Masters in This Hall

By Anne B. Walsh

'Tis the season for stories by the fireside; get into the holiday mood with Anne B. Walsh's fourth collection of Christmas and winter-themed tales, featuring:

Sun and Moon and Stars of Light: Amanda Evans believes she escaped her homeworld six months ago, married to her beloved Dai. Her grandparents say Dai was killed in an explosion eight months ago. Who knows the truth? Only the Aelur players of the starship "Wild Rover", and their answer will leave everyone wondering where story ends and reality begins...

The Christmas Cat: Edwin and Anthea Marlowe tell their children a tale about a little cat who did not know what to give the baby Jesus, but ended up giving the best gifts of all.

The Twelve Signs of Christmas: A series of vignettes depicting moments from the author's childhood Christmases. And yes, everything in them really did happen. More or less.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anne B. Walsh
• Release date: Dec 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310111679

Anne B. Walsh

Anne B. Walsh was telling stories about magic and intrigue from the time she could talk, but it took her twenty years to realize she could make a living at it. Her first novel, historical fantasy "A Widow in Waiting", has its origins in a PBS special which changed her life; her second, family-focused fantasy "Homecoming", takes its inspiration from some of her other writing; and her third, soft science fiction "Killdeer", stems from her constant interest in the ways in which the future and the past coincide. Anne lives east of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, with one roommate (Krystal), two black Labs (Buddy and Brando), and two black cats (Starsky and Hutch). Sadly, their Cane Corso mastiff, Bruce, passed away in mid-August 2013, and their first cats, Poppy and Sesame, who helped inform Anne's first collection of short stories, "Cat Tales", passed out of their lives after an accident on Christmas Day 2013. No one ever said life was fair. Anne's parents and siblings live two hours north of her, otherwise known as just far enough away. She has also been writing Harry Potter fan fiction for more than ten years and is known best in that genre as the creator of the "Dangerverse" alternate universe (which inspired "Homecoming"). Beyond writing fiction, Anne's preoccupations include reading fiction; singing anywhere that will have her, including her church and local galas; theatre, especially musicals; all forms of cooking; and her family and friends. Within writing fiction, her preoccupations are much the same, meaning most of her stories involve loving families, delicious food, and good music. Consider yourself warned. A number of projects continue to need Anne's attention as she writes her original novels. Among these are her ongoing fanfiction works in various fandoms such as Harry Potter and Frozen, and the themed fantasy anthologies she co-authors with her friend and fellow author Elizabeth Conall.

Book preview

Masters In This Hall

Tales for Yuletide and for the New Year:

Holidays with Anne, Volume 4

Anne B. Walsh

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2015 Anne B. Walsh

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Dedication

Foreword

The Christmas Cat

Sun and Moon and Stars of Light

The Twelve Signs of Christmas

Also by Anne B. Walsh

About the Author

Ebook Exclusive: The Tale of the Winter Princess

Dedication

For everybody who’s been putting up with me.

I know it can’t have been easy.

Thanks for everything.

Masters in this hall,

Hear we news today,

Brought from oversea,

And ever I you pray.

Nowell, nowell, nowell,

Nowell sing we clear!

Savéd are all folk on earth,

Born is God’s Son so dear!

Nowell, nowell, nowell,

Nowell sing we loud!

God today hath poor folk raised

And cast a-down the proud!

– William Morris (c. 1860)

Foreword

I had such high hopes for the year 2015. It was going to be the year I returned triumphantly to writing, fan fiction and original. I would finish the second novel in the Chronicles of Glenscar, Playing with Fire! I would start the second novel in the Tales of Anosir, Snowball! I would launch another Harry Potter fan fiction epic with For Your Own Good, and continue my foray into Frozen fic with Worthy Queen of Greatness!

As anyone familiar with my writing can tell you, only one of these things happened (the Harry Potter fanfic, what a surprise), and it stalled within two months. Things got harder through the summer and fall, culminating in a four-week period which I can only hope will be one of the most frustrating times in my life. Without going into too many details, both humans and both dogs in the household fell prey to various illnesses, with mine threatening my ability to earn my living. The house itself got sick with a major plumbing problem, and a writing contest in which I had entered A Widow in Waiting, after I had waited nearly eight weeks to hear anything beyond you are one of ten finalists, sent me a form email rejection. Sometimes life stinks.

But sometimes good stuff can come out of stinky stuff. I suppose it’s like manure that way. The book you now have in your hands, or on your e-reader, or whatever, Masters in This Hall, the fourth in the series of Anne B. Walsh holiday specials, was written during that same four-week period, and I’m egotistical enough to think it’s pretty darn good.

As has become my holiday special tradition, I’ve included a story set in the universe of Killdeer, Sun and Moon and Stars of Light. This year it’s the longest entry, clocking in just over 20,000 words. On either side of it you will find The Christmas Cat, an invented folktale with a Chronicles of Glenscar frame, and The Twelve Signs of Christmas, my lightly fictionalized depiction of what Christmastime was like for me growing up. The names have been changed, and in some cases the players are not precisely the same, but I promise you, everything I have depicted really did happen. Or very nearly, anyway.

