Here be Magic! by tom weston

Here be Magic!

“Come back tomorrow and I’ll prove that Father Christmas exists!” I can’t deny I said it or claim they had misheard. But it still seemed to me that the words did not belong to me – that someone else had put the words in my mouth and they just tumbled out before I could stop them. Nevertheless, I had said it and now I had to try my best – for the sake of little Sophie and . . .

Here be Magic! Oh, I almost forgot - You hadn’t heard this story; so, I suppose some history may be in order. Let me start again. Now, where to begin? . . . Ah, yes . . . Winter that year held the record as the coldest in the history of the Village; as cold as Mars, as we say around here. The animals took it especially hard. We even found birds perched in the leafless branches and frozen in place as if tiny marble statues. Thank goodness for sturdy walls and a warm fire. It was so bitter that the waterfall froze. That was quite a sight. Some of the kids took off their skates, put on ice shoes and climbed the newly formed miniature white mountain. On the day before Christmas Eve, blanketed in a swirling, thick snow which added to our discomfort, we gathered at the Green Dragon. That was the traditional day when the Landlord brewed up his famous hot mulled spice wine, from a secret recipe guarded closer than a pirate’s treasure, and handed down through generations of inscrutable Green Dragon landlords. I can’t say how he made the wine, but the colder the weather the better it tasted; and suffice to say, we’ve tasted none better 2

Here be Magic! since that day. And the Landlord had the foresight to brew enough for a few extra bottles to take home with us – for a modest price, of course. We played the game of ‘I remember when . . .’ and tried to better each other with memories of horrible winters past, each memory showing a Christmas time more severe and scary than the last. I wonder that any of us survived Christmas at all. “I remember when the wolves came into the village in search of food,” said Billy. “I remember when the ice storm caused the old willow to crash through the church roof,” said Ron. “I remember when the snow came up to my knees,” said George. “That doesn’t sound too bad,” we jeered. “My old man was carrying me on his shoulders at the time,” laughed George. But we all declared this Christmas as the coldest and up there with the worst of them. Unfortunately, as it relates to Sophie, we overplayed the remembrances. Sophie was the youngest child of Clemence and her husband,

Here be Magic! Carleton; and as she listened to our tales, her trepidation grew; and then she began to cry.” “Sophie, dear, whatever is the matter?” asked her father, as he took her up in his arms. “With all the snow, will Santa Claus be able to make it on Christmas Day and bring our presents?” sobbed Sophie. “Of course, why wouldn’t he?” we countered. “He might get eaten by wolves,” howled Sophie. Sophie’s elder brother, Daniel, did not help with her anxiety. Now, I don’t say that Daniel meant to be unkind on purpose, but he had reached that certain age. “Santa Claus doesn’t exist!” he cried. Well, that did not improve Sophie’s disposition. We could not console her. Not existing was worse than being eaten by a wolf. We tried to get Daniel to apologize and recant his words, but he stuck to his opinion, saying it was a sin to tell a lie. And in the midst of all this commotion I said a little too loudly - to Sophie, “Come back tomorrow and I’ll prove that Father Christmas exists!” 4

Here be Magic! This had the required effect of silencing both Sophie and Daniel, but also the rest of the congregation of the Green Dragon. After enough time for embarrassment to redden my cheeks, Billy asked, “And just how will you do that?” A question for which I had no immediate answer other than to repeat, “Come back tomorrow.” So the next day, Christmas Eve, I braved the snow once again to visit the Green Dragon, where Sophie, Daniel and the others waited for my proof for the existence of Father Christmas. I had none, but I didn’t dare say that. But I did have the box, made of wood, plain and small, no bigger than a trinket box. “That’s your proof, is it?” laughed the naysayers. “Hush!” ordered the Landlord, who believed fair play made for better business. “Give the man a chance to speak.” “I’ll wager a bottle of your mulled wine that he can’t prove a thing,” declared Ambrose Goodwin, of the party of doubters. “I’ll take that wager,” cried George. 5

Here be Magic! And before I knew it, bets were being placed all round. The doubters and naysayers argued against me. My friends, Ron, Billy and George argued for me. Not caught with the gamblers’ fever myself, I hated to see my friends take up my cause like this; for I did not want to let them or Sophie down. The Landlord rang his hand-bell and shouted, “Order, order!” When he had gained our attention, he said, “I will not participate in this wager. This is my tavern and I will have no favorites. But I will hold the bets and as I have no interest either way, I will judge on any proof offered here. Is that understood and acceptable to all?” Most readily agreed, but some, of course, could not help but grumble. “And I will be the judge of who gets to drink in my tavern. Is that understood by all?” The grumbles subsided and the Landlord continued. “Now, let us hear your proof; the floor is yours.” I did not know what to say other than to tell the story of the box. “When I visited the King of the Mountain,” I explained, “He gave me a gift – this box. As you see, it: has no key and no visible means to open it. 6

Here be Magic!

