The Yule Siege

The Yule Siege

written by: Diana Hignutt

 

When I was in my early twenties, many years ago now, in the year 1640 or thenabouts, I witnessed something that changed me forever. There was my life before these events, and my life after, and for all intents and purposes, I was a different person before, than I was after. It is not often, but sometimes we meet someone whose very existence changes us completely. Who shows us an entirely new way of being that we had never envisioned.

My name is Alice Jones, and I was already, at this time, in command of my own ship, the dreaded Moondrake, inherited from my father, the late pirate captain, Nathaniel Jones of Liverpool, England. My crew and I were already feared and hated all along the coasts of the New World by the Spanish, French, and Dutch ships that sailed the region from the Caribbean to Long Island. Red Alice, they called me, due to both my hair color (from my Scottish mother, may she rest in peace) and my ferocity and love of battle (from my father). That said, neither I nor my father killed or injured anyone we didn’t have to. That was his code, and it was mine as well, as he had taught me all he knew: how to sail a ship and navigate the seas, weather a storm, how to lead a crew, how to strategize, and how to battle to win. My crew had known me most of my life, as my mother had died when I was but four years old, and my father took me then upon his ship and raised me thence. I had proven myself and my leadership a thousand times, and had earned my shipmates’ loyalty and respect.

We had hit upon a stretch of scant pickings along the coasts of those wild lands. We had encountered no other ships for over three weeks, save a Spanish galleon that had already been plundered, its crew either killed or pressed into service by other pirates or privateers, such that it was already a ghost ship when we boarded. Times were tough, and we were getting hungry. So, we set our sights on a prize further inland.

We sailed up the Maurice River from the Delaware Bay in what was then known as New Sweden, which straddled both sides of the bay and the southern reaches of the Delaware River (then the South Bay and South River). On the Southwest shores, the colony was still flourishing, but to the North and East, by all accounts, it was failing, and the Dutch were eyeing the land with interest, as were my own people, the English. Our target was the old fort, called with some pretension, Maurice Castle, that was supposed to be the capital of the region once long ago, but was now largely forgotten, and underdefended by all accounts. It sat in the wild, and lonely forests not far from the Western shore of the Maurice River. Tales claimed the castle remained from the legendary Vineland colony of the Northmen.

My father had once visited Maurice Castle at Yule in his younger days, when he was simply a merchant for hire, before he had turned pirate. I remember his stories well. You could watch his eyes twinkle at the memory as he spoke of it. He told stories of a bustling hub of local commerce. When he was there, it was filled with fur traders, farmers, hunters, and fishermen, and their goods, game, and produce. All sought the safety and hospitality of the castle’s lord for the festive season. Lord Howard, he had called him. I had remembered those stories when the calendar turned to December, and in our funk of bad luck and hunger, I steered the Moondrake with some desperation towards this outpost of New Sweden.

Our plan was simple. Myself and Young Sven, our youngest crew member at fifteen, would disguise ourselves as lost and weary Swedish colonists. I spoke Swedish fluently, and Young Sven was a Swede. We would arrive during the day under the pretext of seeking shelter and hospitality, before the gates were closed and locked for the night. My crew would arrive under cover of darkness, and Young Sven and I would open the gates. We would easily seize the castle and take our fill of food, wine, ale, and furs. A Happy Christmas for us indeed. This was our plan, but we could never have anticipated what actually happened. No one there will ever forget the events that transpired at Maurice Castle that Yule.

It was a few hours before sunset on Mid-Winter’s Eve. The grey of the solstice held a world prepared to delve deeper into cold and darkness. Young Sven and I had disembarked a few miles south of the old fort. We didn’t want to seem to be coming from the river and thus raise suspicion. We cut through the forest from the shores lined with the brown and tired remnants of reeds and river grass from warmer seasons. The forest was thick with pine and scrub oaks, with briar and huckleberry bush undergrowth, its floor lined with pine needles and fallen oak leaves. As we made our way through the dense underbrush, the briars grabbed at our cloaks and slowed our progress. The sun was already low on the horizon, though its zenith was never very high in the sky this time of year. I urged Young Sven on lest we reach the locked gate after nightfall, but at last we reached the trail, or road, such as it was, and we turned, following its sandy lane towards Maurice Castle.

