This story is written strictly for the free enjoyment of fans of the "Beauty and the Beast" television series. No copyright infringement is intended.)
Yule Tide
Angie
Yet they, believe me, who await
- Matthew Arnold
The end of the year was approaching. Catherine and Vincent were preparing to carry their gifts to the annual Yule celebration Below. It was mid-December and very cold Above.
Catherine was wearing the emerald green cape that Vincent had presented to her. It was large enough that her five month pregnancy hardly showed – and it certainly would keep her warm. She was very curious about its origin, but Vincent seemed reluctant to tell her, so she filed the question away for another time. The cape was very beautiful – and so well-made. Annabelle! Of course. Catherine smiled to herself, but decided she could wait. Vincent would tell her when he was ready.
The Tunnel community did not celebrate Christmas, as such. Having attracted people of many faiths, they had opted to celebrate Yule instead. This celebration was strictly for the tunnel community, a time for them all to relax and enjoy some bounty. They gave gifts to each other, but these had strict rules. They had to be made or re-made. Nothing bought was permitted. Names were drawn from a hat, and although one gift per person was the general rule, there were always some surprises.
Vincent had just locked the brownstone’s hidden door behind them when he paused and looked down the tunnel, in the opposite direction to where they were going. Catherine caught his puzzlement and looked also, but could see nothing.
"What is it, Vincent?"
"I can hear something. Here, wait here and I’ll go and take a look."
He put down the bags and ran down the tunnel, quickly disappearing around a curve.
Catherine waited. She did not feel like following anyway. She sat down on Vincent’s bag and folded the cloak around herself. Vincent re-appeared a few moments later, cradling something in his arms, wrapped in his cloak.
Catherine stood up and moved to meet him, now intensely curious. Vincent met her and opened his cloak to reveal a very tiny, very dirty puppy. He had managed not to soil his festive clothing.
"Oh Vincent, just look at it. It seems half dead. Poor thing."
"I heard it crying. It had fallen through a broken drain cover. It’s very thin and probably hungry. I’ll take it back inside and give it a wash and some food. You can go on and I’ll follow in a little while. I’ll have to bring it along. I don’t want to leave it alone."
"I’ll come back inside with you, Vincent. It won’t take long, and we have plenty of time before the festivities begin."
They re-entered the brownstone and spent the next hour washing and feeding the puppy, which was female and a nondescript brown with white patches.
"A real Heinz 57, I’ll bet," Catherine remarked when the little dog was asleep in a big plastic bowl lined with a hand towel.
Vincent looked puzzled and Catherine laughed.
"Never mind, Vincent. It just means a mongrel. I’ll explain some other time. We’d better get moving. We can carry the bowl and puppy in a big cloth bag I have. I’ll carry her if you can manage the rest of our stuff."
"Certainly, Catherine. I know Father won’t be pleased, but it’s Yule, so he won’t say much. I think the puppy is probably mostly beagle."
"How can you know that, Vincent? I thought pets had always been forbidden below."
"Oh they have, but every child dreams of a dog. We all looked at pictures in books, read every dog story we could find. Some children made stuffed ones. We even played at being dogs ourselves – you know Lassie, Lad and the hero canines."
Catherine looked surprised and hugged her big husband.
"Vincent, if you want a puppy, he’s yours."
"Catherine, I don’t know that I do - anymore. Since growing up and wandering Above, I’ve had a few encounters with dogs I’d rather forget. But he’ll have to have a home."
"Well, let’s get going. Maybe someone will have an idea. Perhaps a helper would like a companion."
They gathered up their bags and packages and again left by their Tunnel entrance, Catherine holding the puppy in its bag. It was awkward, but fortunately, the puppy was asleep.
When they arrived at the hub of the community, wonderful smells greeted them. Catherine’s stomach rumbled. They stopped off in Vincent’s chamber to deposit their cloaks and bags, but carried their puppy bag and presents to the dining hall, which was the centre of the Yule celebration.
As soon as they entered, Samantha, who was playing hostess, took their gifts from them. Catherine hid the bag behind Vincent, wondering what to do with it. Vincent turned to look at her and then at the bag.
"I think I know just the place for him, Catherine. Come." He had a mischievous look in his eyes. They went over to a huge brazier where Father was enthroned in a large easy chair, as close as he could get without setting his clothing on fire. His hip was giving him a lot of trouble of late and heat seemed the only way to ease it. Vincent approached him and took the bag from Catherine.
