Anna Chant's Blog, page 11
December 19, 2018
A Night of Fire (A Christmas Story pt. 4)
[image error]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[image error] 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…
A Night of Fire (A Christmas Story pt4)
[image error]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[image error] 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…
Advertisements
December 18, 2018
A Night of Fire (A Christmas Story pt. 3)
[image error]
The news that Alpin’s boat had been sighted a few days later, caused much excitement, particularly among the three boys.
“Cinaed, as your father’s true son, you should go alone to meet Alpin when his boat docks,” Unuis said.
“Why just me?” he asked. “Domnall is his son too. And Graunt is his sister’s son. Father is always pleased to see him.”
“Don’t argue, Cinaed. Just do as you’re told.” Unuis barely looked up from her task. She was busy in the hall, helping to prepare the pig that had been slaughtered for the occasion.
“You are just saying this because you don’t like Domnall,” Cinaed said.
Cinaed had brooded long over her words, but still could make no sense of them. Having spent more time in the past few days with his younger brother than he ever had before, they were friendlier than he could have believed possible. Who had what parents was irrelevant to him. As far as he was concerned, Domnall and Graunt were both his brothers. It didn’t matter who had given birth to them.
“Go, Cinaed.” Unuis frowned at him. “I want you to greet your father.”
“No,” Cinaed replied, flinging himself insolently into a chair.
Unuis sighed, clearly not knowing what had got into her beloved son. “Very well. Take Graunt. Take the heathen brat as well for all I care. But go meet your father.”
The three boys did not need telling twice as they raced each other down the hill, arriving just as the boat came into dock. A tall powerfully built man was the first to step ashore.
“Well, well, you three have certainly grown since I last saw you,” he said, stretching out his arms.
All three ran into them. Alpin studied the boys carefully, looking pleased. He opened his pack and pulled out a package.
“A Yuletide gift for you all.” He took away the cloth bindings and handing each of them a short dagger. Cinaed was delighted. For so long he had made use of an old knife, but he had been desperate for a proper dagger. His had a finely wrought handle and a keen blade. He glanced quickly at the other two, pleased to see that their daggers were of similar quality. Something else he had realised over the previous days was how few possessions Domnall owned. That morning he had argued again with his mother when he handed the new tunic she had made for him, straight to Domnall. It hung too long on him, but at least it was not ragged or darned as his others were.
“Thank you, Father,” he said, as the other two voiced their own thanks.
Alpin grinned, lifting Domnall onto his shoulders, leaving him to cling on precariously as he put his arm around the other two, to make their way back to their dwelling
…
The feasting that night was as fine as they had hoped. At the end, Alpin made an announcement.
[image error]“My father, Lord Eochaidh has been chosen as the new King of Dal Riata. He will be crowned in the spring. I am looking to see which of you three lads impresses me the most.” He looked sternly at Cinaed, Domnall and Graunt. “I shall take one of you to Dunadd to witness the crowning.”
“Cinaed is your eldest son. It should be Cinaed,” Unuis said quickly.
“I have been speaking to the abbot this day,” Alpin said. “And I am not at all sure it should be Cinaed. I have heard that he not applying himself to his studies.”
Cinaed’s heart sank, although he knew Domnall behaved far worse than him.
“I have heard better things about Graunt,” Alpin continued. “Graunt is Eochaidh’s eldest grandson.”
“Only by a few moons,” Unuis protested.
“And my parents have never even met Domnall. I think they would be pleased to do so.”
[image error]Cinaed swallowed. He longed to visit Dunadd. He had heard so much about it – this great fortress perched high on the hillside and the sacred rock with the mysterious footprint of kings. To witness a crowning would be splendid indeed. He looked at the other two and could see that they were thinking the same thing.
Alpin nodded at them. “I shall decide over Yule, which of you is the most worthy to accompany me.”
Cinaed had to admit to himself that this was only fair.
To be continued…
Advertisements
December 17, 2018
A Night of Fire (A Christmas Story pt.2)
Domnall was scrambling over the rocks towards them with considerably more assurance than they had shown. Cinaed almost cried out as the boy leapt a gap, expecting to hear an agonised scream when the lad crashed between the two rocks, but he managed it effortlessly, eventually slithering down beside them
“How did you learn to climb like that?” Cinaed demanded.
Domnall shrugged. He pointed at the rods. “Can I use one?”
There was a startled pause. Domnall never asked for anything. Leaping onto their backs and tearing at their hair was what he usually did to get what he wanted. Without a word, Graunt passed one over to him.
[image error]Cinaed and Graunt chatted light-heartedly as they fished, speculating on which of the islanders would be the first to place their fireball at the top of the hill. Between them they caught a few fish and were feeling quite pleased with themselves until they saw the fish Domnall was hauling in. It was huge. Bigger than any fish he had ever caught. Cinaed and Graunt stared at it as it flopped around on the rocks, before lying still.
