A series of Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons vignettes for Christmas
2003 by Tiger Jackson
The Holly and the Ivy: 12 December
Captain Scarlet and Rhapsody Angel were busy putting up decorations in the
Officers’ Lounge.
“I
don’t mind finishing the decorating work; the others did a good job with this
tree. But I thought there were going to be a few more people here helping right
now,” said Rhapsody.
Scarlet chuckled as he unfolded a ladder and picked up some greenery. “I think
the others skived off as a sort of Christmas gift.”
“Leaving us all alone is some sort of gift? Oh!” Rhapsody gasped, realising what
she’d said.
Her
lover grinned at her. “Exactly. But without any chance of being caught in a
compromising situation.” She made a face at him. Suddenly, he dropped the sprig
of greenery he was holding and clapped his hands to his head.
“Paul,
what’s wrong?” Rhapsody asked, concern in her voice.
“My
ears are burning.” Captain Scarlet lowered his hands. “It’s nothing.” He
retrieved the sprig and climbed up the ladder.
“My
great-uncle has invited us to join him at his house in Axethorpe for Twelfth
Night,” said Rhapsody as she stretched to hang a silver snowflake on a high
branch of the Christmas tree.
“Twelfth Night?”
“The
twelfth day of Christmas.”
“You
mean a party with lords a-leaping, maids milking, all kinds of birds underfoot
while ladies are dancing, and a partridge in a pear tree? Sounds like fun.”
Rhapsody reached up and swatted him playfully. “No, not at all! My uncle keeps
to the medieval traditions. Or at least he did when I was last attended a
Twelfth Night feast.”
Scarlet thought she sounded wistful. “Has it been a long time?”
Rhapsody nodded. “When I was still a child. Almost 20 years ago, I guess.” Her
eyes sparkled and her face lit up with remembered joy. “It was wonderful! The
cook made two Twelfth Night cakes, one for the men and another for the women.
The men’s cake had a bean in it, and whoever found it in his slice became the
Lord of Misrule for the evening. There was a dried pea in the women’s cake; the
finder became Queen of the Pea and the Lord’s consort.”
“I
imagine you were the Queen?” Scarlet asked as he climbed back down the ladder.
“And
my great-uncle was the Lord of Misrule.” Rhapsody grinned broadly, a smile that
was reflected myriad times in the glass balls on the tree. “We sat at the head
table together and gave orders. The napkins were all folded like hats, I
thought, so I ordered everyone to wear them on their heads. Uncle called for
dinner to be served backwards. We began with dessert and ended with appetizers.
The jesters sang silly songs, made atrocious puns, and juggled assorted plates,
cups, candles, anything they could reach.” Rhapsody grinned mischievously. “And
after dinner we danced, drank wassail, and played snapdragon.”
“Snapdragon? I’ve never heard of it. How is it played?” asked Scarlet, genuinely
curious.
“It
takes daring. You have to snatch raisins out of a bowl of burning brandy. The
flames weren’t really very hot but only the bravest even tried.” Rhapsody
giggled. “I made myself sick eating raisins!”
Scarlet laughed. “Sounds like it was a perfect evening.”
“I
thought the best part was when the Green Man came. He was covered in ivy when he
arrived and Uncle ordered us to strip the ivy away. Underneath was all holly.”
Captain Scarlet smiled. “We’ve never had a Green Man for our family Christmas
celebrations, but we always have holly and ivy. My mother festoons the whole
house with them! Anything that isn’t moving gets draped in garlands or smothered
in wreaths. Comes of being in a military family except instead of painting
things, my Mum decorates them.”
It was
Rhapsody’s turn to laugh. “She must have bought up every bit of greenery
available in all of Winchester! Or was it Hampshire?”
“Neither. It was all gathered on our own estate. My father hired helpers, but it
was also a family outing to gather the holly and ivy. Mum made it a sort of
winter trekking party. We’d take a sort of cold-weather picnic along: flasks of
hot beverages and soup, meat pies and such that could be heated in a tiny,
portable, battery operated oven. And we had a wheeled sledge to haul the
cuttings back to the house; we’d bring a sled if it had snowed. Mum would never
let us cut away everything in one area; she insisted on leaving some to grow and
propagate for the future. So we’d spend a lot of time walking through the woods,
breathing the cold air, listening to the winter birds and the silence. The last
time for me was just before I went to West Point.” He picked up an ornament and
started working on the tree. “I remember that time more clearly than any other.
I was sitting on a fallen tree and my parents sat on another while we ate our
food. I caught a motion out of the corner of my eyes, something small and red.
It was a fox and it looked hungry. It had snowed a lot that year, and the fox’s
normal prey probably hadn’t left their burrows for weeks. I watched it creep up
carefully, keeping low to the ground, ready to run if a human gave any sign of
noticing it. Mum had dropped a bit of her sandwich a foot or so away from her.
