“Out of shadows and mist, the ancient Wyking swamp-men emerged from the quaking bog, their chain mail, half-silver and half-rusted, glimmered faintly in the pale blue moonlight. They were the ancient raiders, come to seek their glory in the swampy island known as Eire.”
“Grandpa Jack?” said Chelsea.
“Yes, dear?”
“Why did you call them Wykings?”
“The men from the north known as Vikings once called themselves Wykings.”
“Oh, okay. You can go on now…”
The consummate storyteller, Grandpa Jack was happy whenever he drew an audience (whch he always did). The crowd of children, great, grand, and otherwise, filled the area around the fire pit, huddled together upon hay bales and under blankets just beyond the Donaldson’s barn. Aunt Meg was there. So, too, was Uncle Danny. Also, there were all of Chelsea’s cousins including Kevin and Lauren and Stephanie and littlest Eric.
“Where was I?” asked Grandpa Jack.
“The bog-men,” Chelsea reminded him.
“Ah, yes!” said Grandpa, “the Wyking bog-men rose from the mists of the quaking bog and slogged across the swamplands just north of Tipperary. The muck and the mire was so thick, it stopped the Wykings dead in their tracks. Try as they might, they could not escape the bogs. Finally, the swollen earth consumed them, until only their souls were left.
It has been said that you should always keep your ears alert and your eyes peeled, because these ghosts lurk at the edges of great fields, looking for farm animals and young children to feast upon.”
The children focused deliberately on Grandpa Jack as he told his tale. They hung on his every last word.
“Oh, stop it, Jack!” scolded Grandma, “you’re scaring the children.”
“What good is All Hallows Eve without a good horror story?”
“Maybe that’s enough, dad,” said Aunt Meg.
“No!” called all the children but Chelsea. She focused her eyes on the fencerow where the cows lingered. As wind whipped through the pines, it whistled softly. That was just about all Chelsea could take. Still, she said nothing. Grandpa looked around the campfire. He noticed her fearful face.
“Maybe you’re right, Meg. Maybe that’s enough for tonight.”
“It’s time for snap-apple anyway,” said Grandma.
She placed a pail atop a milking stool. Large red apples bobbed around as the water inside the pail sloshed about.
“Youngest first!” she said.
That was little Eric.
Eric locked his hands behind his back and poked his nose into the pail of icy water. His tiny mouth couldn’t fit around the slippery apple. Instead, he snagged a stem between his teeth and stood upright. Everyone cheered as he displayed it proudly.
“Bring it here, dear,” said Aunt Meg, “and I’ll slice it up so you can dip it in caramel and honey.”
Before she could make the first slice, Grandpa Jack stopped her. He pulled out his pocketknife and made a cross-cut in the apple. The seeds formed a five-pointed star.
“See the five-pointed star?” said Grandpa Jack, “it symbolizes the life-giving properties of the apple and also the essence of man: two legs, two arms, and one head. The apple carries the seed just like the woman carries the baby. The ancient druids, known as magicians or witches, believed this to be so. This is why the apple is so closely tied to the witch.”
The fire began to die, but Grandpa had an answer for that, too. He walked to the back of his pickup truck and grabbed a large brick of sod.
“What’s that?” asked little Eric.
“It’s called peat and I cut it from the swampy bog just down the shore.”
Grandpa Jack tossed the sod brick onto the fire and embers shot out in an orange flash. Quickly, the fire consumed the peat.
“You see,” said Grandpa, “bogs have been around as long as Ireland itself. When plants decay, the bog absorbs the nutrients and creates peat. For centuries, farmers used peat to plant gardens and feed their fires.”
While some children bobbed for apples, Eric and Chelsea joined Grandpa Jack on a hay bale near the fire. With his pocketknife in one hand and a turnip in the other, he began to whittle.
“What kind of jack o’ lantern would you like?”
“A scary one!” said Eric.
“How about a smiling one?” said Chelsea.
Grandpa took the large white tuber in his hand and chopped off the point at the bottom, creating a round bulb with green, leafy stems where the hair could be. He began at the mouth, carving it to both grandchildren’s desires. Its smile included buckteeth and missing teeth. A simple circle, the button-nose helped Chelsea’s cause for a cute jack o’ lantern. The eyes squinted and the brows flared slightly, just so Eric would be happy, too.
Grandpa carved a hole in the center, just the size for putting a small flashlight inside.
“As the Irish folktale goes, there once was a stingy drunk named Jack. Jack loved to play tricks on everyone he met. When he saw the devil, it was a temptation he could not resist. He dared the devil to climb the tallest apple tree and when the devil reached the top, Jack quickly placed crosses around the trunk. When the devil could not climb down, Jack offered a compromise. When jack died, he’d never have to go to Hell. The devil agreed and Jack let the devil out of the tree.
Many years later, when Jack died, he paid a visit to Saint Peter.
