: Moyra Caldecott
: The Eye of Callanish A sequel to Weapons of the Wolfhound
: Mushroom eBooks
: 9781843193142
: 1
: CHF 3.90
:
: Kinder- und Jugendbücher
: English
: 180
: DRM
: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet
: ePUB

At the beginning of the twelfth century on the Island of Lewis in the Outer Hebrides, off the west coast of Scotland, a young girl, Mairi, is persecuted for being in league with the Devil. She believes that she is able to communicate with the ancient people who built the temple of Tall Stones at Callanish.
Mairi is aided in her escape from her persecutors by Neil and the hermit Brother Durston, who we first met inWeapons of the Wolfhound. On the way they face many dangers and frightening situations. But just who are these ancient people that Mairi is communicating with? Neil is fascinated by the search for Truth ... and at the same time terrified of it...
The Eye of Callanish is the sequel to Moyra Caldecott'sWeapons of the Wolfhound.

Chapter 2


The Nocturnal Ride


By the time he reached Kirkoway, Neil had recovered his composure. But just in case there was any lingering shadow of influence from the weird Stones, he tethered Flame and went into the tiny grey church that stood on the hill overlooking the village. He knelt on the cold stone floor in the dim interior and prayed for protection from evil spirits. The figure of the dead Christ hanging from a cross overshadowed the whole place. The silence was heavy and he was as glad to leave this place as he had been to leave the Devil’s Stones.

Outside he found Flame surrounded by interested children, nervously and shyly stamping and tossing his head, not sure whether to trust the many small hands that were stroking and pulling at his mane and tail. Neil took his bridle and led him away, the children excitedly accompanying him, only too happy to point out the house where the owner of the white horse lived.

It was a woman who greeted Neil when the children shouted at the door, and when she heard that he was interested in buying the white mare she apologized for her husband not being at home and invited him in. The children tried to crowd in after them, but she chased them away with a show of fierceness. They scattered, laughing and chattering, eager to spread the news of the arrival of a stranger in the village: a stranger who asked about the white mare.

The woman looked older than she was. Her face was tired and sad and as she moved she hunched her shoulder in a way that suggested that she was used to fending off sudden blows. He soon noticed that she was unwilling to talk about the mare and decided to leave the subject until her husband returned. He watched her stirring a huge iron cauldron of mutton broth that hung over the central peat fire, and thought how lucky he was to live in a house with many rooms. The steam was rising into the thatch and the smell pervaded the whole cottage.

He established that her husband was a freeman with a smallholding of arable land and grazing for four animals, unlike the other villagers who were mostly fishermen. The loch came close in against the hill on which the church stood, to make a fine sheltered harbour. The couple had one daughter, but the woman seemed as unwilling to talk about her as she was to talk about the white mare.

Neil began to wonder how such people could own a Norman horse? Even the tough, stocky little Island horses were almost unknown in villages as small as this, but a horse bred from the stock the Normans had brought from France would be very rare indeed. Such animals were usually only to be found belonging to one of the great Norse lords or a family such as his own — descended from a chief’s family and the daughter of a Norse jarl.

Neil was beginning to be impatient with the long wait when he heard the clatter of hooves outside. As he moved to the door to