Read dragon archives 04 - dance with a dragon for Free Online Page B

morning to find a good spot near the cathedral to watch the procession, the children jumping excitedly at the thought of seeing the knights in their armor. Despite the early hour, crowds of people were already lining the streets as they huddled together, laying claim to their spaces along the funeral route. The street was a sea of black which grew thicker and deeper with each passing hour. An air of grief hung over the city, and Anna saw more than a few elderly women pressing handkerchiefs to their eyes. Lydia tugged at her hand.
    “Why is that lady crying?” she asked.
    “Because the king is dead,” Anna said.
    “Does she miss him?”
    “Yes,” Anna said, “I think she misses him very much.”
    The hours passed slowly as they stood waiting in the chilly air. Hannah had brought a basket filled with cold meats, bread and wine, which she passed out among the group, but still Anna shivered, and the children complained of the cold. The only one unaffected was Favian, and slowly the family edged closer to him, seeking out his warmth. It was already well past noon when Anna heard the muffled stamp of hooves in the distance.
    “I can’t see anything,” Lydia complained, pulling on her hand. Anna was standing next to Cathryn and Bronwyn, with the children in front of her, but with so many people milling about, it was difficult to get a clear line of sight. Behind them stood Favian, who towered over everyone else in the crowd.
    “Pass her to me,” he said, and a moment later Lydia was seated on Favian’s shoulders, while Zach scrambled onto Thomas’s. Lydia wrapped her hands around Favian’s head with a laugh, and Anna turned to shush her as people looked on disapprovingly.
    “I can see everything,” Lydia said in a loud whisper.
    “I wish I was still small enough to sit on Papa’s shoulders,” Bronwyn said with a sigh, pushing herself up on her toes to try and get a better view of the road. Cathryn turned to her daughter with raised eyebrows, her expression more eloquent than words as she looked at the daughter who already topped her by an inch. Bronwyn grinned, but said nothing.
    Still the minutes dragged by, and the silence on the street was eerie as the people waited for the funeral procession to appear. The bells hung silent, and even the birds did not sing on this dreary day. The horses’ hooves had been wrapped in cloth to muffle the sound of their tread, which added to the surreal mood. Finally, a small gasp rippling through the crowd announced that the procession had turned the corner and was approaching the gathered onlookers. Anna craned her neck to see the twenty-four liveried knights, bearing the colors of the royal house, mounted on battle steeds and riding in pairs. The open hearse followed, drawn by six black horses, their manes and tails braided with black ribbons. The royal coffin was draped with a cloth bearing the royal coats of arms. Behind the hearse walked the new monarch, King Alfred, and his younger brother, Prince Rupert. Dressed in black from head to toe, they both had their heads bowed, and they marched with even footsteps as they followed the vehicle carrying their father to his final resting place. Behind the royal sons came the Lord Chamberlain, a black mantle over his shoulders; the Lord Mayor, his chain of office hanging around his neck; and the city Aldermen, representing the Merchant Guilds. They were followed by the Knights of the Garter, the blue strip of fabric that was tied around each calf the only contrast in the sea of black. Lastly came a glittering carriage, gilded in gold, which carried the new queen, the royal children, and the ladies-in-waiting to Her Royal Highness.
    The silence thickened as the hearse drew closer, even the children recognizing the solemnity of the occasion. An elderly woman standing near Anna sobbed quietly, her shoulders heaving as she pressed a sodden handkerchief to her face.
    As the procession slowly moved past, the crowds fell in behind the