The forest there were what is known as pine barrens, a sandy land with predominantly pines, pin oak, scrub oak, and cedar trees near the streams. In a couple miles of trek we saw first the watchtower, a wooden structure rising well over the stone walls of the fort, which next came into view. The castle had been there for only a few decades, but it looked far more ancient than those scant years should have caused. Now its stone walls, covered in moss and bird droppings, told a quiet tale of failed dreams, and of hope departed long ago. An almost forlorn sense of resignation hung over the structure that fit well with the solemn grey of that December day. The Swedish colony was failing. There was no denying it. The Dutch, and even the English, had their eyes on these forests. The First Nations folk still laid some claim, though they largely tolerated the Swedes. Roving bands of thieves and marauders, exiled from Europe, preyed on travelers and the scattered residents, and we pirates sailed the rivers, bays, and seas. But there were still, despite these dangers, some Swedish colonists stubbornly etching out their livelihoods with small farms, trapping for furs, milling grain, or fishing the waters. The forest stopped a few hundred yards from the walls, and plowed fields, finished for the season, stood between them, along with some pasture land for animals to graze upon, and orchards. A crow cried somewhere in the distance. We heard the watchman in the tower yell down to the gate, no doubt alerting them to our approach. A young child’s voice. This was going to be easy.

Or perhaps not, I thought as I neared the walls and my glance caught sharp pikes and the tops of helmets just visible behind the crude battlements of the moss-covered stone wall. A figure armed with helm, and musket stepped from behind the wall into the castle entrance and barred our way despite the open gate.

“Halt. I am the Door Warden of Maurice Castle. State your names and business here!”

It was a girl’s voice, in Swedish. As we stepped closer I could see the helm was much too big for her freckled head, her strawberry blonde hair poured from it over her shoulders. She could barely hold up the musket. She couldn’t have been more than her early teens, if that. She wore a simple wool cloak, dyed green, and plain brown dress beneath. Her eyes shone a clear bright blue, and despite her best efforts to look as stern and commanding as she could muster, there was a kindness to her countenance that she could not hide. It was then that I noticed the deer antlers affixed upon the helmet with twine or some such. A five-pointer.

I elbowed Young Sven, and we immediately fell to our knees. “Oh, thank the Heavens, My Lady!” I cried out. “My brother and I are lost. Our settlement is a week North, further up the South River. We were attacked by a Lenape War Party, our family was slaughtered, and our home destroyed. This is my younger brother, Sven, and my name is Alice,” I lied with my best Swedish accent. At least our names were the truth.

“Can you not shelter us for the Yule, my Lady?” Young Sven added. His eyes imploring her.

“You’d best come inside the fort then,” the Door Warden said without hesitation, lowering her musket and stepping aside.

We walked past her and entered Maurice Castle. It was much larger than I had anticipated. The wall stood at least fourteen feet tall, with a timber scaffolding that allowed personnel to man the battlements (which I carefully studied). But despite appearances from outside, the wall was not manned. Crude dummies stuffed with straw wore war helms and held pikes. A clever ploy that drew a quick smile from me.

Inside the walls, there were stables, mangers, chicken coops, storerooms, and siege housing for the locals, all made of timber, and across the courtyard from the gate was the main hall built impressively from stone, with a thatched roof. Smoke curled from the large stone chimneys on either side of the building. The girl gestured towards the hall, “There’s warm cider inside and a nice fire to warm your bones. Lady Christine and Hildi are making some stew and fresh bread for supper soon. Welcome, I’m Anna,” she said warmly.
She saw my eyes scanning the wooden ramparts and the stuffed soldiers. “Things have been bad here over the last couple of years, but you’re safe inside these walls. We’ll protect you.”

“We’ll?” I asked.

“There’s a few of us, though many have died, and a few have been laid low from the sickness.”

She saw the concern in my eyes. “Oh, don’t worry, no one here has fallen ill in over two months, it should be safe enough, it’s just that those few who survived it, are slow in recovering from its grip.”

We thanked her and crossed the courtyard, past the large well, and the base of the watchtower, the chickens, and a goat that wandered there, and made our way to the main hall. It was a magnificent structure for these wild lands, and spoke of the high hopes its builders had for this colony.

