Part 8 (1/2)

”Mistress,” Alfric whispered, ”are you quite certain he's gone?”

Odo hopped onto the old man's body, lowered his head to Thorston's chest, and listened. ”Nothing remains but his mortal husk,” he proclaimed.

”His purse,” said Damian. ”You're not going to bury that, are you?”

”It's not wise to remove anything from a dead man,” returned Sybil. ”Indeed, his old blanket can be his winding sheet.” Holding her breath, she leaned across the corpse, s.n.a.t.c.hed up his blanket, drew it over his body, and covered him head to toe.

”A s.e.xton should be doing this,” said Damian. ”Or some old woman from the church, whose duty it is to lay bodies out. And there should be a priest.”

Sybil, ignoring the boy, said, ”I'll lift him. When I do, best tuck it under.” She braced herself, then plunged her arms under the body and lifted, taken aback by how light he was. ”He's not heavy,” she said. ”Does a soul weigh so much?”

”I've heard say,” said Damian, ”the more one sins the heavier one gets.”

”No wonder you are gross,” said Odo.

”Slanderer.”

Alfric tucked the blanket under, after which Sybil lowered the body. Thorston looked like a rolled-up rug.

”Now we must carry him down” said Sybil. Her voice trembled.

”You made that skull rise,” said Damian. ”Can't you make him float down?”

Sybil darted a glance at Odo.

The bird, standing atop Thorston's chest, gave a tiny shake of his head. ”I shall direct this,” he said. ”Sybil, take his shoulders. Damian, his feet. Alfric, hoist the middle.”

Sybil, trying to keep from being sick, put her hands under Thorston's shoulders and jerked up. The body farted.

”He lives!” cried Damian, bursting into laughter.

”Stop your mockery,” said Sybil, trying to keep from laughing, too.

There were a few stumbles, but no one lost their grip, though Damian wheezed from his efforts.

”Go slower,” said Sybil. ”Or I'll fall.” She took a step down, backward. The others pushed. ”Not so fast.” she cried, barely managing to keep from tumbling.

”This is the most dreadful thing I've ever done in my life,” said Damian.

”Death is part of life,” Odo snapped.

Sybil continued downward one step at a time-backward. Once, twice, she teetered and called out, ”Careful!” When she did, Alfric pushed up from below. It brought on another body fart.

”G.o.d's miracles,” cried Damian, ”we should be taking him to a privy, not his grave.”

Amid more laughter they reached the lower floor.

Once there, Sybil s.h.i.+fted the body so that Thorston's lolling head was close to the trapdoor. She moved down the ladder, pausing a third of the way.

”Lower him,” she called up to the others as she braced herself. ”I'll keep him from tumbling.”

Grunting and grumbling, Alfric and Damian did as told. The body edged over the hole headfirst, then went down toward Sybil's reaching arms.

”Blessed Lord!” she screamed. ”He's falling!”

Thorston's corpse slid down the ladder-b.u.mp, b.u.mp-over the rungs, and dropped at the ladder's foot directly into the grave, with a heavy thump thump.

They scrambled down the ladder after him. Sybil s.n.a.t.c.hed up the candle, and, heart pounding, peered into the grave. ”G.o.d's mercy? she said.

”This is almost farcical,” said Damian, grinning broadly.

”When you are older,” said Odo, ”you'll learn that farce is but tragedy in excess.”

Alfric peered into the grave. ”He's all twisted.”

”Straighten him out,” Damian said to Sybil.

Sybil, though irritated the boy was giving her orders, climbed into the grave.

”Don't step on him!” cried Odo.

Trying to keep from gagging, Sybil aligned Thorston's body so that he lay reasonably straight.

”Now what?” said Damian when Sybil had hauled herself out.

”He must be covered by earth,” said Odo.

”Shall I speak what was said over my parents' grave?” asked Alfric.

”It would be kind,” said Sybil.

Alfric took a deep breath and then said, ”Rest in peace.”

There was a moment of awkward silence. ”Surely,” cried Damian, ”there was more said.”

”That's all the priest spoke,” said Alfric.

”Never mind,” said Sybil, feeling ill. ”We must finish.” With Alfric's help, she started to shovel dirt over the body. As she did, she began to cry. Odo bobbed his head with grief. Alfric wept, too.

”Why are you crying?” Damian asked Alfric.

”I'm thinking of my parents.”

”Being without parents hardly makes you special,” said Damian. ”I'm an orphan, too.”