Chapter Twenty Eight

THE FIRST SECTION:
It was a slow day in the constable’s office and William felt somewhat relieved to not have to hear his father and mother being beaten in the back cell. He was long past crying for them because he had heard their screams and cries daily and often more than that since they arrived. Instead he prayed that somehow he could find a way out of the cell and free his parents so that they could all return home where life seemed normal. The one token he had was the piece of the rug that had been mysteriously left in his cell a few nights before. And even that rug did not give him a lot of pleasure because he was afraid that if the guards saw it that they would take it away from him. And so he guarded it by sitting on it and never moving until it was dark enough to take it out from underneath him.
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The days were slow for William. From time to time the guards would provide entertainment for him with their arguments and selfish behavior. But most of the time they were out patrolling the streets, leaving only the constable himself at the desk across from his cell. And also there would be visitors, mostly men that William did not know or recognize. None of them spoke to him directly, but nearly all of them had something to say about him or his parents and none of what they had to say was nice. The man who had come to speak to William just a couple of days before had not been seen since. The more he thought about how much attention he was missing the more he became lonely and removed from the daily life in the cell.

But William could tell that something was going on that day. The mood around the jail was somber and everyone who glanced his way was looked as though he wanted to kill him. But no one said a word, not to each other. Instead they communicated through nods and physical expressions. Then, just before noon, the constable opened the front door and stood on the front doorstep. His deputies followed him out and soon moved across the street. William heard one of them say that they wanted to get a better view. Indeed, the street had become crowded with people and the sounds of their chattering voices surprised the boy. Never had he seen so many people gathered in one spot as they were now. Sure, traffic had been heavy with passersby and walkers before, but they were all walking from one place to another. And when the constable’s men came thrashing their way into Marnie everyone was either trying to run away or fight back. But this time they were all lined up along the street, just standing there as though they were waiting in line for something. But waiting for what? William thought. The crowd was lining up on both sides of the road and was not moving in either direction.

William could barely see out the door beyond the crowds, so he cautiously moved to the front of cell toward the door. The constable was standing right on the front steps, so Willie had to be careful not to startle the man. But the closer he got the better the view became. There are hundreds of people out there, he thought to himself. But even still he could not see why they were all standing around doing nothing. Maybe there is something going on in the street, he wondered. In order to see the street, William had to stand higher than he currently was. Standing on his tip-toes did not give him much of an increased vantage point and so he decided to pull himself up the cell’s bars and positioned his body against the wall for support. Again, he had to be quiet because he did not want to disturb the constable, but from this newly achieved height, Willie was able to see the entire street and what he found was astonishing. The street was completely empty, not a carriage or walker to be seen. Everyone was standing on the side of the road, chatting with each other not a person was moving. What he did not notice before, but clearly did this time, was that everyone was wearing black and nearly everyone was dressed up in clothes nicer than what he would ever dare to wear.

And then it struck him. This is a funeral, he whispered to himself. They must be burying the girl. William’s heart sank. He slowly dropped himself back down to the floor and he hung his head. I didn’t mean to, he muttered. It wasn’t my fault she fell. He slumped down onto the ground and wrapped his arms around his knees. His head flopped into his arms and he began to cry again. It was the first time that he had cried in over a week; at least that was how long it seemed to him. Stop it, stop it, stop it, he said to himself as the tears ran down his cheeks. You didn’t do it, it wasn’t you, stop it, stop it, stop crying. You’re a big boy now; just your mum said you were. It is not her fault that you screamed at the rat, it is your fault. “Stop it!” he shouted.

“Hey,” the constable shouted back, “you keep quiet in there. Show some respect boy. It might be your only chance at redemption.”

The crowd turned around as the constable yelled at William. Their conversations immediately turned into jeers as they taunted the boy with their most viscous jargon. “Die you sinner,” one person yelled. “Repent before you go to hell,” another shouted. “There’s no place for you in God’s heart,” another taunted. They all made Willie cry even more as he become more and more afraid of what was going to happen to him and his parents. But just as quickly as the jeers had started, the crowd quieted down. William noticed it instantly and he lifted his head to see why they had suddenly stopped yelling at him. Again, he could see nothing until he stood up and was able to see a small portion of the street through a gap the crowd. While he could still see nothing, the silence of the crowd was soon broken by the slow roll of a lone carriage and its horses. As it rolled by, William eventually saw a small party of followers walking with their heads down and their hands clasped together as if in constant prayer. Not a sound was heard from the crowd, not even the constable moved from his perch, the stairs. William climbed back up to his higher position and saw the casket for the first time. The sight of the black box with silver handles nearly caused him to fall down out of shock. But he held on and found himself gazing at the box as it rolled past the jail as heavy on the carriage as the girl in it was heavy on his heart. As the carriage moved past the jail, the crowd formed a line behind it and walked slowly down the street. Only the family members walked alongside the carriage. The rest of the crowd followed dutifully behind. The constable never moved from his spot, however, and as the crowd thinned and the carriage faded away into the distance, William crawled back down and moved into the far corner of the cell. Now that he had seen that the girl was in fact dead, he did not want to initiate any anger or hateful behavior by the constable or his men. Finally, the constable walked inside the jailhouse and tossed his gun on the desk where he normally sat. The constable then pulled out a cross and a painting of the Virgin Mary from underneath his desk and placed them on the wall opposite from William’s cell. William then saw the man struggle to get down on his knees, clasp his hands together and pray in front of the mementoes. After the constable was finished praying, he put the painting and cross back under the desk, sat down and closed his eyes. William did not see him stir again the rest of the afternoon.