible from his inside pocket. “‘Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.’ James 4:7.”
Two could play his game. “‘Whoso privily slandereth his neighbour, him will I cut off.:’ Psalm 101:5.”
Brow furrowed, Brown wasn’t about to be put off. “‘What comes—”
“Move out of the way!” A wagon driver with several large beer kegs tried maneuvering his cart away from Brown, cutting him off. “You’re in the street, you dimwit.”
Carts and carriages alike were backed up now, more people stopping to stare at the spectacle Brown was creating.
My patience at an end, I shook my head. I had a deadline to make, and I was down an employee. Although it would take three people to fill her shoes in the office, and nobody could fill the empty place that now existed in my chest. “We can stand here all day quoting scripture, and neither of us will change our minds. Protesting me won’t change my perspective. I will keep my shop open.”
A snowflake fell, followed by more. From the biting cold, we were in for another wintry day. The last one was one of the best experiences of my life. Even thinking about my bath with Birdie got me worked up. Yet I no longer had the luxury of exchanging banter with her. The bitterness reignited my anger at Brown—the man who had tried to destroy me. “You can stand here and scream until you are blue in the face. I don’t care.”
“I will be back every day until your shop is closed. You might think you have the upper hand, but the Lord is on my side.” White foam traced the edges of his mouth. The maniacal spark of a born zealot gave me a shiver of disgust.
