Chapter 11 #2
“I greatly respect the Roman Catholic Church, brother, but I can’t change history!
At one time there were two popes—men can be corrupt creatures, even in God’s own church, and in all the frenzies of righteousness that have gone on in past centuries, men who were not corrupt were sometimes misled.
Then, whether ‘holy’ in calling or not, there existed men within the Church who were simply cruel, thriving upon the pain and agony of others.
In the 1400s, there was a document called the Malleus Maleficarum, decrying the practice of witchcraft, and the hunt was on.
Witchcraft became associated with devil worship—two different things, the gentle practitioners of true Wicca will assure you.
In Spain, the Inquisition brought down thousands upon thousands of innocents.
Our own James—that would be VI of Scotland and I of England—was terrified of witches, and they were persecuted fearfully. ”
“Uncle Gawain!” Shawna applauded. “How very well explained.”
“Aye, for yer great-uncle Gawain is fond of Edwina McCloud, who, it is whispered, heads a coven of witches here in our midst.”
Gawain eyed Lowell sternly. “Right is right,” he said sternly, sounding very much like the staunch Scotsman, and still his words brought laughter from them all.
“Why, Father! I did not know!” Alistair said. He glanced at his brother Alaric. “Did you?”
“Aye, I had a few ideas.”
Alistair sighed. “Father likes you better!” he said teasingly.
“Father trusts him more than you not to taunt an old man to death, and that is that!” Gawain said, drawing laughter from them all. Shawna found herself smiling, actually relaxed and happy. Although eccentric and strong individualists, her family could be charming when they chose to be so.
“Would Wicca have anything to do with the Night of the Moon Maiden?” Sabrina inquired.
Shawna frowned. “Well, aye and nay. The Night of the Moon Maiden is older than any other Highlands celebration. The truly ancient peoples here celebrated it—that’s when there was actually a sacrifice on the main Druid Stone.
But, of course, through time, the Night of the Moon Maiden has evolved, and now it’s simply a special night that celebrates the harvest.”
“And fertility,” Hawk reminded them all wryly.
“Well, aye, of course, that. We must be fertile,” Lowell agreed.
“I do suppose,” Sabrina murmured.
Myer entered the great hall, informing them all that supper was served.
They continued to discuss local customs, Highlanders versus Lowlanders, and Americans versus the British while they ate.
When the meal was finished, Sabrina reminded Shawna that she had promised to show her some of the property.
“You can ride with Skylar and me,” Hawk told his sister-in-law.
“You two should ride your empire alone together.”
Hawk frowned. “That’s not at all necessary—”
“I think it would be more romantic for the two of you to go alone—and more fun for me to go with Shawna. If you don’t mind, Shawna?”
“It would be my pleasure,” she assured Sabrina.
“Well, then, why don’t we all be about our business?” Gawain suggested. “Perhaps we could meet up again at the tavern, give your lady and her sister a taste of fine Scottish ale and mutton stew, Laird Hawk?”
“Indeed, that sounds like a fine idea,” Hawk agreed.
“I’m to the mines,” Aidan said.
“Aye, me as well,” Alaric agreed.
“Perhaps the ladies desire an escort—” Alistair began.
“Brother, we men are to the mines,” Alaric advised.
Alistair grimaced. “Aye, then, brother.” He bowed charmingly. “We men are to the mines.” He followed his brother and cousin from the hall.
Shawna and Sabrina agreed to meet at the stables in an hour. Shawna changed into an olive-green riding habit with a velvet banded hat, dressing uneasily, as she feared that at any minute, David would make one of his startling appearances. He did not, and she met Sabrina without incident.
The American girl was pleasant, courteous, and polite, and seemed truly happy when they raced haphazardly across open fields and over the hills and along the shore of the loch.
Shawna showed her Castle MacGinnis, explaining that it might even be a bit older than Grayfriar Castle—or Castle Rock, as the Douglas stronghold had come to be called—but that it was smaller, and with fewer windows lacked a great deal of the daylight that made its way into Castle Rock.
“An office is far easier to keep within Castle Rock, so we MacGinnises have tended to reside there since…”
“Since David ‘died,’” Sabrina suggested dryly.
Shawna nodded, gazing at Sabrina. “So you know.”
Sabrina shrugged. “Naturally. My sister and brother-in-law would not bring me here and not have me be aware of any potential danger.”
Shawna looked at the castle walls. “I can’t believe that you could be in any danger here.” She smiled somewhat wryly. “You’d make an exquisite virginal sacrifice on the Druid Stone, perhaps, but as we said before, we did cease that practice long ago.”
