I pointed out the city walls, glinting in the setting sun, to my traveling companions. Our horses neighed wearily. They too were tired of traveling. “We must make haste, I’m thinking they’ll lock the gates soon.” Our journey was ending but not our labors. They were just beginning. Donald led the ...
I stood in the Oronsay Chapel, that next day, as they chanted the funeral mass of my father. The scent of frankincense almost covered the odor of decay emanating from the linen shrouded corpse, covered with an embroidered pall, which sat on a bier before the altar. Beeswax candles flickered in th...