A Country Life

CHAPTER 8 - FARRON

The sky had darkened and stars were visible between scudding cloud as the last few mourners left the copse where Sable Holm was buried. A blustery and chilly easterly had begun to blow a few hours earlier, but Farron didn't pay the cold any attention. Leaves fell from surrounding trees with every gust, covering the ground in a carpet of brown, yellow and red, and through bending, creaking branches the wind made an urgent, rushing noise that drowned out the talk of the few remaining mourners.  He sat silent, waiting until everyone had left, then came out of the woods and sat down next to the grave. Farron had retreated into the woods half an hour earlier, when the looks and murmurs from some of the crowd had begun to anger him. He had pleaded with Thom to let him stay behind for a while after everyone had gone. Thom had reluctantly agreed, but insisted that Jason stay with him. Farron looked over at the elderly Field Master, fast asleep, propped up against the trunk of an old oak tree. To all intents and purposes, he was on his own at last.

The procession had left the Healing House earlier that afternoon; Jason and his helpers carrying the coffin, Farron following behind. Thom, Peter de Vries, and the Godwit brothers stayed close beside him - for his own protection as much as a mark of the respect they afforded Sable. Jen, Minna and a number of other Healing Sisters followed behind. The procession went from the Healing House into the town, passing through the market square, then made a circuit of the main streets before taking a lane which led to the ruins of Ham, and the small clearing within the copse beyond. A few dozen townsfolk joined the procession, and many others stood and bowed their heads as the coffin passed.  

Farron had frowned when Friar Pellow joined them. Sable had never followed the Faith, and had been openly critical of the Revenant Monks and their particular breed of religious fervour, as popular as it was with the townfolk, and there had been many an argument between the two in the past. Farron held the same opinion on religion to his father and had no belief - not that he would have been allowed anywhere near the Church in any case - being for all intents and purposes a living symbol of its negative focus. Friar Pellow had fallen in step behind the Healing Sisters and given Farron a blank stare, then ignored him the rest of the time. Farron supposed he ought to be grateful at least for even a mediocum of respect being shown to his father - even by those who didn't always agree with him.  

Many of the other mourners were there solely through respect of the help and advice Sable had given them or their families over the years. Farron had been ignored by almost everyone all his life except for a select few - Peter, Jep and Wes, for example - and just because Sable called Farron his son, almost no-one in the Protectorate gave him any leeway because of it. His presence in the funeral cortege was his right, but the low murmur of not-quite concealed comment about his unnaturalness was all too prevalent as the procession moved through the town. 

Farron sat silently next to the grave, wrapped in a camouflage cloak Peter had given him when he told him he was staying behind for a while. Mostly Farron was thinking over his time in Berkeley, and of his father's mysterious past. Again, Farron wished that his father had told him something more. Who was it that wished him ill? Why? What was so important about his past? Where was the 'home' Sable had mentioned? These were the questions that had been rattling around his head all day, and for none of them had he an answer.  

Perhaps one of the mysteries could be worked out. Farron reached into his tunic pocket and pulled out the curious plastic 'key' his father had left him. It glowed faintly in the dark, and for a while Farron turned it over and over in his hands, marvelling at the effect. It was really quite eerie. 

He still had no idea what it was though. He had thought it over a few times that afternoon, going through his limited knowledge of last-age technology to find an answer. It didn't look electronic, as he could see through it, and it had no wires anywhere inside. If it wasn't for the strange glow, he would have thought it was just a plain old piece of plastic. He wondered if it always glowed, or if it had only started doing so when it dropped out of the draw. Perhaps it worked only for so long after being touched? He may only have days, or perhaps hours left to find whatever it was it opened before it switched off again.