Christmas Eve; a Roger Knight short story.

It was Christmas Eve and Roger and his mother, Lady Lucinda, were putting the finishing touches to their yule log. They had decorated it with dark green laurel and holly and Roger had made some decorations at school; baubles painted with wintry scenes of reindeer in silvery forests, starry skies and snow falling on rooftops.

‘It’s going to snow for Christmas,’ said Roger, placing a painted silver star on the log. ‘I just know it!’

‘You never know, we might be lucky,’ said Lady Lucinda.

Roger looked out of the leaded windows in the castle’s hall. There wasn’t a single snow cloud in sight.

Sir Percival came in the front door, bringing a blast of frosty air with him. After him waddled their ducks, followed by Cedric the Swan.

‘This lot want to come in for the night,’ he said, leading the birds to the warmth of the log fire. ‘The moat is frozen over.’

‘They can sit with me,’ said Granny Griselda. She was only just visible beneath a colourful pile of wools and threads. ‘I’ve got to finish these tapestries by tomorrow morning. They’re presents for the neighbours.’

‘I’m going to look at the moat,’ said Roger.

‘Don’t go trying to skate on it,’ said Sir Percival. ‘It’s not thick enough yet.’

Roger stepped outside. It was a beautifully clear night. The sky was deep blue and glittered with stars.

He heard a twig break somewhere at the back of the garden.

‘Mrs Potts, is that you?’ he called. Their next door neighbour was often outside late at night, encouraging her cat, Puddykins to come in.

There was no reply. Roger was about to go back indoors when, from between the shadows of the birch trees, stepped a tall man. He was wrapped in a long, hooded cloak.

Roger took a step back.

‘Who are you?’ he said.

‘I’m a traveller,’ said the man. His voice was low and gentle. ‘I’ve lost my way. Can I come into your home to warm myself and have a cup of wine?’

Roger didn’t know what to say. Being a Knight of the Wondrous Order he knew there were rules of hospitality which he should follow and that he should be welcoming. But at school, his teacher, Mrs Pennywhistle, had repeatedly warned them of all the dangers of talking to strangers.

‘I…I had better ask my father,’ he said, backing towards the castle door.

The man came a little closer. His face was covered by his hood but Roger could see his eyes. They were dark green, like forest pools.

‘I’ll wait out here,’ he said.

Roger went inside, closing the heavy oak door behind him.

‘Mum, Dad,’ he said. ‘There’s a strange man outside. He wants to come in.’

Sir Percival looked at Lady Lucinda.

‘Are we expecting guests?’ he asked.

‘No, dear. Perhaps it’s a wassailer,’ she said.

‘They’re called carol singers now, Mum,’ said Roger. ‘And I don’t think he is. He’s not dressed like people around here. He looks more like…’ Roger was not sure what the stranger looked like really. ‘More like one of us,’ he finished uncertainly.

‘A fellow knight?’ said Sir Percival. ‘Well then, let him be welcome!’

‘I don’t think he’s a knight, Dad,’ said Roger. ‘Mrs Pennywhistle says we should be careful…’ But his father was already opening the door.

‘Well met, stranger,’ he said. ‘Please come in and warm yourself by our fire.’

The stranger towered above all of them. It wasn’t hard to be taller than Granny Griselda, as most people were, but this man seemed to fill the room with his great height.

‘Have you a horse with you?’ asked Sir Percival. ‘We can provide straw and water for it.’

‘Thank you but no, I am travelling on foot,’ said the man.

‘Have you come far?’ asked Lady Lucinda.

‘Yes, my lady. I have been walking for seven days and seven nights,’ he said.

Roger looked quickly up at the man. No-one around here ever called his mother my lady. They usually called her Mrs Knight.

‘What’s your name and where are you from?’ he asked boldly.

‘Roger! Don’t be so rude,’ said Sir Percival. ‘We haven’t even offered our guest food and drink. You shouldn’t ask his name yet! He will tell us when he is ready.’

‘Please, kind sir, do not chide the boy. I take no offence. My name,’ said the stranger, slowly lowering his hood, ‘is…’

‘Morvan!’ said Sir Percival, Lady Lucinda and Granny Griselda with one, amazed voice.

‘Yes, my friends!’ he said.

‘I never thought I would see you again!’ said Sir Percival, overcome with joyful surprise.

‘Who’s Morvan? I mean, who are you?’ asked Roger, very confused.

The man laughed. ‘I am an old friend of your family from more years ago than I care to remember.’

‘Morvan is a magician!’ said Sir Percival. ‘The greatest magician of all the Knights of the Wondrous Order!’

‘Then I was right,’ said Roger. ‘He is one of us!’

