How to Survive in the Roanoke Colony-Chapter 22: Christmas Party

December 25, 1589.

John White woke up and habitually changed into his outdoor clothes to head to Durham House where his patron, Sir Raleigh, lived... then took off his coat again.

Walter Raleigh had probably left to attend the Christmas banquet hosted by the Queen.

To cover up the failure of the expedition against Spain and maintain public opinion, an even more luxurious feast than usual would be spread.

They would enjoy desserts made of sugar and gelatin plates decorated with hardened almond paste and sugar pieces, while indulging in gingerbread, all sorts of tarts and pies, and pudding made from wild boar innards.

Then they would probably tilt hot wine with spices, whisper sweet nothings with his lover the Queen, watch plays together, and enjoy the night together.

Perhaps Raleigh himself would be angry if he heard such talk.

He might say, do you know how thin the ice is in political circles after the expedition failed? Do you know that no one knows who might fall politically?

Even after defeat, this feast is just an extension of wartime propaganda pretending to be a great victory, pretending there was no damage. He might say it's just a painful duty that must be endured as a courtier.

Maybe so. Perhaps Raleigh too is going through his own hardships.

But at least he will be surrounded by people.

...He won't feel lonely.

And not just Raleigh.

Everyone in London will be roasting goose, dancing with songs, and sharing warm drinks together. Even beggars will spend today more abundantly than other winter days.

With their families.

With old friends.

Because that's what Christmas is.

That's the happiness people can enjoy on the day the Lord came to the world.

With a dry face where no more sighs or tears would come, he looked around the cold room.

Quiet and dusty. He hadn't thought about cleaning or organizing this place since returning to London.

Because he would return soon.

He would soon... return to Roanoke Island and receive hospitality from his lovely daughter and his disliked son-in-law while tickling his granddaughter's nose bridge.

Because that was his home.

Not this... miserable and wretched hut.

He hated London.

Hated it madly.

He wanted to escape this place. He hated the people here. He cursed all the laughter, happiness and joy of this place.

While everyone was happy, only he was unhappy.

"...Eleanor."

Are you well?

Virginia? Are you well?

You must be spending Christmas today too.

You must be looking far east across that vast Atlantic.

While... waiting for me.

As the window shaking in the cold wind burst open, the frozen but lively scenery of London unfolds before his eyes.

He closes the window again, disliking the carol coming from beyond. And the middle-aged man with ash-gray hair sobs alone.

...I don't want to live anymore.

I don't want to worry in this terrible world.

Christmas... is so hate...

"Mr. White?"

A voice calling him.

Ding.

The sound of a small bell ringing.

As he lifted his head... warm light embraced him. A long table was placed under a wide-spread tent.

All the native chiefs from around Pamlico Sound sat somewhat awkwardly on it, and their leader was Manteo, wearing a doublet and fine cloak like any Englishman.

To the left of the head seat, Thomas Hewet as representative of the English settlers and Vicente Gonzales as representative of the Spanish sat side by side engaged in some theological discussion.

And to the right of the head seat were two empty seats, with his daughter Eleanor Dare sitting between them, one being Manteo's seat and the other...

"Mr. White, please sit here. You'll be cold if you keep standing by the entrance."

Was his seat.

White sat down in the empty seat with a dazed feeling. He felt anxious about whether this place really suited him, whether he had taken someone else's seat.

Even Eleanor's bright laughter as she sat Virginia on her knee saying "Look, it's grandfather... and the angel!" seemed like it would disappear like a mirage if he closed and opened his eyes.

All of this seemed... like a dream...

"White, my friend."

"...Manteo."

Manteo said as he finished leading and sat down beside him.

"Why are you sitting there stupidly? The food will get cold."

Startled by those words, White looked up at the table. The food spread out was diverse. Smoked elk meat, chicken fried in oil, mashed potatoes, and even the natives' rough dishes using beans and corn.

White briefly picked up a chicken leg but couldn't dare put it in his mouth and put it back down on his plate.

"Mr. White, what's wrong?"

And again that gentle voice.

He turns to look at the man sitting at the head seat.

Behind him sparkles a tree with aluminum decorations and candles on each branch. He feels as if it's like a halo in holy paintings.

He lifts his head and speaks.

"Mr. White, you look somewhat sad. What's wrong?"

"Ah, Nemo... it's nothing. I just dozed off and dreamed about last Christmas."

When he secretly believed his daughter and granddaughter were already dead.

When he believed he was alone in this world.

There was such a time.

That was just last year.

"Mr. White? Are you alright?"

"...I'm... fine. Really... really, I'm fine, Nemo."

Unable to hold back his flowing tears, he finally bowed his head to Nemo and said.

"Just... th-thank... thank you..."

"..."

"For saving my daughter... For making my dream come true..."

Pat.

3-year-old Virginia rubs her crying grandfather's back.

Nemo closes his eyes for a moment at his words and recalls.

His life written in the game manual.

'...In 1593, after returning from his voyage without seeing his daughter and granddaughter again, he dies lonely three years later.'

Nemo thinks that at least he was glad he could modify that last sentence.

White wiped away his tears and the feast continued.

The next day too, and the day after.

Because it was Christmas.

==

"Glory to Her Majesty the Queen!"

"God bless England!"

"Bless it!"

The Christmas feast doesn't end just with Christmas Eve and Christmas.

A week after Christmas comes New Year's Day, and five days after New Year's comes Epiphany (January 6th, the holiday celebrating the manifestation of Jesus).

When New Year's Day came, kings and nobles would exchange gifts and perform complex political rituals, and until Epiphany came, they would stop all work and laugh and chat merrily.