The fox crept up, seized the tidbit, then broke into a run and disappeared into
the trees. Dad commented that she’d dropped the sandwich on purpose. And, of
course she had; she told him she’d noticed the fox tracking them long before and
seen how thin it was. Dad laughed and put his arm around her as he set aside the
remains of his own food for the fox to retrieve later. I was happy, seeing how
much my parents love each other. I hoped I’d find that kind of love someday for
myself.”
Rhapsody felt a warm glow fill her as her eyes met Scarlet’s. They both smiled.
“We’d
pull the ivy off the walls of the house after we came out of the woods. Dad
joked that it was the only thing holding up some of the walls but he’d climb
higher on the ladder than anybody else to make sure he’d get the longest trails
of ivy. Holly was my specialty. I’d look for the bushes with the reddest
berries, then wade in to cut off the bunches. I always end up with scratches all
over my arms and hands and face from trying to get the biggest, greenest bunches
of holly.” He looked at his hands and sighed. “I’ll never be able to do that
again. How would I explain why I heal so fast?”
Rhapsody laid a hand on his arm. “We’ll find a way. Maybe you could wear gloves
and a balaclava.”
Scarlet nodded, then changed the subject. “Twelfth Night does sound like fun.
But we may not be able to go.”
“I
know. I’ve hinted to Uncle that we may not be able to attend because of
work-related commitments.” Rhapsody placed the last strand of tinsel on the
tree. “There! Finished.”
“Not
quite. We still have to make sure everything works as it should.”
“Oh,
of course. You’re right.” Rhapsody flicked a switch. The fairy lights came on
and shortly began to twinkle. She nodded with satisfaction. “Everything’s
working fine.”
“There’s still one thing left to test,” replied Scarlet. He beckoned to her.
Puzzled, Rhapsody walked up to him. With a smile, Scarlet pointed upward. A
sprig of mistletoe hung from the ceiling. She giggled as Scarlet wrapped his
arms around her.
“Happy
Christmas, love.”
Story
Notes:
The Green
Man is a kind of nature spirit or god, easily more than 2,000 years old in
Britain.
Snapdragon is actually a Victorian parlor game, not Medieval. But it is
challenging to play. Learn how at
http://www.schooloftheseasons.com/snapdragon.html.
Twelfth
Night Cake (North American measures) 1 1/3
cups hazelnuts 3
tablespoons unsalted butter, softened 1/2 cup
granulated sugar 1 egg
yolk1 tablespoon finely shredded orange peel 2
tablespoons Grand Marnier 1 (17 1/4
ounce) package frozen puff pastry dough, thawed1 dried bean 1 egg,
beaten 1
tablespoon confectioners’’ sugar
Toast
hazelnuts on a baking sheet at 350 degrees F for 10 minutes. When nuts are cool,
rub them in a tea towel to remove skin. Finely grind nuts in a food processor.
Set aside.
To make
filling, beat butter and sugar with an electric mixer on medium to high speed,
until light and fluffy. Add egg yolk and beat until well blended. Gradually add
nuts to butter-egg mixture with mixer on low to medium speed. Stir in orange
peel and Grand Marnier. Set aside.
On a
slightly floured surface, roll out one sheet of pastry slightly to remove
creases. Trim to a circle about 8 inches in diameter, and place on a greased
baking sheet. Heap filling over pastry in a dome shape, leaving a 1-inch border.
Hide dried bean in filling. Roll out another sheet of pastry as above and trim
to a 10-inch circle. Brush edge of bottom pastry with beaten egg; cover with
second circle of dough and tuck edges under. Press to seal tightly; decoratively
crimp edges. For a glossy crust, brush top with beaten egg. Chill cake in
refrigerator for at least 30 minutes.
With a
small sharp knife, score cake in cuts radiating from top and center to within 1
inch of edge. Brush again with beaten egg. Bake about 30 minutes at 375 degrees
F or until golden brown. Cool on a wire rack. Dust with confectioners' sugar. Serves 8.
Wassail
Bowl (North American measures)
Ingredients 6 whole
cloves 6
allspice berries half
teaspoon ground cardamom 2
cinnamon sticks 1 inch
peeled fresh ginger 2 litres
of ale1 bottle (750ml) dry sherry Honey or
sugar to taste – optional
Bake
apples whole (180C, 350F, Gas 5) for 20 minutes until tender but still holding
their shape.
For an
extra mediaeval touch: Beat 6 eggs in a 4-quart punchbowl until
thick and lemon-coloured. Gradually beat in the hot ale and float the apples on
top.
OTHER STORIES BY TIGER JACKSON Any comments? Send an
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