‘He certainly is,’ said Lady Lucinda, turning to Morvan. ‘We’re so happy to have you here with us!’

‘Food and drink!’ cried Sir Percival. ‘We shall have a great feast tonight. Roger, please get Morvan a large goblet of warm, spiced wine!’ and he rushed off to the flag-stoned kitchen to start the preparations.

 

‘So, my dear friend, what brings you to us this Christmas Eve?’ asked Sir Percival. They were sitting at the long table, which was covered with a deep red cloth and spread with roasted meats, onions and parsnips, baked wheat and barley breads, slabs of cheese and butter, gingerbread, cheesecakes and a towering pile of honeyed plums and pears.

Morvan took a deep breath and looked at them all.

‘I think I have lost my magical powers,’ he said.

Granny Griselda almost choked on a mouthful of sweet onion.

‘But that’s not possible,’ she said. ‘You could turn night into day, metal into gold.’

‘Not any longer, Lady Griselda,’ said Morvan. ‘I doubt my powers and now…I can do very little. I feel weak.’

‘Morvan, I am deeply sorry to hear this,’ said Sir Percival. ‘Is there something that we can do to help you?’

‘There is a reason,’ said Morvan, ‘why I have travelled so far to come to your castle. I need help from someone very special.’ He looked at Roger.

‘Me?’ said Roger. ‘How can I help? I mean, I would like to but I don’t know anything about magic.’ He felt rather out of his depth.

Sir Percival and Lady Lucinda looked at each other and then at Granny Griselda.

‘I think I know what our magician means,’ said Granny Griselda gently, patting Morvan on his arm. ‘He wants to find the power of faith which you have Roger.’

‘Me?’ said Roger again. He knew he was repeating himself but he couldn’t think of anything else to say. ‘I don’t know anything about…anything!’ he finished, lamely.

Morvan looked at him and smiled.

Roger couldn’t get to sleep after all the excitement of the evening. He lay on his bed, staring at the stars through the narrow window in the wall of his small bedchamber. As he gazed, one of the stars seemed to get bigger and brighter. He sat up, pulling his woollen blankets around him. Was it his imagination or could he hear the jingle of bells?

He got out of bed and went to the window. There, far in the distance, he could see something moving. He pressed his face to the damp, cold glass. It was, yes it was a sleigh! Pulled by reindeer! Flying through the sky towards their castle.

Roger knew he had to be asleep for the magic of Christmas to work and he jumped back into bed. He closed his eyes.

‘Please, Father Christmas,’ he whispered. ‘Could you bring one more special present to our home tonight? Could you bring something to help Morvan do his magic again? A wand or something?’ And with that, tiredness overcame him and he drifted off to sleep.

It was completely quiet in the castle when Roger awoke. He went down the stone stairs to the Great Hall. There, around the yule log was a pile of presents, all wrapped in shining, crackly paper. Roger looked at the hand-written cards on them; there were lots for Roger, several for his parents and a large, harp-shaped one for Granny Griselda. But there was nothing for Morvan! Roger sat by the log. He couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed.

‘Aren’t you going to open your presents?’ Morvan was standing by the window. How had he come into the room without Roger noticing?

‘I asked Father Christmas to bring something for you,’ said Roger, sadly. ‘But I think I asked him too late.’

‘Watch,’ said Morvan and he raised his arms towards the yule log. Roger could hear a rustling and then the sound of gentle hooves. In amazement, he watched as a tiny, painted deer on the biggest bauble came to life, stepped carefully down the side of the log, nodded its head happily to Roger and then leapt daintily out of the window.

Suddenly the log was alive with tiny characters; old men carrying bundles of sticks, little cottages with slim streams of smoke drifting from their chimneys, happy children making snowmen; the whole log glittered and shimmered with life.

‘That’s…that’s magic!’ said Roger.

‘Yes,’ said Morvan. ‘It is. My powers have returned and it is thanks to you and your simple faith that they have.’

Sir Percival, Lady Lucinda and Granny Griselda came into the room and stood by Roger.

‘Have you looked outside?’ said Lady Lucinda.

Roger ran to the window. Huge soft flakes of snow were falling silently from the white sky and settling on the trees and grass.

‘It’s snowing!’ said Roger. He turned to Morvan. ‘Is that your magic too?’

‘No, my dear boy,’ said Morvan. ‘That is something even greater; the magic of nature.’

‘Time to open the presents!’ said Sir Percival. ‘Then porridge, eggs, bacon and toasted rye bread all round. After all, we Knights of the Wondrous Order need to keep our strength up for battles. Snowball battles!’

 

Paperback of Roger Knight