Page 58 of May Queen: May Day

Chapter 15

Flora spent hours ripping up bed sheets and blankets and tying them together, planning on using them to escape. She secured the knot tightly around the leg of the bed, and walked over to the window. It was just about dark now, and she was going to have to take the chance that the guards on the battlements wouldn’t see her as she lowered herself out the window.

She had to get to the woods and warn her father before Ricard found them and it was too late. Her hand went to her pocket and she pulled out the necklace, fingering the sacred Druid piece. A sickle crossed over mistletoe, symbolizing one of the most sacred things to Druids. Mistletoe was harvested by Druids with a golden sickle. They would climb the oak tree and cut it, not letting the mistletoe touch the ground or they thought it would lose its power. They used the mistletoe and the white berries in healing potions.

“I should have given this to Father when I had the chance.” Flora put the cord around her neck and grabbed tight to the rope she’d constructed. With any luck, she could reach her father and the Druids before Ricard found them. She had what they were looking for, and now she was ready to leave for Ireland with them.

The only problem was, she would be leaving Ricard behind, and she was now his wife.

* * *

“Everyone spread out,”Ricard told his men once they got to the forest. He held a torch high in the air sitting atop his horse as he scanned the surroundings. “I want Mug found as well as the Druids. They must all die for what they did to my parents.”

“Brother,” said Dayton, riding to Ricard’s side. “It’s getting too dark to look for anyone. Let’s just wait until morning.”

“I agree,” said Lang, riding up next to them. “Dayton and I are tired from hauling that tree to the village for the Maypole.”

“Forget the Maypole,” growled Ricard. “That is a pagan tradition and I’ll not tolerate it.”

“No Maypole?” asked Lang. “After all we’ve gone through to get it?”

“You heard me,” warned Ricard.

“This isn’t like you, Brother. You’ve gone crazy,” said Dayton. “Why don’t we go back to the great hall and get some tankards of ale and talk it over?”

“It is getting a bit chilly out here,” said Nash with a shiver from atop his own horse.

“It’s also going to be hard to hunt down and kill Druids when we’ve got to hold on to a torch at the same time,” complained Lang. “If we don’t poke our eyes out on stray branches, we’ll probably end up dropping the torches and not being able to see who we’re fighting.”

“We wouldn’t want to end up killing each other by accident,” added Dayton.

Mumbles went up from Ricard’s men as they agreed with his brothers. Suddenly, Ricard realized that what they said made sense. He had let his anger blind him and, in the process, he’d made a bad choice. He couldn’t endanger the lives of his brothers and his men because of his vendetta.

“All right,” he said in a low voice. “Everyone back to the castle. We’ll resume the hunt first thing in the morning.”

* * *

Flora nervously descendedthe castle wall, dropping down to the ground, surprisingly not being seen or getting hurt. She realized there weren’t the same amount of guards on the battlements and in the courtyard, and it actually worked to her advantage.

She turned to sneak out the postern gate, and stopped in her tracks when she bumped into someone.

“Flora, is that you?”

“Albreda?” Flora stepped back to see her handmaid removing a hood from her head. She was covered in a long cloak. “What are you doing here? Did Ricard release you from the dungeon?”

“Nay, my lady,” said the old woman, pulling Flora behind a wagon of hay. “Mug set me free.”

“Mug?” she asked in confusion.

“Aye. He’s stolen a horse and gone back to the Druids. He’s got a horse waiting for me outside the postern gate as well, but I told him I wouldn’t leave without you.”

“Albreda, I saw that crescent moon on your arm. It is the same as the one I have on my leg, put there when I was a baby. Does that mean . . .?”

“Aye, Flora. I was about to tell you before we were interrupted. I am a Druid as well.”

“Really?” asked Flora, her voice too loud and her eyes opening wide, since she could hardly believe it. “I’ve known you my entire life, and yet I had no idea.”

“Shhh,” said the old woman, putting her hand over Flora’s mouth to silence her. “I was sent by your father in disguise as a handmaid to watch over you and your mother after they parted ways on the feast of Beltane twenty years ago.”