Hundreds of people came to marks Webber’s funeral

Hundreds of people came to marks Webber’s funeral. He had been one of the town’s leading citizens, but it was more than that. Poor weavers arrived from the surroundings villages, some of them having walked for hours. He had been unusually well loved, Merthin reflected. The combination of his giant’s body and his gentle temperament cast a spell.
It was a date a wet day, and the bared heads of rich and poor men were soaked as they stood around the grave. Cold rain mingled with hot tears on the faces of the mourners. Madge stood with her arms around the shoulders of her two younger sons, Dennis and Noah. They were flanked by the eldest son, John, and the daughter, Dora, who were both much taller than their mother, and looked as if they might be the parents of the three short people in the middle.
Merthin wondered grimly whether Madge or one of her children would be the next to die.
Six string men grunted with the effort of lowering the extra large coffin into the grave. Madge sobbed helplessly as the monks sang the last hymn. Then the gravediggers started to shovel the sodden earth back into the hole, ant the crowd began to disperse.
That afternoon, Elfric was re-elected alderman of the parish guild. After the meeting Merthin sought out Bill Watkin, the largest builder in town after Elric. ‘Once the foundations of the tower are repaired, it could be built even higher,’ he said.
‘No reason why not,’ Bill agreed. ‘But what would be the point?’
‘So that it could be seen from Mudeford Crossing. Many travellers – pilgrims. Merchants and so on – miss the road for Kingsbridge, and go on to Shiring. The town loses a lot of custom that way’.
From the book ‘World without end’ by Ken Follet