Even before dawn broke on the second week after the death of King Troy, innumerable people from all over Ethyr already flooded the streets of Gobhy. A massive congregation of a multifarious public lingered from the very corners of the great cathedral extending to as far as the avenues outside the urbane walls of the Inner City. Grandparents to grandchildren were proven to be around representing their humble posts as farmers, butchers, blacksmiths, bakers, and so on. Their faces were enthusiastic; however, they appeared to be gloomy. They were the eager citizens who wanted to pay homage to the dead monarch whose funeral was scheduled on the afternoon of that day. Such enormous crowd however was allowed only until the walls of the cathedral. Inside the sanctuary, no commoner was given the chance to enter.
While the huge group of ordinary residents filled the busy avenues and squares outside the temple, prominent people of the upper classes occupied much of its interior. Almost one after another, carriages bearing these noteworthy sets of people find their way through the mob and into the square in front of the grand cathedral. There, they unload their masters and mistresses who immediately proceed to the hallowed sanctuary.
Inside the marble-dominated temple, the priests and priestesses continued to arrange the wooden carriage that carried the body of the dead king. They filled it with fresh white orchids and yellow daisies working undisturbed by the continuous flow of nobilities moving into the cathedral's interior. As it is accustomed, the corpse was dressed in pure white robe and a dalmatic of gold. Peaceful in his everlasting slumber, the crowned king remained to look dignified, an aura of sacrosanct authority emanating from his adorable features. His copper mustache and beard were tended well that they defined his kingliness. Holding his magnificent sword near his heart, his hands were arranged over his chest with the monarch's ring evidently protruding. There was a faint smile in his contented face.
While the arrangements went on in the bema, the courtiers, together with the royal heir and his lover, stood by the opening of the huge front doors to welcome the sympathizers who volunteered to witness the memorable ritual. Dressed in their garments dominantly white, the groups of Ethyrian elite exchanged greetings of commiseration and lingered alongside each other under the roof of the magnificent sanctuary.
By the time the sun reached the zenith, the cathedral was overflowing with nobles. The transepts, the apse and the side aisles were filled with dignified figures standing alongside each other murmuring personal prayers competing for the Celestials' attention. The bema and the central nave were cleared for the ritual that was to begin in a moment. On the terrace above the entry, which opens into the sanctuary's front balcony, there sat, alongside the empty seat of the patriarch, the crown prince, his lover, and the royal courtiers, three bishops who came from the three other subdivisions of the Ethyrian church, Abbot Andrew of Mount Gratis and ten acolytes that included Jiro and his dear friend Dmitri.
While a huge number of royal guards and acolytes stood along the borders of the nave to ensure the limit of the crowd, twelve pairs of priests and priestesses entered through the cathedral's main door. Accompanying their sorrowful cadence was the trembling knell produced from the bell towers. In addition to the thunderous percussion, the congregation, dressed in their milkwhite vestments, chanted a prayer as they progressed, censers at hand, into the bema. The clock had struck noon and it was the beginning of the funeral ritual.
It took the two columns of religious men and women quite some time before they were able to traverse the entire length of the nave. Through their dolorous procession, they swayed their individual censers uniformly as though the swinging were themselves choreographed. Heavenly mists dominated the cathedral interior as it filled the chamber alongside the fragrance of olibanum. When they arrived in the bema, they positioned themselves on the sides connecting the area to the apse and the transepts creating a human wall around the platform that contained the king's arranged carriage except for the portion, which opened into the nave.
The bronze door to Jiro's right opened. From within the darkened sacristy, Patriarch Nelariz emerged. He was dressed aptly for a high occasion such as then. He was wearing his most appealing chasuble that was luminous white in color and embroidered by a blackened imprint of Nevel Ethyr. The similar portrait of the kingdom's emblem is evident though smaller in his equally colored miter. In sanctified steps, the prelate made his way through the five acolytes, five courtiers and two bishops on that side of the terrace to his richly decorated throne. From there, before he sat, he looked down to the crowd that filled the cathedral floor.
In his loudest voice, Patriarch Nelariz addressed the assembly with an emotional speech that touched many hearts. He recalled the glorious life of the late king in a lengthy exposition – a litany of deeds that the monarch had achieved. After he made his oration, the prelate raised his right hand and declared the beginning of the funeral ritual.