Young Sven and I entered the great hall of Maurice Castle. It was a shockingly large space, but surprisingly warm and inviting, with hay spread over the floor. A cow wandered by the stairs ascending to the next floor. On one side, there were chairs and tables arranged near the fireplace. An old man and woman sat snoozing near the fire. There was a cauldron filled with warm cider next to the fire. On the other side of the great hall was the kitchen with its great cooking fireplace and oven. An ancient woman stooped over a large caldron, stirring, while a little girl was cutting potatoes at a nearby table. The stew smelled delightful. Nearby were six beds, five were occupied by sleeping figures. Another young girl sat in a chair set between the beds in attendance of the patients. She looked to likely be the sister of the door warden, as was the kitchen girl I later learned. She noticed us, and jumped up, yelling, “People have come!” while she ran excitedly towards us.

Pleasantries were exchanged, and the girl named Elin introduced us to everyone. Her sister peeling the potatoes was Hildi, and they were both Anna’s (the door warden’s) sisters, daughters of the Miller, who was one of the inflicted in bed. The Lady Christine, the ancient woman making dinner, who had come to New Sweden in her youth with her husband, Lord Howard, to found this colony before history now allows, and built with their people this fortress against this wilderness and its varied inhabitants. Lord Howard was in another of the beds, ill. The Farmer’s wife was a patient, while the Farmer was warming himself at the other fire. The final two patients were the Fisherman Gunter and his wife, Elsi, whose twins were Oscar (who manned the watchtower) and Sig (who was out fishing). Elin took us over and got us warm cider. As she did so, a young boy, Sig, came in carrying a basket full of fish, clams, and crabs, which he took over to the kitchen. I drained my cider and went outside, bidding Young Sven to remain inside and learn more of the inhabitants of Maurice Castle, while I would watch the gate and see what more I could learn of the fort’s defenses.

Anna, with her deer antler helm, was on the scaffolding on the wall above the gate. I climbed the wooden ladder and joined her there. The solemn gray of the winter solstice hung over the quiet of the forests, fields, and pastures around the fort. The gloom of heavy clouds and the coming night were beginning to creep over the afternoon. There was something incredibly calm about this girl, a peace about her that made a deep impression on one. A quiet depth and confidence that rests in kindness. We stood in silence, scanning the road and the pine and oak woods around it.

“They’ll be a storm here before too long,” I observed, to make conversation.

Anna looked about. “Maybe,” she said, nodding.

I asked her about the antlers on her helmet. It was Ernst’s helm, she replied, and Ernst liked deer. That was all she said, and I did not press her further.

There was a warning call from the tower, so we both scanned the road as far as we could see. A lone figure emerged from the distant wood on the thoroughfare towards the fort. As the person drew nearer, Anna recognized him as Lars the Hunter, a big fellow, with a buck over his shoulders, a bow on his back, and a brace of conies on his belt. He stopped where the forest met the empty fields, after a few minutes, there was a fire from the large torches he had lit on the sides of the road, and then continued towards the fort. Anna climbed down the ladder to greet him and closed the gate behind him. He nodded to her and silently made his way across the courtyard. Anna barred the door.

“We close and bar the gate at night. We’ll be safe. I’m going to eat, and then I’ll be back out to watch a couple more hours, just in case some late travelers arrive. That’s what Ernst used to do.” She explained.

“That’s very kind of you,” I replied. “Young Sven and I certainly appreciate your hospitality. I’ll watch the gate for you.” I volunteered.

She smiled and assured me she would be right back. I continued to watch the road after she left. I had told her I would, and I had nothing else to do for several hours. My crew wouldn’t arrive until near midnight. I will say that at this point, I was already feeling guilty about our plan. I was changing it in my head…we would take the many furs that I had noticed scattered about the main hall, and our fill of food, wine, ale, and cider, leaving them plenty for themselves…they were children, the elderly, and infirm, aside from the Hunter, afterall. There were so few of them, we would have no trouble subduing them without doing anyone any harm, or at least that’s what I attempted to convince myself. I was uneasy in my mind. I assured myself it would all work out as I watched the road. As the evening descended over the fort I heard shouts coming from the watchtower as Oscar called down to Sig, who was climbing the ladder to relieve this twin. They couldn’t have been over ten I realized as I watched Oscar climbing down to get his dinner. My stomach growled. I drew my cloak tightly about me and pulled down my hood as the cold set in. I was jealous of Young Sven as I remembered the aroma of the stew in the Great Hall.