“Son,” said St. Peter, “since you’ve been mean all your life, I cannot allow you into Heaven.
When Jack was sent to Hell, the devil had to keep his promise. However, it was the Devil’s turn to play a trick on Jack. He forced poor old Jack to wander as a soul without a place to call home.
All the villagers of Ireland did not want a visit from Jack’s ghost, so they carved turnips with scary faces and placed them in their windows. To this day, farmers use Jack o’ Lanterns to keep poor Jack’s soul from entering their homes.”
So, Grandpa Jack carved a second turnip for Eric. Then, he carved one for each of his grandchildren.
“Is that everyone?” asked Grandpa.
“I think so,” said Eric.
“Then, off you go.”
“Aren’t you going with us?”
“I’ve got old bones. I’ll stay here with Grandma and help with supper.”
The children put on their costumes and painted their faces for a night of guising, the Irish version of trick-or-treating, with children disguised as creatures of the night: zombies, witches, vampires, goblins, and ghosts.
The kids rode into town where gusing was easiest. They trick-or-treated, going door to door to collect coins and candies. When they finally came home, it was time to count their loot. Grandpa threw extra bricks of peat on the fire, along with large pieces of cordwood. The fire blazed, lighting the barnyard from the back porch to the far cliff.
“Grandpa?” said Korrit, “can you tell us about guising?”
“Druids believed that on the cross-quarter days, halfway between equinoxes, a door opened to the other side and allowed the living to communicate with the dead. They built large bonfires and dressed as creatures of the night to keep away the evil spirits. When the church arrived in Ireland during the ninth century, they replaced the pagan harvest festival with All Saint’s Day. Still, the Christians kept the ancient pagan celebrations as their own.”
When the apple crisp was cooked the whole way through, Grandpa Jack removed it from the fire and led everyone indoors, where the fireplace was lit and the house was warm.
“I’m so hungry for apple crisp,” said cousin Stephie.
“You can’t have your dessert until you eat your stew.”
Grandpa placed the stockpot on the hearth to keep it warm. Although they ate it year-round, Halloween was a special time for Colcannon Stew. Everyone ate it and enjoyed it completely.
Afterwards, there were two desserts. Before anyone got to enjoy the apple crisp, it was time for a bit of fortune telling. That was where the barnbrack was involved.
Barnbrack was traditional Irish fruit bread cooked with flour, sugar, yeast, dates, and raisins. Grandma molded small round cookies and put them on a baking tin. Before she placed the tin inside the oven, she placed six items in random pieces of dough: a coin, a stick, a pea, a metallic cross, a tiny piece of cloth, and a ring.
“Smallest fets the first choice of brack,” said Grandma Georgina.
Eric picked a cookie out of the basket and broke it in half. It contained nothing.
“Break it again,” urged Aunt Meg.
Eric crushed his cookie on his plate, until it was only crumbles. Still, he was happy to eat the brack.
“Chelsea, you’re next.”
Chelsea cracked her piece in half. A piece of metal protruded from the break. Chelsea pulled on it until she had a toy ring clasped in her fingers.
“You’ll be the next to get married!” exclaimed Grandma.
“Ugh!” said Chelsea.
“Ugh!” Meg said, too. She was already old enough to date boys and several years closer to marriage than Chelsea.
“It’s just a game,” Grandma reassured the two.
“Hogwash!” said Grandpa.
Family members continued to break their brack and seeing what the future would hold. The pea meant another year without marriage. The stick meant a year of disputes and fights. The coin meant riches and the cloth meant poverty. At the end, there was only one cookie left – and that was for Grandpa.
“Hmmmmm,” said Grandma.
“What?’ replied.
“Take your brack and you’ll see.”
Grandpa Jack grabbed the last piece and broke it in half. Just like Chelsea’s brack, there was a glimpse of something glimmering. Grandpa crushed the cookie until it revealed a tiny silver cross.
“I guess you’re going to become a member of the church.”
“Hogwash!” replied Grandpa.
“Hmph,” replied Grandma.
With that turn of events, Grandpa Jack was quite satisfied that the night was over, so he retired to bed. However, nobody had touched the apple crisp.
“Should we go?” asked Aunt Meg.
“You know your father,” said Aunt Georgina, “he’ll be over it in no time. It just means more for the rest of us.”
So, the family gobbled up the apple crisp until there was just one bit left. It was decided that the last piece would be set aside for Grandpa Jack.
After everyone ate their fill, it was time for good-byes. Also, it was time for Grandpa Jack to emerge from hiding.
“Aw, I can’t stay mad at you.”
“That’s good, because you’re stuck with me for a very long time.”
“Grandpa?”
“Yes, Chelsea?”
“I think this is yours.”
She placed the tiny toy ring in his hand. He clenched his large, fat fingers around it and gave Chelsea a great big hug.
“Happy Halloween,” she whispered.
“Happy Halloween, indded.”
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