When the twenty-four ministers saw his action, they were aware it was a signal. All together, they stood up and, with burning incense emitting from censers that dangle in their hands, started to sing in a tongue unfamiliar to many the song for the dead. Beginning from a whispering volume, the voices started to maximize until they dominated the sanctuary. The dolorous tune echoed through the crowded interior of the great cathedral; its sorrowful emotion drilling deep into the heart of those who are present until the women started to mourn.
The song was continuously repeated until it was the seventh time. By then, as the last notes faded beyond the silence of the cathedral, the three bishops and the abbot who stood aside the patriarch's seat stood at the edge of the terrace. With their marvelously sanctified visages, they extended their eyes to the firmaments, fixing their views on a particular spot in the ceiling. They remained in the obnoxious stature for quite a while before they finally opened their mouths to chant in unison the prayer for the soul of the king.
Still recited in the Ancient Language, the invocation proved to be beyond the comprehension of many in the crowd. People wondered what the words meant however they remained passive confident that such were aptly considerable for those that reside beyond what they thought was natural. For the entire duration covered by the lengthy recitation, the listening crowd assumed what were delivered. They labored to make sense out of the spoken peculiarities; however, their mentalities failed them.
Odd though, the heartwarming monotone of the indecipherable invocation dominated over the magnificent interior formerly reigned by the grievous song. Unlike the sadness materialized by the essence of the song, however, the delivery of the prayer induced into the emotions of those present the feeling of hope. There was a sense of optimism in the pacing of the chant which seemed absent in the song. The heavy hearts of the Ethyrian nobilities were suddenly unloaded and their moistened eyes precluded the further creation of tears.
When the lengthy chant came to a halt, the bishops stood close to the balustrade of the terrace and signaled for the priests and priestesses to push the carriage from the center of the bema to the center of the nave.
W.hen the echo of the uplifting prayer disappeared in thin air, they clustered close to the carriage and ceremonially marched with the decorated cart to their predefined destination while once more singing the dirge.
When the corpse was positioned in the center of the nave, the twenty-four ministers returned to their seats around the bema and left the corpse exposed to the vision of the crowd around it, intermittently veiled by the pleasing mists that filled the nave.
Then one after another, the courtiers delivered speeches regarding their experiences with the king. Their speeches were lengthy but indeed very substantial. For several times, they lauded the monarch and testified to the benevolence of the late king. Through the weight of their words, it was evident that they are armored with honesty. Though some parts of the proclamations took the role of unexpected expositions, none of them proved to raise a contradiction against the dead royalty. All that were said were affirmative and all were accepted true. After the ten were over, the prince was given the chance to speak.
Realizing that his moment of speech had come, Prince Ken stood from his seat and approached the edge of the terrace. He looked down at the body of his father lying peacefully among white orchids and yellow daises. He stared at the monarch's gentle face and dragged his vision through the nobles that crowd the rest of the cathedral. Sorrow drilled in his heart as he viewed the dolorous scene. The weight of the situation loaded upon him like a massive impediment. He lost his attention for a while surrendering all his thoughts to the immeasurable pain that wounded his heart. Then the sublime tranquility distracted him. Regaining his stature, he wet his lips and in a gentle tone disclosed his address. When he was done with his short speech, the young royal sat down and once more, the cathedral was enveloped in total silence. Then there were series of prayers handed over by the clergy for the safe passing of the king's soul.
It was midafternoon when the long funeral ritual eventually ended. The dolorous echoes of the sorrowful chants enveloped the interior of the cathedral as the carriage of the king was pushed from inside the cathedral to the huge square that lay before its façade. Clergy, acolytes and royal guards surround the procession with their censers, candlesticks, and unsheathed swords as it makes its way through the crowded entrance of the huge temple. The moment the carriage exited the very doors of the cathedral, the bells tolled and the people who remained to watch around the square began to increase their cries of lamentation. The noise signaled the public's final glimpse of their beloved king.
Back inside the cathedral, the people who were in the terrace moved from the interior to the exterior balcony from where they can view the huge crowd and the rest of the streets that swivel with large amounts of occupants through the area occupied by the capital city. From up there, below the huge rose window that bore Nevel Ethyr, Jiro and his companions stood to witness the pyre that will soon grow in the middle of the wide square. They stared at the crowd while the procession continued directly below them.
