Field of Sheaves V…

Stuart France


‘No… They burned the keepers…the practitioners…they were too old to flee with the rest.’

‘The lore perished?’

‘There was a young one…also a keeper’

‘This is before the Romans right?’

‘Oh way… way… way before…’

‘How did they generate so much heat?’

‘Wood-lore…and oils… tree resins.’

‘They burned their own alive!’

‘They used wood that gives off poisonous fumes.

Yew… Alder… Holly.

They did not burn.’

‘Even so…’

‘Have you got the rods?’

Oh Lord…


…Well, at least the rods prove unequivocal.

A couple of circuits from different directions and the rods point the same way.

The spot is unmistakable and we sit, Wen and I, in the eye of the maelstrom although it is now ostensibly quite calm.

The way to describe it, I suppose, would be oppression.

The place has an oppressive feel to it.

And that is all it is really but it also has…

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