A great flock of geese was moving in the sky above, honking with an incredible volume, so many were there. For minutes, their train moved from horizon to horizon. Flying South for the Winter. I quite liked the southern seas myself, the Caribbean was my favorite winter haunt, and I had a soft spot for Jamaica for Christmas, but fate had led us here. I was by myself on the wall over the gate for only an hour, and the night had almost fully fallen over the winter pine woods by the time Anna had returned, her cheeks flush, her mouth in a cheerful smile. “The stew is delicious, you should go get some, Alice. And there’s bread too with honey. Go.”

The stew was delicious, Anna was right, and the bread with honey was divine. I couldn’t really exchange information with Young Sven, as we were constantly surrounded with the inhabitants of the Great Hall. We sat together at a table with Hildi, Oscar, and Lady Christine, eating our stew and fresh-baked bread and drinking cider, not too far from the warmth and light of the fireplace. The Hunter came in, presumably from bleeding the deer, pulled off his cloak, and collapsed in the unoccupied bed. “Poor Lars, he’s pushing himself too hard. He’s not well yet,” Lady Christine observed. “He’ll be down for two days now, at least.” I hid my smile, as Lars was the only one of them I was worried about when things came to a head.

Just then, I heard Sig’s warning shout from the watchtower. Someone was approaching the fort. It had better not be our men, it was far too early, though they shouldn’t be too far. I had to see what was happening. I bid Young Sven to remain with our hosts and sprinted out of the hall and across the courtyard to the gate.

When I reached Anna’s side on the scaffolding on the wall over the gate, I heard them before I saw them. Drunken singing in English, “Here we come a’wassailing! Open your gates a’wide! Here we come a’wassailing! You will be my bride, and we’ll have your figgy pie!” Several men. I didn’t recognize the voices, so not my men. Rowdy, bawdy, and drunk. Not a great combination.

I saw them step into the light of the torches at the end of the field on the road. Eight men, staggering alongside a cart drawn by a mule. They did not seem a pleasant bunch of characters at all.

“Maruders, Highwaymen,” I muttered. “Brigands. You can’t let them in.”

Anna looked at me with concern. “Do you know these men?”

“These particular men? No.,” I replied. “But I know the type.” My accent faltered slightly. I hoped she didn’t notice it. “You can’t let them in. They’ll take you for everything you have, and more.” They were also complicating my plans, but this I did not let on.

“We shall see,” Anna said cheerfully.

We watched them make their way down the road through the plowed fields towards the gate. A rotten-looking gang of ne’er-do-wells if I ever had seen one. Pirates traditionally tended to look down on highwaymen and brigands, considering them a cheap landlover imitation of our own profession. They also did not sing very well at all. About halfway from the edge of the field and gate, the one who guided the mule cart, evidently the leader, bade his men to stop their caterwauling. Bless him for that, I thought. They were armed with muskets, sticks, and clubs.

“Greetings,” the group’s leader shouted to us as they neared the gate. “My name is Roland, my men and I, come seeking the refuge and hospitality of your fort on this cold winter’s night.”

I looked at Anna. She addressed this Brigand Roland in broken English, but clear enough, “I cannot welcome you for our law says that only in the direst of emergencies may the gate of Maurice Castle be opened after the sun sets. If you return on the morrow, we can discuss it then. I’m sorry.”

I could tell Anna did not want to leave them out there, despite the law.
Brigand Roland smiled when he realized he was dealing with a young girl. It bothered me no little bit that I had felt the same way when I first met Anna. But there was something different, something special about her, that belied her fourteen years.

“Oh well, that’s bad timing on our part. But then, we were delayed on our journey. We had to skirt a large company of Dutch soldiers, and just now we noticed what appeared to be pirates hiding in the woods about a mile down the road.”

“Dutch soldiers, and pirates?” Anna repeated skeptically.

My heart sank. Our plan was already in tatters! I drew my cloak more tightly around myself, attempting to hide any traces of my pirate clothes, pistol, and dagger.

“Aye, that’s right. Both groups looked to be heading here,” insisted Brigand Roland. “Look, I know the lads, and I look a bit rough, and maybe we didn’t have the best of intentions when we set out. You see, we heard things were going a bit poorly here, and that we might find easy pickings with little fight, but apparently, we weren’t the only ones. If you don’t let us in, the pirates will likely cut through us before they take your little fort here. There’s at least some fight in us that might be useful to you, my lady.”

