The Storyteller was a man of elder years who wandered the backroads of England, telling tales of the old days. The local authorities regarded him as a nuisance, but even their own children loved the old man. When he appeared in the villages, the children were the first to flock around him, for he seemed to always have pieces of bright candy in his pockets. When he told the tales, they became alive in the listeners’ minds, and he was never turned away when he asked for shelter. When the snows of winter began to fall, he would find an inn and barter his skills in exchange for lodging and food, remaining there until the thaw. He presently sat in the great room of just such an inn, sipping a hot cup of cider in front of a roaring hearth.
“What story are ye goin’ t’ tell t’night?” he heard the innkeeper’s wife ask as she came to check on him.
“Tonight begins the twelve days of feasting, goodwife,” the old man answered with a slow smile. “‘Tis only fitting then, I should tell a Yule tale. Which one would ye like to hear?”
She leaned closer and whispered to him, “I am a native British woman. I should like to hear a tale of the times of Camelot, if ye would be so kind.”
“Those are my favorite tales, too,” he answered, finishing his cup and putting it on her tray. “Ye know I favor the tales of the Black Knight.”
“I wish he were here now,” she sighed, taking his cup to the kitchen and filling it anew.
“Aye, so do I,” the Storyteller sighed. When she brought his cup and put it on the table in front of him, he thanked her and sipped, finding mulled wine now in the cup, and he smiled broadly. The taste reminded him of a time long ago, another Yule during the days of the Queen’s Summer. He sat back in the comfortable chair, and allowed himself to remember…
The snows were high that year after the abundant harvest, so high that the residents of Aaronnsdale Villa were forced to dig tunnels through the snow so as to tend the stock. The cold deepened, and the snow began to halt travel around Britain. It continued to fall nightly and the Black Knight grew concerned for the poor of Londinium. As he sat in his Lair thinking about it, a voice emanated from his hearth, and when he looked up, he was more than a bit surprised to see a male face. He knew at once that this was Cernunnos, the goddess Ceridwen’s consort.
“My Lord, how may I be of service?” he asked respectfully.
“May I enter yer Lair in the goddess’ name, Sir Knight?”
“Of course, enter, and be welcome in the goddess’ name, My Lord,” the Black Knight invited.
The god appeared, dressed as the Green Man of Winter, his outfit topped with a coat of brilliant green fur trimmed with ermine, and his handsome head crowned by a wreath of holly.
“Thank ye for the welcome,” he said with a smile.
“Would ye take a cup with me? I have some mulled wine here,” the Black Knight offered.
“I should be glad of a warm cup tonight, brother,” Cernunnos accepted, sitting in the opposite chair.
The Black Knight rose and walked to the hearth, taking a cup and ladling the warmed, spiced wine into it, then handing it to the god. Cernunnos took a taste, and contentment wreathed his face. “Ah, ‘tis fine, I thank ye kindly.”
“What brings ye here tonight, My Lord?” the Black Knight asked after a few sips had been consumed.
“As ye know, I make a point to visit the homes of poor people this time of year to alleviate their lack. I find myself in need of yer assistance with that.”
“I have been wondering what I could do to assist,” the Black Knight replied.
“I have a list here, of those who could use some of yer particular talents. Would ye visit these houses in the goddess’ name, and render what aid ye might to them?”
“Of course!” Ceridwen’s man agreed at once, holding out his hand for it. A heavy scroll appeared in his palm, comprised of many pages and tied with a green silk ribbon. “May I open this now?”
“Certainly,” the Green Man replied as he sipped his wine with enjoyment.
Slipping the ribbon from the scroll, he read the names and recognized most of them as people he had already considered assisting. He smiled and put the list aside carefully. “There are many names on the list, a hundred to be exact,” he noted.
“Aye, and ye will know what to do for each of them,” the Green Man replied, finishing his libation. “I must go now, lest I fall behind on my own schedule. I thank ye for undertaking this task in the goddess’ name; may ye be blessed for doing so.”
“I am honored to be of assistance to the goddess in any way I might, My Lord,” the Black Knight replied, rising and bowing deeply.
