The Story of Silence (Book 3)

Chapter 2

The next morning Faloni woke early and arrived at seven o’clock to find Father Demetre waiting for him outside the front of the church. They both nodded a good morning to each other, and to Faloni’s interest, Father Demetre led him through the gate in the fence that separated the church from his house. He led him up the dirt path to the white front door and entered. Faloni followed behind, puzzled as to why they were here instead of inside the church.

Dark red carpet covered the floor of the house, matching the paneled wood walls of the hall. The carpet was lighter in the middle where it had been worn by the consistent walking of people visiting Father Demetre. This was not the first time that Faloni had been inside the Father’s house, nor walked the carpet, so he paid hardly any attention to the photos of Father Demetre and his family that lined the walls. The interesting thing about the photos was that they had been taken in a way that no matter where you stood in the hall, you were always being watched.

‘The boys would have moved him into a bed in the orphanage,’ Father Demetre explained, ‘but I told them to move him in here. That way I could keep an eye on him, just in case something happened.’

They walked past an open door which led into a sitting room and to a door further down the hall. Here, Father Demetre stopped and opening the door walked in.

As Faloni walked in he saw the boy lying tucked up in a bed so large it looked like it might have belonged to a giant. The boy’s eyes were closed and from his deep breathing they could tell that he was sleeping.

‘Anything happen in the night?’ asked Faloni as he checked the boy’s pulse and temperature. The boy had a slight fever.

Father Demetre shook his head. ‘He hasn’t moved since he was put to bed. He did wake up shortly after you left though. We gave him a little something to eat and then he went back to sleep again. We don’t know the last time he ate so we thought it best to see if he would eat something. As it was he ate it all.’

Faloni nodded. ‘That’s good,’ he said as he stood up and moved backwards away from the bed. Just then the boy started stirring.

He opened his eyes and gazed intently at Faloni and Father Demetre as they stood watching him silently by the door.

‘Father, perhaps you should bring in one of the older boys to look after him for a moment while we go out and look at where you found him?’ Faloni suggested. ‘The boy has a fever, but it is benign. We’ll wrap him up and get one of the boys to feed him some soup if you have any. Come, show me the way.’ Faloni ruffled the hair on the boy and smiled. ‘You’ll be fine and we’ll be back soon,’ he told the boy and then followed after Father Demetre.

It didn’t take them long to reach the graves. In daylight everything looked different and Father Demetre felt ashamed that he had felt scared.

The graves’ markers stood silent in the day, they were the same as he had seen them the night before, just simple pieces of wood hammered together with nails to create a cross.

Faloni knelt down beside one of the graves and ran a hand through the dirt. ‘It’s fresh,’ he said, dropping the cool, dark soil back where he had taken it. He patted the dirt from his hands on his trousers and turned to inspecting the grave marker.

‘There’s something written on this marker,’ he exclaimed with excitement as he ran a finger over grooves cut into the wood. They weren’t very deep and so what it said was hard to make out.

‘Looks to have been scratched by something, a knife probably. Not a very good job.’ He pulled out a small pocket knife that he always kept on his person and ran the blade along the grooves in the wood.