I leaned from behind the battlement and yelled down, “You heard her, shove off. You’re not wanted here, and you’re not coming in.” I surprised myself. Our plan was being foiled before it could begin, by these simple villains, and I was none too happy about it.

Anna called down to them. “We shall see if what you say is true. For now, if you are hungry, we can get food down to you.”

Anna saw my expression of disbelief. “We must help them, Alice, within our means. It’s the right thing to do.”

“That’s kind of you, my lady,” replied Roland. “My lads are pretty hungry, our rations ran out yesterday, aside from some crackers, and lots of rum, which has been sustaining us. We will take whatever you offer, but will beg you, should those pirates in the woods make their move, by all that is holy, please allow us inside to save our bones.”

I glared at Roland for all I was worth, but Anna quietly got down the ladder and headed back to the great hall. In a few moments, she was back, carrying a basket which she lowered by rope to the would-be wassailers.

“There’s a pot of stew and some bread for you,” Anna offered.

The marauders demonstrated the sincerity of their tale by immediately helping themselves to the food with gusto, while I tried to figure out a way to save our plan. And that was when Sig called down another warning from the tower. “Pirater!” The Swedish word for pirates. I sighed audibly.

Anna shot down the ladder and had the gate open before I could stop her. I was frozen in shock. A moment later, the brigands were in the castle with the gate closed, just as I saw my first mate, Big Roy’s giant form, stride into the light of the torches with another fifteen crewmen behind him. I was racking my brain for a solution, but none came. It was too soon, surprise was lost, and Big Roy would have no choice but to lay siege to the fort. Hopefully, at some point, Young Sven or I could open the gate and salvage our plan. But now, there were Brigand Roland’s men, who were scaling the ladder to man the battlements, to account for. This just kept getting worse and worse.

Anna introduced Roland and I. The brigand looked at me suspiciously, like he had recognized me from a wanted poster, or perhaps I was just feeling guilty. His men seemed stout, and experienced despite their intoxication. I could only watch helplessly as Big Roy, Sweaty Alfie, Stuart, and the rest of my lads approached the gate.

“Open the gate!” Commanded Big Roy. “My name is Big Roy McIntyre, first mate of the pirate ship Moondrake, and I claim this fort and all it holds. Open the gate, and you all shall be spared. If you refuse, it will go all the worse for you once we do get in. And we will.”

“It is as I said,” Roland whispered to Anna.

“I am the Door Warden of Maurice Castle,” the girl called down. “We will not open the gate to those who come to harm us. Only friends or those in need may enter here.” She looked at me when she spoke the last words. I tried to meet her gaze, but could not.

“Alright, it’s the hard way then,” replied Big Roy. “We shall lay siege to your fort, and when we finally enter, we shall leave none alive.” Of course, I knew Roy, and he did not mean it. He never hurt anyone he didn’t have to, he had been my father’s first mate and then mine, and he always followed my father’s code. But Big Roy said his words convincingly, and even I was taken a little back by his acting. He ordered the man to spread out and scout the castle walls for a way of access, while he stayed by the gate with a small contingent.

Brigand Roland had his musket pointed at Roy.

“No,” shouted Anna. “We do not kill here. No one has been hurt. We will not be the first to draw blood here.”

Both Roland and I were caught off guard by this.

Anna continued. “We can withstand a siege here for a while. I suspect these pirates are simply hungry. And if there are Dutch soldiers on the way, as Roland says, we may need these men’s help.” She looked at both Roland and I. I could not believe that one so young could be so wise. She bade us both to watch the gate as she returned to the great hall, taking some of the brigands with her.

I avoided Roland’s questions as much as I could. He pressed me for details about the settlement I was from. It was obvious he didn’t believe I was the Swedish colonist that I pretended to be. I got it out of him, that he and his men had been convicts banished to this continent for their crimes, and here they had tried to settle down and make something of themselves, but old habits led them back to the ways of the highwaymen. They were hungry and had taken up wassailing for the Yule. Back in England, he explained that rowdy lads would visit houses and beg food and drink for songs and stories, and such visits not uncommonly ended up with the hosts much the worse for their hospitality. But, those thoughts fled him, he said, as soon as he had encountered Anna. There was something about her, he said. Something pure, and true, that he had not encountered before. I could only agree with his assessment of her.

