Yet her testiness many have been – and surely was in part – because of her not knowing how to tell Taru she had decided to leave permanently. It was a decision – once taken – she did not feel she could go back on. Certainly all that summer was tinged with sadness, though it had also still been a summer of opportunity, a chance offered to her that entailed little lasting : or so she supposed. It was also, of course, easier to do nothing, to let circumstances move her on along. Yet she did not tell Taru she was leaving permanently till the last minute, though she had meant to many times.
She became increasingly sure she had not handled it that well; but then Taru could be such a pig-headed moron at times.
Yet it was also important to remember that she was the one who left first – over a year before Taru eventually made his decision to go – when later she became angry at his stubborn insistence that he had to go. Sometimes she had to remind herself of this fact: for when she went to become a novice the intention was to retire from the troubled world for the rest of her life.
It had been a decision that had taken her a long time to come to, and which she retained doubts about. She had been happy with an unstructured, free-form life – indeed had felt constrained by the strictures of her station – but that had become an aimlessness which was both an effect of her past and a cause for its own perpetration. She did not want it to continue, but neither did she know how to change it herself. Even the one area where she had exercised discipline had declined and her practice on the crumhorn and harp was neglected. She would occasionally pluck the harp, but tired of it after only a few moments.
She did fear losing her personal space, her freedom, and control over her own life. But that life had not worked out particularly well. She was isolated, and she hoped to find companionship and like-minded people within, even if she held out no hope for real friendship.
*
They met only once more after that disagreeable time when Fial suspected Taru was still under the influence of drink. It was seven days after Nantö’s birthday, and Fial was not sure Taru would come. She had left a message at The Jolly Hangman – hoping he would get it: and come if he did. It was her last opportunity to tell him. They met in a glade in the oakwoods in northern Savernake. It was early on a fine morning; though autumn’s hasty approach threatened the weather to turn dire again. Around the glade were many hollies and quicks with their red and dark red berries being sought by the birds.
“You left a message to say that I should meet you here,” said Taru as they sat on a sward surrounded by dead nettles and red campion; “and I’ll admit to a certain trepidation about what you have to say to me.”
“I only asked if you’d meet me,” said Fial; “don’t make it sound more coërcive than it was. I freely asked and you freely came.”
“Yes … I did; I love seeing you.”
“And I you – though it won’t be for long now.”
“Don’t we have long?”
“No, sorry. And I am. I have to go soon.”
“How soon?”
“Tomorrow.”
“That’s loads … of ...”
“For good.”
“I don’t understand,” said Taru. “I see you so rarely as it is, and each gap hurts.”
“I see you less frequently than I would wish, too; I wish I had seen more of you than I have, but with the other calls I have on my time I have managed as much as I could. You should think on that, that I do put myself out to make time to see you. You can be so ungrateful, and self-pitying, at times: it does annoy me.”
“You’ve said. But doesn’t it seem appropriate to feel great disappointment when you spring on me that you’re going away for good? It is only your interpretation that I’m self-pitying. I could make …”
“We need to remain straight here. I’m going away, and that is all there is to it.”
“Well … no. You’ve just sprung it on me. I’ve always been aware there were areas you did not wish to talk to me about, and have accepted that, but I thought they were concerning the past. And now I find you also won’t trust me with your future plans either.”
“That’s ripe!”
“Giving you space and time is all very well, but the idea was to lessen any sorrow – not add to it.”
“That’s unfair: I never wanted to hurt you.”
“Then why keep things?”
“I know! I know! I’m sure it doesn’t make sense to you. This being clear is somewhere, something, in which we both fail. But I knew that I have to leave forever. That was known long ago.”
“But not to me.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“But why didn’t you say? Why not trust me with that?”
“I’m sorry, I said! I didn’t know how to say it, but that I’m going away is not about trust. It’s hard for me too, I had no reason to say before, there was no one I knew to keep me from going away.”
“But now that there is?”
“It’s something I can’t change; I welcomed it before I met you by the shore. But it’s not up to me. The decision to go has been made; then I welcomed that I would retreat from the world.”
“But what about me?” said Taru – only momentarily self-absorbed; “and how will you feel, when you are away from all these tracks and places you love? Will you be encaged in walls of steel?”
“You’ll get over me,” said Fial: “someone else’ll arrive. And I’ve been so isolated for so long, that I don’t fear that. And it’s a pleasant place I am going to. Kind.”
“So what do you fear? Being shut tight away, knowing you'll be there to the end of your days? Or of the frightfulness of the world outside those walls?”
“This perception of hard walls is yours, not mine.”
“I’m sorry I’m angry. It’s not for me that I fear – I fear lest your bloom withers and you die alone and so lonely in the dark of your remove.”
“I’m not going into the dark. Just somewhere sheltered. Where there are the nights like everywhere else where I’ll lie and remember. And I’ll not wither away, for the memory’ll not fade: in my heart as in your heart it will linger, as strong and bright as the sun and as subtle and enchanted as the moon. I’m sorry I’ve hurt you, I wish it was otherwise; weep, be sad – then dry your eyes. Though tears will cloud our minds for a while, they will pass and the light come again to shine uncorrupted on the memories we have.”
“I’ll miss you and think always of you.”
“Don’t promise too much – just what you can keep. Now, I must make tracks. Don’t let loss blind you; and remember – there is beauty in the heart of those who trust their hearts.”
As Fial turned down the path, she looked back one last time and waved through the veils, and was lost to sight. She had expected to feel sadness at their parting, but was surprised at feelings of anger. She would love to put it down to Taru’s selfish and childish behaviour, but could not avoid her part caused by delaying telling him she had to go. And though she did sometimes wonder why she felt so much for him, that did not stop her finding him someone special.
He would doubtless be sat on the greensward, crying as the sun swung to the south, and wiping his face and eyes and setting off for home.
Well, she had a new life ahead of her. She must concentrate on that.
