Not only is this a festive scene to bring you festive cheer, but it's a peek into something coming next year: Godwine Kingmaker, from historical fiction author Mercedes Rochelle

 

As the winter days reached their shortest, the hall resounded with laughter and excitement. The biggest oak Jul log was selected and brought inside so the ritual runes could be carved onto it, calling on the gods to protect one and all from ill-fortune. Outside, a live tree near the longhouse was ready for its annual decorating.

Svein grabbed Godwine by the hand and pulled him toward the door. "Come," he called, laughing. "Help me with the ornaments." The boy barely stopped wriggling as Gytha fastened the clasp of a heavy cloak around his shoulders. Godwine smiled at the domestic scene and picked up a box loaded with crackers, little carved statues, pieces of dried fruit, and even berries strung together.

"Come with us, Gytha," he said, holding out his free hand.

For a moment she hesitated, then with a smile, she grabbed her own wrap. The three of them joined the growing crowd outside who were already hanging small lanterns and candles from the tree. Godwine picked Svein up and held him high as the boy carefully fastened the little pieces to the branches. Gytha handed up her favorite choices as Svein clamored for more.

In the clearing, Ulf was putting a torch to a large bonfire and he called out the chorus to a solstice chant. Gytha joined in and Godwine looked at her profile against the flames, thinking that she looked like a magical fairy. Svein squirmed to be let down.

"Over there," he pointed. "I see a spot that needs a holly branch."

Many more decorations found a place on the tree before Svein tired of the task, and he pulled Godwine down to the bonfire. There was a mead vat nearby, and even the children were allowed a little drink for the holiday. Ulf grabbed his son and placed him on his shoulders.

"Now I am bigger than you," Svein called to Godwine. Ulf laughed and carried the boy away, leaving Godwine and Gytha together.

"Come," she invited him. "Let us sit before the bonfire." A circle of big logs were already placed around the fire and Godwine joined her after filling two flasks with mead.

"I don't exactly understand your celebrations," he said, "but I can't help but enjoy it!"

Gytha bent over to pet a white dog that was sniffing around their feet. "Ah, I forget your homeland is south of here and your days are longer. Jul begins just before the Solstice, bringing about the end of the darkness and the beginning of the light. For twelve days we celebrate, burning the Jul log to give power to the sun and bring warmth again to our shores."

Godwine raised the flagon to his lips. "I'll drink to that!"

Inside the great hall, lighting the Jul log was a happy and elaborate event. The carved log was sprinkled with mead and decorated with dry sprigs of pine and cones. As it was lit, musicians plucked the strings of their harps and started the singing. Soon the hall was echoing with laughter; Godwine and Gytha were squeezed together as the happy crowd surged around them.

The days started to blend together, but one night stood out from the others. This is when the children filled their shoes with straw, carrots and sugar lumps and set them out by the fire to feed Odin's flying eight-legged horse Sleipnir as the God led the Wild Hunt—the host of the restless dead—through the darkness. In return, Odin would leave the children small gifts and sweets as a reward.

Canute was relatively quiet during the festivities, and Godwine spent many hours by his side observing the drinking and dancing; the feasting was excellent and their seats overlooked everything. Most of the others kept their distance from the King, but Godwine felt no such compunction. Canute seemed to appreciate his company.

"I think this is the last time I will take part in the old celebrations," Canute said, running his finger along the carved dragon head on his chair arm. "It does not sit well with the Christian traditions." Nonetheless, the King allowed himself a sly smile. "Of course, perhaps we can introduce a few Norse traditions to the English, eh?" He rubbed his hands together. "But I yearn to go back. England feels more like home now, and I would see my wife and child."

 

You can check out Mercedes latest historical tale - Heir to a Prophecy on Top Hat Books.

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