They burned Finn’s body at dusk.
Carlyle and Alfred collected all the logs into a large funeral pyre. Finn’s body was put on top of it, and Margaret kindled the fire. She sobbed softly while the fire burned.
Carlyle stood and watched the fire, and listened to his mother cry. He wanted to cry for his father, but no tears came. He wondered what was wrong with him. The truth was that he couldn’t cry because his mind was still processing what had happened. He still couldn’t believe that his father was really dead. But he was still too young to realize that grief was a process, and so he felt guilty for not being able to cry.
Catherine, as she watched the fire burn, momentarily felt grief. But as the strong emotion welled up in her, the energy welled up within her as well. It felt like electricity was surging out of her stomach, through her arms, and was flowing out of her fingertips. She thought about the herb in her pocket, but she decided not to grab it. She didn’t want to throw up. Not now.
After the fire had burned itself up, they said their final goodbyes to Finn’s ashes, and went back into the house.
Margaret bolted the door behind them.
Arthur was lying in one of the beds, waiting for them. Margaret had insisted he stay in bed and not come out for the funeral. She was worried that even slight moving around would tear his stitches.
“We need tea,” Margaret said once they were all inside. “I’ve got a herbal mix that’s good for calming us down.”
Margaret boiled the water, and then mixed it with some of her herbs. After she had served the tea to everyone, she looked at Arthur. “It’s time,” she said. “It’s time for you to tell us what happened to Finn.”
“Yes,” Carlyle agreed. “Tell us what happened.”
Arthur sat up in his bed. “There’s not much to tell,” he said. “It was an ambush. Clear and simple. The type of ambush that happens all the time in these mountains. Finn and I were pulling the cart up the mountain road. We were loaded up with supplies, so the cart was heavy and we were moving pretty slow. Suddenly, ten robbers sprung out from the trees and stood in the path in front of us. And ten robbers appeared behind us.
“I immediately took out my sword. But Finn never reached for his weapon. Finn growled at me, ‘Put away your sword, you fool. We can’t possibly win when we’re two against 20. Our only hope is to talk to them.’”
Arthur stopped talking and looked down into his tea. He took a slow sip, and then continued. “Now, if they had been goblins or ogres, or any other kind of monster, I would never have agreed to put my sword down. You can’t reason with monsters. But these were human beings just like ourselves, and I thought maybe Finn was right. Maybe we could talk to them. So I threw my sword down on the ground.
“‘We won’t fight you,’ Finn said to the robbers. ‘Take what you want, and leave us be.’ But the robbers didn’t put away their swords. In fact, as they came closer, they just laughed. It wasn’t a friendly laugh.
“Finn just smiled at them though. ‘It’s no good killing us, boys,’ he said to them. ‘If we’re dead, we can’t make any more trips up and down the mountain, and we can’t get any more supplies for you to rob. You’ll want to keep us alive so that you can rob us again someday.’
“It was a good point, I thought. It would have convinced me if I had been a robber. But they didn’t listen to reason. I think they had already decided they were going to kill us, and so they weren’t really listening to anything that Finn was saying. One of them said, ‘There’s enough riff-raff on this mountain already.’ And he stuck his sword right into Finn’s chest. Finn wasn’t even holding a weapon at the time. He had no chance to defend himself.”
“So how did you get away?” asked Catherine.
Arthur paused slightly. He thought maybe he was detecting a bit of an edge in Catherine’s voice, but he wasn’t sure. “I ran,” he said. “I’m not proud, but there it is. I ran and I left Finn to die on the road.” Arthur spit out the last words.
“There was nothing you could have done,” Margaret said. Her voice was flat and emotionless.
“The thing is,” Arthur continued, “One man can never defeat 20 men in a fight, because they would fight as a group. But in a footrace, everyone has to run as an individual. So one man might just be able to outrun 20 men. So I just decided to run for it. When Finn was talking to them, right before they stabbed him, they were all kind of closing around him, and this created a gap that I could sneak through. As soon as their sword plunged into Finn’s chest, I dashed through the gap, and just ran as fast as I could. One of them thrust his sword at my side as I ran by. I guess that’s where I must have gotten this,” Arthur gestured to his wound that Margaret had sewn up. “But I barely felt it at the time. I was just trying to run as fast as I could. Some of them followed me for a bit, but I was faster than they were, and so they weren’t gaining any ground. And eventually they decided to let me go, and concentrate on cleaning out the cart instead.”
Alfred piped up. “They took everything,” he said. “When we got to the cart, it was completely empty.”
“It was a good haul too,” Arthur said wistfully. “There was plenty of food to get both of our families through the winter--Sacks of grain and flour, dried berries and nuts and roots. Plus lots of iron bars. Finn had said he wanted to strengthen your door.”
Margaret stared into the fire. “I’ve been so upset about Finn that I’d almost forgotten about the supplies,” she said. “We were counting on that food to get us through the winter.”
“It’ll be alright,” said Arthur. “We’ll figure something out. Maybe we can cho down p some more trees.”
“I don’t want you tearing out your stitches,” Margaret said.
“The children can then,” said Arthur.
“Who will pull the cart down and up the mountain again?” asked Margaret.
“I could pull the cart,” said Carlyle.
“I could help,” said Alfred.
“You can’t go by yourselves,” said Arthur “You don’t know the way, and you wouldn’t know who to contact in the forest.”
“You could sit in the cart,” Carlyle said. “We’ll pull you down.”
“You’re not old enough to go back to the forest yet,” Margaret said.
“Why not?” asked Carlyle.
“What do you mean back to the forest?” asked Catherine.
“It should be fine, Margaret,” said Arthur. “I’ve brought Alfred down to the forest with me lots of times. He’s never had any trouble.”
“But what if the robbers stop you on the road again?” asked Margaret.
Arthur was silent for a bit. Then he answered. “When you travel on that mountain road, you accept the dangers,” he said. “We’ve always understood that as long as we’ve lived here. Robbers, wolves, bears, goblins, ogres, bugbears, you may encounter any of these creatures on the mountains at any time.” Then after a pause, he added, “The robbers didn’t use to attack the mountain people, though. They used to just go down and rob the forest people, and then hid out in the mountains. They must be getting more brazen.”
“Or more desperate,” Margaret said.
“Hmmm,” Arthur nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe.”
“At any rate, if they’re going to ambush us every time we try to bring a cart of supplies up the mountain, then we can’t get more supplies,” said Margaret. “And if we can’t get more supplies before winter sets in…” her voice trailed off.
There was another moment of silence, and then Carlyle spoke up. “I’ll go,” he said. “I’m not afraid.”
“You can’t fight 20 of them,” said Arthur. “And right now, you don’t even have a sword to fight with anymore.”
There was another silence. Finally Arthur said, “It won’t do any good to talk about it all night. We should get some sleep.”
“Can we read from the book first?” asked Alfred.
Carlyle felt the need to gently correct his friend. “It’s not the night for it, Alfred,” Carlyle said softly.
“No, it’s okay,” said Margaret. “It will be good for us to get our minds off of everything for a bit. It’ll help us sleep. Catherine, you get the book down and read from it. I’ll make some more herbal tea.”
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