Faith on Fire

They were promised parley, those gathered women and children. Locked up in their church, they were promised parley. But the English had other things in mind...

Women, children and the elderly gathered at the church doors. It might have been the average after-service rush, but for several things that seemed out of place. First were the looks on the faces of the people, ranging anywhere from anxiety to blind terror. Second was the fact that no matter how hard the women pushed, the doors would not give. Outside, garbled shouts could be heard followed by the occasional thump against the church walls.

            “What are they going to do?” Aine asked, clutching the corner of her apron in her tiny hands. Honey blonde locks cascaded down her back, framing her pale face. “Why have they brought us all here? Where is Da?”

            “I don’t know,” her mother replied. She gathered the young girl closed to her and pushed through the crowd, searching for her own mother. “Ma! Ma!” She found a shrunken old woman with a mop of curly gray hair.

            “Do you know what’s going on?” Eileen asked. The woman, Una, shook her head, clutching her daughter’s shoulder so tightly that little Aine protested lightly.

             But Una knew. She had heard the tales in the marketplace, the whispered atrocities of their British overlords. She had never believed them and had scolded her friends for passing on such fear mongering tales. Her blood ran cold to think all along the gossip had been true. And yet, a hidden, miniscule part of her heart desperately hoped something else was happening. However, her mind, locked into logic, knew there was no other answer for being locked in a church when they had been promised a parley.

***

            The church was overlooked by a cliff, towards which a group of English soldiers, accompanied by a small group of field-worn, weary working men; the leaders of the village.

“What is this?” demanded one of the men, who appeared to be in charge. “We were promised parley! What are we doing here?”

            “You’ll see,” the captain said curtly.

***

           
            “Una!” Una quickly pushed Aine off with her grandmother as Fionna worked her way over. Her bright blue eyes were massive with fear. “Una, they’re going to-!”

            “Shh!” Una put her hand over Fionna’s mouth. Fionna’s fear was reflected in Una’s wide brown eyes. “I know.”

            “Then why don’t you say something?” Fionna whispered.

            “Why?” Una replied. “What’s the point? Of scaring everyone?” Tears blossomed in her eyes. “Let them be calm and uncertain for a few moments more, Fionna.”

            Fionna began to shake. “I don’t want to die, Una!” she cried in a hushed whisper. Without hesitation, Una took her friend into her arms, rubbing her back. Tears didn’t come to Fionna yet-she was still in shock. It had been just months since she married her childhood love Kian. Was she truly to be torn from him so soon after their union? Dear God, come to our rescue! Perform a miracle for us! Una prayed silently.

            “Mama!” Aine cried out to her mother, unable to reach her through the tightly pressed crowd.

            “Hold on baby!” Una called to her. “Find grandma, love.” Fionna looked up, rubbing her eyes and arms alternately. Goosebumps popped out across her skin.

            “What are we going to do, Una?” she asked.

            Around them, the panic had set in. Some women and children were running to the back of the church to seek an alternate exit. One elderly man tried to smash out a window with his cane.

            “They’ve covered the windows with sod!” he cried. Screams rose from the assembled parishioners. Fionna let out a fearful moan. Una felt a small hand slip into hers and looked down to see Aine standing next to her, gnawing on her thumb.

            “Mama?”

            Una fell to her knees, whispering her prayers so fast the words were indiscernible. Fionna joined her, clasping her hands over Una’s folded ones. Around them, other women began to follow suit. Fear was so thick in the air it choked them, making their chests heave as they fought for breath.

            “God save us,” Aine whispered, terror written across her child-plump face. Then she too, fell to her knees to pray.

***

            “What are they doing to that church?” a redhead young man asked, spinning to face the soldiers behind him. No one spoke.  

            Below, one of the mounted figures circling the horse halted in front of the church. Its blonde, green-eyed rider raised his sword.

            “Light the fire!” he bellowed.

