Treasure of the Celtic Triangle (20 page)

“I don’t know. I’m in no hurry. And I can tell that you are content. You look
well
, Florilyn—prettier than ever and at peace with your life. The more time that passed after my Christmas visit, the more I saw the wisdom in what you did. I mean, I love you and always will. But now I am asking God if the love I have for you is the love of a brother, or a cousin I suppose I should say, or the love of a husband.”

“That’s exactly what I found myself thinking when I saw you yesterday!”

“It may be that what I have to do for your father will help us know what we are to do.”

“How could that be?”

“I don’t know. I am just taking one step at a time and seeing what comes of it.”

A peculiar look of question came over Florilyn’s face. “There’s more to it than what you told Mother, isn’t there?” she said. Percy glanced toward Florilyn to see if she was baiting him. But her expression was serious.

“Why would you say that?” he asked.

“Because I know you. I could tell that you were hemming and hawing, trying as hard to keep from saying what you wanted to avoid as to say what you did.”

“Do you think your mother noticed?”

“I don’t know. I doubt it.”

They walked on in silence.

“So are you going to answer my question?” said Florilyn at length.

“Do I have to?”

“No. I won’t coerce it out of you.”

“Fair enough. Then … yes, there
may
be more to it. But there may not be. I was perfectly truthful in saying that your father’s request is mostly a mystery to me, too. I may turn up nothing. I have no idea what to expect.”

“I still think there’s more to it even than that,” said Florilyn with the hint of a twinkle in her eye. “But I will let that suffice … for now. As long as you promise to tell me if you discover anything interesting … especially about Courtenay. How I would love to turn the tables on him after how he has treated Mother.”

“I’m sorry, I can make no promises. I will promise you this—I will tell you whatever I
can
tell you.”

“Very cryptic!”

“So what do you think, shall we ask if Steven can tear himself away from his duties for a ride?”

“I will go see him right now,” said Florilyn. “Why don’t you ride into town and see if Rhawn can join us?”

The four young people set off from Westbrooke Manor shortly after midday with a picnic lunch packed by Mrs. Drenwydd. Rhawn Lorimer was quiet but happier than she had been in months to be on the back of a horse again with friends her own age. They rode into the hills eastward, four abreast, until they crested the first inland ridge. The trees thickened as they descended out of sight from the sea.

Florilyn and Rhawn took the lead, riding beside one another. Soon they were talking like the old friends they were as Percy and Steven lagged behind.

“It is so nice to have a break from mothering,” said Rhawn. “I love little Aiden to death … but he is exhausting! Thank you so much for inviting me, Florilyn.”

“It was Percy’s idea.”

“It was?”

“He is very fond of you.”

“Are there any … I mean, have you and he—” Rhawn hesitated. “Have we come to a decision yet? No. We are waiting to see what develops.”

“Don’t you … I mean, don’t you still
want
to marry him?”

“Not if he’s not the right one for me.”

“How could he
not
be? Young men like Percy don’t come along every day!”

“That’s true. He’s one in a million. But it still has to be right. Marriage is too important to rush into.”

Rhawn did not reply. It was already too late for her to have a marriage that was
right
.

Their two squires rode briskly up beside them, cutting off further conversation.

“Take us to the meadow where we first raced, Florilyn,” said Percy. “That will be a good place for lunch.”

“I think I have heard that story,” said Steven. “Didn’t you come to an inglorious end?”

“I did indeed!” laughed Percy. “But I have learned a little about keeping the saddle beneath me since then. Perhaps I shall play a return engagement!”

“You and I’ve already done that!” laughed Florilyn. “You don’t have to prove anything to me. I know you’re as fast as I am now. Rhawn used to be the best horsewoman for miles,” she added.

“That was a long time ago!” laughed Rhawn.

“Perhaps we should coax the men into a race, Rhawn,” said Florilyn playfully.

“Steven and I are not competitive with each other,” rejoined Percy. “Both of us would probably want the other one to win. If you’re itching for a race, you’ll have to lay down the challenge yourself, Florilyn, my dear!”

