[Continued from here]
Flinty
was an uninspiring village, like most of the villages nearby. It seemed more
like an accidental collection of houses than an intentional settlement. Stan
wasn't impressed with it.
"It
doesn't look familiar." He said, staring at the single street with intense
concentration. "I don't think I've ever been here before. But what if I
have and I don't remember? There's so much I don't remember."
"It's
not a big place." Beranwen mentioned. "Chances are, if you've been
here, people will recognise you. Let's have a walk down the street and see what
we see. If you really don't remember any of it, and the people don't know you,
we'll move on. There are other villages nearby, and a town a bit further out if
I remember correctly."
They
dismounted and walked down the single, hard-packed road. The few people they
saw gave them pleasant but non-committal nods of greeting. By the time they
reached the other side of the village, Stan was shaking his head.
"No.
No, I don't remember any of it. I don't think this is right."
"We'll
move on, then. Downs isn't too far from here, we can try there next."
"What
if I don't remember?" Stan asked agitatedly.
"You
will. And if you don't, then we'll just have to talk to people instead.
Someone, somewhere, must know where you came from. And Downs is a bigger place,
so it'll have more people to ask."
"Why
is it called Downs?" Quinton asked as they remounted and urged their
horses into a trot.
"Because
it's downstream of the city. It used to be called Downstream, but that was
confusing for everyone, especially anyone on the coast who had to travel
upstream to get there. So it got shortened to Downs. I think it's a nice name.
I've heard it's a nice place."
"You've
never been there?"
"No.
I've never been anywhere to the east of your house, Quinton. When we moved
here, we came from the west."
"Why
did you move?"
"My
ma died. Pa wanted a fresh start somewhere, and your father was looking for a
stable master. It all sort of fitted together."
"My
mother died too."
"I
know. It's sad, isn't it?"
"Not
really. I don't remember her. But I wonder what she was like, sometimes. Then
it's sad, because I won't ever know."
It
was difficult to be comforting riding pillion, but Beranwen squeezed his
shoulder in sympathy.
The
river that Downs sat on the bank of was in view when their path changed. It was
as close to the village as they came that day. Stan suddenly cried out, and
spurred his horse into a gallop. Beranwen wouldn't let Quinton gallop to keep
up, not with two people on one horse, so she was grateful to see, moments
later, that Stan hadn't gone far. He was on his feet now, horse forgotten,
staring at a mile marker by the edge of the road.
"What
is it, Stan?" Quinton cried. The moment they caught up, the young lord
practically fell off the horse in his rush to see what had caught Stan's eye.
"I
recognise this marker." He said, turning in time to see Quinton run up to
him. "I recognise it. I came past here before I reached the forest. I
don't know how long I'd been walking, but I remember passing it!"
"Still
from the north?" Beranwen asked, not trying to hide the huge grin that
spread across her face at his excitement.
"I
think so."
"Then
let's carry on north. We'll ride slower. Shout out if you spot anything
else."
The
rode wound north, following the west bank of the river. They didn't follow it
for long before Stan pointed at something else and turned them onto a smaller
track.
“Where
are we going, Stan?” Quinton asked, staring around as the track led them into a
wood. It was smaller than the forest they had spent the day in yesterday, but
the canopy was so much denser it felt much more forbidding.
“I’m
not sure. But this feels familiar. I remember it being dark like this. I don’t
think it’s much further.”
Another
few minutes proved him right. A clearing by the side of the track stood a small
house, timber-framed and thatched. It was in incredibly good repair – if
Beranwen hadn’t known better, she would have said it was brand new. But a vine
was growing up the eastern wall, and a small apple tree had moulded its
branches around a small porch at the front. This was a house that had stood for
many years.
Stan
stopped. A quick look told Beranwen that it was time for her to step in, so she
told Quinton to halt beside his friend and let her down.
“Alright.
I’ll go and knock on the door, and see who answers. You two take the horses
back down the road a little way and wait for me. We don’t want to spook anyone
by crowding around the front door.”
As
the two men obeyed, she added mentally, And
if there was a good reason for Stan leaving, then they’ll be a safe distance
away if anything happens.
Once
they were out of direct sight from the door, Beranwen gathered herself and
knocked.
[Part 29]
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