Anna had returned with two baskets, which she lowered down to Roy. My crew were laying siege to her home, and she was feeding them. It beggared belief. Roy called the men to him, and they quietly ate, as confused by Anna’s generosity as I. It began to snow.

The snow and the siege continued through the next day. Big Roy had lit a bonfire not far from the gate, and he and the crew kept mostly near it. Snow covered the fields and the castle grounds. Oscar manned the wall for a few hours while Anna got some rest. I had volunteered to keep a watch, hoping for a chance to open the gate for Big Roy and the boys, but Roland ever had his eyes upon me. We both stayed awake all night as a result, and grudgingly went to the great hall for some bread and sleep at Anna’s urging.

Lady Christine and the girls had brought down some furs and blankets for us guests to sleep on after feeding us our fill of bread and butter. I had explained the situation as best I could to Young Sven, but there were too many ears listening, and most interested were Brigand Roland’s. I instructed Sven to wake me in a couple of hours, or if anything had happened.

And so it was that I woke to see Young Sven, and Big Roy looking over me. I immediately panicked seeing Roy, immediately worried about Anna and the colonists, “Where’s Anna?”

Big Roy laughed, “She’s on the wall, of course. Dutch soldiers came up from the woods a few minutes ago. Must have been thirty men, all armed with muskets and swords. Anna let us in to save our worthless hides. She’s something, that one. I think I’d take a bullet for that girl.”

I got up. A few of the crew were mixing with the colonists and wassailers, eating, drinking, talking, while most of my men and Roland’s were defending the walls from the Dutch, apparently.

“I brought you your hat, Captain,” said Stuart from behind me. I supposed that subterfuge was no longer necessary and took it, thanking him.

We went out to the gate to find Anna and assess the situation. We were surrounded, and under siege once again, but this time by a well-armed company of Dutch soldiers. Their officer and his staff were warming themselves by the fire Big Roy had built, while others surrounded the castle. My crew and Roland’s troop of highwaymen had replaced the hay dummies that earlier defended the battlements, their muskets and pistols ready for action.

Anna noticed my hat and smiled brightly. “Roland thinks you’re Red Alice, the pirate. I told him that it didn’t matter. That you were my friend.”

“I am your friend, and I’m Red Alice too,” I said. I was, and I would have done anything for her. Every one of us on that wall would have.

The Dutch were led by young and dashing Company Captain Maarten Van der Ong, out of Beverwyk and New Amsterdam, who had just a few moments before announced his intention of laying siege to this fort and eventually to take it for the New Netherlands. The Swedes could not hold these lands as they were too wild, he explained, it was a job for the Dutch to tame the area. The Swedes had their chance and could not capitalize upon it, he said. But Captain Van der Ong was clearly surprised by the number of defenders at Maurice Castle; his intelligence had been wrong. This had made his plans more difficult, as had the snow, which was coming down heavily enough to make visibility poor, and the wind was whipping up and swirling flakes into our ruddy faces. Roland was looking pleased with himself. I gave him a smile and a nod.

We took turns manning the wall, but Anna was almost always there. The snow was accumulating, and the Dutch did not look happy in their positions. The cold, snow, and ice were our allies, as our attackers had no recourse but to submit to their fury, but we could go inside, eat, drink, and be warmed by the fire, as we required. The situation remained unchanged for two days. I thought the Dutch were going to give up, but Maarten Van der Ong was a stubborn man, and he did not give up so easily. But, it continued to snow and get colder.

I cannot guess how long the Dutch would have continued their siege, but the situation changed again when Oscar’s cry from the watchtower, “War Party!”

The Lenape tribes generally kept to themselves, but from time to time, they would send out war parties. No doubt they had followed the Dutch company to the fort. A military force that large would provoke a strong reaction from the Lenape Nation, and they were forced to respond in kind to this hostile incursion from the Europeans.

The native warriors emerged from the surrounding woods into the snow-covered fields. It was not easy to see in the snow, but you could tell there were a lot of them. I could see the panic on the Dutch company captain’s face. And then I heard Anna, “Open the gate,” she called out. “Let them in!”