“Well, I’m not so sure I’d make such a fine sacrifice anyway,” Sabrina murmured. “Let’s move on, shall we? Perhaps to that tavern of yours? I’ve acquired quite a thirst.”
They rode again, turning toward the village. The sun was quite bright for an autumn afternoon in the Highlands, casting brilliant light upon the sloping hills, which were richly green with long grasses in some areas, and blanketed in purple wildflowers in others.
“It’s quite beautiful,” Sabrina said. “I could imagine living here forever.”
Despite herself, Shawna shivered. Her mind played havoc with her heart. Sabrina Connor was young, charming, beautiful.
Innocent of complicity in attempted murder.
She and David didn’t even know one another.
But they would soon enough.
They arrived at the tavern before Hawk and Skylar. Shawna warmly greeted the woman who came to serve them. It was Edwina McCloud—the gentle, pleasant woman with whom she had just learned her great-uncle was romantically involved.
“Edwina! How lovely to see you. This is Miss Sabrina Connor, who is the sister of Hawk Douglas’s new lady wife. Sabrina, Miss Edwina McCloud.”
“’Tis a pleasure,” Edwina said. “And what might I be getting you? Ale, perhaps…” Her voice trailed slightly as she studied Sabrina. “Cider maybe. We’ve fine cider.”
“Ale,” Sabrina said. Yet, to Shawna’s astonishment, as Edwina continued to stare at her, Sabrina seemed to change her mind. “Perhaps I shall try the cider.”
“Cider. Will ye eat nothin’, then?” Edwina inquired.
“Aye, but later.” Shawna watched the older woman’s face.
She had once been a stunning woman, and though time had ingrained numerous lines upon her countenance, she was still beautiful, with silver-gray eyes to match the streaks in her abundant auburn hair.
She farmed on lands that she tenanted from the MacGinnises, but she worked a few nights a week as well for her cousin, Evan McCloud, who ran the tavern—on land tenanted from the Douglases.
“My uncles, cousins, and Laird Douglas from America will be here shortly with his new bride. We’ll have something then. ”
“Aye, then,” Edwina said, not seeming to react to the news that Gawain would arrive shortly.
As she moved behind the tavern bar to get their drinks, Shawna studied her curiously.
Was Edwina aware of Gawain’s regard? And did it mean anything?
Gawain might have defended the practice of Wicca nobly, but he was a still a proud MacGinnis, from a long line of ancient Highland chieftains, and Edwina was a tavern maid.
Albeit they were both aging a tad.
“The tavern is quite pleasant,” Sabrina said, smiling.
“A bit rustic compared to what you’ve become accustomed to in America?” Shawna asked.
Sabrina shook her head with a wry smile.
“I’ve most recently been with my sister in Dakota Territory—this is high civilization by comparison.
Well, I don’t mean that exactly, my brother-in-law is quite sophisticated, of course, but it is Indian country, and I can assure you that many of the Indians are not civilized.
Well, they’re different, I mean. I don’t mean to be insulting, they’re simply… ”
“Savage?” Shawna suggested.
“Definitely. At least some of them are.”
“You’re—you’re quite welcome to stay here, of course,” Shawna said, then she broke off.
Brother Damian was back in the tavern. He sat in the corner across from them. He lifted his tankard of ale to her, his cowl shrouding his thickly furred face.
“Who is that? Another local character?” Sabrina asked.
Shawna shook her head. “An irritating visitor,” she murmured.
Sabrina turned around. “That harmless friar?” she asked. She smiled at him.
Brother Damian nodded gravely in return.
“M’ladies?” Edwina said.
Shawna smiled at Edwina and was startled to see that Edwina was regarding Sabrina intently.
It gave her a little chill. Some people believed that Edwina’s being a witch meant far more than the simple practice of her Wiccan religion.
Edwina did have special talent. She could heal sores and blisters and all manner of sicknesses.
She was said to have “the sight,” and very often, she had made predictions which had come true, most of them regarding the birth of a calf, the arrival of a storm, or the like.
The Reverend Massey himself said that she was “touched by God’s hand,” and though he frowned upon her lack of interest in the Scottish church, he enjoyed debating with her, and stated frankly that he admired her abilities to heal—though, like others, he seemed uneasy with her ability to predict the future.
Luckily, Edwina was blessed with the good sense to keep much of what she knew to herself.
“The cider is delicious,” Sabrina said, “though I might just as well have tried the ale.”