Chương 3: Chapter 3: Funeral March
The Keep waited almost two days for the King, Rowan’s Uncle Gregan, to arrive. Rowan had already begun the preparations for her father’s funeral, as she wanted to bury her father in respect. Being late for a funeral did not seem respectful to her.
She was surprised, however, to see her uncle and a small garrison of soldiers at her Keep’s doors that afternoon. The gates were opened, all bowed.
The king dismounted in front of Rowan’s low curtsey. She looked up.
A slightly heavier, hairier version of her father stood before her, but the eyes were the same. For a brief moment, she smiled.
“Rowan?”
The voice was gruff.
“I am sorry for your loss.”
She mumbled something to assure the king his attempt was enough and invited him inside. King Gregan nodded, but said little more. They stood looking at each other in uncomfortable silence. Since Rowan had a funeral to attend to, she turned to go.
“You are more than welcome to accompany me while I check on things,” she said to her uncle.
“Of course.”
Rowan lead the way outside and paused to watch the preparations. At the stables, one of the older grooms had pulled out a fresh, strong black horse to pull the funeral cart. The horse refused to stand, and danced in place, pulling on his collar and nipping the groom
“Unhitch him. Dunvelli will pull my father.”
“But...my lady...”
“Dunvelli will take my father to his resting place,” Rowan repeated powerfully, and Jax did not hesitate to step around the other groom to start unhitching the black horse.
“Shall I braid Dunny’s mane?”
Rowan nodded decisively, “That would be perfect, Jax. No flowers in the mane though.”
The King watched the interaction in silence.
"What was wrong with the black horse? Don't you think it was more appropriate for my brother's funeral?"
Rowan paused, "The black horse was too fresh and difficult to manage. Dunvelli was my father's personal horse. He was the appropriate choice."
King Gregan shook his head slightly, he opened his mouth to speak but Rowan spoke first.
"Father rode that horse into battle, he rode that horse every day. I can't have my father laying around while we pick a pretty horse... "
"Watch your tongue," the king growled pointing a finger at his niece. "No one speaks to a king that way. I'll allow it as your grief is still fresh, but don't do it again."
Rowan blushed from the open rebuke in front of everyone, then continued to show him around the different areas of her home.
At last, the procession was ready. The old warhorse stood noble and still as he was harnessed to his owner’s funeral cart. Jax and Phalen each held a braided white rope attached to either side of the horse’s bridle, walking forward slowly. Drums beat, pipes played, and the Keep entered out onto the surrounding fields. The sun broke through the clouds above and shone down upon the gathering as if attempting to warm their downcast hearts. The King watched his niece as she strode proudly before the cart and her people. Even in her grief, Rowan showed compassion for others. A little boy ran up to the procession and gave her a flower. She bent down and cupped the boy’s chin in her hand, saying thank you. Suddenly, it dawned on the king that Rowan had taken this road to the burials three times in the past year. Something in his heart moved, and remembering his brother, he quietly thought of the future.
After the procession reached the burials, and her father buried, Rowan lead the way back to the keep. King Gregan walked by her side.
“That was a beautiful tribute to your father,” her uncle said gruffly. “He always had my back. No matter where we were. I will miss him more than you know.”
The uncle and niece made their way back into the main hall.
King Gregan then dropped the most unwelcome news.
“I am going to station soldiers at this Keep since it is so close to the river and most of the incidents are happening near here.”
Rowan stood up in anger and alarm. Gregan held up a hand for her to wait, as he could see his brother’s strong will and fire in the young woman’s eyes.
"This is my home!"
"It was."
"I'm not leaving," Rowan insisted.
The King's face was starting to turn a pale shade of red.
"I'm not leaving the Keep!"
Her uncle stamped his foot and stood. Even Rowan was surpised into silence.
“Silence!" He bellowed. "You will listen!"
Gregan sat back down, everyone started breathing again.
"Now," he spoke more calmly. "No one will be forced out. Those who live here will stay.”
Exhaling, Rowan smoothed her braids and sat down.
The king wasn’t done, however, “You will come live with me, I can’t leave you alone here. I owe it to my brother to take care of you. There is less fever in my city.”
Rowan couldn’t close her mouth. She had no ability to move. Lea eyed her lady sadly.
"Servant, pack her things."
Rowan's eyes flickered briefly to her handmaiden's as the half-elf turned to go.
'Did he just call her 'servant?' Rowan seethed inwardly.
In a remarkably short time, the young lady and servant were standing outside.
“Your things are gathered? Good, it’s time to go.”
Rowan reached for Lea’s hand and together they began to walk to the travelling wagon.
King Gregan called to Rowan while pointing at the handmaiden, “She’s not coming.”
“What? Of course, she is, she has been with me since I was born!”
Rowan’s exclamation caused those in the courtyard to stop what they were doing.
Frowning, the King said, “She is not coming. She’s a half-elf and I don’t allow them in my home.”
Gasping, Rowan clenched her fists. King or not, no one was going to deny Lea a spot by her side, especially when they still stood in her home.
“I’m not going without her, Uncle, not one step. She is my maid, my tutor, and my friend.”
One of King Gregan’s guards hissed and grabbed her arm. Rowan expertly twisted out of the guard’s grip and gave him a shove in response. Several people in the courtyard stepped forward, but the king held up a hand.
Quickly, the auburn-haired orphan reasoned. “Lea knows me more than anyone here. It would benefit you to have her come since her experience with me and the noble court can help both of us understand each other better and she can help me adjust.”
A gentle breeze caused the grass to look like waves on the river. No one spoke. Rowan looked at her uncle, with serious yet gentle eyes. Her uncle in return regarded her thoughtfully.
He stepped towards her, crossing his arms. After another long moment, he spoke.
“I have spoken to you already about your tongue. I only make this exception as your reasoning is sound, even while you grieve,” King Gregan relented. “I will allow you three, and they will be your personal attendants. They are your responsibility.”
“Only three,” Rowan breathed. Gregan raised an eyebrow, and suddenly reminded the young woman of her father. She had to decide quickly.
“Jax, Lea, and Phalen.”
The king gave one short nod, turned, and mounted his horse. The sun disappeared behind the clouds as Rowan and her three companions walked slowly away from the Keep.
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