Reluctant Berserker: Isaacson Trilogy Book One

Chapter 15

Arriving at the cemetery the following morning, Gunnar hobbled Wasp and walked toward the small gathering for Nora's uncle in the far left corner. He wasn't surprised to see his brothers standing at her side, but he was shocked to find Crones Number One and Two also in attendance. Not one person spoke as they waited in respectful silence for the service to begin.

Clouds hung in thick, weighty clumps, blotting out the blue sky and muting the sunshine. Rain would turn the dusty roads into mucky bogs within the next half hour. When he joined the group around the burial site, Gunnar stopped short. Nora had her back to him, but he noticed her posture change seconds before she slowly glanced over her left shoulder and met his gaze.

Gratitude shined brightly in her tear-filled eyes until she blinked the moisture away and faced forward again. Warmth filled his chest at witnessing the emotion.

The grass rustled and crinkled underfoot as Reverend Elmore Hornsby moved into place before them. Six months ago, he moved to their town when Reverend Clarence Dukleth, a jolly man who brought warmth and happiness to all in his presence, choked on his food while eating dinner and died.

Elmore Hornsby was Clarence's opposite in all things. He was a lanky fellow with a sallow complexion and thick, mousy-brown hair parted down the middle and combed flat to his round head.

Dark, bushy eyebrows pulled together in a perpetual frown, hovered like angry caterpillars over small, deep-set eyes on either side of his nose, which was thin and hooked, resembling a grim reaper's scythe.

His narrow, slightly bowed shoulders made him appear shorter than his height of six foot five. Long, lean fingers, reminding Gunnar of bird talons, clutched his prayer book. The black cassock he wore absorbed all the light around him and lent him an ominous presence.

His voice, when he began speaking, was deep and unsettling. "Let us commend Franklin Wilbur Edwards to the mercy of God." The words were no doubt meant to offer comfort but instead sent chills down Gunnar's spine.

Although this was the first time he had met Hornsby, he immediately knew he hated the man. Gunnar glanced to Ulric at his right and saw the feeling was mutual where Elmore Hornsby was concerned.

Esmund stood at Gunnar's left and nudged him in the ribs with his elbow, bringing his attention back to the service Hornsby was conducting.

Four men came forward and moved the coffin into position over the hole using thick ropes.

Staring at Nora while the men lowered the coffin into the grave, Reverend Hornsby spoke as though he were cursing the deceased to an eternity in hell. "We, therefore, commit his body into the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in the sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life."

When the last word left the reverend's mouth, the coffin rested at the bottom with a dull thud. The men threw the ends of the ropes into the grave and stepped back as Hornsby closed his prayer book with a snap, motioning to Nora.

She bent and gathered a handful of loose dirt from the pile at the side of the grave, then scattered it atop the coffin. The sound reminded Gunnar of buckshot rolling on a hardwood floor.

Both Crones quietly left the scene, picking their way carefully over the uneven ground as they walked to a waiting carriage. He stared at them, surprised that they'd managed to refrain from murmuring caustic remarks the entire time they'd been in attendance.

Each of the four men picked up shovels and began filling the grave, but Nora remained where she stood until they finished the job. The men then used the backs of their shovels to tamp the mounded earth, creating a dull thud. He'd never thought of it before, but burying the dead, filling the hole in which they'd placed their loved one—it was all so final.