Popularity War

Funeral Flare-up

Popularity War

Chapter 10

The sun glared down at the people below on the day of the funeral. For a Fall day, it was unusually hot, which was not the best for an outside event. At least the service would take place in the evening, but a lot of work had to be done beforehand, making the workers break out in a sweat quickly, at least the men who had to work outside. Eva and several women, including Gertrude and Elain were in the kitchen preparing the reception meal.

The bread was already baked the day before, along with the pies for dessert, so they only had to cook the meat and vegetables. Eva had decided upon deer and turkey meat since those animals were abundant that time of the year and it allowed her to save money. A never failing rule of economics: when there is an abundance of anything, the cost of that item will be lower than if there were a shortage. Shortages only made things much more expensive and with her low budget, she had to choose animals that were common for the season.

Gertrude supported her wise decision and even helped buy some of the meat. Feeding one hundred people required a lot of food and it would be unfair if she did not pitch in. Eva accepted Gertrude’s help with gratitude. Standing in the kitchen with the Gertrude made Eva feel comfortable as she peeled potatoes and listened to the other women talk. Gertrude had become like a mother figure to her.

By the time evening came, Eva was exhausted. She was unable to rest before the service and somehow had to survive the rest of the day. The fact that it was her father’s funeral only added to her fatigue. She walked with the women to the main square and grimly looked at the pyre where her father lay upon. He still looked like he was sleeping and Eva almost half expected him to wake up and jump down from the small mountain of wood.

Since he was a lord, his body would be burned unlike a commoner who gets buried in the dirt. Eva was unsure if she even liked that rule. Having her father buried would allow her to visit an actual gravesite rather than a stone placed in the dirt with no body below. Yet, with a burned body, she could have the ashes collected and placed in an urn. Either way, her father would be with her in spirit, or so Eragon kept telling her.

Eva took a deep breath and made her way to the front of the square where a couple of long benches sat abreast. Those benches were for family and close friends of the deceased. The other folk in attendance would have to stand, which was not a problem. For most events there was always limited seating so many spectators stand to watch.

When Eragon came into view, Eva veered away from the benches to race towards him. He was one of the men building the pyre keeping him away from her all day. Finally able to see him, Eva felt her mood brighten a tad. That little boost would allow her to get through the evening. “There you are, Eva.” Eragon held out his arms for her to run into.

Wrapped tightly in his arms, Eva exhaled, releasing even more pent up emotions. She felt safe when he held her, a feeling that grew stronger each time they embraced. On that particular day, Eva needed all the security and support she could get. As soon as the funeral started, she would be an emotional wreck and having Eragon next to her would allow her to cry with the prospect of being comforted. She liked the thought of that.

Lanterns were lit as people continued to shuffle into the square. The sky looked like it was on fire as the sun began its daily descent. Soon, actual flames would consume the evening air as Lord Whikim’s body will be burned.  Eva groaned at the sudden though making her pull away from Eragon.

“This is a tough service for you, but remember that I am here. I’ll be sitting right next to you—ok.” He looked straight into her eyes to be sure she understood what he said. When she nodded in acknowledgement, he took her hand and began to lead her towards the benches. Turned around, Eva noticed a woman in elegant dress sitting in what was supposed to be Eragon’s spot.

Eva clenched her fists when she made the connection that the woman was Cassandra. “She has some audacity,” she murmured. Before Eragon could say or do anything, Eva tore away from Eragon and raced up to her ex-friend. “What do you think you are doing?”

Cassandra never flinched at Eva’s harsh manner; rather, she sat there calmly and replied, “Waiting for the funeral to commence, of course. My father would have been here, but he got busy, so he sent me in his stead. I think it’s rather fitting since I knew Lord Whikim better he did, wouldn’t you agree?” She was not hiding her mocking tone, angering Eva even more.

Eva crossed her arms to express her discontent more blatantly. “No, I do not agree. If you are going to be here, then stand at the back. It’s where you belong.” She had mimicked Cassandra’s tone of voice as well, making her scowl.

“I am of the nobility class, therefore I should not have to stand like a peasant.”

“That is usually true, except you are forgetting something: this is my father’s funeral and I am the one making the rules here. When I tell you to stand in the back, you obey, or leave.”

Eragon chuckled a bit too loud at Eva’s remark, but he did not care. Let Cassandra witness him take pleasure at her expense. She had done the same many times and now it was her turn to get a taste of ill treatment. The villagers around them made no effort to support Cassandra—they silently rooted for Eva. In a feeble attempt to gain some dignity, Cassandra threw away her mocking tone to say how she wanted to pay her respects to Lord Whikim as sincerely as possible. However, Eva did not fall for the fake humility. “I said stand in the back or leave, Cassandra.”

Finally giving in, Cassandra stood up to glare deep into Eva’s eyes, saying, “Fine, I actually don’t care about this funeral. My father made me come, but now I can head home and do something more entertaining and less dramatic.”

Her sneer was the last straw. Eva found her blood boiling and raised her fist, launching it towards Cassandra. The woman shrieked at the motion, but it was too late for her to so anything else. Eva’s fist collided with Cassandra’s nose, an audible crack following afterward. Before Eva could do any more damage, Eragon had grabbed her to pull her away.

“You—you horrid creature,” Cassandra bellowed as blood streamed from her nostrils. “Just wait until my father hears about this.” Without saying anything else, she turned and ran home.

No one said anything to Eva, except Eragon who managed to calm her down. He had told her to forget Cassandra and focus at the task at hand: the funeral. “Your father would not want you to take what she said to heart, and he may not have liked your violent outburst, but he would have understood why you hit her. Standing up for yourself and your family is a good quality. I’m proud of you Eva.” He kissed her brow. “Now, let us commence this service, hmm?” Eva nodded.

She cried several times during her speech, and more when others came to the front to express their fond memories of Lord Whikim. When it came time to light the pyre, Eva found herself in a daze. The world around her had become so far away and each time she tried to get a grip, reality slipped further away. Watching the flames dance on her father’s dormant body was like a nightmare. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she shook violently. She was so lost that she could hardly feel Eragon hold her.

When there was nothing left of her father’s body, the people began to exit the square. Eva and Eragon were the last to leave. “Come on, Eva, you can do this; the hard part is over. Let us eat and then you can go to bed. You could use some rest.”