The Raven Girl

Chapter 36

The day of Eirik's funeral sent a spur of frenzy through the castle's workers, who had to complete the preparatory work before noon, when the chapel's doors would be flung open and the funeral procession begun. Everybody else, however, remained plunged in a rooted silence crafted from the confusion brought about by the suddenness of his death and, of course, out of respect.

They had a ruler to take Eirik's place. A clear ruler, for there were no other strong contenders for the throne. Perhaps there was the odd lord who felt it was time for a new family name to rise to royalty, but they didn't dare speak their mind and as such these thoughts remained thoughts and not action; Rickard was to be their king and the public, the poor especially, supported that. They had done so since Eirik had first taken the throne.

Just as morning began to drift through the narrow windows, Rickard threw off the furs and crawled from his bed with no more rest than he'd had six hours ago. The night had dragged on like some kind of purgatory, flecked with the vile images of his dead brother writhing about in hell, condemned to eternal punishment for the crimes his mortal self had committed, and it had seemed in the blackness that suffocated him, Rickard was suffering just as much for Eirik's crimes. When the first mournful sigh of the birdsong erupted in the castle walls, relief had spread so fast through his limbs that he had remained paralysed to the bedframe for quite some time until he found the strength to haul his exhausted body to the window.

His eyes watched the wrens as their wings beat in the breeze but his mind was very much elsewhere. In a matter of hours, all eyes would fall to him as his fell to those little, restless wrens. In a matter of hours, he would be judged, for better or for worse, by every lord and lady present at their former king's burial. Whilst many ignorant onlookers would've protested that the day was not about Rickard at all, he knew better- everyone with the slightest fragment of power would arrive not with their old leader in mind but their new one. He could not afford to make a mistake.

He ran a tired hand over his face, attempting to bring some life back into his deathly pallor. No use. Sighing, he pulled on a black tunic, which had recently been adorned with gold embroidery to emphasise his new status and make clear to the other conniving lords that he was their better, not to be replaced any time soon, and equally dark breeches and boots. Maybe it was little past four, far earlier than even Asta had to rise, and the fires were not lit, but he needed air. The castle felt stale.

The sun had yet to make an appearance, but the sky was light with the snow that had begun to fall and Rickard found it easy to make his way through the thickets that made up the forest. He wished he'd had the sense to dress more suitably for the weather; a fur cloak would've been much appreciated to soften the chill of the snow, yet the shock of the cold was refreshing and sought to wake him from the sluggishness cast over his being like an unrelenting shadow. Still, half an hour into his walk and he was ready to turn back- the sleety weather had worsened significantly and now fell in flurries. So much for autumn.

He passed the great hall as he made his way back to his chambers, where Asta was stood by a newly lit fire. A ghost of a smile flickered over his face upon seeing her- she was the only one in that damned fortress that wasn't watching him constantly to make a mistake.

"Gods it's freezing." He said, rubbing his hands together in a bid to return some heat to them as he approached the roaring flames.

She turned to greet him with a small smile. There was still an abashed reservation to her manner, but the fear she'd once held for him, the fear that once sent her trembling at the very sound of his name, had dwindled. He was glad. That was one sin he'd never be able to forgive himself for, no matter how many times the friar had promised some sort of reprieve, and it relieved the burden a little to see her less broken.