Reincarnated to the Past 47 (Patreon)

Reincarnated to the Past
Chapter 47: A Chapter Ends

-VB-

I chuckled as my son giggled while I painted his hands with a brush and then stuck that hand to the shirt I wore right now.

It was going to be a memento of a sort! Since there were no photos, I decided that I would instead keep hand paintings. It worked out just fine, I think, because Ureya was enjoying this, my son was giggling happily, and I was happy being with my family.

“WISEMAN!”

I stopped.

“WISEMAN!”

It was a shrill cry. It was urgent but not shouted in terror or horror, merely urgent. And sad.

Why was the crier sad?

I hurriedly out of the house, pushing the wooden door open, and saw the slaves who were cleaning the front pause as they stared at the crier as she ran up to the house.

“What is it?” I asked urgently as I stepped forward while the crier stumbled forward the last steps and fell into my arms.

“T-The chief…! T-The chief!” the grieving young woman sobbed as she collapsed to her knees upon our porch.

-VB-

Ghigari died a month after I accepted to become the Chief of the Lower River Kettin.

It happened a literal day after I knelt before him in a ceremony and accepted the chieftain’s wolf headdress (because that was a thing, but Ghigari had hated it so much that he just never wore it, even for formal settings).

The entire tribe gathered, except those who couldn’t be here for various reasons, and we stood before a great tree, at the bottom of which a grave had been dug. Next to the open pit was Ghigari, smiling in death with his eyes closed. His arms crossed over his chest, wearing his favorite outfit.

Of course, this lacked the dead chieftain’s wolf headdress because he hated that.

The shallow mound next to the open pit was where the Medicine Woman was buried.

They loved each other, so I saw it right that they were buried next to each other in death.

As the only son - son-in-law - currently in the tribe, I was tasked with finishing the burial.

I gently scooped up Ghigari’s body while his blood family laid their hands on his body as I slowly pulled him up.

This was an important part of the Kettish burial ritual. The last touch of the family symbolized the last of the bond between them being broken as a soul who leaves this body will journey to Hydes’ underworld to undergo trials, to be cleansed of their past sins and virtues, for their eventual rebirth.

If the name was anything to go by, then there were elements of Greek mythology involved, which made sense due to the proximity of the Wallachian Plains to the Greek Peninsula. The part about reincarnation, though, sounded a lot like Hindu.

I stepped into the grave and laid him down gently. Once I was done with that, I looked up to see his family with offerings and gifts. The last they will ever give him.

A bronze sword. A bronze necklace. An antler headdress (an inside joke between him and his third cousin thrice removed). Fine clothes. Red bouquet.

It was all heartwarming. Truly.

I took each of those items down, one at a time, because each person behind the item deserved the respect of being handed their last gift to their passing family one at a time.

And at last, the last gift had been laid down.

I stood there beside him in the grave.

I…

Ghigari was a gruff man. A fair man but a gruff man with a bit of humor. He laughed harshly but never at someone. He fought bravely despite his age; personally, I thought he wanted to die in battle rather than waste away. He chose carefully, even though he knew that the choice he made might not be the right one but did so anyway with the best of his ability and intention.

He was a good man.

I wanted to give him a gift, too.

I looked down at my shirt. It had my still nameless son’s handprint on it. It was a decorative shirt, one made using exotic paint and more. It was a little unorthodox and informal, but everyone in the tribe knew me to be odd.

I took the shirt off.

“It’s your grandson’s handprints,” I said, even though I knew(?) that he couldn’t hear me. I carefully folded it up and laid it down on his chest before putting his arms on top of the shirt. “A gift from him and I.”

I stepped out of the grave and gave him one last bow.

All of the tribe did so.

I picked up a shovel and started piling the dirt in.

I watched as the dirt slowly covered Ghigari’s serenely peaceful face.

‘Goodbye,’ I thought.

And then Ghigari was forever under the dirt, returning to where all men and women came from.