"Father, we have something here which needs special care. I think perhaps you would be the best person, with your knowledge. No, don’t get up."
Father sat back in his chair and Vincent put the bag on his lap. Father looked into the bag and for long moments said nothing. He put a hand into it, scooped up the puppy and held it in front of his face. He immediately got a wet kiss from it. Catherine giggled. Father tried to look stern, but failed utterly. He chuckled and held the puppy to his chest, while he put the bag on the floor. Then he looked up at his son.
"Well, Vincent, I see you have rescued another stray. Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know. She’s quite irresistible, as I’m sure you know. Old men and dogs seem to go together, although this one’s a bit young yet. I’ll watch over her for now, Vincent, but she must get checked over by a vet. Then we’ll see."
The dog did not go unnoticed for long. The children flocked to her, but Father kept them under control. He had returned the puppy to its bowl, just in case it became incontinent, but kept it on his lap. William produced a small dish of soft food for it.
A contest soon emerged to name the dog. Mouse produced some pieces of paper and everyone wrote down their favourite name. Then they were read out and voted on. The winner, to no one’s surprise, was ‘Yule’.
Catherine and Vincent had planted themselves on the other side of the brazier in a big double chair with lift-up seats, which must have come from an old cinema. It had been mounted on a solid piece of wood and a hassock had been purloined by Vincent. The chair was perfect for snuggling and they did so, while keeping an eye or two on Father and the puppy.
Vincent kept one hand on Catherine’s belly, his favourite place. She loved the feel of his warm hand rubbing her softly there and knew that he was "listening" to their child. By the expression on his face, everything was going well. The sensation she felt through the bond was so relaxing that she found herself drifting off. She put up her feet, lay her head on Vincent’s chest and he wrapped his other arm behind her to hold her to him.
William brought in a keg of his homemade beer and a mountain of sugar cookies, and soon the gathering was pleasantly mellow. An impromptu choir began to sing seasonal songs. Then a group decided to add musical instruments and before long, a full-blown musical evening was in progress with Rolly at the piano.
All went well until the violin broke a string. Yule the puppy began to howl. The sound penetrated even the ears of the musicians and laughter put a stop to the singing.
Vincent who had been enjoying the impromptu addition to the music, shook with silent laughter. Catherine looked up at him,
"What’s funny, Vincent?"
"Well, I think we can safely say that the puppy has some hound in her. Maybe she can be trained as a vermin catcher here Below. That was the breeding purpose for a many of the smaller breeds."
"But Vincent," whispered Catherine mischievously. "That would pre-empt your own activities in that area."
Vincent looked down at her, his eyes glittering, but with his mouth twitching into a smile.
"Catherine, such activities are very rare these days. But maybe I could train the puppy. Something has to be done to keep our world free of rats. We don’t like to use poisons or traps. They’re too hard to monitor – and dangerous to more than vermin."
"I think that’s a wonderful idea, Vincent. Tell Father. I’m sure he’ll look more kindly on his charge then."
Catherine’s stomach suddenly started to rumble again and she realized she still had not eaten anything. She looked around. The buffet table now held an assortment of pastry items – sausage rolls, samosas, tarts, slices – to say nothing of many kinds of sweet desserts. The sight made her sigh, but she was so comfortable, she didn’t want to move.
Vincent, ever aware of her needs, followed her eyes and felt the emptiness of his own stomach.
"Wait here, Catherine. I’ll pick us up a platter of food and a couple of mugs of mulled ale."
In a very short time, he returned with both . After they had demolished this, Vincent went back for some of the cookies and cakes. They too disappeared quickly. Catherine found herself pleasantly full and took advantage of Vincent’s warm chest to nap again.
Vincent felt Catherine drift off and found it increasingly difficult to avoid doing the same. He gave up trying. So it was some time before he became aware that the chamber had grown quiet and got curious enough to open his eyes. He and Catherine were the centre of a wide semi-circle of friends and family watching them intently. He heard Jamie sigh in relief and looked over at her.
"Thank goodness you woke up, Vincent. I told them you would if we were just quiet enough." She laughed.
Catherine, suddenly aware of something along her bond with Vincent, woke up also. She looked up and then noticed their audience. She straightened up, suddenly embarrassed.
"Sorry," she mumbled. "I feel like a party-pooper. What happened?"
Vincent hugged her close.