“A blessed Yule to ye, yer ally and yer house,” Cernunnos wished him and disappeared in a puff of smoke.
The Black Knight noted the smell of frankincense in the smoke, and smiled faintly before summoning his ally. When the Black Hunter appeared, his ally explained the events of that night and showed him the list.
“We should divide the city up into halves, brother, visiting a few people every night until the Solstice,” the Black Knight proposed as they sat over a pipe of the Mother’s Herb and a cup of mulled wine.
“I agree; we will be able to reach the entire city that way,” the Black Hunter smiled as the mantle fell away from him, “Which section would ye like to take?”
“I shall take the poorest part, brother. Evil always is found there, making the life of poor people harder than it needs to be,” Aaronn proposed, the mantle falling away from him, as well.
“Very well, I shall take responsibility for everything else,” Olran smiled. “When should we start?”
“The first night of Yule, when most of the city will be feasting,” Aaronn answered. “I would not have the poorest folk listening to others make merry, while their own stomachs are growling with hunger.”
Their plans laid, they retired to their beds and slept well, rising early the next morning and beginning their preparations. For Aaronn, that meant filling baskets with supplies necessary for the holiday; smoked pork, honey, apples, and vegetables of every kind in storage, along with a large flask of good wine and a smaller one of whiskey. At his request, the Kitchen Mistress Glenda went amongst the villa’s staff looking for dolls that could be quickly cleaned, repainted and clothed with new dresses and slippers. She found that some of the girls in the villa were more than happy to donate their oldest dolls, with clothing still in good repair, and she thanked them for their charity. The Steward, Osric, did the same amongst the boys of the staff, and found the same giving spirit. Some of the boys even repaired and repainted the toys themselves before giving them away, glad that another child would find the same joy they had with them.
Before the month was out, a hundred filled baskets sat in Aaronnsdale’s storage areas, awaiting their delivery. Some had been marked and prepared for specific families known to the Black Knight as hard working, but underpaid.
On the first night of the twelve days of feasting, he made his first few stops. Waiting until the family was abed, he used the silver roads to enter their humble but clean home, and left the basket next to the hearth. With a gesture he summoned a bundle of seasoned wood for their fire the next morning, seeing as they were low. He made a mental note to make certain to send a wagonload into the city the next morning, if the roads were passable. Leaving a scroll and a token on the basket, he departed that house, making his way to the next. He visited ten houses that night before returning to the Lair to meet up with his ally.
“How did it go with ye?” he asked the Black Hunter when he appeared, noting he looked as though he’d been in a fistfight.
“Ye can see how it went!” Olran said as the mantle dropped from him. “The first few visits went exactly how they should have gone; I left the basket, token and scroll by the hearth as we agreed and went on my way to the next house. In the sixth house I visited, I found children being abused, and justice was visited upon the perpetrator, their father. I stepped in between him and one of his daughters, and he objected violently. He is currently resting his beaten body in a cold cell at the Royal Guardhouse. In the morning, they will find him there, with the appropriate token and scroll. I’m sorry, but I left two baskets in the home, as well as a bag of gold to tide them over until I can return as Sir Olran,” he explained.
“I think ye did well, brother,” Aaronn responded. His ally’s beatings were not to be courted flippantly. Sharing a pipe and another cup of whiskey, they talked no more, simply enjoying the warmth and quiet of the Lair before departing to their beds for the night.
In the morning, it was found that the snow had stopped. Aaronn ordered several wagons to be filled with firewood from his abundant stores and sent into Londinium. He went along to assure that the wood went where it was needed most, and heard the tale of the mysterious basket found by the family the Black Knight had visited first. Olran went as well to revisit the house where the abuser had been punished the night before, to assure himself that all was well there. He found the woman very thankful to finally have the man gone, saying she was done with him and would seek a divorce through Avalon. As he talked with her, he saw several examples of fine ceramic work and asked her about them. When she told him she had learned as a child from her father, he advised her to seek out the Potter’s Guildhouse so as to find employment and have a place to sell her wares. He bought a set of kitchen bowls from her, meaning to gift them to Glenda that year, and left a generous bag of gold to sustain her until she could earn her own living.
