Innocent.
That thought, and that one alone, caused him to respond.
Hesitantly, Jax reached out to take the bowl. It was thin and watery, but it was hot. He glanced at Andrew again, who was looking at him with such hope that he might actually like the stew, and Jax forced himself to take a sip of it just to appease the boy. Considering the child had saved his life, he supposed that it was the least he could do.
Surprisingly, the stew was tasty and salty, and he began to drink it. Andrew was beside himself with glee as he watched the enormous knight eat, and his mother pushed herself off of the floor and shuffled over to a table next to the hearth. Jax watched her with some curiosity as she pulled forth a half a loaf of bread. Tearing it in half, she took one half and shuffled back over to Jax.
“Here ye are,” she said. “Ye must have some bread with it. Ye must build up yer strength after yer injury.”
He didn’t take it. “I do not need it,” he said. “You and your family must eat.”
The woman smiled faintly. “But ye’re our guest,” she said. “And ’tis Christmas. ’Tis an honor tae have a guest on Christmas.”
Jax’s brow furrowed. “It is intrusive.”
The woman’s smile grew and she put her hand against the wall again, bracing herself because she was clearly too weak to stand. As she sank down beside Jax, he took the bread from her simply because she was still extending it. He had a feeling she would force it upon him, so he took it because she seemed to need both of her hands to steady herself as she lowered herself to the ground.
“Not in the least,” she said. “We are pleased tae have ye and tae share what we have with ye. On this night of nights, tae show generosity tae a stranger brings us a greater blessing.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because Our Lord blesses those who are kind and charitable,” she said. “Dunna ye know the story of the birth of Christ?”
He shrugged, trying to hand the bread back to her. “I suppose I was told of it when I was a child,” he said. “I do not remember the details.”
She ignored the bread. “Then ye dunna celebrate this season?”
“I have not in years.”
Now it was the woman’s turn to look at him with some curiosity, but she never lost that expression. It was a glow of some kind, a warmth that was difficult to put into words. As Albie and Andrew went back to the pot of steaming stew and began to ladle out bowls, the woman spoke softly.
“The night Christ was born, Mary and Joseph tried tae find shelter, but were turned away,” she said. “They finally found shelter in a stable and that is why Christ was born in a manger. A great star appeared overhead, signifying his birth, and shepherds from the fields came tae worship him. Kings even came bearing gifts, all of this tae show their gratitude that Christ had come tae them. That is why a guest on Christmas is the greatest honor of all – we havena much, but we can share what we have with ye, tae show our gratitude. For all we know, ye’re an angel come tae Earth. Angels walk the Earth on this night, ye know.”
Jax looked at her, some amusement on his face. “And you think I am an angel?” he snorted. “I am afraid you have that very wrong.”
The woman grinned because he was, her teeth dark with illness. “I wish ye were,” she said. “Because if ye were, then I would tell ye many things.”
“What about?”
The woman’s smile faded as she looked to her husband and son, who were setting the stew on the table and going for the remainder of the bread loaf.
“I’ve prayed for an angel tae come,” she said quietly. “I’m not long for this world, ye see, and I am afraid of what will become of my lads once I am gone. But dunna misunderstand; I’ve had a grand life. I married a fine man and we had a fine son. Mayhap we dinna always have everything – things of comfort – but we had as much as we needed. I am grateful for what we have, not what we havena.”
Jax looked at the woman. Though she’d spoken of peace for her loved ones, she seemed quite at peace herself considering how ill she was.
“You do not fear death,” he said.
It was not a question. The woman looked at him, the smile returning to her face. “What is tae fear?” she said. “I shall go tae be with God. No more pain, no more sorrow. And I’ve lived a life tae be proud of… I’ve been happy. Ye must understand something – life is a gift. It is a privilege. And we’ve all been given a great privilege tae live a good life and tae share that goodness with others. Surely ye’re a great lord and generous with those who trust ye.”
Jax looked at the woman, unsure how to answer her. He didn’t even know her, but he could see that she was facing death with bravery rarely seen, and as a man who faced death in battle on a consistent basis, that impressed him. She was brave, this woman, and that was something he could relate to.
“I’ve not been a great lord,” he said. “I have done things that men consider unsavory, but I do not regret anything that I have done. It was necessary for a greater purpose.”
She was listening to him intently. “A greater purpose is a noble thing.”
“Not this kind of greater purpose,” he said. “Madam, you misunderstand. If I am to use a word you can comprehend, your son saved a sinner this night. Do not have any illusions that I am a great and honorable lord, for that would not be the truth.”
The woman thought on those words, considering his point of view. But she never lost the warmth in her eyes.
“But ye have it in ye,” she said quietly. “I can see it in yer eyes. Mayhap ye’ve sinned in the past, but that is the goodness of God’s forgiveness, especially on a night like this. Christmas is the promise of rebirth for even a sinner like ye. Mayhap… mayhap, ye are the angel I’ve prayed for, but ye dunna know it. Watch over my lads when I’m gone and let that be the start of the sinner’s redemption.”
Under any other circumstance, Jax would have thought he was listening to the ravings of a dying woman, but she didn’t seem out of her wits. She seemed very sane and rational, but amongst that bravery and peace she had, he could also see desperation.
