Since when it was a sampling, the Pine had known it was fated to greatness.
I'll be the mast of a fast galley, it though, bearing the blow of axe.
I'll be the supporting pillar of a great home, it thought, bearing the shave of plane.
"With you, the raft will be ready," it heard the Carpenter whisper as he laboured in his shop.
A raft, of all things?! The Pine thought as presumptuouly it hardened its wood. A sculptor, I say, will carve the Emperor's image in me!
However, the Carpenter's hand was strong and skilled and, despite the Pine's stubbornness, the raft was done.
For days and nights the Pine stayed on the shore with his thirty siblings, brooding its revenge, crying over its dreams of glory. Then a moonless night came and it heard people coming.
You'll see my revenge, puny men who denied me greatness, the Pine thought. I'll overthrow this raft and you'll lose your goods and your lives.
But then it caught the perfume of frankincense and the whispered prayers. It felt pious feet climb on its siblings and itself, the soft warmth of sacred Motherhood spread all over them. It felt trembling lips kiss its wood, sadness and hope as they bid goodbye to Mother and Child, and the Priest called for the Father's protection.
"May You find sanctuary among God-fearing gents."
And shame overwhelmed the Pine as the salty water hit it.
For days the Pine stayed silent and ashamed, pondering about its lost dreams and its atonement, as its siblings chanted thankfully for the honour bestowed on them. One day they felt siblings approaching - a fast ship with many a sail - yet something in its wood told the Pine those were grim men.
May my wood rotten before I let harm come to the Mother and Child, the Pine thought, forcing the raft away. Over the pine nuts I sheeted on Thracian soil, I'll find them a good home!
For many moons and full circles of Sun, the Pine steered the raft across the green sea, looking for a safe harbour or a pious island, until one night - not long before the Child's birth was celebrated - they stumbled on the Sole Town. And the Pine sent forth its soul, announcing their arrival - but none they find in the harbour, so they went ashore once more. Yet the Pine knew the townsfolk would honour Mother and Child, so it send forth its soul again and lead the raft in the harbour - but none was there welcoming them.
One last time I'll try, it thought on the third night.
How miraculous was the sight in the darkest hour of night for the Pine entering the harbour! It wooden heart, humbled by long years at sea, swelled with joy as Mother and Child were brought into their new House in thankful devotion - so much that the Pine didn't care if it became timber or lintel as long as Mother and Child were safe.