Page 46 of May Queen: May Day

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Flora purposely ledDayton and Lang close to where the Druids were hiding, but still far enough away so that they wouldn’t be seen. “I think that tree would be perfect,” she said, pointing to a tall birch.

“That one?” Lang looked up and squinted in the setting sun. “I don’t know. It’s pretty tall.”

“The taller the better,” she told him, glancing over her shoulder, hoping to spot a Druid in hiding.

“It’s too big. It’ll take too long to cut down,” said one of the two villagers who had come with them.

“It is starting to get dark,” commented Dayton. “Perhaps we should return to cut it down tomorrow when there’s more light.”

“Nay, we can do it,” Flora urged them. “We have extra saws. Sir Dayton, if you and your brother help the villagers, we’ll have it down in no time.”

“We still have to put it on the wagon and haul it through the forest,” said Lang.

“We’ll never do it before we lose the light,” said another man from the village.

“May Day is almost here,” Flora told them. “We need to get the tree back to the village quickly. Besides, didn’t Sir Ricard tell you to do it?”

“Well, aye, but I’m sure he never meant to bring back a tree this size.” Dayton looked up to the top of the tree and shook his head.

“You’d better hurry if you’re going to get it done in time. I’ll start clearing a path through the woods,” said Flora.

“Here,” said Lang, picking up a saw and handing it to his brother. “You help the villagers.”

“Me?” growled Dayton, pushing the saw back at Lang. “Nay, you do it.”

While they were arguing, Flora quickly slipped away, heading toward the caves where she knew she’d find her father. She kept glancing back over her shoulder, hoping no one would notice she had left. The size of the tree was much too large for a Maypole, but she’d purposely chosen it because she knew it would take all of the men to bring it down. This would allow her the time she needed to sneak away.

She hadn’t gone far before someone stepped out from behind a tree, scaring her. She held a hand to her heart and jumped back. “Oh!”

“Flora, don’t be frightened. It’s me,” said her father, hurrying over to her. “I had hoped Mug would give you the message that I wanted to talk to you.” He opened his arms for a hug.

“Father, I shouldn’t be here,” she said, reaching out to accept his hug. It felt good because she had never had a father in her life to care for her. “Ricard forbade me to come to the forest, so it won’t be easy to sneak out of the castle easily.”

“Soon, you won’t have to worry,” he told her. “I sent Mug to find the necklace and as soon as we do, you will come with me when we leave for Ireland.”

“Father, if you haven’t found the necklace by now, what makes you think it is inside the castle walls?”

“It’s the only place I haven’t checked,” he told her. “I am guessing Sir Ricard found it in the woods and has it in his personal belongings.”

“Is it really that important that you find it?”

“It is, Daughter. I lost it when I was supposed to be guarding it. The Druids depended on me and I let them down. I need to make it right.”

“Father, I have decided I will not go with you and the Druids,” said Flora.

“What are you saying?” asked Oren. “You must. You have Druid blood running through your veins and you belong with us, not people like Sir Ricard.”

“Sir Ricard said the only reason he wants to kill the Druids is because they killed his parents. Is this true?”

Her father sighed and sat down on a log. “I’m afraid so, Flora. It wasn’t supposed to happen, but Mug got carried away. We only meant to frighten them away from our hiding place. But when Ricard’s father started shooting arrows at us, Mug wanted to fight back. I tried to stop him, but he rushed forward and stabbed Ricard’s mother through the heart. He fought with Lord Wellington afterwards, and even lost a thumb in the process. Lord Wellington’s men came to the woods after him, but he was wounded. He died at the castle.”

“Oh, Father, this is horrible.” She held on to a tree to get her balance. The thought of innocent people dying in this manner made her want to retch. She sat down next to him, her hand fingering the sacred icon in her pocket. “Am I never going to be considered anything but a bastard child?” she asked him.

“Nay, Flora.” Her father reached out and cupped her chin, looking deeply into her eyes. “You were conceived at one of the most sacred times, at the festival of Beltane.”

“But you and mother were not married.”