Snow had fallen on the southern plain. The house that
Marion had named Falling Water for its Earth equivalent was in the midst
of a winter scene that would make the designers of Christmas cards weep.
The evergreen trees were frosted over. The pond below the waterfall was
iced over except for one deep part where some water was still flowing
even though much of the waterfall was now thick white ribbon of ice. Where
the house jutted over the water icicles hung from beneath it.
The house itself was invitingly warm. Marion stepped into the glass lift
that brought her to the middle floor accompanied by her chauffeur who
carried packages for her before retreating to the servant’s quarters
and leaving his mistress with his sister-in-law.
“I’ve got smoked salmon and strawberries and cream for lunch,”
she announced as Oriana came to greet her with a warmth that both of them
were only just becoming used to. “And Christmas Presents…
or Winter Solstice presents if you prefer.”
“The dinner tonight is for Winter Solstice,” Oriana admitted.
“But it DOES coincide with your Christmas, I suppose.”
“Kristoph and I visited a Christmas Fayre on Earth yesterday. We
bought lots of nice things. There’s a huge cheese, here, too. You
can serve it to your guests, later.”
Oriana carefully smelt the wheel of smoked Gruyere and confirmed that
it would be an excellent addition to the cheese board for the dinner she
had planned in every detail. A maid arrived without any obvious summoning
and took away the cheese to the kitchen where, in contrast to the calm,
quiet drawing room a lot of activity was going on to prepare for the dinner
party in the evening.
Another maid, equally quietly brought plates of dressed salad and added
the smoked salmon. The two pregnant women sat and enjoyed a lunch that
was rich in essential omega-3 fatty acids EPA and DHA, important for brain
and eye development in the growing baby and a natural source of vitamin
D.
Of course, neither really cared about that. They just liked smoked salmon.
Afterwards, Marion lost no time in presenting her other surprise packages.
“This IS a Christmas present, technically,” she explained
about a large box wrapped in gold paper and a ribbon that had been left,
tantalisingly, on the side table during lunch. “But I thought you
might like it all the same.”
Oriana carefully unwrapped the paper and ribbon and lifted the lid. She
looked curiously at the set of ornaments carefully nestled inside.
“It is a Crèche Provençale,” Marion explained.
“I bought one last year for our house, and I enjoyed selecting more
figures and little houses for it this time. I thought you might enjoy
having one for your drawing room, even though you don’t know anything
about Christmas.”
This was a ‘deluxe’ starter package with thirty pieces hand
carved from hard wood and painted with durable lacquer paints. Oriana
picked up one of the Three Wise Men carrying their intricately crafted
gifts and studied it carefully, admiring the fie detail of his crown and
the gift of Myrrh in an elaborate box.
“My brother tried to explain the tradition to me. I was wondering
what it was that excited you so much. The idea was puzzling. A king born
in a lowly place to parents of humble birth. I really didn’t understand
that, at all. It… just wouldn’t happen on Gallifrey.”
“It doesn’t happen very often on Earth,” Marion admitted,
fully understanding Oriana’s confusion about something she had taken
for granted all her life. “In fact I don’t think it has happened
at all except for this one very special time.”
She picked out the stable from the box and set it on one of the fine wooden
cabinets Oriana had furnished her drawing room with. She put the Holy
Family in place, and Oriana set the Wise Men in a neat line. They added
animals to the stable and the shepherds who visited first.
“Technically the Wise Men shouldn’t be added until Epiphany,”
Marion pointed out. “But as there isn’t such a date in the
Gallifreyan calendar they may as well take their place.”
“But why all the other figures?” Oriana asked. “Kristoph
showed me the texts from the sacred books of the Earth religion. There
was no mention of all these characters involved in the birth.”
“It’s the special tradition from Provence,” Marion explained.
Of course, it was difficult enough to explain about the different races
and cultures of Earth to anyone from Gallifrey. Explaining about a unique
sub-culture from the south-east of France was even harder, but Oriana
tried to understand it. When it got really complicated, Marion just pictured
a map of the country in her head, then a selection of the food and wine
and other special Provençale customs.
“As for these figures – the people of the region have long
believed that everyone ought to be able to pay their respects to the Child.
They have figures representing all the people of the village, all the
tradesmen like the baker and fishmonger, important people like the mayor
or the lord of the manor. Sometimes they have pieces made to represent
members of their own families, that become heirlooms for generations to
come.”
“That’s a charming idea.” Oriana agreed. “It’s
still a little puzzling, though. I’ve never thought of the Caretaker
classes as being made up of different kinds of people with different jobs.”
“You’ve been raised not to see them at all except as servants
scurrying in and out of the room. But look, here is la couturière
with her scissors and thread. You meet those all the time.”
Oriana took the little dressmaker figure and placed it in the scene. She
reached for another. This one puzzled her greatly. It also had very tiny
knives and scissors in his coat pockets, but was carrying a curious little
contraption.
“I don’t think we DO see those on Gallifrey,” Marion
explained. “They aren’t really common on Earth by my time,
but in the past Le rémouleur was very important. He sharpened knives
and scissors.”
“I have never had cause to use scissors, or knives, except to eat
my food, but I think Gallifreyan steel stays sharp without needing such
attention.”
That was one of those stark differences between Marion’s upbringing
and Oriana’. Marion had prepared food in the kitchen using knives.
Oriana had never done so. The kitchen was a mystery to her. Nor had she
ever done needlework, even for a genteel pastime. Before she became a
client of the Gallifreyan couturiers, Marion had often made dresses for
herself and still, on quiet winter afternoons, enjoyed a little embroidery
or cross stitch.
The boulanger with his long sticks of French bread didn’t need explanation.
