As he finished the tale with an upraised fist and an affirmation of victory, Deirdre decided Hallie was right. No one told the story as well as Laird Gellir.
After a moment of quiet reflection, wee Jenefer jumped up abruptly with glee and cried, “Now the sunwheel!”
“The sunwheel!” the three lasses cheered. “The sunwheel!”
How her father had managed to build a sunwheel without her knowledge, Deirdre didn’t know. He must have started it weeks ago. The thing was enormous, a great circle woven of wattle, with a heavy log cross that formed spokes in the middle. A hole was bored in the center of the cross, through which a long pole extended so it could be rolled.
The sunwheel was an earthly representation of the chariot Sol drove across the heavens. It was meant to mark the return of the sun after a long winter, the promise of life and birth and renewal. It was the culmination of the Jul celebration.
Studying the great wheel, Deirdre decided it was fortunate she and her sisters had come along when they did. Rolling the huge thing would have been dangerous and nearly impossible for one old man and three tiny lasses.
She quickly tasked the wee cousins with carrying the burning brands from the bonfire that would ultimately set the thing on fire. The three sisters would transport the wheel.
As it turned out, it was a challenge, even for the warrior maids. The wobbling wheel was hard to control and difficult to maneuver across the snow. But somehow they managed to steer the thing through the forest, finally emerging at the rise before Rivenloch.
Far below, Deirdre could see most of the clan had returned from their search. The search parties were gathered before the gates. Colin, Rand, and Pagan stood together before the crowd, addressing them.
“Wait.” Miriel touched Deirdre’s forearm. “Shouldn’t we—”
“What?” Helena smirked. “Give them a warning?”
Before Deirdre could alert anyone, Laird Gellir plunged ahead. He touched his brand to the sunwheel, instantly igniting the dead wood. The wee lasses mimicked him. In a matter of moments, the whole thing was blazing. The flames leaped so high they licked the lower branches of the trees, threatening to devour them.
The warrior maids had no choice then but to begin rolling it down the hill.
In a thunderous charge, with loud cries and shrieks of triumph, they bolted down the slope.
Their husbands, seeing what appeared at first to be bloody savages rolling a fiery weapon toward the castle, froze in stunned wonder. The clan folk cried out in alarm and scattered out of the way. There was one awful moment when Deirdre wondered if Pagan would order the archers to fire upon them.
But soon enough everyone recognized the warrior maids, despite their macabre appearance. Cheers erupted from the clan.
The wheel slowed at the bottom of the hill, wobbling wildly on the pole. The sisters let it topple onto its side, where it hissed in the snow like a fallen dragon. A few defiant flames burned a while longer, sending white ash up to mingle with the thickly falling snowflakes.
But the sunwheel was already forgotten when the three lasses ran past it, tumbling over themselves to share their excitement with their fathers.
“Da!” Hallie called, her blue eyes alight. “Da! We had a big fire in the woods!”
“And Grandda told us the story of Thor and the Frost Giants!” Jenefer added, swinging an imaginary sword.
Feiyan gushed, “We drank beer to Odin!”
“And we danced,” said Hallie, “to honor the Valkyries!”
“Grandda killed a goat!” Jenefer crowed.
Feiyan assured her frowning father, “Don’t worry, Da. ’Tisn’t our blood. ’Tis the goat’s.”
“And now we’ve brought the sunwheel,” Hallie declared, “so summer can come back.”
Breathless from the long run down the hill, yet still grinning at the husbands’ baffled faces, Deirdre held up her hand. “Let’s all go inside now, out of the weather.”
As they made their way through the gates of Rivenloch, the lasses were still chattering to their fathers about the morn’s adventures. Laird Gellir hadn’t looked so proud and happy in weeks. As for Helena and Miriel, they wavered between smiles of smug pride and sobs of overwrought joy.
After everyone washed the blood from their faces, Deirdre ordered the servants to bring forth breakfast. The clan gathered by the fire in the great hall. A blissful peace fell over her as she gazed at their merry faces.
The spirit of Christmas and Jul was evident in everything around her.
The holly decking the tables.
The Jul log burning on the hearth.
The mistletoe hung over every door.
The sunwheel spent and smoldering in the snow.
The toasty Scots oatcakes.
The warm Norman wassail.
The mummers reenacting the birth of Jesus.
The laird telling the tale of Odin’s hunt.
All of it was part of the same bright spirit of rebirth and renewal.
Deirdre lifted her hand and waited for silence. Once the hall was quiet and everyone had a drink at hand, she addressed the clan.
“I wish you all Joyeux Noël and Gud Jul,” she said, “because the true meaning of the season is not one or the other, but a weaving together of both. Like the links in chain mail, our two traditions are stronger when they are joined.”
She raised her cup and beamed at the gathering of her loved ones.
“To kith and kin. To love and light. To the end of darkness and the promise of new life.”
The clan cheered and joined her in the toast.
Deirdre then called her sisters to her side, taking them by the hand. Her lips curved up in a secret smile as she gazed at her handsome husband, whom she was about to make very happy indeed.
“And speaking of new life…”
The End
Dear Reader ~
I hope you enjoyed this holiday tale! It’s meant to be a bridge between my most popular series, The Warrior Maids of Rivenloch, and the sequel series I’m working on now, The Warrior Daughters of Rivenloch. The three wee lasses in this story will be growing up and making legends of their own next year!
I love writing “stories to keep you up all night” and enjoy hearing from readers!
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Glynnis Campbell’s Readers Clan
GLYNNIS CAMPBELL is a USA Today bestselling author of swashbuckling action-adventure romance. She’s the wife of a rock star, and the mother of two young adults, but she’s also been a ballerina, a typographer, a film composer, a piano player, a singer in an all-girl rock band, and a voice in those violent video games you won’t let your kids play. She does her best writing on cruise ships, in Scottish castles, on her husband’s tour bus, and at home in her sunny southern California garden. Glynnis loves to play medieval matchmaker, transporting readers to a place where the bold heroes have endearing flaws, the women are stronger than they look, the land is lush and untamed, and chivalry is alive and well!
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Contents
A de Russe Christmas Miracle
The de Russe Legacy
Author’s Note
Part One: A Bright and Shining Star
Part Two: Home
Part Three: The Stranger
Part Four: The Best Christmas of All
About Kathryn Le Veque
The Holly and the Ivy
About The King’s Favorite
Also by Tanya Anne Crosby
Epigraph
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Yule Bread Recipe
About the Author
A Dukes of War Ch
ristmas
Other Books by Erica Ridley
Author’s Note
Story
Thank You for Reading
Acknowledgments
About the Author
A Very Special Gift
The Highlander’s Gift Info
Story
About the Author
Mariote’s Christmas Wish
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
About the Author
A Very Brethren Christmas
Brethren of the Coast Series
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
About Barbara Devlin
A Rivenloch Christmas
More Historical Romances by Glynnis Campbell
Story
About the Author
All Things Merry and Bright: A Very Special Christmas Tale Collection Page 27
