There is something unknowable about young Maggie Wall. Perhaps you would call it spiritual. You hear it in the lullaby handed down through the generations, the words like an incantation taking root within her. Or it’s the magic of the illicit Latin prayer she sings, a romantic alternative to songless Presbyterian Perthshire.
Such music sets her apart, as does the complexion she inherited from her late father, a man also ostracised from his neighbours in superstitious times. That this uncommonly beautiful girl on the brink of womanhood clings close to her protective mother, never venturing out alone, adds another level of mystery. You can see why the 17th-century locals might have been intrigued. [READ MORE]