On the Night of the Seventh Moon (44 page)

So here I am an old woman, yet I can still recall that terrifying day
on the Island of Graves where I looked straight into the face of death and learned then how precious life was. I am immersed in the affairs of my home, not the political affairs which are no longer our concern but the domestic ones of those who farm and live on our estate. I have my family; I have Maximilian—I never quite got used to the diminutive form of his name, for to me he was always the hero of the forest, and he never has lost that magic quality which enchanted me on our first meeting.

In January of this year Queen Victoria died and this is the Night of the Seventh Moon. Since the unification more than thirty years ago, the ceremony has not been celebrated, though many remember it and tell their children of it, and are afraid to go out on that night in case the God of Mischief should be abroad.

What a beautiful night! With the full moon high in the sky paling the stars to insignificance and throwing its calm brilliance over the mountains.

I was at my window watching it, when Maximilian came and stood by my side. We are two who will never forget the Night of the Seventh Moon and we shall continue to celebrate it as long as we both shall live.