Causeway is this week’s #writephoto prompt from Sue Vincent.
I’ve been a little remiss in fitting in my writephotos. Sorry about that.
In fact, I’m cheating anyway, as I’m giving you an excerpt from Chronicles of Marsh. I’m fond of causeways; there are two in the Realms I’ve mentioned, and I can think of places there might be others. The description here is a little shorter than the original Christmas serial, as I recall it. Maybe I did some editing!
Fred is the hero of my Princelings of the East series (along with his brother George). He has decided to shun the trappings of power and take a short break. He starts by visiting his neighbour at Castle Wash, then setting off for the more populated area of the Realms.
The Causeway across the Wash
Fred jumped up into the chaise. He found a blanket on the seat and tucked it around him. The wind was biting, and was definitely from the north-east. Barley pointed the pony’s head towards the causeway and Fred gasped at the expanse of sea stretching out in front of them.
Why had he decided he needed an adventure, anyway?
People accuse Castle Marsh of being desolate, but it is nothing compared with the causeway from Castle Wash. The castle itself is safely nestled against the hillside at the edge of the vastness of sea called the Wash.
Fred pulled the blanket tighter around him as the wind plucked at it. The chaise had high wheels, and at times they splashed through a few feet of water as it surged around them. The causeway itself was a rocky road, smoothed by hard work and traffic, marked by a line of tall red and white painted posts running dead straight from the bridge outside the castle to a low island. It continued across to another low island, then another, then a final long stretch to the low hills on the other side. Whether you gazed north or south from the chaise as it ran along the causeway, all you could see was sea and seabirds. The grey sky merged with the grey water in the distance, and only a thin black line in the south showed you there was an end to it that way. At least at Castle Marsh there were reeds to keep you company.
Barley, the driver, turned round a couple of times to keep Fred posted on their progress.
“Nearly there, sir!”
“Only a few more minutes, sir.”
“Here we are, sir,” he chirruped as they drew up outside a low barn on a small hill about ten feet above the high water mark. A painted sign on the wall announced it as ‘The Redshank, proprietors Archi and Py, also at The Cheeky Parrot, Wash.’
Fred eased himself out of his blanket and down onto the land. It was dry, at least.
© J M Pett 2019 Chronicles of Marsh Ch 2