Florilyn cast Percy another smile that said,
Perhaps I will at that!

They continued eastward down the ridge, through the valley at its back, across several streams, through woodland and meadow, and gradually up the next ridge until again they rose to its height and reached the parallel crest another two miles farther inland. There they reined in and gazed about. The regularly spaced peaks of Gwynedd running in a line north and south were clearly visible both to their right and left, their jagged peaks of granite dotted with snow.

“Look,” said Steven, “you can faintly see Snowdonia there, far to the north beyond the other mountains.”

“It’s still covered in snow,” said Percy. “I assumed it would be gone by now. This could be the Scottish Highlands.”

“We had a good heavy snowfall only two weeks ago,” said Steven. “It’s early yet—not quite June. Snowdonia can keep its snow till July in a late spring.”

“Have you ever climbed it, Steven?”

“My father took me up when I was a lad. It’s not a rigorous climb. But it’s certainly desolate up there—nothing but rock, gray and barren. It’s a wasteland. But the view is spectacular. Personally, I prefer the green hills all around, with meadows and forests and rivers and pasturelands. A mountaintop, I have always thought, is a dead thing. A meadow with a brook running through it is a
living
thing—abundant with life. I would rather see
life
and
growth
about me, not death.”

“Eloquently put, my friend.” said Percy. “In people most of all.”

Gradually they continued down the slope from the ridge toward the expansive meadow at its base, which was their objective.

“I have always considered green the color of growth and life and energy and hope,” Steven said as they went. “It must be God’s favorite color, don’t you think, since so much of his creation he painted with so many interesting and varied shades of green.”

“People are like mountains or meadows, too, don’t you think, Steven,” said Percy reflectively. “If they are not growing, then something is dead inside them. God’s meadows, that’s what he created us to be. We are intended to be live, growing, flourishing reflections of his creation.”

“The vicar’s son!” laughed Florilyn good naturedly. “Is a sermon coming on, Percy? Perhaps you are cut out for the pulpit after all.”

“What’s this?” said Steven.

Percy laughed. “I once asked Florilyn what she thought of my career options—law or the ministry.”

“You were thinking seriously about the ministry?”

“I was,” nodded Percy. “Once the Lord got hold of my life, everything changed. I wanted to be God’s man in whatever vocation I was most suited. I wanted to be an effective spokesman for truth. Eventually I decided that would be law.”

“But you’re still not opposed to delivering the occasional short sermon, are you, Percy!” chided Florilyn in fun.

Percy laughed with delight. “One never knows when the occasion may call for it, my dear!”

“I rather like it,” said Rhawn. “The others glanced at her and saw that she was serious. “I’ve never heard people talk about God like you three do. I always thought of God as so distant and far away. But you all bring him into everything. It’s not easy to learn to grow when you’ve been a self-centered dead mountain of stone all your life.”

Rhawn had not intended to bring an end to the conversation. But her words caused them all to become reflective. They rode on some distance in silence.

At length Florilyn urged Red Rhud ahead. A few minutes later, she led with a brief gallop into the meadow. “Here we are again, Percy!” she called out over her shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want to race me to the far end?”

“Maybe after lunch,” he answered. “I’m hungry! I’m eager to see what Mrs. Drenwydd has prepared for us.”

They reined in and dismounted. Soon the four horses were enjoying the grass and water from the living meadow, and the two young women and two young men were seated on the grass in the warmth of the sun enjoying the provisions provided by the Westbrooke Manor cook.

T
HIRTY
-O
NE

Growing Human Meadows

F
or individuals of any age, especially young people full of thoughts and experiences, to share with equal give-and-take in conversation with their peers is one of life’s rare treasures. Most are so enamored with the sound of their own voices that listening becomes a lost art.

These were four friends, however, interested equally in each
other
as they were eager to orate at length from the storehouse of their own ideas and opinions. When one spoke, the others truly
listened …
listened to the heart, to the soul, listened to the
person
, because they were interested and cared. There was no debate of ideas, only sharing of thoughts and feelings and impressions. They were more intent to
know
one another truly than to be known themselves. The occasional silences that arose between them were part and parcel of the fabric of human intercourse.