"I think something is about to happen," he whispered into her ear, smiling.
Everyone smiled at him and began to sing softly. It was a tune Rolly had created from several classical pieces and had become known as the "Tunnel Song." The group suddenly divided in front of Vincent and Catherine, to reveal Devin and Charles, the latter holding a beautiful rocking cradle filled with lumpy packages wrapped in blankets and towels.
Vincent stood up and Catherine followed him, both now fully awake.
"Devin! Charles!" they both exclaimed together.
"Yes, we made it this year," Devin smiled, as he and Charles approached the surprised couple.
"We felt we had to make our contribution to the upcoming happy event, so we asked Cullen to make this cradle. Everyone else chipped in to make blankets, towels – and lots and lots of cloth diapers."
Catherine was speechless. Vincent recovered first, but Catherine could feel his absolute amazement and joy.
"We are honoured – both with your presence, Devin and Charles, and with this gift. Truthfully, we had not even thought about the baby’s necessities."
"Speak for yourself, Vincent," Catherine broke in. "I’ve thought of it, but somehow, something always distracts me and I never get around to doing anything about it. This is so wonderful of you all. Our child will be lucky indeed. I don’t know how we will ever thank you enough." She regarded the happy faces around her.
"Then let’s have some mulled wine and mull it over," bellowed William, from behind the buffet table. There was an immediate rush to partake and the four friends were left together.
Charles put the cradle down and he and Devin were immediately wrapped in a hug by Catherine and Vincent.
Yule, the puppy, chose that moment to abandon Father and wriggle between the feet of the four of them, almost getting trampled in the process. Charles quickly extracted himself from the melee, reached down and lifted up the little dog. He was rewarded with a full face wash, and chuckled happily. He looked at the person most likely to know the answer to his question. He was well aware of Tunnel strictures.
"Where did this come from, Vincent?"
"I found her, Charles. She had fallen through a drain grate and was very dirty and half-starved. We cleaned her up but had to bring her here. She’s too young to leave alone."
"Whose is she, Vincent?" Charles looked a little afraid at what the answer would be, as he cupped the wriggling bundle, stroking it with one large, gentle hand.
"I think Yule has just found someone," Vincent said quietly. Charles face, as he realized what Vincent meant, became as rosy and gleaming as the braziers. He smiled delightedly. Father quickly brought over the bag with its bowl and towel.
"Here Charles. You can have this too. She’s not trained yet.
"Well I think this will be a Yule to remember – pun intended," Father exclaimed. There was laughter at that and Devin found another big chair and placed it next to Vincent and Catherine for Charles. He quickly sat down and put the puppy in his lap. It curled up contentedly as he stroked it. His face was serene.
Father, meanwhile returned to his chair and Vincent moved off to talk to Devin. They both grabbed a mug of Williams best spiced, mulled wine. A few sips later, they stood in front of the brazier talking.
"Where were you, Devin?" Vincent asked. His brother always seemed to travel to the most interesting places. He never told them when he was coming home - was still not to be nailed down to anything like a schedule. Charles, though, often wrote to Vincent, telling him of the things he saw and places they went. Charles understood Vincent’s situation far better than anyone. He knew that a cage, no matter how gilded, was still a cage. Even though Devin protected him from curious eyes, Charles, like Vincent, knew some things would be forever denied him. However, his constraints were not as severe as Vincent’s, so he made a point of describing their adventures in the big world. Vincent kept all his letters in a special binder. He hugged Devin again.
"Devin, it’s wonderful to see you. Charles’ letters have been a welcome source of information and amazement to me. He has real talent as a writer, you know. His view of the world is so simplified that it’s quite riveting. He is such an innocent, has such a big heart. I envy him."
Devin looked at his brother, his eyes unusually serious.
"Vincent, Charles is a unique man, but so are you. Don’t envy him. You are healthy, have always had a loving community around you – and now have a wonderful wife with a child on the way. Those are all things that Charles has been denied – and always will be. He has no health problems at present, but he broke a leg last year when he tripped getting out of the van. His deformities made treatment very difficult – and embarrassing for him. He is actually allergic to many medications, we’ve discovered.
"That gift of the puppy was well done. I hadn’t thought of such a thing with our gypsy lifestyle, but Charles needs something to love, besides my own self. You’ve made his Yule very special. I’m grateful."