The balcony was rarely opened thus it was a marvel for Jiro to be able to stand on it at his young age. He stood on the leftmost corner of the area while the rest of the most important people of Ethyr stood at his right until Acolyte Dmitri concluded the line on the other end. From there, he viewed the palace grounds on his left, the magnificent estate of Lord Xavier on the corner between the royal grounds and the governor's manor, and the last that stood opposite the cathedral façade. To the right he witnessed the basilica of King Ezekiel and the Arch of King Kriston the Great overflowing with an eager audience.
"Gobhy was never this full," Jiro heard the patriarch speak as he approached the left side of Prince Ken. "Your father is indeed an unforgettable king."
The prince answered in whispers: "He is a good father – that made him an excellent king. It is very heartwarming to witness all these sympathizers and I am thankful because they came even if the funeral will not do them better than to witness the corpse of my father burn."
"It is a joy for a kingdom such as Ethyr to see an event similar to this not because of an honorable body burned with fragrant flowers but because of a sweet smelling confidence that the soul of the dead will ascend with the mists to heaven," this Patriarch Nelariz replied.
When the carriage, which bore the corpse, reached the center of the square, the chanting and the knelling stopped. The people who were guarding it surrounded the area making a huge human circle with almost perfectly similar radii from the dead body. Silence prevailed as the crowd waited for the announcement of the Ethyrian church leaders.
Then, one of the bishops standing on the balcony – he who was wearing the purple chasuble – declared in his amplified voice, "The Church has done its role."
It was then time for the mournful commoners to throw flowers into the carriage as was dictated by tradition. While the nobles remained seated on the cathedral balcony, the crowd of people on the square one by one threw flowers on the carriage. The pile of fresh colorful flowers soon grew until it was as tall as the carriage itself. The ritual lasted until it was nearly twilight. By the time the sun began its descent that day, the priest who stood by the carriage announced that it was time for the nobles to throw in their offerings. From within the cathedral, there came a number of acolytes who bring with them bouquets of different sizes and colors. These were the offerings of the people who were seated on the balcony and inside the hallowed cathedral. They have arranged it earlier for such purpose, as it was customary to the Ethyrians.
When the bouquets were neatly arranged on the top of the carriage, just around the corpse of the king, two acolytes with golden jars filled with fuel cadenced towards the carriage and poured their oils into the pile. When they were done, they returned into the cathedral and were replaced by seven acolytes, each holding a lighted candle on a long stick. As this procession progressed, the cathedral bells continued to toll.
The dolorous knell did not stop even until the seven acolytes found their positions evenly dispersed around the corpse and pile of flowers. Then they lighted the fire by lowering their burning candles on the pile that lay in the center of the square. The funeral pyre was lit.
Cries and voices singing a song of lamentation joined the tolling bells as the fire grew and ate the pile of flowers surrounding the corpse. A fragrant gray smoke emerged from the burning pile and made its way directly to the sky blurring the view of the corpse. It was beginning to darken and the fire, which was then as tall as two standing men put together, lit the surrounding. No other lights were put on around the square for it was by custom that no light must compete with a king's funeral pyre.
Evening came but the fire was not over yet. People remained on the streets looking at the enormous plasma that lay before their presence. The heat emitted by the huge flame overpowered the cold breeze that swept through Gobhy that night. Its raging brightness lit the entire square. The fragrant smoke continued to lift the king's spirit up to the firmaments.
It was midevening when the fire completely died. As it gradually ceased, the seven acolytes lit their candle from the flames that remained. These burning candles then became the source of the city's light as flames were passed on from the acolytes to the torches held by the populace.
When only the ashes remained of the funeral pyre, the burning torches lit the city. The acolytes and religious men of the congregation gathered around the place to collect the remnants while the populace started to disperse bringing with them fragments of the holy fire.
After the funeral, when the square was all clear and the eager spectators all retired to their places of rest, Jiro and Dmitri trudged the tranquil streets to the house that sheltered Riordan and his master. This was the first time Jiro found his own self liberated from tasks since the day he returned to the patriarch after the assault. He planned to immediately see the three persons who sincerely helped him back then because he was unsure of whatever will befall upon him then that the funeral was over.
