Funeral for a Friend

Every footstep seemed a lifetime after the last as Sir Danielle Longbow carried the linen wrapped body of her friend along with his bodyguards.

Mournful music played on bagpipes, accompanied by the slow beat of drums. She’d never liked bagpipes but their unholy screeching seemed appropriate to mark the death of her friend. Tears rolled down her cheeks until her eyes were red around the brown. Despite the emaciated form of Carl’s body she wore full armour and walking in step with the other bearers was difficult.

Despite the northerner’s wish to keep his daughter from the grasping hands of court sycophants the jeweled vultures had gathered for the funeral. Fake tears dripped less than their flowing diamonds as their performative grief grew ever louder.

The funeral pyre had been stacked high and soaked with enough fuel to burn down half of Leonor City. She lay him gently on the branches.

“Goodbye,” she said beneath her breath. Her hand hovered on his arm. With her eyes up the crowd was as impressive as intimidating. Soldiers who had fought with Carl stood shoulder to shoulder in their armour. Children he’d taught to read sat on the shoulders of their eternally grateful parents. The Queen, Carl’s wife, and daughter stood quiet and composed. Bodyguards in black tabards worn only during funerals were emblazoned with the gold Crann Oak.

“King Carl had to prove himself to all of us,” said Queen Elspeth. “Being an imperial soldier, he was condemned to die. Luckily he was saved from that death. Without that ripple in fate I might not be here now. Princess Malin wouldn’t be here to carry the name of my mother.

When assassins tried to take the throne for a traitor Carl put his life on the line for mine. His sacrifice showed us all how loyal he was, willing to die for Crann. He stole my heart and gave me the daughter that will one day take the throne herself.

My heart is broken without him. Our second child will be my great consolation for the King’s death. My family has a future as bright as Crann. His passion for teaching and the will of the court has inspired me to set up an academy in his name. The King Carl Academy will teach the children of knights to read and write.

Just as printing presses have made Crann the heart of the literary world,” Danielle had to search her brain for the meaning of literature as the queen spoke, “the King Carl Academy will become the heart of learning across the continent. His name and legacy will live on forever.”

When a pause made it clear Queen Elspeth was done talking, a roar of applause set Danielle’s neck hair on end.

“And now we give King Carl to the flame of creation and destruction so that he may be remade by the gods and born again.” Queen Elspeth took a flaming torch from a knight by her side and set it to the wood at the base of the pyre. Crackles became a rushing roar as the fire leapt from branch to log and ate ravenously.

Danielle’s chest heaved in silent sobs. A press at her shoulder turned her head to Lupita Smith, her beautiful wife. Lupita’s eyes had bags beneath. Her braids were bound with black ribbon. Lupita’s father stood a head and shoulders above others at the back of the crowd. The Master Smith’s somber face was refreshingly genuine. The slightest nod to Danielle conveyed his commiserations. She nodded her thanks.

Carl had been more than a cheeky rogue to Sir Longbow. She’d been whipped half to death for saving the child soldier from execution when he was found in the city after a siege. He had fought by her side to liberate a castle to the north from invaders. Carl always had words to make her laugh, even at her own expense.

Light faded from azure to navy, ever deeper. The light of the dancing flames had them all forgetting that the world was still turning. Silence reigned as the king burned. The sniffs of loved ones were lost in the crackle of branches that started to give way under their own weight.

Sunset painted the world with its own fiery orange until the pyre was the only light. A droning hum became a chorus of voices singing songs of the seven gods. When the crowd had run out of songs the Queen departed with her daughter in tow. An armed entourage followed, parting the crowd.

With the spell of silent contemplation broken people asked if they could go. Many stayed. Others worked through the gathering into the darkness, back towards the city.

By sunrise Danielle’s knees ached. Her cheeked were baked from proximity to the flames. Tears on her lightly singed cheeks were agony. Lupita pressed a flagon of beer into her lover’s hand and raised her own.

“To Carl.” Lupita took a gulp.

“To Carl,” said Danielle in a voice that was a dry whisper. The bond had been something between that of brother and sister and mother and child. Family certainly. A knot in her stomach tightened every time she pictured the him in the end. He should have been youthful, vibrant. He should have been making cutting witticisms about the peacocks prancing behind the Queen.

Beer down her throat soothed dehydration she hadn’t noticed. Despite that something in the taste of the fine ale made her sick. She would never drink with him again. He would write no more books. Carl would never paint again. He had often painted her, to her eternal embarrassment.

“Why?” Danielle asked.

“There’s no reason, Dan.” Lupita wrapped the knight in a tight hug. “Come on. It’s almost morning. Let’s go to bed.”

Danielle shook her head. “I want to visit my mother. And my father.” The knight walked as if the beer had been whiskey, tired to her bones.

Her mothers grave was marked by a simple stone. Danielle knelt before the lump of granite, pressing her forehead to it. “I’m sorry. I wish I had made an effort before you died. I hope you knew I forgave you. I love you.”

Sighing a shaking sigh she walked to her father’s grave. Her head pounded either from the alcohol or from a combination of dehydration and exhaustion. Her father’s stone bore his name Sir Darren Longbow. “Dad. You were a lousy father. But I love you. I don’t know if you’re proud of me. I don’t know if there’s anything after. I wish you had seen me knighted. Mum was there. I have a family. I’ve got Lupita and Nettle and Deandra but without parents I feel like there’s no ground beneath me. Just having you, even when you weren’t around, I felt safer. Maybe I could have come to you when mum kicked me out.”

