A Night of Fire (A Christmas Story pt. 4)

The story so far! Part one  Part two  Part three

Over Yule they attended the services in the abbey church without squirming or showing any sign of boredom, as all three determined to prove themselves worthy. That night, they prepared for the ceremonial entry to the feast at the abbey.  Their faces were freshly scrubbed and their hair neatly bound. All were dressed in a new and particularly fine tunic which Unuis had presented to them that morning. Even Domnall had been given one in a blue which matched his eyes and if the coos of the women were anything to go by, suited him particularly well. Unuis and Alpin exchanged amused glances at the sight of them.

“I do not think I have ever seen three such handsome lads, have you, my dear?”

Unuis was gazing at Cinaed, but at that question, she smiled at them all. “No, I do not think I have.”

Alpin took Unuis by the hand. “Let us dine.”

There was a ripple of appreciation from the islanders gathered in the abbey as the family entered and Cinaed caught various comments on his mother’s dainty appearance and richly embroidered tunic as well as Alpins powerful good looks. The boys made sure to be particularly polite to the abbot and charming towards the islanders but their thoughts kept drifting to the next night – the night of fire. Around the great refectory tables, many others were discussing it as men boasted about how fast they would bear theirs to the hill and how certain they were that theirs would burn the brightest.

“It would be fun to make our own fireball one day,” Domnall said.

“Yes, it would.” Cinaed’s eyes gleamed. The fireballs were a splendid sight. How much more spectacular it would be to actually take part. “We should make one.”

“Are we allowed?” Domnall asked.

Graunt grinned. “Who would know?”

“Exactly.” Cinaed grew more excited. “Father and Mother will be busy elsewhere. They’ll be expecting us to go out and watch as normal. We won’t be missed.”

“If we get up early tomorrow, we can collect loads of sticks.” Domnall was bouncing up and down in his excitement.

“And there’s lots of dried grass in the stable. No one will miss any,” Cinaed said. “What about the animal fat? Mother might spot us taking that.”

“We’ll get it from the abbey,” Graunt suggested. “No one will spot us if we sneak in during one of the hours of prayer.”

The boys exchanged gleeful glances, hardly able to wait. This would be the best night they had ever spent.

…

They were up before it was light, gathering driftwood from the shore and twigs from the spindly bushes dotting the island. They even helped themselves to some sticks from the woodpiles of the Islanders, rightly guessing that if they only stole one or two from each one, no one would notice. The sun was peeping over the Isle of Mull by the time they returned to their dwelling, their arms full.

“Been gathering wood, my boys?”

The boys froze to the spot at seeing Alpin in the doorway, although as he strode towards them, his smile was benevolent.

“Good work, lads.” He ruffled Domnall’s hair. “You go on inside, my boy. Cinaed, Graunt, I wish for a word with you two.”

Cinaed and Graunt exchanged anxious glances at the stern note in Alpin’s voice. He folded his arms. “I think I know what you two are up to. And if I am correct, I am most disappointed.”

To be continued…