Remembering how well the household sheltered him that morning, the acolyte was overpowered by the drive to express his gratefulness in a more appropriate manner than what had formerly occurred. He knew that though the mistress of the house indeed received an action of thanksgiving, the baker's assistant, who was the foremost reason for his recovery, had not heard from Jiro since they parted ways that morning when he returned to Carthen. With this regard, the acolyte's principal concern in his late stroll was to extend gratefulness to the young man before he leaves Gobhy then that the mass visitation is about to conclude.
The first time they met was indeed an impropriety; however, Jiro affirmed that such had been repaid by the hospitality delivered by Riordan when he found the former suffering from the results of an assault. He wished to confirm with the young man that the hate caused by his transgression had been replaced by thankfulness within the acolyte's thoughts.
Then he recalled the assault. Fear overpowered him again but then he was confident that he is safe since Jiro was with a fellow acolyte moving carefully within the security of the city walls. However, the city did not prove secure to him from the moment he raised in his thoughts the visages of the pursuers – fierce men wearing the same uniforms as the sentries who patrol the city. He turned his head from side to side while they progressed and in every moment he witnessed the presence of patrollers, anxiety choked him.
Dmitri was wondering about the strange expressions evident in the suspicious eyes of his companion. He had been observing the occult movements of his comrade since they left the patriarch's palace. It was undeniable that Jiro was disturbed; what troubled Dmitri however was the reason behind his disturbance. Keeping his keen observations alert, the younger acolyte remained calm and followed the lead of his friend as they progressed towards their destination.
The wonderings of the two acolytes were amplified the moment they came across a gypsy woman who lured them to try hearing their fortunes. For a certain amount, the beautiful woman dressed in purple and green with a bundle of jewelries promised to read them their luck.
In confirmation that such has nothing to do with the threat that seemed to secretly bother each of them and well adhering to their faith, which labels fortunetelling as a form of devil worship, the two acolytes refused to consider the woman's offer. They ignored her advertisement as they continuingly moved along her lengthy tent.
Regardless their ignorance however the woman followed behind them presenting the benefits of her offer. For what seemed like an endless moment, the chase continued among the acolytes and the gypsy.
When the woman got tired of advertising her service, she stopped following them; however, when the lads were about a stone-throw's distance from the staring woman, she cried out, "Misfortune shall befall you, acolytes! Mark that the study of the cosmos also revolves around the celestials which you worship and that brings us together in one circle of discovering what fate has in store!"
The woman's cry attracted the interest of the acolytes. It diverted their attention from the fear that disturbed them from the start of their journey. However, instead of considering her offer, they found it one way of verbally correcting her. After she had spoken, the lads halted. Jiro paused for a moment before he looked back at the gypsy and addressed her. "It may be that your profession of reading the cosmos and our belief of worshipping the celestials are closely interrelated. Nonetheless, let it be pointed out that what we do is that we worship Heaven believing that such alone knows our past, our present, and our tomorrow and you are trying to decipher the secrets of the sacred that undoubtedly implies your ambition to equal such. We respect Heaven and it is this respect that prompts us not to uncover its secrets even if we know it holds the answer to every question. You, on the other hand, do believe in the existence of the All-powerful but what you do is that you try to defeat the purpose of its being omnipotent by discovering ways with which you can justify its abilities."
The woman was perplexed with the acolyte's statement. She wondered for some time before she managed to defend her beliefs: "Can we not find out a little of the much that the celestials know? If we leave our destiny into their hands, how will we know what future awaits us? How then do we arrange ourselves for this tomorrow? This is not an issue of our trying to be like gods, it is an issue of how you overly rely on your faith."
The statement was interesting enough for the philosophical acolyte even if he knew that the conversation would not lead to anything beneficial. He thought of a rationale which could affirm his ideology but something flashed within him. The sight of the patrolling sentries that loomed in the background distracted him. Then the idea of his former fears and foremost intention were once more raised into his intellect. Even if he wished to argue with the witty woman, he resorted not to, rather continue with his journey. "I have a task to finish," he told the woman, "it may be interesting to talk this over but my time is precious and I cannot lend it away for unimportant matters."
While the two acolytes proceeded with their journey, the gypsy woman smiled. She took a deep breath and moved nearer to her tent. Then she addressed somebody inside, "I think we have found him". "I cannot be wrong this time, the stars did signal for a third experience."
From within the tent, a boy's gentle voice replied, "What then must we do, Lady Euri?"
The woman answered: "We will remain; all we have to do is bring this before the master and hope for his positive response."
