Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
30 x 20cm
Watercolour, ink and gesso on board
April 2026
The moon is full and rides high in a cloudless sky, stars scattering before her. She is ice-white, cold and merciless. This is the druids’ moon.
The high mountain tarn is surrounded by standing stones and in daytime it sparkles in the sun, picturesque against a mountainside decorated with heather and bilberries. At midnight it is the colour of a fresh bruise and seems to absorb light. The moonbeams strike its surface and spread. The air sharpens. A noise like a gunshot, then another and another. The stones are splitting.
One by one they shatter. Shards of granite and dust fill the night. When the silence descends once more twelve robed figures stand in the rubble.
An ageless man with a hooked nose and hooded eyes steps forward.
‘Forty times forty lunar cycles have come and gone. For our brotherhood to survive we must perform the ritual. It is time to choose a maiden.’
His gaze sweeps over the circle, falling at last on the youngest man.
‘Brother Jeremy. You have not yet provided a blood tithe. You will bring us a maiden pure by tomorrow eve.’
He pauses.
‘Fail and your soul is forfeit.’
They watch as Jeremy bundles his robes into a knapsack, turns and trudges up the rough track. They do not see his tears. He only joined the Brotherhood of Lunata to please his father.
30 x 20cm
Watercolour, ink and gesso on board
April 2026
The moon is full and rides high in a cloudless sky, stars scattering before her. She is ice-white, cold and merciless. This is the druids’ moon.
The high mountain tarn is surrounded by standing stones and in daytime it sparkles in the sun, picturesque against a mountainside decorated with heather and bilberries. At midnight it is the colour of a fresh bruise and seems to absorb light. The moonbeams strike its surface and spread. The air sharpens. A noise like a gunshot, then another and another. The stones are splitting.
One by one they shatter. Shards of granite and dust fill the night. When the silence descends once more twelve robed figures stand in the rubble.
An ageless man with a hooked nose and hooded eyes steps forward.
‘Forty times forty lunar cycles have come and gone. For our brotherhood to survive we must perform the ritual. It is time to choose a maiden.’
His gaze sweeps over the circle, falling at last on the youngest man.
‘Brother Jeremy. You have not yet provided a blood tithe. You will bring us a maiden pure by tomorrow eve.’
He pauses.
‘Fail and your soul is forfeit.’
They watch as Jeremy bundles his robes into a knapsack, turns and trudges up the rough track. They do not see his tears. He only joined the Brotherhood of Lunata to please his father.