A Country Life

CHAPTER 6 - FARRON

It was understandable then, why the Protectorate had been unhappy about Farron when he had arrived. The fact that Farron had been infected with the plague was obvious. Farron could only imagine the difficulties Sable had been through to stop them from killing him. He had been isolated for months and months from everyone else, and only when he could be seen to be recovering to normality again would anyone dare go near him, despite Sable's reassurance that he could not pass on the plague to anyone else. Farron was not a carrier - only one in four victims would go on to become infectious, and Sable knew somehow that Farron was not.

But just because he couldn't infect anyone else in the Protectorate didn't change the fact that he wasn't liked, and there were some who openly hated the sight of him. He rarely went into the town, staying often in the castle or occasionally at the homes of close friends - usually people he and Sable had treated for some illness or malady at one time or another. 

For years, Sable had defended Farron, standing up for him and cajoling, persuading, pleading with the Protectorate's people to not only accept him, but also not to betray him to the King, as it would inevitably lead to their being ejected from the Protectorate, the Kingdom, and probably for Farron, his life.  

Nobody had wanted to risk it for fear of losing Sable and his uncanny way with healing. But now, all that had changed.

A noise at the door broke Farron's thoughts, and he turned to find Jason, the Protectorate's Field Master looking at him through the doorway. His eyes were wet with tears. Jason had been one of the first to accept Farron, and had long respected Sable both as a Healer and as a friend.  

"Thom told me about Sable wanting to be buried over by Ham," he said. "I know the spot - been there with him many a time. I just wanted to let you know we'll be ready to take him there this evening, if that suits. Meeting at the Healing House at four."  

Farron told him he would be there, and thanked him for going to the trouble of meeting his father's request. 

"No trouble at all, young sir. No trouble at all," said Jason, earnestly. He looked at Farron for a moment longer, seemingly undecided if he should say something else, but instead he turned and left.

Alone once more, Farron crossed the room and pushed the door shut, before returning to the chest of draws with the eagle motif. There was no point, he decided, in worrying about his future right now. In a few hours his father was going to be buried, and then, in a few days, a new Healing Master would be appointed. He had no illusions it would be him that would be chosen, and in all probability this room and its fittings would be given over to someone else. He ought to look for this key his father mentioned now, before the opportunity departed. 

Pulling the top draw out, he tipped the contents onto the bed. Chess pieces, playing cards, dice and various other odds and sods from numerous board games collected over the years rolled around on the blanket. Farron had found much of what was in there, hunting through the ruins of old houses on the outskirts of the town where he could hide from the other boys who would sometimes follow him around, taunting him or throwing stones. Not many people came to the ruins unless they needed materials to repair their own houses, and they were anyway overgrown with brambles and bushes, so there were plenty of hiding places.  
It had been on one of those occasions, when he was eight years old and a gang of kids a few years older than himself had begun to follow him, that he found a chess piece in the half ruined building he had been hiding within. He had been fascinated by the find, and came back whenever he could to look for the other pieces. Over time his search amongst the ruins had gained him an almost complete set, along with dice and a few other items of interest, which he had traded with his father's more accepting patients to obtain the few missing pieces.