Oriana did understand that the bread she ate in her fine dining room was
made by an artisan. She placed him in the scene next to le poissonnier,
a fishmonger, not, as she had first thought, a poisoner, and la poissonnière,
also not connected to subtle forms of murder, but the fishwife. This,
Marion assured her, was a separate profession in Earth tradition and worthy
of representation in the Crèche.
“This one should mean something to you,” Marion told her.
“This is l'herboriste. They can be male or female, of course. This
one is female.”
“Oh… like mama,” Oriana guessed by the bunch of herbs
in the apron pocket of the little figure and the mortar and pestle in
her hands. “A herbalist… or apothecary.”
“On this tradition, just a herbalist,” Marion conceded. “Here
is Le apothicaire. He has a mortar and pestle, too, but he IS a man. A
bit of chauvinism going on, there. But he deserves his place in the scene,
too.”
“What is this one?” Oriana asked. She held up a little man
in white shirt and grey trousers and a red cap on his head. He had no
articles denoting his trade at all and held his arms up in excitement.
Marion thought he looked like a football fan whose team had just scored,
but she knew the true story well enough.
“He is le Ravi. The word means ‘delighted’ or ‘ecstatic’.
The cruel name for him is ‘village idiot’, but it is kinder
to call him simple-minded, or even clear-minded. Of all the characters
he sees the birth of the baby as a wonderful miracle and celebrates it
with his laughter and his raised hands. He understands the joy of it perfectly
and fully even though everyone else thinks he is too stupid to understand
anything.”
Oriana didn’t quite understand. Even Gallifreyan Caretakers tended
to be intelligent. They didn’t really have village idiots. Nor could
she quite get her head around somebody whose mind was so clear of ordinary
concerns and complications that he can see what is the most important
thing to happen on his world.
Marion placed le Ravi carefully beside the Holy Family themselves. His
simplicity earned him that place according to Provençale tradition.
Oriana was enjoying assembling the Crèche and hearing the little
stories that went with many of the figures.
Then she reached for one of the last figures and her mood changed. This
was one of the noblemen in a fine renaissance costume. Oriana stroked
her finger over the folds of his gown, hardly able to believe it was painted
wood and not real silk.
She held the figure much longer than she needed to and sighed deeply.
Marion realised it was nothing to do with the figure itself. She had simply
been holding it when the spell of the Crèche suddenly broke and
she felt the cold reality of her life come upon her.
“Sometimes, on Earth, people do get unhappy at Christmas,”
Marion said. “The effort to be cheerful just gets too much.”
“It’s not that,” Oriana admitted. “It’s….”
She clung to the figure of the French nobleman tightly, as if it was a
kind of talisman for her. “It’s….”
“Tonight’s dinner party?” Marion guessed.
“Am I rushing it? Is it too soon to try to be a hostess… after
all that has happened? After the disgrace, the humiliation, after…
becoming a deserted wife and then a widow….”
“It… well, it hasn’t been very long since the death
of your husband,” Marion admitted. “But this isn’t a
ball or party, just a formal dinner with a few friends and relations.
It is perfectly appropriate. Besides, all of your guests are people who
bear you no ill will. There will be no criticism or gossip.”
“I feel so nervous. I shouldn’t. I have hosted so many parties.
I was… renowned for my good taste, and for the quality of my guests.”
“Lily D’Alba is coming tonight. There is nobody of higher
quality or regard. She is enough to ensure anyone not invited will be
jealous.”
“Lily never accepted an invitation from me, before. She… disliked
Seveg. I used to think she was being snobbish because the Lessage name
was not as great as hers… but I realise, now, she had good reason
to want to distance herself from my home.”
“Lily is the least snobbish lady I have ever met,” Marion
said. “She doesn’t often attend dinners in the Capitol. It
might just have been that.”
“You’re too generous. I wish I had seen the truth much sooner.
I was married to a fool, a wastrel, and a criminal.”
“And tonight you have a new start. This is your first dinner in
your lovely new house. Everyone will go home talking about how wonderful
it all was.”
“I used to have no fear about such things. I KNEW people would like
my parties. I knew I was popular, I knew I was liked. Now… I’m
not sure of that, at all. I don’t know how many real friends I even
have.”
“You… have me.”
“So I do,” Oriana admitted. “Though I don’t know
why. You’ve been so nice to me, yet I have always been beastly to
you.”
“That’s the other thing about Christmas. It’s about
forgiveness and making amends. Goodwill to all men it says in the Bible.
I think they meant to women, too. And… perhaps they even meant men
and women on other planets.”
Oriana thought about that for a moment and nodded. She managed a smile.
“That seems a good sentiment. Even if I don’t quite understand
Christmas fully, I like that part of it.”
Marion would have commented further, but the butler announced that Lord
de Lœngb?rrow was here. Kristoph cane into the drawing room with
a ribboned box.
“I missed lunch, I’m afraid, but I thought I should come as
soon as possible.” He looked at the Crèche and nodded approvingly.
“I brought some figures to add to it.”
“You did?” Oriana was surprised. So was Marion. He opened
the box and took out one figure, first.
“L'astronome,” he said, placing the little man with a starchart
and telescope next to l'herboriste. No explanation was needed. Then there
was a little veiled nun and a couple with a little boy. Two ladies in
elegant satin gowns with lace parasols were added. They were matrons of
Arles, the chief city of Provence, with its own unique fashions and traditions.
“Our family,” Oriana said with a slightly choked voice. “But
what about you, brother?”
“This is Kristoph,” Marion said, taking the last figure from
the big box. “Le Chevalier – the mounted knight who stands
in protection of all of us.”
“Of course,” Oriana agreed. “Yes.”
“Merry Christmas, my dears,” Kristoph said,
holding his wife and sister close and kissing both on the cheeks. “Happy
Solstice. Maybe both.”
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