Page 68 of May Queen: May Day

Chapter 18

Flora awoke the next morning in Ricard’s arms, hoping that last night had only been a bad dream.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Ricard kissed her atop the head and got out of bed.

“Ricard, please tell me I had a horrible nightmare and that my father isn’t really dead.”

“I wish I could, Flora,” he said, getting dressed as he spoke. “However, I’m afraid it’s true.”

“Oooh,” she moaned, turning over and hiding her head in the pillow. Ricard’s hands on her shoulders made her look up.

“Get dressed, Flora. We have somewhere to go.” He pulled off the cover and saw the crescent moon on her upper thigh. “I didn’t see this last night.” He tenderly ran his hand along her leg.

“It is always going to be there to remind you I am a Druid. Will that bother you?” she asked.

He thought for a moment before he answered. Slowly, he shook his head. “Nay. At one time, it would have, but not anymore. You have helped me to understand that one person’s actions should not be a cause to condemn everyone. A Druid killed my parents, but I fell in love with a Druid, as well.” He leaned over and kissed her tenderly on the lips. “Now get up, and get dressed.”

“I don’t want to go anywhere, Ricard. Can’t we stay in our chamber all day?”

“Your father would have wanted you to be strong. Now, let’s go, because they’re waiting for us.”

“They?” she asked in confusion, getting out of bed and dressing. “Who do you mean?”

“You’ll see,” he said, strapping on his weapon belt. When they were both fully clothed, Ricard escorted Flora to the door. When he opened it, Nash was standing there with his fist raised as if he were getting ready to knock. In his hand he held a small basket woven from branches, and it was filled with wildflowers.

“Nash? What are you doing?” asked Ricard.

“I was just coming to wake you when I found this in front of your door,” said Nash, holding up the flowers.

“They’re beautiful.” Flora took the basket from him and sniffed the lovely flowers. “Who left it here?” she asked.

“I did,” came a woman’s voice from down the corridor. The woman’s head was covered, but when she dropped her hood, Flora saw it was Albreda.

“Albreda, thank you,” she said with a slight smile.

“I know how hard it must be for you, Flora,” said the old woman, putting her hand on Flora’s shoulder. “You just found your father and now you’ve lost him. I am sorry.”

“At least Mug is dead. For that, I’m glad,” she said, not caring how crude she sounded.

“Those are flowers for May Day,” Albreda explained. “Now, hurry or you’ll miss the start of the celebration in the village.”

“What celebration?” asked Flora. “I never planned the festivities like I was supposed to do.”

“It’s all been taken care of, so you don’t need to worry.” Albreda took her arm and escorted her down the corridor. Flora looked over her shoulder at Ricard and he was smiling.

“We’d better hurry,” he told her.

Not understanding what was going on, Flora went to the village with Ricard, Nash, and Albreda. When she rode up, her mouth dropped open. There, in the center of the village was a tall Maypole, wrapped with beautiful ribbons of green, pink, yellow and blue, fluttering in the breeze. The villagers were all there and a delectable-looking feast was spread out over long tables that had been covered with colorful cloths. Baskets of bright flowers were placed at various spots on the table.

“When did this all happen?” she asked in surprise, holding on to Ricard as he helped her dismount.

Ricard answered. “Last night, after we buried your father and Mug, and I sent you back to the castle, I stayed and had a talk with Rosemunda and the rest of the Druids.”

“You did?” she asked. “Why?”

“I decided it was about time I stop fighting and start embracing people and things instead,” he told her.

“I don’t understand.”