The squishing sound of grass compressing was followed by the comforting weight of Lupita leaning against Danielle. An arm wrapped around the knight as warm breath hit her neck.

Nearby, another knight was visiting his father. Lord Fabian Castel of Serpent’s Crook emerged from the family crypt. He had helped carry Carl to the pyre.

“It’s a beautiful day,” said Fabian, turning his head to the golden rays of the early morning sun.

“I suppose it is. Cruel to have such fair weather on such a day, it doesn’t seem right.” Sir Longbow hung her head.

“It’s a reminder that we must keep on. The king started things we must keep building. That’s how we honour him. That’s how we keep him alive.” He spoke with the same sincerity he always had. Though he had wrinkles around his eyes Lord Fabian was still the stereotypical hero with his flowing golden hair and chiseled jawline.

“How is your mother?” Sir Longbow asked, before her knighthood, when she was nothing more than a homeless girl the Castels had taken her in. “I’ve been remiss not visiting her recently.” His mother was wise and kind.

“Keeping herself busy,” said Lord Fabian with a shadow in his eyes. “Her mind isn’t the steel trap it once was. She’s been calling me by father’s name recently. There’s a man who likes to call on her. I don’t trust him.”

“I’ll visit her tomorrow,” Danielle promised.

“Thank you.” Fabian bowed his head. “I would go every day if I could but it’s tournament season. Soon I’ll be heading south again.” Guilt hung on every word he spoke.

“I’ll visit when Danielle cannot,” said Lupita.

“I appreciate that,” said Lord Castel with a shadow of the warm smile he once had before war and Lordship had put distance between their friendship. He bowed and departed to tend to his needy wife.

“Do you want to visit your mother?” Danielle asked.

“That would be nice,” said the witch who then kissed the knight’s cheek.

Hand in hand they walked to the resting place of Danai Smith. The bitter irony of Danai being burnt at the stake for witchcraft in a kingdom which had embraced magic so openly years later gave Danielle a bitter taste in her mouth thinking about it. The royal line had admitted their talent for magic and created a powerful coven that drew persecuted witches and warlocks from across the continent.

“Hi mum.” Lupita smiled an embarrassed smile as the knight looked at her. “We were at Carl’s funeral. You would have liked him. He knew persecution. He was funny. He gave himself completely like you did. They’re making a school in his name. No more burning people for having forbidden books. I wish you could have seen the library he started. You could have taught at the school. You could have met Deandra and Nettle. You’d like Anne. She’s funny too. Not in the same way Carl is. Was.” Lupita sighed, still having to remind herself that he was gone. “I hope you’re somewhere peaceful. Afterlife or another life. I love you.” Lupita kissed her hand and touched the blank stone that marked her mother’s grave. It had been anonymous for years to stop those who had sought her death desecrating the grave.

“I wish we could have a baby,” Danielle said.

“We have Nettle.” Lupita said.

“I know. But she was never a baby. Whenever I see her holding the baby my heart yearns for our own. Seeing the mix of you and me as the child grew. To know they would survive if we died in battle, or in bed like Carl. Have you ever imagined that?”

“Of course.” Lupita gulped down regret. “We shouldn’t dwell on impossibilities.”

They walked home, more than ready for bed after the walk from Leonor’s outskirts to the walled village of Fisher’s Gasp.

Nettle’s baby wailed in the room at the end of the hallway. Danielle’s exhausted legs ached with every step she climbed. Lupita and the knight trod on the edges of the wooden floorboards where they creaked the least. The well oiled hinges of the door made no sound as they pushed the door open together.

Off came the knight’s tabard. Piece by piece Lupita helped Danielle remove the plates of her armour. Each one was placed expertly on the armour stand. The warrior’s heavy arms helped the witch remove her cloak.

Cries turned their heads. Lupita’s smile told Danielle she was going to help with the baby. Sir Longbow sat on the bed.

She knew nothing more until midday when she was woken by the fresh cries of the child. Lupita stirred in the armchair by the window with the baby in the crook of her arm. Its snow white skin contrasted with the rich brown of hers. The soft smile of the witch broke the knight’s heart all over again. No matter how much they loved each other. No matter how perfect a mother Lupita would be, they would never have a child. She had no siblings, her bloodline would end with her. The injustice of that stung Danielle’s soul.

“Do you want to hold him?” Lupita asked.

“Is Nettle sleeping?”

“Like a log. I nodded off for a while myself.” The babe blinked brown eyes at the knight.

“Come here, Thistle. Come to grandma.” Sir Longbow opened her brawny arms wide. Holding the child soothed some of the pain she felt. The silent open mouth and innocent eyes brought a warm smile to her face. “You’re perfect,” Danielle told the child. “Just like your mother. And you got the best of your father. He was a rascal, but handsome.” Tinges of Sir Lachlan’s ginger hair showed in the brown of Thistle’s mahogany locks when they caught the sunlight.

Tiny fingers clutching her arm brought a different kind of tear to Danielle’s eye.

“Perfect.”