The Freezyman sat in the midst of the children, who listened open-mouthed to his tale of The Mighty Hunter.
His star stood in the corner.
Later, the big table was drawn out and supper served. All gathered round and sat down and ate. First came potatoes and pork, red kale and pigs’ chaps, then stewed apples and sausages ... and waffles, waffles, waffles. They drank beer out of little glass mugs. The table was cleared, coffee poured out, spirits fetched from the cupboard and gin burnt with sugar. Then the chairs were pushed close, right round the hearth, and Maarten stood up, took his star, smoothed his long beard and, keeping time by tugging the string of his star, droned out:
On Christmas night
Is Jesus born
To fight our fight
Against the night
Of Satan and his devil-spawn.
And a manger is His cot
And all humble is His lot;
So, mortal, make you humble, too,
To serve Him Who thus served you.
Three wise men and each a king
Come to make Him offering;
Gold, frankincense and myrrh they bring.
Angels sweet
Kiss His feet,
As they sing:
“Hail, Lord and King!”
Telling all mankind the story
Of His wonder and His glory;
So, mortal, make you humble, too,
To serve Him Who thus served you.
All else was still. The men sat drinking their hot gin, the children listened with their heads on one side and the farmer’s wife, with her hands folded over her great lap, sat crying.
The door opened and the Kings stood in the middle of the floor. They were white with snow and their faces blue with cold; the ice hung from Grendel’s moustache. They looked hard under their hats at the table, the hearth and the little glasses and at Maarten, who was still standing up. Wulf made his star turn, Top banged his rumble-pot to time and they sang:
Three Kings came out of the East;
‘Twas to comfort Mary....
When the song was ended, each got two little glasses; then they could go.
Grendel cursed aloud.
“That damned hill-devil swallows it all up,” muttered Wulf.