Preacher Man
Page 63
Chapter 40; The Wake and Preparations
The Exchequer neither knew of nor heard any of this last exchange. He moved forward and covered Shannon’s face with his shoulder tartan. Gently, he took the crown and placed it back into its carved wooden box. He pounded the floor with his long staff of office, “The King is dead. Long live the King! We will enter 14 days of mourning. Good Night! Please return to yer homes.”
Trevor and Janni were stunned. Trevor connected to Zeer, “Uhhh, Preacher man?”
“Yes, ma son?”
“Who gets this disc?”
“A copy gets sent to the Empra first. When he releases it, run it fer all ta see. Do a voiceover about the pirate being pardoned by the Empra and assuming the throne, blah, blah, blah. The service had to be private and small because we knew the King was very ill. His body will lie in state for a fortnight. All are invited to the funeral. You know the rest…”
“By Your command!” and they ran off to send the data. Janni warned the broadcast booth on Imperial Home World that they had the scoop of the century and to await a data blast that would not be topped for a decade or more. While they were waiting, they edited the materials and did the voiceovers so that the data could be up loaded as soon as the Empra released it.
Zeer stopped at the door to embrace Beor. They cried together for a moment. He held her away from him so he could look her in the face. “Admiral, ya canna retire just yet.”
“No, ma wee Prince, my King still needs me.”
“Just two more weeks, lassie. Will ya stand wi’ me?”
“Aye, I will be honored, Yer Majesty…two more weeks it is.”
“You’ll see ta him, then?”
“Aye! Ya couldna keep fra it!”
“Good…he’d want fer no better!”
Next to her was Tristan. “Tris…I have a task fer thee.”
“By Your Command, Majesty!”
“I want you to go to Askir.”
“Askir? Why?”
“Ya hafta get Tani’s remains from Sheel’s garden and bring them here. Hers was the last name he called. He loved her more than we knew. She should be buried as his Queen.”
Tris was shocked, “Really???”
“On this planet, she will never be known as a pirate. She joins all of our honored dead as a freedom fighter. Shannie was her King. Since her King was my King, and Shannon made her his Queen, then, she is my Queen, too.”
“Ohhh, my sweet Tani!” Tristan buried her face in the shoulder of Zeer and cried for her sister one more time.
Zeer cried a little more for these two lost souls, then he said through his tears, “Ya see, that makes you my sister, too. Can ya do this thing for our kith and kin.”
“I don’t know…” she mumbled into his shoulder.
“Of course, ya can. Thee are a princess now. Ya have but a fortnight ta make the funeral.”
Tris wiped her eyes, straightened her shoulders and said firmly, “I can and I will. I’ll need a ride.”
Zeer looked at the Captain of his Barge, “Cap’m?”
“I’ll have her there and bring them both back safe as babes, yer Majesty.”
“Good, Lad!” He turned to Tris, “There ya go! Take my flier. I’m not going anywhere fer a while. I must sit by me brudder and pray.”
She took one look at the captain, and they headed out the door running, got into Tristan’s grounder and sped off in the direction of Space Port. The captain rubbed his hands together. “Oh, boy, he’s got every bell and whistle on this thing. I’m trying for the jump speed record this trip.”
“God speed!” Zeer whispered after them. He sat on the step and watched Beor and her Guardians gently lay the King in all his finery onto an old Metal shield they had taken from the wall. They put the shield on an antigrav sled. The drummer hurriedly took his spot directly behind the King’s head. The bag pipers fell in behind and began the first plaintive strains of “Shannon’s Aire” (written for the Shannon I, centuries ago).Zeer got up and followed them back through the tunnels to the infirmary where Shannon would be prepared for his final journey.
When he went out to St. Patrick’s Square, workmen were already unloading the redwood boat. Zeer had commissioned the boat wrights to make it as soon as he knew they were going to make this deal with the new Empra. It had been intended to give Shannon III’s bones a last voyage.
A shaded area was provided by a cover of green silk on six redwood poles. As soon as the boat was in place, another crew laid out the lower layer of logs freshly lumbered from clearings of rebuilt houses. Zeer sat in the shade at the keel and watched as layers of perfectly cut perfume wood was stacked in the exact pattern called for in the funeral banns.
Inside the Rectory, morticians had finished preparing their King. He was sealed in an air tight clear plasteel coffin. By the time the boat was ready, the news had broken and a crowd of citizens was beginning to mill around it.
Trevor contacted Zeer, “Your Majesty.”
“Yes, Trevor?”
“I am watching the net. The Empra’s press secretary has just released a statement.”
“Really, what did He say?”
“Ohhh, the usual boiler plate lingo regarding the death of a great patriot, blah, blah, blah…Janni has just uploaded the contents of the disc to our network. Boy, are the other newsies hoppin’ mad? We just told em we went to St. Paddy’s fer the Nzed prayer and stumbled onto yas…”
“You’ll be comin ta confession, this evening then?”
“Didn’t I just confess, Father?”
“Aye…I guess ya did.”
“Brother ta brother…”
“Gotta keep it in the family.”
“Thankee Sire.”
“We’ll be bringin’ the King out any tick now that the Empra is on board with the plan.”
“I’ll let that slip in the newsie lounge…share the wealth! Gimme five ticks…”
“Good plan!” Zeer severed the connection. Newsies came pouring out onto the square. Immediately,they were filming the final preparations of the boat.
Father Paul touched his shoulder softly, “Are we ready yet, yer Grace?”
Zeer shook himself, “Aye, Father Paul. Bring him out.”
The pipers snapped to attention and began the sad refrain from the funeral march. The drum took up a slow cadence and the glasteel box on a processional coach pulled by tartan clad leaders from every clan entered St. Patrick’s Square. They went two times around the boat and gently laid the box on the stacks of wood. On Shannon’s head was a small crown of golden wire and emeralds. The rows of people passing by could easily see him there. The people threw sweet grasses, flowers and sticks of perfume wood into the boat.
Zeer sat and prayed awhile, ignoring the crowds. The crowds left him alone. Once his brother’s sarcophagus was in place, he left. Silently, he went up to Paris’ room. She was feeding one of the girls. She handed the sleeping child to the nurse maid and took her husband in her arms. He lay beside her and cried himself to sleep. She rocked him and cried with him. She was content.
And so it went for twelve more days. Zeer, sometimes with his wife or his children, but mostly alone, sat by his brother and watched the pile of flowers grow and grow until the pile covered the wood and the glasteel. Every now and then, a gust of wind would blow the flowers around the square. People in the backs of the lines would pick them up and throw them back onto the piles.
Every now and then, Beor would go over and brush off the head area. “He must see his people who love him,” she said to no one.