A Restless Knight by Deborah Macgillivray

Author:Deborah Macgillivray
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: 0
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

As dawn kissed Glen Shane, Tamlyn joined the women and left Glenrogha, heading to the sacred orchard of the Silver Bough to keep the rites of Beltane—May Day. Gnarled apple trees twined high to form the entrance to the ancient grove. Beneath their arched branches, Evelynour waited for them.

Muted shafts of light filtered through the spring leaves, haloing her long white hair. It lent her the appearance of an angel descended to earth. Named after the goddess of the orchard, no elder recalled a time when she wasn't there serving the members of Clan Ogilvie. Despite that, she appeared ageless, her years scarcely marring her face. Pale lavender edging toward gray, her eyes were so translucent many oft mistook her as being blind. Her milky skin burned easily under the sun, so few ever saw her except at dawn or in the gloaming. She seemed most at ease in the haar, as if her grayness made her a part of it.

Gowned with fragrant blossoms, the silver-limbed trees held the promise of a good harvest. Tamlyn laughed as petals fluttered from overhead, raining down on her hair and then to the ground, blanketing it as thick as snow. The ghostly fog shifted and swirled around their gray trunks, embracing the grove and rendering it a faeryland of white and silver.

As she entered the orchard, Tamlyn was imbued with a sense of peace. There was a harmony, a balance about this sacred place. She wore a plain white kirtle, same as the other women, at accord with the foggy wonderland.

On Beltane morn, the women and young girls came to wash their faces with dampened apple blossoms. It was believed the dew and blooms worked magic to make them beautiful.

To renew the life of the orchard they'd plant three rows of apple seeds. Thirteen in each. Come summer one tree would be marked for death, and at Samhain the wood of the apple tree would burn in their sacred balefire. A symbol of the wheel of life.

For as long as she could recall, Evelynour welcomed them to the grove on Beltane. The Three Wise Ones of the Wood were the mothers of the two clans in the truest sense. They taught lessons needed for life, guiding the clans with the ways of the stones. They were charged to keep the oral history and advised through aid of their special gifts.

After the death of her lady mother, each woman played an important role in molding Tamlyn. Yet in some ways Evelynour was closest to her. Their embrace was more like mother-daughter than teacher-disciple.

Lighthearted, the women gathered hands and wove their way through the apple trees. They sang a chant to Evelynour, goddess of the apples, asking her to bless them with a plentiful harvest. When they were done, they gathered fallen flowers wet from the morning dew and brought them to their faces.

The scent was heady. Breathing deep, Tamlyn let the essence wash through her being. Apples were magical.

They provided delicious treats in

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