“That is a fine fish,” Graunt said at last.
“You are the best fisherman of us all,” Cinaed declared.
Domnall’s face lit up into a wide smile, transforming him from the usual sulky imp, into a cherubic looking child. “That is what Father said.”
“Father? Did you fish often with him last summer?”
Domnall nodded.
Cinaed felt a flicker of jealousy that he had not been included on those expeditions, but he swiftly quashed the feeling, remembering many occasions when he had been alone with his father. “Well, you will be able to tell him about this one in a few days.”
…
“Look at the size of that fish,” Unuis exclaimed as the boys proudly displayed their catch to her. “Did you catch that one, Cinaed?”
Cinaed grinned, shaking his head. The rest of the day had passed in so much laughter between the three of them, he was pleased for Domnall to claim the credit he was due.
“You are a clever lad, Graunt,” Unuis said, turning her bright smile onto her nephew.
“I didn’t catch it. It was Domnall.”
Unuis dropped the fish back onto the table. “Domnall? Nonsense. He probably found it already dead on the rock. Indeed I would say it smells as if it has been dead for days.” She glanced at one of the serving men. “Throw that fish out.”
Cinaed blocked his path, noticing how Domnall’s shoulders had slumped. “That fish has not been dead for days. It was alive when Domnall pulled it from the water and I wish to eat it this night.”
Unuis shook her head. “I will eat nothing that heathen brat has touched. Which of these did you catch, Cinaed?”
Cinaed straightened his back. “None of them,” he lied. “Domnall caught them all.”
“Don’t be foolish.”
“It is true, Aunt,” Graunt said. “Cinaed and I had no luck today.”
Unuis crouched down, glaring at Domnall. “Tell the truth, Boy. How many did you catch?”
Domnall gave the reply he usually had for Unuis. He spat at her.
Cinaed lifted his hand to give the boy a slap as he always did to defend his mother, but then thought better of it. He looked down. “Domnall, that is not how to treat a lady. Father would not be pleased.”
Domnall bit his lip. “Sorry, Mother,” he whispered.
Unuis recoiled. “Do not call me that. When your father gets here, I trust he will beat you as you deserve.”
Cinaed frowned after his mother, as she stalked away. He followed her, his brow still creased. “You and Father have always told me that Domnall is my brother. That means he is your son. Why are you unkind to him?”
“He is not my son.” Unuis shuddered. “Oh, he is your brother, mores the pity. His mother was a heathen Norse slut. Dead now and good riddance to her. That is why I have no love for him.”
“But you love Graunt and he is not truly your son.”
“That is different. He is a fine lad. There is no heathen bastard blood tainting him. Domnall is not as fine as you and Graunt. Do not trust him. He hates you.”
Cinaed frowned even more as he re-joined the other two. He much admired his mother’s wisdom, yet he was sure she was wrong about this. That day with Domnall had been fun.
To be continued…
Advertisements
December 16, 2018
A Night of Fire (A Christmas Story pt 1)
With Christmas coming, I’m going to serialise a Christmas story on the blog. One part each day, finishing on Christmas Eve. It’s not necessary to have read any of my books to enjoy this story, but fans of Kenneth’s Queen may recognise some old friends. Or should that be some young friends?
A Night of Fire
“Cinaed,” Unuis said to her eight-year-old son as he was about to head out of the doorway of their dwelling. “Remember what I told you last night.”
Cinaed turned to direct a reproachful look at his mother. “Oh, Mother, do I have to?”
“Yes, you do.”
“But I just want to fish with Graunt.” He gestured at his cousin, a dark-haired boy about his age. “We don’t want Domnall.”
[image error]He and Graunt glared at the grubby, fair-haired boy squatting by the fire. He was a couple of years younger than them, but that was not the reason why they did not want him with them. They both loathed the boy who seemed to be more savage animal than child. Graunt’s arm still bore teeth marks from the occasion both he and Domnall reached for the last honeyed cake at the same time. Graunt had seized it first, until the pain in his arm forced him to drop it.
“He won’t want to come with us, Aunt,” Graunt said, with a surreptitious rub of his arm.
“I don’t care what the brat wants,” Unuis snapped. “I need him out of here. I have much to prepare for Yule.”
Cinaed moved over, gazing up at his mother out of grey eyes in a manner which always got him his own way. “Please, Mother. Don’t make us take him. He’ll ruin it.”
Unuis gave a rueful smile, kissing her son on the forehead. “You need to take him, my love. Everything must be perfect for Yule this year. Your father is coming back to Iona for the festivities.”