It is not often in life that such conversations are allowed to take place. In most discussions, individuals have some ideas to put forward or some commentaries on life from their own experiences to share. The object in the former case is to bolster their own theses while disproving their neighbors’. The object in the latter is to hold the conversational floor for as long as their breath holds out. They may have originally adopted this particular viewpoint because of some sign of truth in it. But now this method of communicating is generally to block up every cranny in their minds where more truth might enter or to keep talking long enough that no alternate perspectives are able to squeeze a word in edgewise.

In the present case, unusual as it is for as many as four earnest, humble, truth-seeking, and listening young people to come together, here were four simply set on gaining what insights the
others
were able to offer. Thus it was that after an hour, they had partaken of two meals, both physical and relational. Each of the four knew the other three more deeply than before. They were no longer mere youths, but young adults embarking on life and desirous of knowing all that life could mean and should mean.

“I don’t like to be the one to break this up,” said Steven at last as he stood to stretch his legs, “but it is time I thought about returning to the manor. I promised your mother, Florilyn, that she could have her first ride on Snowdonia this afternoon. She has been waiting so long, I daren’t disappoint her.”

“That’s the new white stallion?” asked Percy, rising to his feet, also. He offered Rhawn his hand and helped her up from the grass.

Steven nodded. “I’ve been bringing him along very slowly. I’ve been riding him myself now for a few months, and he has at last settled down. Lady Katherine is a skilled horsewoman. But after what happened to the viscount, I will take no chances.”

“You will accompany her, I take it?”

“For her first ride, absolutely.”

Florilyn and Rhawn gathered up the lunch things and put them into the leather bag. Slowly the four walked to their waiting mounts.

“Are you ready for that race now, Percy?” said Florilyn with a twinkle in her eye.

“We shall see.”

They mounted and set off slowly. Gradually Florilyn increased the pace, then broke into a gentle gallop and wheeled Red Rhud back the way they had come toward the edge of the meadow.

“Where are you going?” Percy called out.

“I’m giving you the advantage!” Florilyn called back, laughing. “You’ll need all the help you can to beat me to the far end!”

Percy laughed but did not seem inclined to take the bait.

Beside him, however, a grin spread across Steven’s face. He was riding one of Courtenay’s favorite mounts, the Chestnut stallion Cymru Gold. He well knew what the horse was capable of. He turned to Percy. “Watch this,” he said. “We’ll show the little lady a thing or two.” Suddenly he bolted away from them with marvelous acceleration.

Behind them they heard Florilyn shriek. “Steven!” she cried. “I offered
you
no head start!” The next instant she was after him in a mad frenzy of shouts and pounding hooves across the grass.

Looking behind him, once Steven realized that she had taken his bait, he slowed to allow her to catch up. Side by side they rode for a few seconds, glancing back and forth at one another with the gleam of fun and challenge in their eyes, Florilyn’s auburn hair trailing behind her.

Steven held Florilyn’s eyes for a moment then winked in fun and shouted something in Gaelic Florilyn did not understand. Suddenly, though she was at nearly a full gallop, Cymru Gold began to pull steadily away from her.

“Steven!” she shouted again.

All she heard in reply was the sound of Steven’s laughter receding away from her.

Florilyn dug in her heels and urged Red Rhud on with a mighty effort. But it was little use.

Behind them Percy and Rhawn watched and laughed in delight.

“I am afraid Florilyn has at last taken on a more worthy adversary than I ever was!” said Percy.

“Steven looks like he is loving every minute of it!” said Rhawn. “And so here we are together again, Percy—just like that other time, do you remember, when I was the one who baited Courtenay and Florilyn?”

“I remember!” laughed Percy. “Then you fell back so you could get me alone. You really were devious in your day.”

A look of pain came over Rhawn’s face.

Percy saw that he had touched a raw nerve. “Sorry,” he said. “I meant nothing by it.”