“What is in the box?” I had asked the King. “Magic!” he had replied. “What kind of magic,” I had asked. “When you discover that, it will be time to gift the box to another,” said the King. “As it was gifted to me, and as I now gift it to you.” “I took the box and brought it home with me. I put it up on the mantel, over the fireplace, where it stayed until this day.” “And what is in the box?” they asked. But I still didn’t know; for I never did find a way to open the box and discover what lay inside. “There is nothing in the box,” said the doubters. “This is just a conspiracy between you and the Landlord to get us to come out of our homes on Christmas Eve and spend our money on the Landlord’s overpriced ale.” “What’s your excuse for the other days of the year,” chided the Landlord. “We must find a way to open the box,” said others. “After all, it once belonged to the King; it may contain a precious jewel.”

Here be Magic! “Smash it open,” suggested Daniel with enthusiasm. “It doesn’t matter what’s in the box,” said Ron. “As long as it stays there and doesn’t bother me.” They started to argue again: about the box and its mysterious content. Whether because of the cold, or the wine, or the combination of the two, things had grown most impassioned and far removed from the harmonious spirit of peace and goodwill which one expects at this time of the year. No amount of bell ringing and ‘Order, order!’ from the Landlord could quiet them. I almost suspected that a fight would break out when I felt a tug on my sleeve. I looked down and saw Sophie looking back at me. “Can I see?” asked Sophie, quietly, below the din of the Tavern. I handed the box to Sophie. She turned it over in her hand. She held it up to her eye. She held it to her ear and shook it and listened. Then she smiled; a great big sunbeam of a smile, warm enough to melt the waterfall. “I know what is in the box,” she said, hardly able to contain her glee. She said it with such force

Here be Magic! and with such confidence that everyone grew silent and turned their attention to her. “What, child?” we asked. “Tell us, tell us,” demanded Daniel. “Inside the box is . . . Santa Claus!” “Santa Claus?” scoffed Daniel. “Now, Sophie, that is quite a claim,” I said. “Are you sure?” “He can’t be in the box,” insisted Daniel, now a junior member of the Doubters’ Club. “It is too small. He wouldn’t fit.” Sophie would have none of it. “If he can travel around the world in one night and climb down chimneys – even houses which don’t have them – he can fit in this box,” she said. “Sophie,” I said. “Do you really believe that Father Christmas is in the box?” Sophie nodded her head solemnly. “Do you now believe that Father Christmas exists?” She said that she did. “What kind of proof is this?” complained the naysayers, and the argument almost erupted again, but the Landlord held up his hand.

Here be Magic! “This is my tavern and we agreed that I would be the judge in this matter,” he said, and he turned to Sophie. “Now then, young Miss, yesterday you were not sure that Father Christmas existed, is that correct?” Sophie nodded her head. “And today, after seeing this box, you now believe?” Sophie nodded her head again. “And did seeing the box resolve your doubts?” Sophie nodded a third time. “If the box is proof enough for Sophie, then it’s proof enough for me,” declared the Landlord. “Settle all bets, if you please; and then go home. It’s Christmas Eve! Santa Claus is near!” Then I knew what the box contained; and understood that the time to gift the box to another had arrived. I offered it to Sophie. But she said no, she already knew the secret of the box. I gave it to Daniel. Perhaps one day he will find its key. Daniel has kept the box to this day. He resisted the temptation to smash it open; I think if he did he would find disappointment. On Christmas Day, in spite of the snow, Santa Claus came to the Village. He left presents for 10

Here be Magic! Sophie, and for Daniel and the other doubters; as I knew he would, because I now understood. The box held something different for everyone, dependant on their needs. The cynics will say it is a box of tricks. For Sophie, on a night when she needed to believe, it contained Santa Claus. Sophie still believes, bless her. But hereâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s the thing! And this is why, having unlocked its secret, I could give the box away. There are plenty of other boxes just like it, and in fact, any box will do. Because the old King got it wrong. The box did not contain magic. Yet the magic exists nonetheless. It is not always easy to find, but if we search in the hearts of others, here be magic!