While he was occupied there, Aaronn stopped at the first house from the night before, delivering two cords of nice dry hardwood to them.
“We were so grateful to have presents to give our children,” the father confided in Aaronn. “The bag of gold the Black Knight left will go far to keep us fed and warm this winter. If ye see Ceridwen’s man, would ye please tell him of my gratitude?” he asked.
“If I see him, of course I shall tell him,” Aaronn agreed with a smile before climbing back up into the wagon and giving the order to move on to the next house.
That night they went out again, each to their own ten houses to leave the baskets, tokens, and scrolls. Each man’s mission was accomplished without complications, and they were glad it was so as they shared their stories of gifting in the Lair. As the Black Knight made his rounds, he found one he had supposed to be a relatively poor home wreathed with boughs and holly. Inside, a generous fire burned, and the residents were hosting a feast for their neighbors that sported a large bowl of warm wassail. As the Black Knight investigated, however, he found an empty pantry and cold room, realizing that these folks had given everything they could to their neighbors, even the means for their own feast. With a smile, he summoned a basket of goods and produced a hefty bag of gold coins to gift them for their generosity, so hard to find in the world. Leaving it all in the pantry for them, he went on to his next stop, thankful there were still people in the world who cared more for others than themselves.
At the next house, he found a family rich with children, who were clearly adopted, but poor in funds. They received two baskets as well as a bag of gold, so that the family could feed the five children in the house. The Black Knight also left them a small bag of Herb and a pipe, knowing the stresses a large family could bring to their parents. He heard the adults talking quietly upstairs in their room, and put an ear to the door to listen, hearing the man tell his wife that he had lost his employment that day. When the goddess spoke her will into his mind, he knocked on the door and entered, closing it softly behind him as the couple gaped in astonishment.
“Ye know well who I am, aye?” he asked in a quiet voice and received nods of assent from the dumbstruck couple. “If ye take this token to Vondra’s House of Roses and tell her of yer situation, I am certain she will have work for ye in her carriage house.”
“Oh, Sir Knight!” the woman began to cry with joy. “Thank ye for what ye have done for us!”
“I have only done the goddess’ will in the matter, goodwife,” the Black Knight replied in a sonorous tone. “Ye are good folk, to take in so many children without parents. I cannot stand by and see yer family suffer. As well, madam, I know Vondra is shorthanded this holiday season and she needs trusty people to clean the guest rooms. Ye might make a fair piece of coin by going to see her along with yer husband.”
“Ye truly are the Black Knight,” the man finally said, having overcome his astonishment. “I have heard of how ye punish the wicked and reward the righteous. Thank ye for this; ye have my loyalty for it.”
“Keep yer loyalty for Arthur,” the Black Knight answered humbly. “I would only ask ye to keep yer eyes and ears open for any information ye think I might need or want. I’ll be back to visit ye in a few weeks.”
“Of course, I would not wish to have any other king but Arthur Pendragon!” the man declared, offering an arm grip to the ebon-clothed man.
“Nor would I,” the woman agreed, embracing the knight respectfully.
With a nod, he was gone. In the morning, the two appeared at the kitchen door of The House of Roses and showed the token to the red-haired owner. She smiled, invited them in, fed them breakfast and hired both on the spot, just as the Black Knight had implied she would. The pay was generous due to their hard work, and after a few days, Vondra came to them and asked them to stay on permanently.
“I have never had finer, harder workers in my employ. Let us see what we can do to improve yer living conditions; I know just the house for ye,” she offered with a smile.
As the Black Knight continued his task, the Black Hunter found himself in a quandary. Here was a house that appeared poor on the outside, but was richly furnished and appointed inside. The children were thin and sickly though, while the parents of the house were well-fed and healthy. It did not sit right with him, and so he made a thorough search of the home, eventually finding a cache of gold and silver coins and ingots secreted in their room. He locked the door from the inside quietly before bending over the man’s side of the bed.
“Wake up, wretch!” he whispered savagely into the ear of the snoring man. “Yer children are hungry and sick; ye are fat and healthy. Why?” he demanded.
