Mourning, Sorrow, and Vengeance
Zac’s school let out for Keren’s funeral, and at Benji’s advice I took him with me to attend. When I showed my face, may of the townsfolk shot me disgusted and even threatening glares. Calling Keren a traitor had made me the most hated man in Oakbridge, for the time being. Yes, I think they hated me more than they hated Eon Maganti.
We all gathered in the cemetery on the east end of town. Consul Maganti had agreed to grant us full control over the bridge for the few hours we needed for the funeral, and thus halted his troops’ march across the river.
The cemetery lay in a small valley between three tall hills. It always made sense to us to bury our dead in lower ground, that way when it rained the dirt would bury them further rather than unearth them.
Four men carried Keren’s pine coffin down from a dip between two of the hills. The rest of us stood in the green valley, surrounded by headstones older than the town itself.
I glanced up at the tops of the three hills. On each stood a Tagrosi soldier, there to overlook the proceedings and make sure we weren’t plotting against them.
Zac’s sobs drew my attention back to him, the sound was the greatest torture I’d ever endured. I peered down at his tear-stained face, his lower lip contorted in grief. I gave his hand a comforting squeeze, and when he looked up at me I tried to convey that I understood his sorrow.
But I still hadn’t cried for Keren.
The sky was blue. Birds sang cheerful songs. Flowers of every color had taken root in the graveyard, making the scene beautiful, except for the wails and sobs of everyone who wasn’t me. Even Elora, who didn’t know Keren, had enough sensitivity to cry.
The four pall-bearers set the coffin down on the edge of a hole that had been dug for this occasion. Reverend Constance walked over to the opposite side of the pit from everyone else, clad in her blue, clerical cassock. She held in her hands a leatherbound book, turned open to a page near the end.
“At times like this,” she began, her face and tone as solemn as stone, “I find it is often best to consult the wisdom of our ancestors.” She cleared her throat and produced a pair of spectacles from her coat pocket. “While we shall shed many tears for those we love who have passed on to the next world, let us not be so overtaken with grief that we forget the good things that they did. For when those we love die, they have not left our side, they have entered into our hearts. Permanently. They become a part of us, guiding us, and living again through us.” Constance looked down at the coffin beside what was to be its final resting place. “And, some day, the phoenix shall return, and raise the dead in its light. Until then, may Keren’s kindness, wisdom, strength, and courage live on in us all. May we never forget the… noble purpose for which she died…” Constance glanced at me, “Or the good she did for us.”
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I agreed with every word, and still my stomach felt sick at the reverend’s implied accusation.
“And,” she continued, “let us not forget the Heavenly Decree that we should never seek vengeance against those who have done us wrong. Only justice… only justice.”
My mind swam with the implications of her words, and I prayed that the soldiers on the hilltops could not hear her eulogy.
“Is there anyone else who would like to say something to honor Keren?”
The Reverend’s words weighed heavily on my heart. Two people rose up and delivered their kind words about their time with Keren, and all she did for their children.
Against my better judgment, I took the opportunity and stepped forward after the others were done. The community glared at me with a mix of hatred and disappointment. Amongst those in the crowd, I spotted Jeseka, shaking her head at me and signaling for me to resume my place in the crowd. Elora was also in the crowd, wiping the tears from her white eyes. Benji stood close to Zac and gave me an affirming nod, encouraging me to say my peace.
“Keren was not a traitor,” I started. The grunts and grumbles from the crowd made me second-guess whether or not I’d made the right decision in referencing my own mistake. “Keren was the kindest, gentlest, smartest woman I knew. She cared more about us than we often cared about ourselves. My boy loved her, as all the children she taught did.”
I paused for a moment, trying to think of what to say next. Some members of the crowd had softened their expressions toward me, others were clearly still furious. “Keren was a hero,” I continued, “And the two worst atrocities committed against her are the stupid thing I said… and what that basta…” part-way through the word I remembered that Zac was in the crowd, so I finished, “that blackhearted devil Eon Maganti did to her. Let us pray that Keren’s kind, generous nature never leaves our hearts. But… let us also pray that her murderer will face Heaven’s justice.”
Reverend Constance’s soft smile as I made my way back to Zac told me I’d made a good choice from a theological perspective, but the others at the funeral seemed less concerned with theology and more concerned with revenge. Their murmuring and grumbling continued, and I still got nasty looks from several of them before I returned to hold Zac’s hand.
“Ahv is right!” Jeseka called out as she walked toward the front. “It’s Eon Maganti who’s responsible for this, no one else. Let us not seek to apportion blame to any other for this tragedy… no, not tragedy… atrocity.” Jeseka gestured to Keren’s coffin. “I don’t know if any of you know this, but Keren herself showed kindness to the Tagrosi soldiers. While they were eating stale bread and pickled meats, she brought some of them home-cooked meals, and encouraged others to do the same. Never forget her kindness, and never let them--” she pointed to the soldiers on the hilltops, “--forget her.”
“Amen!” said Reverend Constance.
“Amen,” said the community, in near-unison.
I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing my community was just slightly less likely to do something foolish.