They chatted on until a disruption suddenly broke through the reverie. It was one of the sentries. He came into the room carrying something in his arms. It was another muddy puppy. Vincent immediately went over to the new arrival, grabbing the towel out of Yule’s bag on the way, and relieved the sentry of his dirty charge. He insisted the sentry enjoy some cheer before he returned to duty.
Vincent returned to where Charles, Catherine, Devin and Father were sitting.
"Well," he said, looking around at them all, "it looks like we have another orphan dog. Probably the same litter. This one is, if anything, even dirtier than Yule was. I’ll take it into the laundry room and give it a good wash."
"Let me help, Vincent," Charles offered. He handed Yule to Father and the two men left.
"I need to know how to take care of Yule," Charles explained as he helped Vincent soap down the little dog in a wooden laundry tub.
"I am no expert," Vincent remarked. "I only know what I’ve read in books."
Nevertheless, he showed Charles how to avoid soaping the dog’s eyes and ears and how to rinse it. With the dirt gone, this puppy was obviously male. He was white and caramel with dark brown spots.
"We have to give him a name," Charles declared.
"Do you have any ideas?" Vincent asked, sure that Charles did.
"I think we should call him ‘Tide’. That way when Dev and I visit, the two puppies will be together, Yule Tide, and we’ll remember today."
"That’s a wonderful idea, Charles. Tide it is, then. We’d better dry him off and get some food into him. He’ll be hungry. Let’s go and find William."
William was more than happy to supply some leftover gravy and meat for the dog and it was soon sleepy enough to rest in Vincent’s arms. He and Charles returned to the celebration and Vincent deposited Tide in Father’s lap when Charles reclaimed Yule.
"Well, here’s another charge for you, Father. You did so well with the last one that you’re getting an encore."
Father looked down at the sleeping puppy and then back up at Vincent.
"What are we going to do with this creature, Vincent?"
"I think we should train it to hunt vermin, Father. It’s obviously part beagle, perhaps even part terrier or hound. It should train easily."
"Now, that’s an idea I can live with," Father exclaimed. "Everything living in this place has to earn its keep. Even Mouse’s raccoon has his uses – occasionally. He’s proven wonderful at catching cockroaches – and eating them. You know why we never allowed pets. They eat scarce food resources and provide nothing in return."
"Oh, not nothing, Father," Vincent admonished him. "Just nothing tangible. They give love, after all."
"Yes, I’m well aware of that, Vincent. However, we can’t have a lot of animals running around. This dog – Tide, did you say his name was? – will have to spend time with the sentries. He could be very useful out there on our perimeter, if he could be trained to be a quiet guard as well. And that’s where the vermin come from, after all. He must be a working dog."
"As you wish, Father, but you should be his comfort when he’s not working. He may be able to root out the mice in your library." Vincent was smiling now. Any time Father could not locate a book in the newly-organized space, he blamed ‘mice’.
"Vincent, now you know very well there really aren’t any mice in my library. At least not the four-legged kind. Ever since we sorted it out, my library has become a place for little bookworms, not mice."
Vincent laughed and Father joined him. He looked over at Charles, who once again had Yule in his lap. Catherine had joined him and was stroking the dog, telling Charles about her experiences with pets – which was not extensive. An aunt had apparently had an old Yorkshire Terrier, though.
Devin had disappeared, but was soon seen to have been seconded. William bellowed "Silence" and at that command, everyone looked at him. He had dressed himself as Kris Kringle and stood arms akimbo behind an impressive pile of gifts. Devin had put on a elf cap with a bell and a bright red vest.
Over the next hour, each gift tag was carefully read out by William and delivered by Devin, who gave each female a brotherly kiss and each man a hug. Vincent and Catherine soon found themselves the proud owners of new knitted scarves and fingerless gloves, a gift that was duplicated among many others. The gloves were particularly useful in the chilly tunnels. They kept the hands warm without impeding some work that had to be done with them. The patterns were all beautifully distinctive – real works of practical art, Catherine noticed. She found herself wishing she had some talent with needles – any needles.
Devin and Charles had not announced their coming, so they had not received any gifts. When faced with this apology from William, Devin declared that he and Charles were quite satisfied the very opportune puppy – and remarked that it was a gift that would go on giving – raising some laughter among the community.
At last, there was only William’s own gifts to open. There were two – but no one knew who had provided the extra. He opened the first to find a beautifully embroidered picture, filled with fruit, vegetables, pies, pots and cakes - pronouncing "William’s Kitchen" in large, ornate letters. His smile was enough to start everyone laughing.