“They are fed every day,” the man answered sleepily. “What is it to ye?”
“Ye know who I am!” the Black Hunter answered, taking the man by the throat and pressing just hard enough to restrict his breathing, but not stop it. “Ye are fat, they are thin. Yer house is a wreck outside, but inside ‘tis sumptuous! Even yer dogs have more meat on their bones than yer children! How can that be?” he demanded.
The man made no answer, and the panic in his eyes was clear to be seen. The Black Hunter had witnessed enough, and with a right cross to the man’s jaw he rendered the wretch unconscious, hoping to gain more information from the woman beside him. Waking her roughly, he demanded the same information he had from the man. Her answers chilled him thoroughly.
“Children are of little worth; they whine and cry all throughout the day for this and that. They care not for the cost of such things,” she began. “They must be taught to appreciate what gold can purchase, and so they work daily for their living. They are only fed as much as they could purchase by their work, as I was when I was young. ‘Tis the only way to raise them properly,” she claimed with a superior air.
“And tell me, what exactly do they work at?” the Black Hunter demanded.
“I have no idea, and I care not!” she replied coolly. “I send them out in the morning after their breakfast and tell them to earn as much as they can if they wish to eat that night.”
“Ye are a cruel woman,” the Black Hunter observed. “And yer husband is a lazy shirker. Yer kind does not belong free in Britain. I’ll take ye to the king, and see what he’ll make of ye.” He quickly snapped a simple ring of steel about her neck, followed by a pair of delicate, but strong bracelets around her wrists. She pulled and pulled at them in frustration, finding that they could not be broken. Finally, she sat panting on the bed in resignation as the knight collared and bound her husband, preparing to turn them over to the royal guard. They had abused their last child.
When the Black Hunter returned to the house, he summoned a basket for the children. Contacting the Lady Vivaine of Avalon with the mindspeech, he asked for her to come care for the children until new parents could be found for them. She readily agreed, promising to send her right away. While he waited, he made a thorough search of the former parents’ bedroom, finding stacks of clothing that would fit the children in the house. There were also pairs of shoes, and full sets of unders and hose, all having never been worn before. Inwardly, he seethed with rage, and when she arrived by magickal means, he showed her the stores. Her outrage matched his own, as he could tell by the tone of her words.
“Those poor children! I shall see that they are well-clothed and fed, Sir Knight; ye need have no worries for them. As for new parents, I am certain we will find just the right folk to look after them. The house needs a bit of work on the outside; after a proper carpenter looks after it, ‘twill be good as new.”
“Indeed so,” the Black Hunter agreed. “I thank ye for coming so quickly, so I might be about my mission.”
“Ye’d best get to it; the twelve days are almost gone,” she laughed and made a shooing motion.
With a quick embrace, he was gone and just in time, too, for the youngest child wandered into the kitchen just then. She was confused and frightened for just a bit, until one of Vivaine’s ladies, whose name was Arwel, explained what had happened in simple words.
“So, our Mommy and Da are gone?” she asked.
“Aye and they will not be returning,” Arwel confirmed. “Now, don’t ye worry about anything, for the Black Knight has left us plenty of food and if ye look in that basket over there, I am certain ye will find a toy he brought for ye.”
“A toy, for me?” she asked in wonder, having never received one before. “Oh, thank ye!” she cried out, and made straight for the basket, finding a beautiful doll wearing a pink silk dress and leather shoes. “She is so beautiful; I shall take good care of her!”
She ran up the stairs to where her siblings still slept and joyfully woke them while Arwel prepared a breakfast like they had never seen before. Their mother had fed them thin oat porridge every morning, but now they would have eggs, cheese, sausages, and toasted bread with butter.
The children came running downstairs, and after greeting Arwel respectfully, they went to the basket to find their presents. It did not matter to them if it was not exactly what they wanted most; they each had something of their own, at last. They all sat and wept grateful tears until the breakfast was served, and as they enjoyed the abundance, a hidden figure watched from the shadows, a figure dressed all in dark green. The figure smiled as he withdrew, seeing that the mission was being accomplished and that those who needed it most were being helped.