Henry

Photo credit - woopido2

Part One

Strong dry and hot easterly winds stirred, they introduced the big black clouds looming on the horizon. White flashes of lightning impressed upon the drought stricken land that a definite change was coming.

Henry was one of seven children. He was the only son of an aristocrat father, who, scolded him the day he decided to leave. Stubborn until his dying breathe - his father blamed him, for abandoning the family legacy and bringing shame and embarrassment to the family name.

Henry broke generations of tradition and defied his father's will. The patriotic longing to serve his country was more profound than tolling the soil of the family heritage and it kept him away for to long.

The old carriage squeaked to a halt, Henry pulled the two tied horses to a stop. Their flanks, from haste, were dripping with sweat. Henry wiped the sweat from his brow, and he scanned the long track that led back to the manor. He noticed the calibre of oak trees had become over grown. The bright white paint of the wooden fences that lined the farm boundary had faded. The wooden panels were broken and in need of repair. The wrought iron gate that he and his father had built, and once proudly displayed the family name, was now rusty and swung from one hinge.

The easterly wind pushed hard and a loud crack startled the horses as a branch from an oak tree snapped off.
“Steady,” his voice, warmly reassuring.
Henry turned his collar high around his neck and pulled his worn hat further down.

A slight tap of the reins on the horse's back gave the signal to move on. Henry let the horses walk at their own pace. There was no hurry now he was back. The clip clop of the horse's hooves on the gravel combined with the carriage wheels, echoed soothing sounds. Henry felt a warm feeling sweep through his body. A flood of childhood memories clouded his thoughts. The years seemed to blend in together, fogging clarity, he realised he had lost track of time and places.

Rounding the last bend in the road Henry smiled, as he saw the grand manor still standing tall. It's grace was a little worse for wear. The gable hung loose and the roof balustrade was missing. The once shining white columns, weathered. The prestigious and vibrant garden beds that laced the crisp cut lawns had become overgrown with weeds. The pristine roses that bloomed annually had withered and died. A sad lonely silence filled the air.

Returning home was not quite what he had pictured in his mind. The last time he had returned five red setter dogs came barking out to meet him, followed by six boisterous boys and two blonde curled girls, the children of his siblings. The fresh perfume of newly budded roses and the sweet smell of fresh cut oaten hay, scented the air. Workers cheerfully whistled, busy in the garden grounds. Henry's heart sank, saddened by reality, that the bustling field activity he remembered had ceased long ago.

...To Be Continued...

Go directly to part two