This is a Christmas tale written in German, French and English (respectively).
It takes place in Lorraine, my beloved homeland.
Be still children for it begins right now.
The twilight had been already long over as Frederic left the Castle of Lemberg.
He was truly delighted after he saw the majestic wintery landscape.
The snow which constantly fell from the sky was swirling around him.
Lord Lewis had been mostly satisfied by the result of his negotiations with the count of Toul.
At the end of the day he had accepted to send his imposing army as a help for countering the groups of outlaws which were plundering isolated villages of the Vosges.
This had been no easy task and Frederic had to mention the will of the bishop of Metz, the greatest religious authority in the whole Lorraine, to finally obtain this.
He knew that with regular soldiers patrolling around the land, the robbers and thieves would think twice before repeating their coward misdeeds.
He was now heading back to Schorbach where his beloved Mathilde was waiting for him in front of a good wood fire.
He was impatient to arrive at last and see her again for he had been absent during an entire month.
They would joyfully celebrate the coming of the Savior of the whole creation into the world.
He could not imagine the joy to embrace her and to stroke her womb where their child was dwelling.
If they were blessed with a girl, they would call her Bertthrude. If they were blessed with a boy, they would call him Lothar, after the great king who founded Lotharingie which was later called “Lorraine”.
The red sky was so bright that it even illuminated the dark forest of conifers he was going through.
He was walking at a constant pace as he saw the cave of the Christ child and decided to halt for a minute at this place.
He bowed down before the statue of the blessed virgin Mary holding the baby Jesus in her arms.
He shuddered as he heard footsteps closing in on him.
He had barely the time to take the sword out of his sheath before facing the unknown threat.
His blood ran cold as he recognized the face of Arnold, the chief of the gang of robbers plundering helpless villages in the Bitscherland.
He was surrounded by two of his underlings who seemed to be formidable warriors in their own rights.
“Have you reached your goal, loser? This night you will give back your soul to your damned savior!” he shouted with a malicious voice.
Sad because of the the fact that his child would grow without a father, he prayed for his small family before swinging his blade.
He could not believe his eyes as he saw Arnold and the two thieves dropping their weapons before weeping.
“Lord, forgive us!” they screamed with the same voice.
He could not withstand the temptation to turn his back.
He was ravished by what he saw.
The statue of the smiling virgin was surrounded by countless glowworms.
He knew this was not a mere coincidence.
The spirit of Christmas was here and had conquered this place and their hearts.