Page 47 of Highland Flame

“I dinna want to talk about it anymore.”

Cam didn’t wantto upset Yvaine by talking about her dead husband, so he decided he would focus on the art of making candles instead.

“What kind of beeswax candles are we makin’ today?” he asked, looking around the room at everything they’d set up. A tall wooden frame that she’d called the drying tree was set up right next to the long, deep trough that she poured the hot wax into.

“We are makin’ hand dipped candles,” she explained. “These are the favorites amongst the nobles and the clergy, and used the most.”

“Is it hard to do?” he asked.

“No’ once ye ken what ye’re doin’.” She handed him a piece of board about the length of his arm that had about six strings hanging over it.

“What is this for?” he asked curiously.

“These are the wicks we will use,” she explained. “I’ve taken a guid, woven twine and cut the pieces to the right lengths. I have already primed the wicks, too.”

“Primed? Like in the prayer service?” he asked, having the names of the canonical hours stuck in his head since he would be attending them several times a day.

“Nay,” she said with a giggle. “I’ve hardened the wicks by dipping them in wax and then straightening them out with my fingers. This will ensure when we dip the candles, that the wicks dinna float.”

“I have somethin’ ye can make hard usin’ yer fingers,” he said in a sultry voice, leaning over and nibbling at her earlobe.

“No’ now, Cam,” she scolded him. “We have to work quickly before the trough of wax starts to cool.” She took the board from him and dipped the hardened wicks into the hot wax and lifted it up again. “It is important to have the right rhythm, so the candles stay erect.”

“Och, lass, ye are makin’ me think of things that have nothin’ to do with candles.”

She ignored his lusty comment and kept talking. “After the first dip, the board is placed across the dipping tree for a few minutes to allow the wax to dry.”

“That doesna look like candles. It looks more like waxy strings,” he said, studying the wicks.

“No’ yet it doesna. But after about five and twenty dips, ye’ll see a taper emerge.” She picked up a different board with more primed strings hanging over it and handed it to him. “Here, ye give it a try.”

“All right,” he said, carefully walking over to the hot wax and gently dipping the ends into it.

“Nay, ye need to submerge the whole wick in one motion so the candle will be smooth. Like this,” she said taking hold of his hand to guide him. In a smooth movement, she helped him to dip the wicks and then gently and slowly lift them back out again.

“That’s it?” he asked. “Do I put it on the dryin’ tree now?”

“Aye. Ye learn fast.”

“Or is it called a dippin’ tree?”

“They are both the same, so it doesna matter what ye call it,” she explained.

He placed the board with the dipped wicks hanging down over the tree and they continued the process.

“There is nothin’ to it,” he said, feeling confident now. “It is quite fun.”

“Messy fun, but I agree,” she said, smiling at him. Her face lit up with life, and her cheeks looked rosy. She seemed so much happier and healthier today.

To Cam’s amazement, after a while, the dipped wicks started to look like actual tapered candles.

“I see it. I see the candles emergin’,” he said excitedly, proud to have been a part of this amazing process.

“Now, the candles are the right size, but see these drips on the bottom?” She carefully palmed the bottom of a candle. “They need to come off, so the candles are smoother on the ends.” She removed the drips, then took a pair of candles off the rack. Each wick made two tapered candles, one hanging on each side.

“So, it’s finished?” he asked.

“No’ quite.” She laid the candles down on the table. “We need to trim the bottoms now with a knife.”