VII - Encounter

He tied hid boots tightly around his thick woollen socks so his feet sat snugly in. All set to go he took his lightweight raincoat off the hook and headed for the door, remembering he’d been told not to take the low route, but as curiosity was getting the better of him, that was exactly where he was going. Scuffing through the tufts along the muddy track he felt a presence of the place seeping into him, it was like a hundred different radios playing at once and then one and then none. He felt alone as looked ahead, this was the low road, but it was steep. The crow flew over in a long arc, stretching its wings to get back on course as it was blown sideways. A row of stone pines lined the right of the path  between it and the trickling river that was a tributary of the Black Hills River. On the other side was a view of the exposed land, the open common and the hedgerows of the windy lanes.

He recalled Letti saying ‘He had walked for two or three days at a time. He would disappear and home covered in mud, but where had he gone?’ There were only hills up there. What had he eaten? and where had he really stayed? he wondered, was he having an affair and she didn’t want to admit it. He was wondering as there was so much to unravel, so many questions hung in the air.

The first of the hills loomed up to greet him. The hills had names apparently, certainly the big ones. McAllister was its name, it had furrowed ridges making it look artificial, manmade, but what was in a name. He stood looking at it and thought to go around or up it? That was always the dilemma and the answer was always to go around, it was further, but easier. On the bank, the lower part of the hill, the footings was an army of crimson flowers he didn’t know the name of. They swayed and rippled in the breeze, turning their heads to him and abruptly away. He was making good progress and looking at intervals saw the shape of McAllister pass. His legs picked up speed into a fast rhythm as the path straightened and flattened. He looked ahead at a cluster of trees, there were cypresses, stone pines and tall firs and there under the bough of one a figure stood, he looked at Jason and Jason looked back. Jason stopped, momentarily at sea as the man was unusually dressed. As he approached near where the man was, but he walked off into the trees, showing his back, he didn’t look back once as though expecting to be followed. Jason walked up further to the cluster of trees and saw the man disappear between the trunks, he starred in but didn’t want to follow. He looked at each tree in turn, scanning for a shadow or a shape and then in frantic panic looked away at the noisy river. Looking back again the man was there, close and staring. His eyes were wide in his head, his nose blunt and bullish.

The two men stood facing each other. They were of similar age and height, but it went no further than that. Auralius was stocky, thick set and his armour and cloak made him look even wider. Only his sandalled feet that reached the top of his shins made his look diminutive. He looked at Jason’s slim frame with curiosity, his eyes flitting up and down and saw a man sheltered from the elements with only his face exposed, wearing clumsy rubber boots. He saw he wore a tunic of an unknown and noisy material and his legs were of deep blue cotton that somehow wrapped around him; he concluded with a loud, but calm sneer. Jason looked at Auralius’s exposed wet and dirty feet as the man facing him took a step forward, his spear set diagonally ahead of him, steadily he putting his shield on his back as the man he saw posed no obvious threat.

‘Step back or I’ll use this’ he said in Latin, but Jason didn’t understand and took a step forward. ‘I am warning you’

‘I don’t understand’ Jason said, but the words were garbled to Auralius who jabbed his spear forward in small aggressive thrusts.

‘No closer’ he said, but Jason moved in to get a closer look at him, getting out his phone to take a picture and as he did Auralius lunged the spear forward into his midriff. Jason looked down to see the spear right in him, to see the angry look on the man’s face. He stumbled back, but there was no blood and the spear withdrew.

‘What?’ he screeched, holding his stomach as Auralius walked off, disappearing through the trees.