His eyes wide in surprise and relief, Captain Maarten Van der Ong led his men through the open gate and into Maurice Castle. Anna welcomed them all, and a couple of the soldiers helped her bar the gate door. She sent the soldiers to the great hall for warmth, cider, and food. Van der Ong remained and joined us on the scaffolding. He nodded at us, and we at him. We were all grim, as war parties are a serious business that few have survived to tell of. All of us, except Anna, were grim, that is.

“We’re doomed!” exclaimed Roland.

“Are we not doomed the moment we are born, sir?” Anna asked him cheerfully, “Should we not then, help each other live the best lives that we can?”

She smiled, like she already knew what was going to happen, and therefore had no worries. I don’t think for a moment that she had any foreknowledge of the future, but I do think she had already decided what she was going to do, as the Lenape Wolf Clan made their way across the snowy fields through the fierce blizzard that raged around us. The wind screamed with its bitter ferocity as the warriors slowly approached the fort.

With a torch in her hand, Anna opened the gate, and waved the Lenape inside the walls. Roland, Maarten, and I were stunned. We stared blankly at each other for a moment, before we allowed ourselves to realize the joy that we were feeling. Pure joy had taken our hearts, as Anna led the warriors across the courtyard into the great hall. We all climbed down from the walls and followed behind them. We left the gate open. All were welcome that Yule at Maurice Castle.

The chickens and goats had found their way inside as well. The place was bustling. There was laughter and talking. Lady Christine, Hildi, Elin, Oscar, and Sig were getting food for all the new guests. Roland revealed the two kegs of rum they had on their cart. Warm cider and mulled wine were had, and ale as well. There was roast venison and chicken, baked fish, clams, crabs, and more stew. Bread with honey, butter, and cream. We feasted all throughout the blizzard.

One of the Lenape scouts spoke some French, which I knew as well. When I told him of the sickness that clung to the Swedes, he brightened up and rushed to the infirmary beds. He had a potion, he said that would cure the afflicted, and so it did. In hardly an hour, the Miller, the Farmer’s wife, Gunter and Elsi, Lars the Hunter, and Lord Howard were up and had joined the merriment, now made all the merrier by the miraculous cure of the Lenape scout.

Roland’s men started singing once again. This time we all joined in. Outside, the winds howled. The blizzard engulfed the world outside the Great Hall of Maurice Castle, but we didn’t care.

I have seen many things in my long years, but nothing has so stuck with me as that Yule in New Sweden, and nothing has changed me as much. None of us remained as we were after that. We were kinder, less easy to anger, more patient, more generous. Anna had reminded us of something. Something we had forgotten. To be kind. To care. To give. To be a friend to those in need. To help each other.

The blizzard continued for over a week. No one there had seen anything like it. We spent the Twelve Days of Christmas together in a style rarely matched, feasting, merrymaking, enjoying each other’s good company, and sharing all in the cooking, and the cleaning, and the chores that needed doing, giving Lady Christine and the children a much-needed break. We eventually went our separate ways. And no one took anything that was not freely given. All who spent those solstice nights together would ever be at peace with one another, and none would raise even a hand against those who had shared the experience. Deep and lasting friendships were made, private alliances that were held as sacred between those assembled at the Great Hall of Maurice Cast that Yule.

My crew now had eight more stout lads, as Roland and his troop joined us on the Moondrake. We may have done more merchant work, and a bit of smuggling here and there, but we still considered ourselves pirates. Sven remained at Maurice Castle. Company Commander Maarten Van der Ong and his men returned to New Amsterdam, reporting a strong, well-armed presence at Maurice Castle, and a failed siege. This kept the Dutch out of the area for another decade or so. The colonists of New Sweden remained at peace with the Leni Lenape Nation for the duration of the colony’s existence. After the death of Lord Howard and Lady Christine (several years after that magical Yule), the residents of Maurice Castle left the fort and resettled in New Stockholm further up the South River, joining the thriving colony there. I lost track of Anna a few years after that. But I have never forgotten her nor that Yule in New Sweden. I think of her often, truth be told, and of her special gift of thinking the best of people. I am reminded that there is great power in kindness, and in it lies our greatest hope.

From the Private Memoirs of Alice Jones-Van der Ong, Amsterdam, Netherlands, 1688.