The Festival of Saint Marcescent

A Preface:

It is worth noting that Cridhedun is not Earth, and is not governed by things such as traditional celestial mechanics and that seasons there are not the same as seasons here. There is no single massive moon that drives tides and keeps the planet on a stable axial tilt, maintaining seasons on a level that the passage of solstices and equinoxes can mark them. The sun of Cridhedun technically isn't even a star. What the realm does have is a series of omens and portents that will telegraph what the coming seasonal changes will be. The seasons will follow the same general pattern of Summer, Autumn, Winter, and Spring, but they are not preset in length. In this fashion, Cridhedun is not entirely unlike Westeros, though seasons that last for years are going to be very rare and either tremendous boons or devastating in nature.

The Signs of Winter

There are dozens if not hundreds of signs and portents that predict the time, depth, and length of the coming Winter in Cridhedun.

There are professions who have tracking and foretelling the seasons and weather, and some of these are held in great regard. Some are old people sitting in a chair rubbing a bad knee and proclaiming a bad winter coming. Others are wise women who brew tea to read the leaves, or butchers with a touch of weather sight reading weather sign in the entrails of an animal.

Oleksandra Marcescent was not generally counted to be one of these people, she was an arborist and managed a very small copse of trees living inside the walls of Terrasquestone. This was a rare enough thing to begin with, as trees are relatively uncommon in the vertically growing fortress city, and those trees that did exist were the property of guilds, noblemen, and other groups that funded their care and maintenance. Oleksandra had three scrollbark maple trees, and she cared for these trees and harvested their bark as they shed the material and used it to make scroll cases, scroll handles, and other accessories. Despite the name, the papery bark was never used to make scroll material, it just looked like scrolls as it curled away from the trunk and fell into large dry pieces.

She noticed over the years that her trees dropping or holding their leaves seemed to predict the coming winter. The leaves turning from their typical dark green to red and gold was a widely accepted portent of autumn, considered in the same class as blatantly obvious signs of the weather cooling, and nights getting longer. What Oleksandra noted was that before mild winters, her trees would shed almost all of their leaves early, leaving the branches completely bare through the coming winter. Long, harsh winters would see the trees hold more leaves in their autumn glory, like clutching a coat against themselves.

This elicited a shrug from Oleksandra, and she went on about her life.

A funny year came.

Not funny haha, but funny hmmmm.

Autumn came late, and blustery storms buffeted the city. The trees shuddered and groaned in the winds. Her trees didn't just their leaves, but lost many branches as well. She noticed something, despite the storms, her trees each managed to hold onto a single leaf. This was not a good sign, and she felt the weight of fate touch her. Everyone else was suitably concerned about the storms, but all of the other weather signs were muddled, told contradictory meanings, or were simply not present to be noticed, and everyone cheered, this meant that there would be an average winter.

She knew differently but had no weather eye, and no one heeded her words.

She started stockpiling.

Now in her later years, hair gray, and wrinkles around her eyes, she had a good head for these things. She knew what things would keep over a long winter, what could be stored for a long time, and which things were cheap. She purchased tree nuts by the barrel. She stacked wheels of cheese in her cellar. Oleksandra filled the rooms of her house with brined and smoked joints of meat, salt-packed barrels of pork, mutton, and wild game. Her rafters were hung with scores of smoked and wrapped birds. Where there was room, she laid up bags of hard candy, bricks of lard and tallow, blocks of salt, and spices by the pound.

A few of the merchants asked who she planned on feeding and her answer was The City.

Now a few would point out that this paranoid old woman was creating a shortage of preserved goods, and this is simply not the case. She certainly did buy a large amount, but Terrasquestone is a grand city, and there was no way a single old woman living in a merchant's shop would have the coin or influence to seriously impact the city food supply.

Winter, the nobility, and poor planning would do that.

Winter's Eve

Winter buried the city in snow and left the windows and eaves groaning with a constant driving wind.

Seeing this, the nobles carried out their generations-old tradition of having White-Out Parties. They would gather in the different great halls of the noble houses and hold grand feasts and balls. The ladies would wear their finest furs, and display their winter-themed jewelry, and the men would likewise don their pelts of great beasts and drink and boast.

Not to be outdone, the great guilds did much the same, filling the guild chapterhouses with merriment and music, burning cords of firewood to warm the hall, and beer by the barrel to warm bellies. Heroes held contests with each other, and the tables were laden heavy with food. Such was a time of celebration, as there was little else to do in such weather.

The Long Gray

The expected Mid-Winter did not come. The winds groaned, more snow fell, and the spirit of joviality faltered.

The stocks of food were down, the supply of booze was in poor shape, and more disturbingly, the amount of firewood was dangerously reduced.

This was still okay, midwinter would come and there would be an early and boisterous spring, they assured each other.

This was very much not the case.

The nobles would soon abandon the city to either retreat to their manors in the country, or they holed up in their city towers, barring their doors and closing themselves off from the outside. They would go to food rationing, and breaking up furniture to keep the fireplaces going. They had food and supplies, even if they would find their belts getting loose, and plenty of furniture for kindling.