            Several soldiers holding lit torches moved forward and touched their torches to the piles of sod leaned against the church walls. Fire erupted across the sod, the flames leaping up to lick at the walls of the building. The screams inside had subsided as the praying began, but as the flames grew and the heat began to become oppressive, they redoubled in fury.

***

            Aine was shrieking like a Fury as Una tried to cradle the child to her chest. Tears streamed down her cheeks as smoke began to billow through cracks in the walls. Grandma Eileen was wheezing and staggering towards them, her aged lungs unable to breathe the smoky air.

            “Mother!” Una exclaimed as Eileen collapsed on the floor, twitching and gasping for breath. Unable to move beneath the weight of Aine, frozen in terror, Una could only watch through stinging eyes as Eileen’s struggled slowed and then died out altogether.

            Una’s breathing became ragged and painful as the smoke continued to fill the church. Sweat beaded on her face and back; the screams of the others provided a backdrop for the horrific nightmare.

            “Dear God have mercy,” Una begged.

***

            Animalistic howls of pain came from several of the men on the cliff. A few lunged forward and were thrown back by the red guards. Names flew thick and fast through the chaos: Una, Fionna, Keeley, Finnian, Tommy…

            Their pain crackled in the air, blowing down towards the soldiers on guard at the church.

***

            On the ground around the flaming church, the blond haired leader glanced up to the cliff. He saw a couple of men lunge, bellow and be thrown back. A glint sparked in his eye, a satisfied smirk flickered across his face.

“Sargent! More sod,” he commanded. “We must burn this down so we can make it back to the barracks in time for tea.”

.

***

            Aine was still and heavy in her arms.

            “Aine! Aine!” Una shook her daughter violently, making her head snap limply from side to side. How cruel the child’s name seemed now! How it mocked her in her death! Radiance, brilliance indeed! Flames danced around the pews. A young boy, a neighbor of theirs, slumped against a wall nearby, flames licking at his clothing. His child-plump face was relaxed, nearing the release of death. Una’s head spun with lack of oxygen, her arms became too weak to support Aine. The child slipped from her grasp and rolled onto the church floor. Una wobbled on her knees and fell to one side, unmoving.

***

            “Ride out men!” the commander announced. “Our work here is done.” He and his men spurred their horses and rode off towards the coast.

The village men, those who had not been called to parley, saw the English riding through and the men knew the worst was over. Talk indeed! Parley indeed! Who took only women, children and old people to speak of peace? They knew, they all knew! But there was nothing to be done-the English held all the weapons. Some locked themselves deep inside their houses, burying themselves in self-loathing. What were they, what use were they, if they could no protect their wives and children? Others charged out, desperate to be able to save their loved ones, despite the common sense which told them it was too late.

***

Una’s husband, Killian, ran to the cliff with a group of others and froze. He saw the church, engulfed in flames, begin to crumble. Beams cracked and caved in, the back wall collapsed; windows began to explode outwards, spraying glass across the ground. Killian couldn’t move, he could only watch, transfixed in horror. Aine’s name came to his lips, but he was a creature of stone and it passed no further. It bounced around inside his head relentlessly, her mother’s name twining with it.

“God help them,” Liam whispered beside him. He bowed his head in prayer. “Give them a quick death, for that is all we can hope for anymore.” He had lost them both. He had failed to save them both. Next to him, Liam, in all his brawn and bulk, had fallen to his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks. Killian stood sentential at the top of the cliff until the church was nothing more than a heap of ashes.

When it was done, he drifted down the grassy slope and fell to his knees in front of the church. Then, he wept.

Reviews

[Mathias Winters]

Wow. Great imagery and amazing storytelling. I love the way you wrote this. The sense of urgency in the story is great, and so is the sense of fear and sadness.

[Coyote Poetry]

A very powerful and sad tale in this story. Would be a terrible death in a fire. Some pain will create energy for revenge that would not end till death. No weakness in this amazing story.
Coyote