MacFarlane with the gift, Euphemia had embraced it as her purpose in life and had sought out the most respected seers with whom to study, so the family deemed her the most knowledgeable regarding the gift. Margaret had only half listened to her mother’s stories of her time with Euphemia because she’d considered her mother’s gift a curse. So she had not known that her great aunt held owls in special regard – learning the significance of the bird that had wakened her in the night added to Margaret’s already considerable anxiety about that event.
She found herself thinking of Hal, her uncle’s groom in Edinburgh, who knew much about animals. She imagined he would know the lore of owls, and he would be so easy to talk to. She missed his companionship, how she could go to him when troubled and know that he would listen without ever judging her, and often surprise her with an insight that helped her see things more clearly. They were close in age and both still wondering what life had in store for them. She’d never guessed for her it would be the Sight.
Taking her leave from her father, Margaret withdrew towards the nunnery kirk, walking slowly in the hazy sunshine, the humid air weighting her steps. She loved her father, but did not much likehim. He’d had little to do with them as children, and he’d resented Christiana for the hostility and fear her visions provoked, cursing her for causing rifts with colleagues that took great efforts to close. He’d been relieved when she had suggested retiring to Elcho after Margaret’s marriage, and as soon as the troubles with Edward Longshanks began he’d fled to Bruges. In his loyalties he supported what was lucrative for him, most recently dangerously offering his ships to King Edward while cheating him out of mint fees by carrying silver on those same ships to have minted in the Low Countries. His original reason for returning a month ago was to collect more of his wealth while Edward was busy in the Low Countries. Margaret thought his sudden need for Christiana had arisen after his ship had been boarded by the English and he’d realised the danger he was in.
As Margaret approached the kirk she heard a voice lifted in song and was disappointed, having expected to find solitude there at this hour. At the door she hesitated. But the devotion with which the woman sang touched Margaret’s heart and the beauty of the sister’s voice drew her; on easing open the side door she found Dame Bethag standing alone before the altar with arms outspread, her face lit from an invisible source as she sang. She was not a young woman, yet she looked fresh and untouched by time, her white wimple framing herglowing face and her dark habit graceful and rich with mystery. This sister had befriended Christiana and spent much time in her apartment. Margaret believed it was because many in the community believed her to be a mystic, a seer like Christiana.
The beauty of Bethag’s singing brought Margaret to her knees, and lifting her eyes to the nun’s radiant face she let the angelic voice fill her heart. From her eyes spilled tears of joy, and her throat tightened with emotion. The chapel brightened and grew comfortingly warm, and hearing the name ‘Maria’ as Bethag sang, Margaret sensed the Blessed Mother as the source of the warmth as she shone the light of her love on them. She felt as if she knelt on air, and Bethag’s song echoed as if she’d been joined by the angelic choir.
Holy Mary, Mother of God, guide me to use myself in your service. If I have been given the Sight, if it is not blasphemy, help me to use it for the good of my people .
She sensed the Virgin Mary smiling down on her and was filled with ease.
But her joy faded, and her mind eventually returned to her worries as tears slipped down her face. She had struggled to accept the travails God sent her way, but they multiplied too quickly, and just as she overcame one she would feel another clutch at her heels,
She found herself thinking of Hal, her uncle’s groom in Edinburgh, who knew much about animals. She imagined he would know the lore of owls, and he would be so easy to talk to. She missed his companionship, how she could go to him when troubled and know that he would listen without ever judging her, and often surprise her with an insight that helped her see things more clearly. They were close in age and both still wondering what life had in store for them. She’d never guessed for her it would be the Sight.
Taking her leave from her father, Margaret withdrew towards the nunnery kirk, walking slowly in the hazy sunshine, the humid air weighting her steps. She loved her father, but did not much likehim. He’d had little to do with them as children, and he’d resented Christiana for the hostility and fear her visions provoked, cursing her for causing rifts with colleagues that took great efforts to close. He’d been relieved when she had suggested retiring to Elcho after Margaret’s marriage, and as soon as the troubles with Edward Longshanks began he’d fled to Bruges. In his loyalties he supported what was lucrative for him, most recently dangerously offering his ships to King Edward while cheating him out of mint fees by carrying silver on those same ships to have minted in the Low Countries. His original reason for returning a month ago was to collect more of his wealth while Edward was busy in the Low Countries. Margaret thought his sudden need for Christiana had arisen after his ship had been boarded by the English and he’d realised the danger he was in.
As Margaret approached the kirk she heard a voice lifted in song and was disappointed, having expected to find solitude there at this hour. At the door she hesitated. But the devotion with which the woman sang touched Margaret’s heart and the beauty of the sister’s voice drew her; on easing open the side door she found Dame Bethag standing alone before the altar with arms outspread, her face lit from an invisible source as she sang. She was not a young woman, yet she looked fresh and untouched by time, her white wimple framing herglowing face and her dark habit graceful and rich with mystery. This sister had befriended Christiana and spent much time in her apartment. Margaret believed it was because many in the community believed her to be a mystic, a seer like Christiana.
The beauty of Bethag’s singing brought Margaret to her knees, and lifting her eyes to the nun’s radiant face she let the angelic voice fill her heart. From her eyes spilled tears of joy, and her throat tightened with emotion. The chapel brightened and grew comfortingly warm, and hearing the name ‘Maria’ as Bethag sang, Margaret sensed the Blessed Mother as the source of the warmth as she shone the light of her love on them. She felt as if she knelt on air, and Bethag’s song echoed as if she’d been joined by the angelic choir.
Holy Mary, Mother of God, guide me to use myself in your service. If I have been given the Sight, if it is not blasphemy, help me to use it for the good of my people .
She sensed the Virgin Mary smiling down on her and was filled with ease.
But her joy faded, and her mind eventually returned to her worries as tears slipped down her face. She had struggled to accept the travails God sent her way, but they multiplied too quickly, and just as she overcame one she would feel another clutch at her heels,
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