Fear for her husband and son.
A selflessness in that she was concerned only for them.
He was unable to reply as Albie and Andrew brought bowls of stew. They carefully gave one over to the woman while they took their own. As Jax watched, he couldn’t help but notice that they didn’t have nearly the amount of stew that he had sucked down, and they happily divided up the small piece of bread for all three of them, while he held on to a rather large chunk.
It didn’t take Jax long to realize they’d given him about half their supper and they were perfectly content to exist on what was left. Sitting on the floor, sharing their meal with a stranger, was a blessing as far as they were concerned.
He’d never experienced anything like it.
But as he watched, it also began to occur to Jax that this was what Denedor had been trying to tell him. The season itself is about kindness and forgiveness as well as gratitude. These people, who lived an incredibly meager existence, were showing him great kindness by sharing their meal with him, grateful for everything they had, as paltry as it was.
Jax lived in a world where he was the center of everything, where every move he made was meant for his greater enrichment. The only other person he ever thought about was Kellington, and even that was difficult sometimes because he was used to having his wishes fulfilled in all things. Now, he had a wife he very much wanted to please and in seeing this trio of peasants who were so very happy to simply be alive, he was coming to see just what unselfishness meant.
They thought of each other, and even a stranger, far more than themselves, and in that realization, a seed of understanding sprouted.
Kindness and generosity.
Those were the two words Denedor had used repeatedly. Now he was starting to see what he had meant.
“Have ye had enough tae eat?” the woman asked, breaking into his thoughts. “Eat yer bread. That will fil
l ye up.”
But Jax shook his head, handing the bread to Andrew, who took it with surprise. “Eat it, lad,” he said. “It will help you grow up fine and strong.”
The boy wasn’t sure what to do, but he looked at his mother, who nodded reluctantly. “If he wants ye tae have it, then ye must,” she said. “See how kind and generous he is, Andy, by giving ye his bread. Ye would do well to grow up like such a man.”
Jax was coming to think the woman was seriously misguided about him in spite of what he told her. There was a time in his life, in the not-too-distant past, that he would have easily killed a family like this and would have never given it another thought. So to see such humble and kind people, and to spend time with them, opened his eyes a great deal.
Perhaps that was God’s gift to him on this night.
When the food was finally gone and the fire burned low, the family drifted off to sleep as Jax sat up against the wall of their measly hut, gazing into the fire and thinking of his evening with them. He thought of his wife and how grateful he was to have her, and he was even grateful to have someone as patient as Denedor in his life. He was grateful for the son he would soon meet.
Aye, he was grateful for all things, a very unfamiliar feeling for him, but one he embraced. As he sat there and listened to the wind howl through the trees, he recalled Denedor’s words –
What example will you set for your son, I wonder?
For the first time in his life, he knew.
And he realized just how fortunate he was, indeed.
Part Four: That Season Of Love Now Lives In Me
“A party is approaching the gatehouse, Kelli,” Denedor said, standing in the doorway of her bower. “We cannot tell, but we think it is Jax.”
Eyes swollen from too much weeping and no sleep, Kellington bolted to her feet. She’d been sitting on her bed, with Lavaine beside her as she tried to comfort her, but those few words out of Denedor’s mouth had her running for the gatehouse.
In fact, she nearly ran into Denedor in her haste, rushing down the narrow stairs of Pelinom’s keep, ignoring the shouts of both Denedor and Lavaine to slow her pace. Kellington couldn’t, not even if she wanted to, for it had been a harrowing night of panic and anguish when Jax hadn’t returned with his army from collecting boughs. By the time Jax’s horse returned, riderless, and they realized something was wrong, the snow storm had swamped them and visibility was terrible. One couldn’t even see the gatehouse from the keep, so Denedor had made the decision not to send out a search party. The risk of losing men was too great.
But at the cost of possibly losing Jax.
Kellington had tried to leave herself, to run out and find her husband. It had taken Denedor and Lavaine, and Kellington’s long-time servant, Matilda, to keep her in her bower, where she wept and prayed, convinced she was soon to be a widow. She hadn’t been able to sleep or eat or relax, and when the sun rose and the snow storm abruptly blew away, leaving a brilliant blue sky in its wake, Denedor was preparing search parties when they saw the distant approach of at least three people and a horse.
Now, the gates of Pelinom were open and soldiers were fanning head, heading towards the people approaching, specks of dark in the vast white world beyond. Even as Kellington was running to the gatehouse, men had already reached the party and an arrow shot high into the air signaled that, indeed, the lord had returned.
It was a Christmas miracle.
Kellington had to be physically restrained by Lavaine so she wouldn’t run off into the snow to greet her returning husband. Instead, she wait impatiently for him to show himself, and as he drew closer and she could see him walking next to a small boy, she pushed Lavaine away and rushed out to meet him.
Nothing could stop her.
They came together in a fearsome clash. Kellington had hit Jax so hard that he grunted as his wife threw herself at him, her arms wrapping around his neck tightly enough to strangle him. But she was weeping; he heard that right away, so he held her close, comforting the frightened woman.
