The Fallen~Sparrow~Hawk;The Fallen~Sparrow~Hawk

The Fallen Sparrow- hawk

Mayday’s Eve 30^th April, 2002

We set off from the Doon around midday. Stuart at the wheel of his van, Damait and

Ishtar. First stop Monreith Estate which we drove through stopping only so I could

climb up to Mryton castle. The stones were used to build Monreith House for the

price of £2000 when the architect conned William Maxwell’s wife, (grandson of Sir

William, to replace the castle instead of extending it as was the intention. There is a fine

view of the White loch from the tower.

From Monreith we went to some ancient standing stones one of which had fallen

leaving two which had once formed part of a huge ring. The energy of the stones was

extremely strong smarting the hands on contact, waves and waves of energy fizzes

and pulsated around my own field.Unfortunately, we didn’t stay long enough for the full
top-up but it was good to feel the lay of the land.

We stopped off at Grahams for a cup of tea. Graham makes furniture out of wicker,

willow and ash. He also makes sculptures. He was working to dead-line to complete a

table for a client, so we headed for the Maxwell burial ground in Kirkmaiden-in-

fernis.

I was in search of Jolly’s grave, while Stuart was more fascinated by the tale which put
 kirkmaiden on the pilgrim’s  map before the Maxwell monopolised the energy. Medana was
 an Irish princess who converted to Christianity.

On Monreith bay, close under a steep, wooded slope, is one of the oldest churches in

Scotland, Kirkmaiden-in-fernis. Its origin is connected with the story of Medana, the

beautiful daughter of an Irish king. Among her many suitors there was a soldier- Miles

Nobilis-who was especially determined to win her. The princess, however, had

embraced the Christian faith and had secretly taken a vow of celibacy. Rendered by

her suitors persistence, she fled with two handmaids to Galloway and landed at Portankill

in The Thinns, a place which took its name from the chapel she built there, and led a

life of poverty and good works. One day she was startled by voices on the shore. Her

soldier rushed in and threw his arms around her. She slipped from his grasp and,
followed by her handmaidens, rushed into the surf and took refuge on a rock amid the

water. Her lover hastened after her; but before he could reach her the rock floated and

carried its precious burden across to Monreith bay, where Medana found a short-lived

peace. Her lover discovered her new place of retreat. When he came into sight the

lady promptly climbed a tree. “Why persecute me thus?” she exclaimed. “Those eyes

compel me,” her lover began, and before he could say more, she tore them out and

threw them at his feet, saying, “Take them then!” distracted, broken-hearted and

repentant, he went his own way. Medana came down from the tree and asked her

attendants for water to bathe her aching face. Just as she was being told there was

none at hand, a clear, healing stream broke out of the sloping ground where her eyes

had fallen. She washed with it and recovered her sight.

The chancel of the old church is the burial place of the Maxwells of Monreith. It has

been restored in the mid nineteenth century in the style of twelfth-century architecture, with a Norman arch and a round headed window.

In one of the nameless graves in the churchyard lies the body of Captain Thurot, a

French naval officer, who distinguished himself in the war between Britain and France in 1760.

Beyond the chapel’s consecrated ground whose boundary is marked by rusted iron

railings some two feet high, on a piece of flat earth, just before a precipitous drop to

the water, was exposed here and there a roughly hewn slab. On Jolly’s unmarked

grave, wings out-spread, lay the body of a fallen sparrow-hawk.

End.