.......
Now comes the only part that you play in the funeral, besides being
there. You were instructed to close the lid of the casket at the end
of the ceremony. You take two steps and lay a hand on the wood. It is
not fancily decorated, but plain and sturdy. It is horrible to see the
look on your father's face, blank and stern, opposite from what it
looked like in life. But what was worse was the thought of him packed
away in a box.
The tears you had swallowed all day erupted. You stand there beside
the casket, crying an infant's endless wail. Tom, the owner of the
local tavern, who was supposed to be your new legal guardian, is
beside you in an instant. He was always your father's best friend, but
treated you like a dumb animal. Perhaps he appeared to be comforting
you, but he was only trying to muffle the noise, which couldn't be
muffled. He lets you go suddenly.
"Get away from here. Come back when you can be quiet," he
whispers sharply. Glad to obey, you run. Your heavy black gown, the
only proper thing you own, trips you and you fall. Before anyone can
help you, though, you are off again, hand and knee stinging.
You run until you come to the biggest tree in the graveyard, a weeping
willow - a crying tree. You plunge through its leaves and throw
yourself down, sobbing.
You cry yourself out and sit up. Your best gown has turned from black
silk to brown dirt. How much time had passed? You would have to go
back to the clearing and greet people soon. Outside the privacy of
your tree, the king's other son, Prince James is standing, reading a
tombstone.
"Leaving behind a grieving only daughter. We must comfort
her," the vicar winds down after a three hour speech about your
father. Well, the words "Arthur Duncan" were spoken often,
but the person they described - loyal citizen, honorable taxpayer -
sounded more like the vicar than your father. Part of the speech had
been about dying, but more was about pledging allegiance to our
country and its rulers, the royal family. If your father had been any
higher in status, the king probably would have attended the funeral,
even given the speech. But as it was, the king sent only a word of
comfort to you. He probably didn't even know who we were, you think
bitterly.
