There once lived a man, who people called Jude. You might ask why they called him that. Frankly, I don't know. As far as I remember, everyone who knew him called him Jude. In fact, nobody in the village could remember his real name any more... This was his way though, he wouldn't correct people when they called him by this name; he actually preferred it to the one his parents had given him all those years ago, before they has succumbed to old age when he was in his teens.
There was no family nearby to look after him after they died, so the house they all shared was left to Jude, and his next-door neighbours kept an eye on him until he was old enough to look after his own affairs.
Jude was a quiet man, and had always been this way, by all accounts. He would stay out of people's way, which was difficult because he stood out from the crowd with his tall, lanky stature, his bright red hair, and his wide, almost stupid grin. If he was able to, he would help his friends and anyone else he could. He had virtually no money to spare, but would allow people to spend the night in his spare room, or would invite them in for some food if he saw that they were hungry.
He was considered wise by his friends, but stupid to those outside his small circle.
One day, Jude received a letter. This was unusual in itself; most of the people he knew lived in the same village, and most of his other friends didn't live too far away. He opened the letter, and felt for a chair behind him. He sat, without taking his eyes off the parchment in his hand, and leaned forward so his forearms rested on his knees. He took a deep breath, and appeared to be deep in thought for a few moments. Then, suddenly, he sprang from the wicker stool he had sat upon, dashed around the house with the letter still in his grasp, gathered some clothes, a few other supplies and some food, packed them into a backpack which he kept in a cupboard by the door, and strode out of his home, only stopping to lock the front door and give the key to an elderly neighbour.
This all happened around midmorning. He told nobody where he was going.
Jude lived on the south side of a fairly small island. In the spring and summer months, it was warm enough to grow all sorts of fruits, vegetables and herbs in his garden which stretched back from his house to the slopes of a hill. The hill sheltered his village from cold northerly winds in winter, and reflected the heat back into Jude's garden when the sun shone.
The day Jude left, he was spotted by a few men who were hunting deer in the forest to the west of the village. He looked to be heading up the North road, which was rumoured to be bandit country, so the men asked him where he was heading.
"There's a port at the north-west side of the island," Jude shouted back to them. "I have to see if there's a ship heading west across the Empty Ocean." And with that remark, he turned and continued on his way. The men looked at each other, puzzled.
"I didn't think he'd ever left the village," one said.
"Me neither, but he wouldn't leave if it wasn't important," the second man replied.
The third, the taller of the three, watched Jude disappear over the brow of the hill. Then he said, "I wonder if we should follow him, and make sure no harm comes to him?"
"Nah, he's a smart lad. At the first sight of trouble, he'll be lost in a cloud of dust as he runs away!"
For the whole day, Jude walked the long North Road, only stopping for a short break to eat some of the cake that he had packed, and to refill his water container at a waterfall which fell from a cliff overhaning the road. He reached a crossroads just as the sun was setting. There were a few houses and an inn. It looked to Jude as though none had been lived in for years, which was odd because this was where the North Road met the main highway from the east to the west of the island. He knocked on the old, sunbaked doors of each house, to see if anyone answered, after he had tried the door to the inn.
There was no answer from any house. They all lay vacant, with broken windows that looked like portals to the darkness which sometimes haunted Jude's dreams. He pushed open the door to the only house without broken windows. He didn't feel safe enough to sleep outside, and who knows what creatures may have crept into the open windows of the others.
He dropped his pack onto the bare wooden floor, grateful that the weight had been taken off his shoulders. He found the letter that he had hastily stuffed into the side pocket of the pack, and read it again...
To be continued...
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