The Ragged Kingdom

By Kathy Farmer

Rachel, recently widowed and living in a remote farmhouse on Offas Dyke in Wales, seeks to find a place on a map. She is curious as to why it is called the Ragged Kingdom.

But she is also seeking to be healed from a long-ago barely-remembered experience that partly eludes her because of the threat of mental breakdown. The incomers that she meets, like herself, also seem to have a somewhat irregular background that they find hard to come to terms with. Is this why they are all living in wild, lonely places, seeking anonymity?

Unexpectedly, Rachel is quite literally forced to come face-to-face with all the emotions of loss, hate, and bitterness that she had long ago buried. Will she find forgiveness, healing, and love in the one person who matters?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Feb 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781546288206

Kathy Farmer

Kathy Farmer lived for many years on the borders of the Welsh Marches. She now lives with her husband in Pembrokeshire, in the beautiful seaside town of Tenby. She is a Reader in the Church in Wales within the Diocese of St Davids and is a member of Tenby Arts Club. Kathy is a countrywoman, and for many years she rode her Arab mare around the hills in the Welsh Marches, and along Offas Dyke.

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© 2018 Kathy Farmer. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 01/31/2018

ISBN: 978-1-5462-8819-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-8820-6 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

I dedicate this book to my daughter Julia – for spending time editing the text for me; and for the support and patience of my husband Henry.

CHAPTER ONE

It was a place on a map, the name intrigued Rachel. Why, The Ragged Kingdom? What did it signify? She couldn`t wait to find out. It must mean something. The name stood out amongst all the wildness of the endless hills shown on the map with their brown encircling rising altitudes with seemingly no habitation around for miles, just wilderness. She looked at her watch, too late now. She would saddle up her white Arab mare, Azara, tomorrow, and they would go and explore together. She folded the map up and put the appropriate square into its plastic holder face up for easy reading when it hung around her neck. She would take a bottle of water, an apple and some chocolate bars, and her mac in a haversack. Just then, her dog Shep, who had been asleep at her feet, stood up and gave a sharp bark. Oh no, Rachel groaned, I don`t want to see anyone. She peeped quickly out of the window and shrank back as she saw Owen coming up her track. She turned the key in the door to lock it and urged the dog to go upstairs with her quickly. She shut herself in the bedroom with the dog. Owen was her nearest neighbour, a farmer, and like her, widowed. Ever since her husband Justin had died recently, he had come up nearly every night, just to keep her company, he had said. Only the last time he had come he had made a suggestion to her which had horrified her. Friendship was one thing, but she had no intention of going to bed with him for a bit of fun, as he put it. She held her dog`s jaws together as he knocked on the door and was no doubt peering through the windows. Hopefully, he would think that she wasn`t in and go away. She held her breath as well as the dog`s jaws until she heard his boots retreating on the gravel and the click of the gate shutting behind him. Already it was dusk, but she would not put a light on. She sat in the window as the hills darkened around her. She and Justin, her husband, had loved the isolation of this farmhouse and she was determined that she would spend the rest of her life here. She didn`t want another man in her life, no one could take the place of Justin and certainly not Owen. He had been a good friend to them with his local knowledge yes, and to the mutual benefit of them both they had let some of his sheep graze their land to keep it tidy.

She had heard similar stories from other widows, that some men immediately took advantage of the situation of widowhood to have a sexual relationship. It was just something that she hoped Owen had understood was out of the question and had accepted, and the friendship would continue without further embarrassment. He would probably have known about The Ragged Kingdom, but she was looking forward now to finding out for herself, instead of asking him.

She went to bed and when Shep jumped up on the bed and settled himself to sleep there, she hadn`t the heart to make him get off. They were both missing Justin.

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She rose at dawn just as the red ball of the sun was rising above the hills. She heard Azara kick the stable door with impatience. She dressed quickly and walked over to the stables with Shep, to feed and water the mare before walking back to get her own breakfast. This was one of the hardest things, she thought, to make herself sit down and eat. For weeks after Justin had died, she had snatched at food and eaten it on the hoof, so to speak. To sit down was to think, much better to keep on the move. Now, she made herself put coffee on to percolate, wait for the bread to toast, sit down and eat civilly, wash up, and pack her haversack which immediately stirred Shep. He wagged his tail in anticipation. This meant that they were going out. Her brother had bought her a mobile phone, worried that riding alone she may need it in case of accident, but the mobile couldn`t pick up a signal in this wild terrain of hills, instead she was mindful to carry a whistle, a long wide scarf, just in case she broke something, or to use as a lead for the dog. She also carried a wire cutter, having come quite often across sheep that had got entangled in barbed wire, carelessly thrown down as being surplus to requirement.

