The king’s funeral
By The Other Terrence Oblong
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It was a magnificent ceremony, one that the city will remember ‘til the end of days. Eighty-six priests had gathered to perform the ceremony, from every corner of the kingdom. Each of the priests was responsible for laying out two of the king’s entourage.
It seemed like the whole of the kingdom had come to watch the burial. The week of mourning had been declared a public holiday and people had travelled upwards of fifty miles to be there. The resultant throng was crammed uncomfortably into Grand Central Square. Altogether they totalled a number in the thousands, more than I could count to, even the gods would have needed an abacus that day.
The gods were watching, that much was clear. The weather was fine all day, a discreet sun ensuring that the crowd was dry, but never too hot and the wind supplied a breeze greater than that which could be produced by ten thousand slaves.
The crowd cheered as the chief priest announced the great deeds that the king had performed while alive and described the welcome that would be awaiting him and his entourage in heaven.
One by one the tribal elders queued to leave their gifts for the king to take with him to the afterworld. It was an amazing array of splendour, the leader of the west tribe left the finest white horse, the fastest steed alive, “so that he may get to the other world with the greatest possible speed.” There was much gold, mostly silver from the southern tribes, and great works of art, commissioned especially. Even neighbouring kingdoms had send messages and kings, it took most of the day for the tomb to be filled with everything the king would take with him.
Yet the whole ceremony was spoiled by the screaming woman. She was one of the king’s anal cleansing team. Just before the tomb was sealed she leapt up from her death bed and screamed and screamed. “Let me go,” she shouted, “let me out, I’m not the one who’s dead.”
She tore to the tomb’s door, where the guards had to fight her back with spears. More guards came with restraints, yet still she screamed. “Let the living live,” she shrieked, you are not gods, you can’t decide who should die.”
The chief priest tried to reason with her. “”You’ll offend the gods,” he warned her, “don’t you want your soul to rise, so that you can attend your king in the afterlife.”
“No I bloody don’t,” she shouted back, “it was full time shit when he was alive, why the fuck would I would to die just so that I can spend eternity squidging the king’s arse clean.”
More guards arrived and she was placed in restraints, though her shouts could be heard throughout the whole of the closing ceremony. Even when the tomb was shut and she was silenced by stone, a tension remained, for the entire crowd of thousands no longer thought about the king’s soul rising upwards, we were all imagining how much she was screaming now, for screams are real even when they are not heard.
It says great things of the other 171 servants that not a single one of them stirred during the entire ruckus. I pictured them lying there as the door closed, maybe a small few of them dared to open their eyes a slither, to watch the stone close in on them, the rest too fearful of the gods to so much as trust that slither, for to question the ceremony is to question the gods themselves.
How many screamed as the door closed I wondered? Did they manage to retain their silence and dignity until their last breath came, did they all meekly await their meeting with the gods, ignoring the screaming woman in their midst, or did some of them finally start to panic when the entombment was completed, and panic more as the air disappeared and the panic around them grew.
I decided that I will not have my servants buried with me. Frankly I would hate to endure the same indignity of a similar outburst and you can never be sure that the lower orders truly understand the requirements of the gods. I will care for myself in the afterworld. Maybe the king could spare one of his slaves for the more arduous chores, I can think of at least one that he’ll be pleased to see the back of.
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A really interesting story
Linda
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