"This will go next to the door of my kitchen," he claimed. "Let anyone who enters, do so at their own risk."
The other package now sat at his feet. It was square, but flat. William picked it up and carefully opened it, to reveal a white box. He lifted the lid and stood dumbfounded. The audience got impatient.
"Come on, William. Show us what you’ve got!" Kanin shouted.
A chanted chorus of "We want to see," started up among the children.
William was smiling, but obviously a little embarrassed. He held up a shirt to roars of laughter. It would obviously fit his generous proportions and covered with giant pineapples on a garish green background.
Vincent laughed loudly with the rest. He had forgotten the shirt, which their seamstress Annabelle had put away for William months ago. She must have decided that Yule was the appropriate time to bestow it. Her maniacal laugh soon had everyone else roaring as well.
William joined in, then bellowed "QUIET" even louder than before. There was instant silence.
"Thank you to whoever gave me this wonderful shirt. It’s warm in my kitchen, so this will be put to good use on my back."
He looked at the younger children with a mischievous grin.
"Those little monkeys who are always trying to sneak away treats on the pretext of taking some to Father – and who pretend that they don’t see me – will have to think again. No one could miss me in this shirt!"
Father laughed at this. He was well aware he had been used as an excuse for pilfering.
"If I had received all those treats, I’d be almost as large as you, William," Father quipped.
William laughed and took off his Kris Kringle jacket to model the shirt, which was very expansive, even for his girth.
There were hoots and whistles and much laughter at this display. Then Devin broke out with an impromptu song in a fine baritone to the tune of "Jingle Bell Rock" …
"Pineapple, Pineapple, Pineapple, Cook
"We know he’s there ‘cause he has the look
Chopping and rolling, he fills up his lair
In the steamy air …"
The new words were embellished over the next few minutes with William joining in on the chorus with his deep bass. Charles gave Yule to Father to hold and went to stand beside William. William began a song, and Charles joined him. They began to sing a version of "Row, Row, Row your Boat."
"Sing, eat, drink your health
And we’ll make amends
Merrily, merrily, this is wealth
Here among your friends"
The song continued for some time in harmony before gradually dying out as voices began to crack.
William took a huge breath at last and shouted into the noise.
"Come wet your whistles, eat and be merry. That’s an order – or I’ll throw it out."
Although the threat was not taken seriously, everyone took his advice. Then the orchestra started and some couples began to dance to the slower tempos.
Catherine looked at Vincent sadly. She was in no shape to dance. But she saw something in his eyes, and felt his desire for a dance of a different kind.
She leaned over and planted a soft kiss on his mouth then whispered into his hair. "Vincent, I think we should have an early night."
He hugged her close. "I agree, Catherine."
They rose and went over to Father, who was now cradling two puppies in his lap, both asleep. He looked up with them and had no trouble recognizing their desire to leave.
"Go," he said quietly. "You’ve done quite enough for one evening, both of you."
He looked down at the puppies.
"But I don’t think any uninvited guests have been more welcome. Just looking at them makes me tired." He gave a big yawn.
"Father, you should retire as well."
"I will, as soon as I talk to Devin and Charles. I think perhaps these puppies should stay together until they leave. The dogs are happy together and we can’t be watching them all the time.
"But don’t worry, you two. Happy Yule and good night!"
Vincent and Catherine said their good-byes and walked slowly to Vincent’s chamber. They had decided to spend the night Below. Vincent lit the brazier and the two of them undressed and got into bed without further ado. They made a little music of their own to the dim strains they could hear from the festivities,
"Tell me about the cape, Vincent," Catherine asked when they were relaxing in each other’s arms.
Vincent sighed. "Catherine, the cape is the good result of a rather painful episode, one you were involved in. Are you sure you want to hear it?"
"Yes, Vincent. Now you have me really curious. "
He told the story, watched as Catherine closed her eyes at the painful memories, then brightened when he told her the rest of the story. *
"Vincent, that’s a wonderful, sad and inspirational story. That cape is very special now to both of us. It’s a blessing and a gift - and I’ll wear it with pride."
Blessingscame in many forms, Vincent decided as he kissed Catherine and their love ran along their bond. This Yuletide celebration would be remembered for a long time.
(* See ‘The Emerald Cape)
END