“Uncle Alpin is coming?” Graunt’s grin matched Cinaed’s own. Since Graunt’s parents had died when he was not much more than an infant, Alpin had been as much a father to him as to Cinaed.
“Yes. So take that heathen brat out of here, so I may make ready.”
Cinaed and Graunt exchanged glances and shrugged. They certainly wanted everything perfect for Alpin’s return.
Unuis went over to the hearth, seizing the little boy by the neck of his tunic. “Go with Cinaed and Graunt. And behave.”
In reply, Domnall spat at her. Unuis shrunk back, wiping the spittle from her cheek, her eyes narrowed in her dislike.
Cinaed cuffed him sharply around the ear. “How dare you? Apologise to Mother.”
Domnall stamped his foot, bringing it down hard onto Cinaed’s. He spat again. This time at Cinaed. Cinaed cuffed him again. “You wait until Father hears about this.”
“Hopefully he will get rid of the brat,” Unuis muttered. “I shall certainly be requesting it.”
At those words, Domnall broke free from Cinaed and bolted out of the door. Cinaed and Graunt exchanged glances and followed him more slowly, their excitement at a day spent fishing, vanishing fast.
“Shall we fish off the rocks over there?” Cinaed said, his mood rising again as he gestured [image error]at a spot to the west. It was a tricky climb and one that he and Graunt had only completed the previous summer. There was no way Domnall would be able to follow them.
Graunt laughed. “Yes, that is the best spot.”
They walked slowly, their rods over their shoulders, chatting about all the excitements of Yule which awaited them. There would be a huge feast in the abbey, but it was the next night which would be the finest of all. It would be the Night of Fire, when they would wrap themselves up in their warmest cloaks and watch as the Islanders lit huge flaming spheres, which appeared to almost float by magic to the top of the nearby hill. Occasionally as they talked Cinaed glanced over his shoulder. Unfortunately Domnall was still following them.
Cinaed and Graunt smirked as they scrambled over the treacherous rocks to where the icy sea lapped. They found a sheltered spot between the rocks and the winter’s sun even warmed them, as they set out their rods.
Graunt glanced up. “My God, Cinaed. Look!”
To be continued…
The Feast of St Adelaide
16th December is the feast of St Adelaide, who died on that day in the year 999.
Who was she? The short answer is that she was one of the most influential women of the 10th century.
The long answer? You can read it here!
[image error]
Advertisements
December 12, 2018
Kindle Countdown Deal on The Girl from Brittia
If you’re looking for a historical fiction bargain, take a look at The Girl from Brittia which is just 99c or 99p until 18th December 2018.
In the 6th-century Frankish travellers recount a curious tale to Byzantine historian, Procopius, telling of a warrior princess who sets sail on a mission of vengeance. He does not name the lady, calling her only the island Girl or the Girl from Brittia.
Set on the shores of Suffolk, against the backdrop of a 6th-century catastrophe, which saw the sun dim, winter return in spring and snowfalls in July, this is her story!
Also available in paperback – books make great gifts!
[image error]Dunwich the Suffolk setting of The Girl from Brittia as it appears today.
Advertisements
December 10, 2018
RIP Duke Hermann of Swabia
Today, 10th December, I am remembering Duke Hermann of Swabia who died on this day in 949. While not one of the better known historical figures of the era, through his support for the young Otto the Great, his role in history may have been crucial. Who knows what would have happened to Otto without Hermann’s support and advice?
Hermann is a key figure and much-loved character in The Saxon Marriage where he appears, as he does in history, as a key supporter and advisor. The personal relationship between Hermann and Otto is based more on speculation. I portrayed them as close friends, a friendship which only deepened with the betrothal of Otto’s son, Liudolf to Hermann’s daughter, Ida. Whether Hermann lived long enough to meet their mutual grandchild, Liudolf and Ida’s daughter, Mathilda, who was born in 949, is not known. But I hope he did.
RIP Hermann, Duke of Swabia
[image error]
Advertisements
December 6, 2018
Teasers for Book Two!
I’ve been challenged by Author JB Richards to list five things included in my current WIP, Book 2 of Quest for New England , provisionally titled Peril & Plunder.
1. Saracens
2. Normans (Yes, more Normans!)
3. Lingering scars
4. A new romance for a major character
5. A manipulative & scheming priest
Anyone else want to share some teasers from their WIP?
Quest for New England Bk1 is available on Amazon in ebook and paperback!
Rising from the Ruins
Peril & Plunder coming in 2019!
[image error]
Advertisements
Paperback & ebook linked
I’m happy to announce that the paperback and ebook of Rising from the Ruins are now linked on one Amazon page.
Amazon does not yet offer their paperbacks in every Amazon store, but it is available in both the UK and US version, as well as European markets and Japan.
This link will take you to your local store where the ebook and the paperback if available can be seen.
[image error]
Advertisements
