Dorigen 11 Midwinter

‘Now set to work on this and keep us here no longer,’

Said Tristan, still unsure of the wizard's powers.

His host then smiled and quietly replied,

‘We start tomorrow, and for that you have my word.’

Then Tristan cheerfully went to bed

And no sooner had he laid his head

On the soft pillow than he was asleep.

He slept more soundly than he’d slept for years.

Anselm, though, lay hours awake,

And worried for his brother’s sake.

Next morning early rose the three

And rode westwards to Brittany.

It was, as now I well remember,

The frosty season of December.

The sun was pale and weak throughout the day.

The nights were cold and it grew dark at four,

When working men went home and closed their door

Against the dampness of the night

Which entered in their very bones it seemed.

They called the wind a lazy wind

For it did not trouble
To go around the men
As they went about their fields and barns,

But straight through their coats and bodies it blew,

And left them shivering with the cold.

From field and hedge all green had gone,

The freezing rain and sleet had stripped the trees

Of every leaf from every bough.

The birds sang sadly on the branches bare
Of the oak and ash that grew together there.
Winter did not merit a whole song,
And anyway, they thought much more
Of the happy songs they sang in May.
Then, frozen to their wing tips,
They flew down and, thirsty, hopped about

Looking in trough and stall and yard

For a little water not yet frozen hard.

And the walled garden where they all had danced

In summer on the well mown lawn

Was left to sleep alone, on her bare bed

Of cold brown earth hard with the frost.

And in the town the wind blew down the street.
The people stayed inside their houses warm

And prepared their Christmas as best they could,

With holly and its red berries that they would

Hang on the shelves and whitewashed walls
To cheer their room through the cold, grey days.

In the inn the people sat around the board.

In the fireplace was a blazing fire

Where cherry logs placed across the dogs

Smelled just like flowers in bloom.

The fireside settle held the grey-haired men

Who said the winters of their youth

Were colder far than those today.

Though when the young came in from work

With fingers blue and cheeks bright red

They did not yield the seats they had

So close to the red embers of the logs.

They drank in sips the warm mulled wine

And made it last the evening through

And passed the old brown jug around

As they had done on Christmases before.

The great boar’s head was roasted then.

Apple in mouth, it held the centre of the board,

And Noel sang the merry boys and men.

  

At home the fires were stoked and logs   

Were stacked to dry inside the ingle nook.

Each night the father would take out the holy book

And read the Christmas story once again

To the children round his knee.

Their mother bustled at the stove

And stirred a stew of onions, carrots and of meat

And mixed the fruit into a pudding sweet.

Candles were lit around the room each day.

Fresh rushes were then strewn upon the floor

And the Christmas wreath was hung upon the door.

The three rode back to Brittany,
Along the cold and windy roads,

And the morning after they reached home

And each of them had rested well,

Tristan begged the wizard set to work

And bring an end to all his sorrow.

Seeing Tristan look so sad, he there and then

Took out his books and laid his papers on the table.

I don’t know exactly what he did,

I don’t understand these hidden things,

But with his tables of tides and winds

And studying the stars and planets in the sky

And how the moon can move the sea,

He worked it out that on a certain day

It would seem to those who looked down from the cliffs

That the black rocks had suddenly gone away.

Tristan began to lose all hope

As the wizard worked with figures and with spells.

Then one morning when rose up the wintry sun,

The man said, ‘Go now and walk upon the cliffs

And you will find I’ve kept my promise well,

And you will see that now my work is done.’

When Tristan saw the rocks had gone

Each stone, each boulder, every one,

He thanked the man and wept with joy.