British hegemon

Chapter 45 Funeral

Roger, riding a jack-of-all-trades, led the young stable boy and the silent Louis in a mule cart, bumping along the muddy roads of the Milk House estate. All of them were speechless.

Attending the funeral of one's father, elder brother, or patriarch is certainly not a happy occasion.

After walking for most of the distance, they heard a rapid thud of hooves behind them. They turned around and saw a short, stocky man riding a black mule catching up.

The man who caught up was Sergeant Marne. He had changed out of his worn-out wool cloak and was now wearing a linen robe with a plaid blanket draped over the right shoulder. He was also wearing a traditional black and gray plaid skirt. Although the people of Arran Island did not have the same obsession with plaid blankets as the guys in the Highlands, it was a sign of respect for the funeral.

"Young Master Roger, I wish to attend the funeral of Sir Colin and Young Master Colin." Marn's tone was low, and he waited quietly for Roger to continue.

"Hmm," Roger responded, then turned his horse around and continued onward.

Without saying much, Ma En gently kicked the mule's belly, then followed half a step behind.

When I arrived in Brodick, the church bells had just finished ringing. I glanced at the sun hanging obliquely in the sky; it must have been three in the afternoon.

The town was no longer teeming with people as it was yesterday. Only a few pedestrians wandered the muddy streets, and the dirty, dilapidated street scene made people feel even more depressed in the sorrowful atmosphere.

Apart from the coffin shop on the very edge of town, Brody was eerily silent. Even the Moulin Rouge was closed. Today was not a day for celebration.

Luo Jie set off a little late. By the time the group entered the Baron's Castle, a hundred or so islanders had already gathered at the cemetery at the east end of the castle church, crowding the small area. Sir Colin of Milk House Manor and Apprentice Knight Colin II held considerable prestige on Arran Island. Although only "Campbell" was buried here, the funeral was a tribute to all the fallen heroes, so many people came to attend. Apart from the Baron's Inner Palace Knight who was seriously wounded and carried home, almost all the prominent figures on Arran Island were present.

The Baron's steward saw the group entering the castle and squeezed through the crowd to approach Roger, who had already dismounted. "Young Master Roger, the Baron and his entourage have been waiting for you for quite some time."

Roger nodded, handed the reins to a castle servant who had come over, and, led by the steward, parted the crowd to reach the center of the cemetery.

Saint Morales and two generations of "Campbell" are buried here, and now the third and fourth generations of Campbell will also be buried here.

Funerals in this era were not so complicated. Even when ordinary nobles passed away, there were no elaborate rituals like those at the Jeolla Dojo. People dressed in dark traditional clothing and solemnly surrounded the cemetery. Some ladies held blue thistles in their hands. In the center of the cemetery were two coffins, one containing the sleeping apprentice knight Colin II, and the other empty.

The church's portly priest and his assistants presided over a low-key memorial service beside the two coffins, recounting the great achievements of two generations of Knights of Corinth.

Roger had spent several years in the monastery, so he was very familiar with this kind of religious funeral. Although there was some memory gap, it was not unfamiliar to him.

Baron John, accompanied by the Baroness and the pale-faced John, stood solemnly to one side of the coffin, gazing at the already cold body inside.

Perhaps because he hadn't slept much, Baron John looked somewhat pale. He raised his hand and beckoned Roger to come forward.

Roger glanced around at the crowd that was focused on him, then stepped forward.

"Did you bring your father's clothes?" Baron John asked in a low voice.

Roger nodded behind him, and Bitter Gourd, his face red and eyes red, led Louis, whose eyes were also streaked with tears, to hand Roger a set of his father's clothes.

"Your father's body is still in the hands of the English. Let his clothes go to the ancestral grave in his place," Baron John raised his voice again. "I will certainly bring him back for burial."

He then coughed a few times, and the Baroness quickly went over and patted him lightly, but Baron John raised his hand to block her. "Let's begin."

Roger carefully placed the traditional Scottish tweed kilt and shoulder blanket into the empty coffin.

Several assistant priests stepped forward and closed the lids of the two coffins. Immediately, the long, melodious notes of a Scottish flute rang out from outside the cemetery, and the women holding blue thistles stepped forward to place flowers on the coffins.

When Mrs. Kate of the Moulin Rouge placed a bouquet of blue thistles on Sir Colin's coffin, she glanced at Roger, but Roger was lost in thought, listening to the melodious and poignant Scottish flute playing by the graveyard.

In my past life, I heard a flute performance called "Heaven's Grace." Although the flute music was not as moving as it was now, in such a solemn environment, the long notes without rests were melodious, beautiful, ethereal, and clear. The floating notes seemed to tear through the air, pierce the eardrums, and penetrate the heart.

Roger couldn't help but get goosebumps on his arms upon hearing this.

"...In the name of the Lord, welcome the soul of the great Christian warrior to heaven. Amen."

"Amen~"

A chorus of prayers brought Roger back to reality; the two coffins were already covered with flowers.

It's time to carry the coffin and bury the dead.

Two surviving knights who were not seriously injured and the one-armed sheriff walked to the coffin that symbolized Sir Colin, while four knights' attendants walked to the coffin of Colin II.

Sir Colin's coffin is still missing one person.

"Roger, carry your father's coffin for me," said Baron John.

Roger was also puzzled. Normally, the coffin was carried by people of high status, so Sir Colin's coffin was carried by two knights and the most senior one-armed sheriff. Baron John was a lord, and he would not carry a coffin; he would usually arrange for a younger person to do it.

John, who was about to step forward to help carry his uncle's coffin, turned ashen-faced. He was right there beside his nephew; how could he let his nephew do this for him?

Moreover, he was a demon, so John's gaze toward Roger held an added hint of resentment.

Actually, Roger's identity wasn't really suited for this task, but since his uncle, the Baron, had given the order, he couldn't refuse outright. So he walked to the empty coffin, and together with the other three, lifted it up and slowly moved it to the grave that had been dug earlier, carefully placing it inside.

The other body was also placed in the tomb next to it.

After the coffins were placed in the tombs, Baron John stepped forward, bent down, grabbed a handful of soil, and gently sprinkled it onto the coffins in the two burial chambers. Then, several islanders with tools filled the burial chambers with soil. After the tombstones are completed, they will be placed on them for future generations to pay their respects.

As Roger watched the two coffins gradually being buried by the soil, he suddenly felt as if they were burying his past life. The flute in his ears was still playing a mournful tune, and the past was gradually becoming blurred.

In this war-torn, barbaric world, Aran Island may already be a paradise...

Roger.

Baron John's shout roused Roger from his reverie. He looked up and saw that the spectators had dispersed, leaving only the sour-faced man and Louis Marne by his side. They assumed Roger was still immersed in grief.

"Come to my office in a moment, I have something to say." Baron John, who was about to return to his mansion, stopped and turned to Roger, then led several knights and servants into the baron's mansion.

Presumably to distribute the meager spoils, Roger nodded in agreement and led the grieving man and Louis Marne to the church to wait.

............