“I am well, I swear it,” he told her. “Do not trouble yourself so, Kelli. I promise that I am well.”
Kellington was having a difficult time gaining control of her emotions. “What happened?” she sobbed. “Why did you not return yesterday?”
Jax gave her a squeeze and tried to set her to her feet, but she would not let him go. He gave her another squeeze and kissed the side of her head.
“Let me go, my love,” he said. “You should not be out here in this cold. I must return you to the keep immediately.”
Kellington loosened her grip on him, sliding to the ground as she did so. The wind was blowing, strands of blonde hair in her eyes, but she noticed the people Jax was with. Pushing the hair from her eyes, and wiping at them at the same time, she smiled curiously at the lad standing next to Jax.
He was gazing up at her quite intently.
“Greetings,” she said to the boy.
The child broke into a toothy grin. “Are ye the laird’s lady?”
He had a heavy Scots accent, and thick, and Kellington grinned. “Aye,” she said. Then, she looked at Jax with some confusion. “Who are these people, Jax?”
He put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her against the curve of his torso has he looked down at the lad. “This is Andrew,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. “Those are his parent, Albie and… I never even asked the woman’s name.”
A very pale, weak-looking woman on the back of the shaggy horse answered. “Mary, m’laird,” she said. “My name is Mary.”
Jax didn’t find it at all strange that the woman bore the name of Christ’s mother. On this morning of mornings, he was coming to think that the appearance of the family last night, and the ensuing evening, was something that had been preordained. All of it had come at a time when he needed it most – saving him from the snow storm as well as the conversation and actions that had followed. He saw things, and he learned things, mostly about himself.
All of it as if it had been meant to be.
“Andrew and his father found me unconscious in the snow yesterday,” he said, looking to his wife. “After the men, including Denedor, had turned for home with your boughs, I lingered in the forest. It was very still and peaceful, and… well, I suppose I found the peace a comfort. Everything was so white and crisp.”
At that point, Denedor and Lavaine joined them, having rushed down the road following Kellington’s path, but also to see for themselves that Jax had indeed survived the night. Denedor, in particular, appeared quite relieved.
“Praise God you have returned safe,” he said. “I thought you’d gone off on your own business yesterday. Only when your horse returned without you did we realize something was wrong, but by that time, it was too late. The snow had come and I knew you would not want to risk the men searching for you when they could barely see their hand in front of their faces.”
Jax looked at the man. “You were correct. It would have been a deadly venture.”
“What happened to you?”
Jax was holding his helm. He held it up so they could all see the big dent on the top. “One of those deadly ice clumps hit me,” he said as they gasped at the enormous dent. Then, he indicated the peasants beside him. “Albie and Andrew found me in the snow and brought me back to their home, where they kept me warm and fed. Truly, if you have ever wondered if Christmas miracles are real, I can tell you that they are. Were it not for them, I would more than likely not be here.”
Hearing the story touched Kellington deeply. She broke away from her husband and went to Andrew, taking the boy’s hand.
“Thank you,” she said sincerely. Then, she turned to Albie and did the same thing. “You have given me the greatest Christmas gift that I could ever receive – the life of my husband. Please come inside and share our meal; we have a great deal to celebrate this morning.”
She was urging them on, holding out a hand to Andrew so she could take him into the bailey, but the child remained at Jax�
��s side until Jax nodded his head, telling the boy that it was okay to leave his side. As Andrew, Albie, and Mary followed Kellington and Lavaine back towards the gatehouse, Denedor went to Jax.
“God’s Bones, man,” he hissed. “I thought we’d lost you. Your wife was nearly mad with grief, all night long. She never blamed me for not bring you back, but the guilt… it would have been my fault. It is still my fault. If you have never understood what gratitude means, Jax, then I hope you understand that I am feeling it now. I am very grateful that you are returned.”
Jax looked at him. “I do understand,” he said. When Denedor looked at him curiously, he tried to put it into words. “It was not simply that the woodsman and his son found me, Denedor. That in of itself is a miracle. But when I came out of unconsciousness in their tiny hovel, it was what happened there that made me understand what you had been trying to tell me.”
“What do you mean?”
Jax was somewhat embarrassed to be speaking on his emotions, but he forced ahead, knowing that Denedor would not judge him for it. In fact, it was more than likely what the man wanted to hear.
“The mother, Mary, is dying,” he said. “She is facing death bravely. But even as she faces death, all she thinks of is her husband and son. She was hoping an angel would come visit her on Christmas Eve so she could ask the angel to take care of her family. Since there was no angel, and only me, I have decided to grant her wish. They shared their food and warmth with me last night, in spite of the fact that it meant very little for them, and in that gesture, I understood what you meant when you spoke of kindness and generosity. Mayhap I simply needed to see it in action before I could grasp it.”
A smile spread across Denedor’s lips. “If that is true, then I am happy to hear it.”
Jax continued. “In return for their kindness to me, I will give Albie and Andrew work at Pelinom, and Mary can die knowing that her family will continue to live productive lives after she is gone. It is the best way I can think of to show my gratitude to them.”
A Very Medieval Christmas: A Medieval Romance Novella Bundle Page 13