The High Lords also retreated to the Great Keep, and though they closed the gate, the side doors were left open, and many common folk sought shelter in the keep. The High Lords dipped into their supplies to keep the people warm and fed, but the soup was watery and thin, and the hearths didn't roar with flame unless a High Lord was channeling essence into the flames. The High Lords were pressed to use their magic to provide for many, and they were taxed by this.

The Last Leaf

Mid-winter finally came, and with it, the last leaves fluttered from Oleksandra's maples. Seeing this sign, she knew in her heart it was time.

Gathering her supplies she prepared for her enormous task, distributing the supplies she had hoarded.

She loaded a sack and carried it to the first house on her list. There, she gave the family a smoked ham leg, a block of lard, dried beans, dried fruit, a sack of nuts, flour, and a bag of candy for the children.

After she emptied her bag the second time, the grateful family, who had been on the verge of butchering their work pony, gave it to the old woman in her fur coat and coarse shawl. He could carry more than one food bag, and make her work easier.

On the third trip with the old pony, a family asked her to borrow their wagon, she could put more in it, and the pony could pull it, to save her feet and her back. Two boys went with her, to help load the wagon, and mind the pony.

Oleksandra worked through the night, the sky brilliant with sheets of corruscating light, blues and greens, golds and red, all dancing. Her helpers grew in number, and she gathered more ponys and little donkeys, and a larger wagon. Each trip she loaded the wagon down with food and took it to where she knew people needed it. The nobles, secure in the towers, watched as her team moved up the roads, passing out bags of food to the hungry. They saw the young men and women, and the children all helping with this task.

They were upset because she didn't visit them.

The Castigation of Lady Helisend

In the story version, Lady Helisend, her house changing from teller to teller, stopped Oleksandra and her helpers and demanded that she receive her share of the gifting. The exchange also varies from generation to generation, and person to person, but Helisend is refused. The refusal comes with different refutations, most running along the lines of chiding for being wasteful in winter, being irresponsible with money and preparations, and most commonly is being greedy. While the coffers of Helisend's house were low, they were not empty, and they were seldom gone to bed with empty stomachs.

Some versions add that Oleksandra offered the Lady the same she had brought the others, and in these versions, the Lady takes the offered goods and throws them in the snow. Along these lines, Helisend reprimands Oleksandra for daring to offer such poor provisions to a high lady. High ladies do not eat salted pork, blocks of flour and lard, or similar tawdry fair, and she demands the best cuts from the cart, and a barrel of cognac or brandy, she could see such things over the old woman's shoulder.

What all the stories do agree on is what happens after Helisend upbraids Oleksandra.

The old lady gets the drover's goad from the wagon and wears Lady Helisend out like a spoiled rotten child, whipping her across the back, buttocks, and legs before she falls in the snow and cries for forgiveness.

The Song of Marcescent

The children continue to help the old lady carry out her task.

A miracle is recorded that there is no way she could have stocked as much food as she delivered to the hungry and poor of the city. There are household records of the event where the thankful family wrote down what they received. There are accounts of fine mutton, a variety of dried fruits, nuts, and candies, and even bottles of wine, small barrels of distilled spirits, and a great supply of basic essentials like the oft-mentioned blocks of salt, lard, flour, and other dried goods like beans and barley. If the collected accounts were accurate, the old lady would have spent a king's ransom to finance it, and have had to have a warehouse large enough for a shipping company to make good use of.

It is discussed in serious circles that the Gyre itself was aware of the terrible winter and then became aware of Oleksandra and her arduous task. As she worked to deliver a wealth of food, the dungeon reached up and kept refilling her little storeroom. When a person sees a miracle happening, they accept it, they don't attack it or question it.

The procession sang as they carried out their task.

These would grow to become seasonal songs for the Midwinter celebrations.

Come the Dawn

As the sun reappeared, the task was done. This is accounted a second miracle, as it would take a dozen teams to cover the ground she did in a single night, and they would have had to have worked from sundown to sunup with no rest and no break. They would have had loading teams and traded out draft animals, and the wagons would have had to be the largest available. But the task was done in a night, and the hunger of midwinter was staved off.

The food delivered was enough to get the families through the worst of the winter.

The children returned, exhausted, to their homes. The draft animals and the wagon was returned, and they all settled in for a long needed rest.

When people came to thank Oleksandra, they couldn't find her. Inside her house there was only her red-furred coat hanging on the peg and an plate with a few uneaten cookies on it. The old woman was gone.

The scrollbark maple trees bloomed with vigor, and this was considered the third miracle and sign that Oleksandra Marcescent was to be remembered as a Saint.

Legacy

The Festival of Saint Marcescent is celebrated in Terrasquestone on the day deemed as Midwinter. There is music and merriment, and the commonfolk remember that the danger of starvation was once a much more serious thing. It is considered a time for family, and coming together over traditional foods for the winter. Contrary to the extravagances of the nobility with their grand banquets and feasts, the most common offerings are smoked game birds, ham, and mutton, with bread and cakes made with dried fruit.

Unlike many such things, the magic of Saint Marcescent lasted one night, and only happened once. The saint doesn't reappear every year, and the midnight midwinter food drive hasn't happened since. It did instill a greater sense of importance for being prepared for winter, and for taking care of neighbors, friends, and family. It is also popular because the nobility gets beaten with a driver's whip for being who they are.