Life in the Colony of Maryland is no sinecure – as Alex and Matthew Graham well know. But nothing in their previous life has prepared them for the mayhem that is about to be unleashed upon them.
First of all, thank you Tony for inviting me to be part of your Advent tour. Advent is important for us Swedes, a reason to light candles—many candles—during the darkest months of the year 😊To reinforce the Christmas/Advent theme, I have chosen an excerpt with a whiff of cinnamon, saffron and mustard—important ingredients in a Swedish Christmas, as are the little folk.
Now onto my chosen book:
Life in the Colony of Maryland is no sinecure – as Alex and Matthew Graham well know. But nothing in their previous life has prepared them for the mayhem that is about to be unleashed upon them.
Being labelled a witch is not a good thing in 1684, so it is no wonder Alex Graham is aghast at having such insinuations thrown at her. Even worse, it’s Matthew’s brother-in-law, Simon Melville, who points finger at her.
Not that the ensuing hearing is her main concern, because nowadays Alex’s entire life is tainted by the fear of what Philip Burley will do to them once he gets hold of them – there is no longer any ‘if’ about it. On a sunny May afternoon, it seems Philip Burley will at last revenge himself on Matthew for every single perceived wrong. Over the course of twenty-four hours, Alex’s life – and that of her family’s – is permanently changed.
As if all this wasn’t enough, Alex also has to cope with the loss of one of her sons. Forcibly adopted by the former Susquehannock, Samuel is dragged from Alex’s arms to begin a new life in the wilderness.
How is Alex to survive all this? And will she be able to put her damaged family back together?
In which Alex Graham has just risked her life to reach Samuel, the son forcibly carried off by the Susquehannock to be fostered by them.
It was very late in the day before Alex woke. At first Alex couldn’t quite understand what she was doing in bed on a winter afternoon. She stretched, and as she did, she recalled the happenings of the morning, sitting up so quickly the blood flowed out of her head in protest, leaving her weak-kneed and dizzy.
She dressed, pulled on an extra pair of stockings to warm her ice-cold feet, and went in search of her family. It was Christmas Eve, and she had tons of things to do before tomorrow. The saffron buns she had baked yesterday, but the pies and the fowl, the trout she was curing, and the bread!
Someone was taking care of that at least, she sniffed as she came down the stairs. From the parlour came a steady hum of male voices, while from the kitchen came sounds that indicated all the Graham women were there. Her stomach growled, and Alex decided sustenance was her first priority.
“Better?” Mrs Parson bustled towards her, dragging her to sit as close as possible to the kitchen hearth.
“I haven’t exactly been ill.”
“Nay, you just nearly drowned,” Mrs Parson said. “A normal wee thing, no?”
“I didn’t nearly drown,” Alex said. “I’m a very good swimmer.”
“David said how you were well under, and then the Indians pulled you out.”
“I would have made it across on my own,” Alex said with far more conviction than she felt.
Mrs Parson snorted, obviously not believing her. She served Alex a bowl of hot chicken soup, complete with leeks and carrots, and sat down opposite her. “Did you see him, then?”
Alex nodded, her eyes swimming with tears. “At least he knew who I was.”
“Of course he did,” Mrs Parson said, smiling at her. “And now he knows you for a daftie as well, no?”
“A daftie?” Alex’s voice squeaked with indignation.
“Aye. Throw yourself in the river like that!”
“You could have died,” Betty remonstrated, setting Timothy down in Alex’s lap.
“I just had to. He was so close.” She bent her face to Timothy’s bright corkscrews.
“At least he knows for certain just how much you love him and miss him,” Naomi said in a soft voice, “and that must be a great comfort to him.”
“You think?” Alex gave her a grateful look.
“If my mother had done something like that . . .” Naomi came over from where she was making pie, and holding her flour-covered hands aloft pecked Alex on the cheek. “I would have been so proud of her.”
Alex stayed in the kitchen, comforted by the warmth and the industrious activity. She helped Ruth with the chickens, setting them to simmer in a heavy broth, complete with wine, prunes, winter apples and finely diced salted pork. Alex made approving noises at Sarah’s squash soup, and had her fingers rapped when she tried to steal a piece of honey cake from under Mrs Parson’s nose. By the hearth, Agnes was minding the rice porridge, a staple of Graham Christmas Eves.
“Swedish tradition,” Alex said as she always did, ignoring the amused look that flew between her daughters. “You boil the rice slowly in milk and cinnamon, and then you make sure you set a dish outside the door for the little folk.”
“The little folk?” Mrs Parson laughed. “I’ve told you, no? The little folk live in the Old World, not here.”
“How would you know? Spoken to any recently?”
“No, on account of them being there, not here,” Mrs Parson replied with irrefutable logic.
“Hmph,” Alex said, “you never know, do you?” She brought out mustard seeds, her mortar and pestle, sent Hannah to the well for some cold water, and set herself to make tomorrow’s mustard.
“Have you seen the priest then?” Mrs Parson asked, supervising Betty with a narrow eye as she sliced up the smoked lamb’s leg.
“The priest?” Alex gave her a confused look.
“Aye, wee Carlos.”
“Carlos?”
“It was him the Indians brought back, no?”
“They did?” Vaguely, Alex remembered a black bundle, dropped to lie immobile on the pebbled shore.
“Mmm.” Mrs Parson’s hand trembled. ”You will have to cut his leg off.”
“What?” Alex croaked.
”You heard.” Mrs Parson beckoned for Alex to follow and led the way to one of the smaller downstairs rooms.
“I’ve never done something like this,” Alex said, after looking in on the feverish priest. Even from the door, she could make out the stench, and when Mrs Parson informed her that was how gangrene smelled, she just nodded, having no idea.
“It’s the bone that’s the difficult part,” Mrs Parson said.
“Yes, I sort of got that. But how do we do something like that and keep him alive?” An axe? No, that wouldn’t do, would it? A saw? Yes, a saw, and, shit, what an awful sound that would make.
“If we don’t, he dies anyway,” Mrs Parson said.
“Not much of a comfort,” Alex told her. “When do we have to do this?”
“As soon as possible – tonight.”
Alex sighed and dragged her hands up and down her skirts. “He has to make a conscious choice. I’m not cutting him without his permission.”
As you’ve gathered, the Graham family live an exciting life. It sort of comes with the territory when settling new land . . . Despite this, they still manage to celebrate Christmas—complete with that VERY important bowl of rice porridge for the little folk!
# # #
About the Author
Sign up to Anna’s newsletter to keep up with new releases, give-ways and other fun stuff: http://eepurl.com/cjgatT
A different guest author will be featured throughout December
Support by sharing with #HistoryWritersAdvent24