She groomed the mare and saddled her up. With her haversack on her back, a small compass hung around her neck together with the map, she rode down the track with Shep at the heels of Azara, out onto the crest of Offa`s Dyke which ran from north to south along the spine of Wales. Built as a fortification against the Welsh by the eighth century Saxon King Offa of the province of Mercia, giving people on the English side a clear and open view of the smaller kingdoms of Wales. Now, it was the demarcation line between England and Wales. Its full distance from the Wye to the Dee about 150 miles.

It was early March and a sharp wind blew making Azara skittish, wanting to gallop as she felt the grass beneath her feet, and her mane and tail being blown about by the wind, so that Rachel had a job to hold her. She had to be careful, she might come across sheep already heavily pregnant and didn`t want to scare them into running which could cause them to abort. The mare would calm down the further they went, the occasional lane intersected the Dyke so that they had to descend the steep slopes only to climb back up again to where the wind stung her face and stunted thorn trees were bent over with what looked like a bad hair- do- day of entangled twigs from the prevailing wind. She looked at the map. They had done quite a few miles and would soon have to come off the Dyke to find the place called, The Ragged Kingdom.

Rachel narrowed her eyes as she turned a bend in the hills and saw a string of what looked like coloured gypsy horses coming toward her. The lead horse being ridden. As they drew nearer, Rachel could see that it was being ridden by a woman who raised a hand in greeting. She was riding bareback without a riding hat, just a silk scarf to keep her hair in order, except that it had slipped off her head revealing long straight dark hair, down to her waist, which streamed out behind her in the wind. Hello, she shouted, and then, admiringly, nice horse, pointing to Azara.

Hello, yes, thank you. Where have you come from? Rachel asked.

I`m Ann, I live over at The Cwm, she pointed back from where she had come, and said, And where have you come from? Are you new around here?

Yes, I suppose I am. I live at The Garth. I`m Rachel.

Ann nodded, I know where that is, someone died there.

Rachel nodded Yes, my husband.

Oh, I`m so sorry. I was talking about old David Jones who lived there before you. I`m really sorry, I didn`t realise that your husband -–-she trailed off with remorse.

It`s alright. I`m just coming to terms with it. -– A silence fell between them, until Rachel said, I thought that I would try and find that place on the map, called The Ragged Kingdom?

Oh, yes, Ann said, Go down on the next lane, it`s over Ash way. There will be a way-mark at Ash and you will have to climb back onto the dyke. I must get going, the horses are getting restive. Ann said, looking at her watch, I`m going to the Squire -—just taking these old horses with me for a bit of exercise. And she clicked them on past Rachel while the horses screamed at each other in excitement as they passed each other. Come and see me, Ann shouted as Rachel moved on thinking to herself, what on earth did she mean when she said that she was going to the Squire? There was no Squire. Surely, she would have heard about a Squire if there was one. She couldn`t think of any man living near her who was called the Squire!

Rachel got off the mare and led her down the twisting path dropping down off the steep side of the Dyke to a lane that stopped at a small church, beyond that was a cottage and a farmhouse. New-born lambs were already in a sheltered meadow while the noise of lambing was coming from a large barn. A sheepdog hearing the mare`s hooves striking the tarmac of the lane came bounding out barking at her, closely followed by one of the shepherds. She stopped while he ordered the dog back into the barn. Shep, as ever remained obediently at Azara`s heels. The man re-appeared and was apologetic. She took the opportunity of asking him if he knew where the place called, The Ragged Kingdom was? He gave her directions, telling her that she couldn`t miss the three Scots pine trees standing high on the hill in the middle of a circle of stones, probably going back to the Druids. She asked him, Do you know why it is called The Ragged Kingdom? He looked a bit puzzled and grinned at her, Some people say that it goes back hundreds of years ago to the old Romany gypsy family, the Rhonas. They are well known around here still, but they no longer camp here. Other people think that it has something to do with Haile Selassie, you know, Emperor of Ethiopa, Lion of Judah, he lived here for some years when he was exiled from his own country. But others say that it was called that by the writer and explorer, Thesiger, who also lived here. So, you can take your pick, Druids, Romany gypsies, Hailie Selassie or maybe Thesiger?

Goodness, Rachel said, I had no idea such influential people lived here."

Well, with a grin, he said, my money is on the Druids or the gypsies, they were here first. With that he excused himself to go back into the lambing barn. She heard the men inside question him as to who she was and was amazed to hear him say, It`s Mrs Saunders from over The Garth, by Owen`s place. Her husband died a week or two back. Rachel heard more murmurings and then laughter, perhaps they laughed at the question she had asked him. She had ridden a few miles from home and had never seen the man before, and yet they