Jiro and Dmitri arrived in Mia's house in time for the homeowner to close the domicile for a good night's sleep. Before she completely secluded her house from the breeze and tranquility of the slumbering night, the two acolytes called her attention. She lent them her notice and immediately recognized Jiro.
"What brings you here?" she interrogated. "It is almost midnight and most of Gobhy is asleep. Is this any significant matter?"
"Not so much more than a gesture of gratitude, Ma'am," Jiro replied. I have come back to thank you and the baker's assistant for the aid you lent me when I was in trouble. I seek for him too since he had done me good and helped me learn another lesson of life. So if it is convenient of you, may we please request to see him?"
Mia knew it was very late but since she was aware that such is a rare opportunity, the woman agreed. She dismissed the thought of barring her home rather agreed to join the selected few who were unwearied enough to maintain the bustle of the sleepless city. The homeowner welcomingly called the two lads in and offered them something to drink while they waited for Riordan to descend from his room.
When the baker's assistant loomed, Jiro doubtlessly approached him with greetings that say: "Pax my friend, it is rightful that I bring you such a gesture since you are worth receiving such."
The peaceful greeting troubled the baker's assistant. He thought something was not right. The last time he talked with the acolyte, he can well remember how the cassocked teen assaulted him with unkind words. Then, he was approaching the same acolyte, but he received a contradictory feat as that which occurred before. Wondering, Bartoc's aid questioned the acolyte. "What food have you eaten or what drug have you taken? Why does it seem like you are gentle to me this time? Did my untrustworthiness and dishonesty infect you?"
The heartless welcome sparked the anger within the acolyte. He was about to defy his planned diplomacy but his rationality outrun his emotion. Laughingly, Jiro responded, "Not that I became dishonest like how you have introduced yourself, my friend, but that you became honest and true so much more than you lied. You fooled me and I am stupid enough to believe you; but then again, you accepted the transgression and honestly prayed for respentance. Thus, as it was with what you said the first time we met, repentance is a virtue highly regarded by the celestials; and if I consider myself worthy to be of their service, then their praxis must also be mine."
It was obvious that Riordan was preventing himself from bursting to laughter. He kept on biting his lips and moving uncomfortably. He started to giggle but the sanctity of the vestments worn by the two lads before him demanded him to continue the conversation with forced integrity. He found no statement dignified enough to express from the real him thus instead of murmuring meaningless syllables, the orphan remained quiet. Then he found his selection a better choice since through the tranquility, he figured out the truthfulness of the acolyte's claim.
In the silence of Riordan, Jiro found another opportunity to speak. Confident that the audiences were eager to hear a confession, which would seal the compact between the two former enemies, he expressed a made-up narrative behind how he got to the bushes with a bleeding head that night. The three audiences eagerly listened to his believable disclosure.
Regardless his almost truthful narration however, a drive to prevent the continuation of the story lingered inside Jiro. He found himself caught in between the creation of more lies and the prevention of committing sin. The realization of the sanctity of his post roused his conscience and precluded him from staining the purity of his image. On the other hand, he is very unwilling to conclude the untrue narration and trigger the curiosity of his audience, which may lead to an even bigger mistake of betraying the secrecy of the royal pact. Regarding this then, he chose to comfort himself with the lessons learned about the signifi-cance of creating white lies. He remembered how Patriarch Nelariz once spoke to him about the importance of the intentions rather than the actions. This assured him security against his confused thoughts. He unhesitatingly continued.
After a long chat, the discussion about a made-up narration concluded. Jiro finally put a stop to the story of an acolyte who wanted to escape the upcoming busy days and thus ran away from the city, met a wild animal, and wrestled with the beast until he was uncon-scious.
Regardless how scientifically unjustifiable the tale was, the audience believed the acolyte since he was wearing a religious attire. This verity caused Jiro to think about how powerful Patriarch Nelariz can be in the Ethyrian society. That night changed his concept of the people considering the clergy as a common congregation.
When Jiro at last ended his speech and dismissed the confusions in his thoughts, he and Dmitri, who had become a good friend to Mia and Riordan that night, waved the house goodbye. It was past twelve in the morning and they hurriedly returned to the patriarch's palace fearing what Jiro expect as the assault of palace guards and Dmitri's imagination referred to as an attack of wild animals.