Wicked Bronze Ambition: a Garrett, P.I., Novel
“My luck was in. Garderobes were available inside the main entrance. They were a public relations gimmick. The barons of the Church could point and pat themselves on the back for that glittering example of the benevolence of their corporation. Anyone could stroll in and use the pot, no charge—though there was an alms box handy, painted scarlet, flanked by saints famous for having distributed their fortunes to the poor once they got religion.
Nothing said that they had beggared themselves for... the benefit of the impoverished rather than the Church, though. The professionals are always all about tithing, then giving a little extra for the building fund, the education fund, the this fund, the that fund, the other fund, the fund-raising fund.
How much of the poor box fell into clerical pockets instead of finding its way to the truly needy?
So. I shared space with stench and flies for a bit, then eased on out of Chattaree, not far behind the man called Almaz, whom I had heard receiving instructions just before I was finally to make my toilet run.MoreLess
Nothing said that they had beggared themselves for... the benefit of the impoverished rather than the Church, though. The professionals are always all about tithing, then giving a little extra for the building fund, the education fund, the this fund, the that fund, the other fund, the fund-raising fund.
How much of the poor box fell into clerical pockets instead of finding its way to the truly needy?
So. I shared space with stench and flies for a bit, then eased on out of Chattaree, not far behind the man called Almaz, whom I had heard receiving instructions just before I was finally to make my toilet run.MoreLess
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