Mikal the Ram: "A Tale Of Three Miracles"
A Tale Of Three Miracles
Notes from Mikal:
This tale is taken from three different Yuletide stories. One is the source
for a modern
joke, but has very old Norse roots.The other two are both Norse and
Scottish, as they
originate on the Hebridies Islands, at least as far as I could tell. I
composed this story
for a feast entertainment at Kris Kinder for the then-Baron of Forgotten
Sea, Count Syr
Valens of Flatrock.
This is one of those stories that caused some concern. I found some people
think it is
a story making fun of Christianity. Others feel I am poking fun at the
Catholic Church.
Really, it's just entertainment.
MILORDS AND LADIES, MANY are the tales told of this season of yule. Oft I
have heard
tell of feasts held at this time, and truly this is the season of food and
drink, of song
and dance, and of friendships both old and new.
But also I have heard tales of miracles that spring impossibly from this
season. And it
might sound strange to say that I, (as knowledgeable and well traveled as I
am,) had no
tale of the miraculous to tell in this season of magic and merriment. Lend
an ear good
gentles and I shall tell a tale of not one, but three such events. All that
came on a
single yule day!
As you know, I come from that far north country. It is a cold and grim land,
full to
the teeth with rock and ice. So gray is our country is it any wonder that
many of our
warriors steer their ships to more southerly lands? Now due to our
wanderings, some of
these southerly people arrive on our shores as well,(Though few by choice!)
And it is well
known that those who come choose not to stay long. Yet some time ago,
several priests of
this new religion came to our lands, and commenced to wander about the hills
spreading
their beliefs all about them.
Now good gentles, my people are a calm and peaceful lot. Truly, are there
any more
fair, even, lovable, and truthful people in the world than the Norse? We who
gave you the
Vikings, the Danelaw, and the sack of Paris? We opened our arms to these
priests, and
welcomed them in true Norse fashion. But after a while they began to convert
my fellow
Norse! To my amazement they began to raise churches everywhere. So highly
were the priests
regarded that at length they did send us a bishop fresh from Ireland.
Good gentles, you have not lived until you have met an Irish bishop! Round,
he was, and
so short that if he fell, I was sure that he would roll! Now I had heard
some of their
teachings, but it was plain that his religion did not hinder his appetite! I
have seen him
eat as well as any man, and sometimes as well as any two men. Truly a man
after mine own
heart! I liked him from the first!
But as much as I did find cheer in him, he did find fault in me! "Will you
never
take the faith?" He'd ask. "Will you never give up the Viking life?" He did
worry me sore.
'Twas the beginning of the Yuletide that he did begin again upon me, forever
quoting
scripture and arguing most pointedly. At last he did shake his head in
sadness, and say,
"I would at least see you celebrate the yule with us this year."
This did cause me to balk all the more. "Good bishop," I said, " I do
not even celebrate the feasts of my own people in this time of year. What
reason is there
to celebrate when the cold winds do make a man's joints to ache? Where is
the merriment in
a season when the fair maids go cloaked about in so many garments that not
even the
slightest glimpse of ankle is promised? The fruits of the harvest are locked
away and even
the mead lies waiting in the barrels. There is no reason for a man such as I
to make merry
in this season! It would take miracles to convince me otherwise!"
"Miracles?" quoth the bishop, "I can show you miracles enough to bend
your heart."
A moment, my lords and ladies. Are there Norsemen in this place? If so, you
would know
that we are an argumentative people, and we believe in only what we can see.
I was sure
that here I had the perfect opportunity to put his beliefs to the trial.
"Well," I replied, "If this be the case, then I challenge you. Your
faith puts much stock in the number three, So on the day of the yule feast,
if you can
show to me three miracles, I will keep this holy day with you each year for
the rest of my
life. I will sit beside you this year at the feast table and swear an oath
before my
people to keep this season all of my days!"
Then I did set my trap for him; "Of course, if you cannot produce three
miracles
for me, you must swear never to trouble me with these arguments again.
I must say with some pride that the bishop took my bait willingly. "If it
would
take as hundred miracles, I would try. On the morning of the yule feast I
shall come to
your door!"
Now, good gentles, do not think me a fool. I had long ago had priests point
to the
rising sun and say, "Behold, a miracle! the sun has risen when it could have
lain
forever in the mountains!" But the sun did rise before they came, and I have
yet to
see it fail. A miracle is by definition something against the rule of
nature. On the day
of the feast I took great glee in pointing this out to the bishop.
Of course he made a great show of argument, and in this way we made
ourselves to the
south end of the village. On our route to the inn, there was an old
ramshackle hovel
wherein did dwell two of the bishop's converts; A hoary old Viking by the
name of Harald,
and his wife Notha. Before we had drawn too close I saw Harald come running
out of the
house dodging most cunningly.
Yet no matter how skillful his antics, from out of the house came such a
shower of
abuse that the air seemed full of crockery and foul words too accurate and
too inventive
to have come from male lips....
From out of the narrow door came Notra, throwing insults and kitchen gear
after her
running husband. He was lazy she screamed, he was filthy she cried. He not
only slept in
church, he snored! It looked to be a wonderful chaos and I settled in to
enjoy the scene.
Just then the bishop stood between them and spoke quietly. "Good Morn,
Notra."
At that moment my lords, I saw my first miracle. For no sooner had she seen
the bishop,
than she shut her jaw with a snap, and ran back into the house. Milords, you
will agree,
this is beyond nature: a woman that shuts her mouth!
I had little time to stand and wonder though, since the bishop had walked on
towards
the inn. Knowing his capacity for drink, I wanted to get a share before he
drank it all.
As we sat at a table drinking good ale, I saw Harald come in the door. The
shards of an
old bread bowl were still tangled in his beard. When I pointed him out to
the bishop, he
bade the poor man come drink with us.
Once fresh jacks were set before us, the bishop offered a toast. "To the
Yule", he cried. But before we could drink, he added "and to your wife,
friend
Harald. I think I shall visit her today as well, and tell her of our meeting
here."
A second miracle! Even as the bishop spoke I saw Harald set down the ale
untasted.
"I must be going" he murmured. "I've work to do about the house", and
he ran out the door. M'ladies, this is a miracle that you may agree on: a
man who would
rather work than drink!
Two miracles, good gentles! I was as amazed as you must be.
I told this to the bishop, and he smiled even wider. "We need but one more,"
he said, "and your place at the yule feast will be assured."
It was but a few moments later that I spied a mouse running across the
floor. When I
pointed this out to the bishop, he screamed most unmanfully and leaped upon
his stool,
holding to his skirts.
The mouse, confused by this action, climbed upon the stool as well. With a
wilder cry
the bishop jumped atop the table, and to keep from being lonely, the mouse
joined him.
Then the bishop began to prance about, as if in the throes of one of those
wild Irish
dances, screaming in a most womanly contralto I did not know he had in him.
I cannot say I
blame the small rodent, for in trying to save itself from certain death it
leaped upon the
bishop's leg, and began to run upwards. In his panic, the bishop slammed his
knees
together most violently, trapping the beast between them. And it was then
that I saw my
third miracle: for I saw him squeeze a quart of water from that single
mouse!
Needless to say, I have since kept the yule faithfully. In this time may I
wish for you
a happy season, and may I wish you many such miracles as these!
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