So, here it is. I hope you enjoy it, and yes, I do still intend to continue both the Chronicles and the Tales. Pray for me to find my courage and my strength, and I’ll pray for all the best for you, in this most joyous of seasons. A Merry Christmas, a Happy New Year, and may all your dreams come true.

Anne B. Walsh

November 16, 2015

The Christmas Cat

Mama, said Grace Marlowe, lying in front of the fire in her father’s music room. I’m bored.

I can tell, love. Anthea Marlowe gestured to the patterns and curlicues forming themselves in the flames in response to her daughter’s idle finger-weaving. It’s very pretty, but be careful not to let it get beyond the hearth. Katie’s at home with Colin to have their own Christmas Eve, and none of the rest of us have any power to stop the fire if it gets out of your control.

Look at me a second, Grace? her older brother John said from his chair across the room, where he had his sketchpad in one hand and his pencil in the other. No, not like that, he added in exasperation when Grace crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue at him. Not unless you want me to draw you that way, and then hundreds of years from now everyone will think that’s how we celebrated Christmas in Ireland in 1775, with people making faces at each other.

That’s enough, now, said Edwin Marlowe in the seemingly mild tone which nevertheless stopped his daughter’s retort before it could start. This is Christmas night, a time to celebrate all the good things we can do, and offer them to the baby Jesus as gifts, like the wise men, or the Christmas cat.

The Christmas cat? Grace dismissed her fire weavings, rolled over, and sat up, all the natural curiosity of her eight years in her voice. I know about the wise men, they’re in the Bible, with the gold and frankincense and myrrh, but I’ve never heard of the Christmas cat. Is he in the Bible too?

She, and no, said Anthea. During some of the times when the Bible was being written, the Egyptians, the Israelites’ enemies, worshiped cats, as the form one of their goddesses took. So there are no cats in the Bible. But there is a story, a story of how one little cat brought three great gifts to the baby Jesus, and to his mother Mary and her husband Joseph. Do you want me to tell it to you?

Yes, please, said John, flipping to a new page in his sketchpad, as Grace nodded eagerly. How does it begin?

As all the best stories do, of course. Anthea smiled, gazing into the flames. Once upon a time…

* * * * *

Once upon a time, in the days when some of the animals could think and speak like human beings, there arose a great hubbub in the kingdom of the beasts, for from far across the sea had come great news, the news that the King of all the world would soon be born. This news spread throughout the kingdom, and the lion, the king of the beasts, sent out word that every animal should prepare a gift for the newborn King, for he would choose a delegation from among his subjects to follow the new King’s star and offer homage to him.

Now one of the quietest of all the animals in the kingdom was the cat, who kept herself to herself and hunted for her food among the beasts which were only beasts and did no harm to anyone else, unless she or her kittens were threatened. But such was the uproar at the proclamation of the lion that even the cat came to know about it, and coming forth from her little den, she asked her nearest neighbor, the dog, what all the fuss was about.

A great King will soon be born, said the dog in excitement, the King of all the universe! Everyone must prepare a gift to bring to him!

A great King, the cat repeated in amazement. A great King, and a gift. What gift will you bring, my friend?

I will bring my strong loud bark and my fine sharp teeth, the dog answered. I will bark at his enemies to warn him that they are coming, so that he has time to be prepared for them, and if he cannot fight them himself, I will bite them for him. I must hurry and practice my barking and biting, for we leave very soon to follow the star!

Could I bring that same gift? the cat wondered to herself as the dog rushed away. My voice can be both strong and loud, and my teeth are even sharper than the dog’s. Then she sighed, remembering her time among human beings. But humans do not listen to my warnings as they do to those of the dog. Rather they throw shoes and pots at me, and chase me away with curses, and if I bite them they only curse more and kick at me. This cannot be my gift.

Considering, the cat traveled down the road to visit another of her neighbors, the donkey. Have you a gift to bring to the newborn King? she asked her friend. What have you decided upon?

My gift is my broad strong back, and my easy and patient walk. The donkey capered in his pasture, kicking up his heels. One of my brothers will bear the burden of the little King, who lies in his mother’s womb, towards the place where he will be born. I will go to greet him, and offer my services as well, when we leave very soon to follow the star.

Could I bring that same gift? the cat wondered, pausing to wash one of her paws. I am much stronger than I look. Then she laughed at her own foolishness. I am hardly bigger than even the smallest of human babies. However could I carry one, let alone a full-grown woman like his mother? This cannot be my gift.

Walking further down the road, the cat soon saw that she had come to the pasture of the sheep. Have you heard about the new King who will be born so soon? she called through the fence into the pasture where the sheep was grazing. What gift will you bring him?

Yes, I have heard, said the sheep placidly, lifting her face from the grass. "I will bring him the gift of my wool, to keep him warm in the chilly night. I