And at this New Year's feast of 1591, there was one more thing to laugh and chat about.

"...Sir Walter Raleigh still isn't showing up."

"I heard he went to America? That fool is finally going bankrupt obsessed with exploration."

"What delightful news! Shall we have another piece of pie each?"

Raleigh's disappearance.

The empty space left by Raleigh, who had acted like a flamboyant peacock in social circles, was not small at all.

The Queen showed noticeable signs of displeasure, and by her side, her other lover Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, constantly showered her with flattery.

However, the Queen was slowly getting tired of the lamb's tongue dishes and cow's udder dishes. She was even getting sick of nights spent with the handsome Earl of Essex.

The Queen knew why.

"...Walt."

Flinch.

The Earl of Essex's face stiffened slightly at that name, but the Queen paid no attention.

Walter Raleigh had dared to throw away the Christmas feast, ignore his duties as Captain of the Royal Guard, and run off across the Atlantic.

That fact made her brow furrow with annoyance and worry.

"Your Majesty, your beautiful eyebrows are full of tension. If that scoundrel is causing your heart to darken, I'm worr..."

"I'm fine. I'm quite fine."

"Your Majesty, I..."

"..."

"..."

Everything was annoying.

That Walter Raleigh left like this during Christmastime, that the Earl of Essex kept throwing jealous whispers beside her, that Raleigh chose a dangerous path instead of asking her for financial help.

She didn't want to say more.

That irritable conversation reached everyone who was listening for the Queen's voice even among the noise.

As everyone was carefully watching the Queen's mood and slowly lowering their voices, that's when it happened.

One of the Royal Guards rushed in, bowed his head before the Queen and announced.

"Sir Walter Raleigh enters the palace!"

Jump!

"How dare that fellow come here..."

"Calm yourself, Earl of Essex."

"..."

"...And everyone else here should calm down too. He crossed the Atlantic to fulfill his noble duty of expanding my territory and spreading Christian faith... Though whether that succeeded is another matter."

Everyone freezes at the Queen's venomous words.

Click. Click. Click. Click.

Soon an explorer with magnificent whiskers strode across the middle of the court, his splendid clothes fluttering. He stood before the Queen with a slight sneer towards the Earl of Essex at her side.

"Your Majesty's loyal subject has returned from the New World."

And he bows with un-Anglo-Saxon-like delicate gestures and manners. Indeed, he was worthy of being the man who captured the Queen's heart with just his face and tongue despite having no background.

"Hmm... Sir Raleigh? Did you have a good trip to the Virginia colony?"

However, the Queen's response was cool.

"According to my sources, I heard your colony suffered a miserable failure from Spanish attacks, how unfortunate. Fortunately, as you are my Captain of the Royal Guard, you won't suffer any more difficulties."

→'Your colony failed so why are you wandering around? If you just stayed nearby and acted cute, I would have taken care of you properly.'

When Raleigh heard the interpretation of the Queen's words, his expression stiffened briefly then relaxed.

Such light criticism was expected.

And.

"Failure... you say? Your Majesty, perhaps English has changed while I was across the Atlantic?"

"Hmm?"

Snap.

As Raleigh snapped his fingers, workers who emerged from behind him began moving a series of boxes.

Click.

And when Raleigh himself opened the boxes placed before the Queen, people gasped at that moment.

Numerous pearls and coral reflected the chandelier's light in all directions, sparkling.

This content is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

Click.

Another box opens.

There, beautiful furs of foxes and all sorts of beasts were piled layer upon layer.

"Your Majesty! How can the word failure suit a colony that brought such precious treasures?"

"...Walt!"

"And there are more gifts for my beautiful Majesty."

Click.

The third box opens.

Another gasp follows.

"Is this... silver? Or platinum?"

"Oh, Your Majesty."

Raleigh, who had somehow slipped to the Queen's side, whispers as he slips a ring onto her finger.

"If it were such a trivial thing, would I put it on your finger like this?"

A mysteriously inscribed ring with a brilliantly cut ruby set in it.

"Look. This ring made with craftsmanship that no European artisan could imitate is surprisingly not a product of our colonists!"

"Good heavens... You mean it's from savages?"

"With such skill to make this, they can hardly be called savages. Let's just say we had 'local collaborators', my Queen."

"So... what is the name of this metal? So light... and beautiful..."

Raleigh smiled that characteristic smile that had enchanted the Queen and many other women as he said.

"It is called aluminum, Your Majesty."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...Aluminum, aluminum. Such beautiful luster. And such lightness too."

"Like orichalcum from legend. Harder than iron while more precious than gold and light as a feather.

But this isn't all."

This isn't all...?

No more contemptuous and jealous gazes toward Raleigh could be found.

Like audiences marveling at a magician, pure admiration and wonder filled the eyes directed at Raleigh and the last box.

Walter Raleigh proudly announced before opening the box.

"We were fortunate! If the season I transported 'this' hadn't been winter! And if my captain and navigator had been less skilled and delayed longer! I couldn't have brought this precious gift to Your Majesty!"

Everyone's attention focuses on those words.

This is coming from that luxurious man. What could the identity of the final gift be? A mysterious beast? Or another precious metal? Jewels? Or enough gold to make eyes pop?

Bang!

And when the last box opened.

Bewilderment fills everyone's eyes.

What was there was another box. A pure white box.

"This box too is an product containing the foreigners' amazing wisdom and technology that is extremely light while safely transporting delicate contents inside. And what's inside this..."

When Raleigh opened that box again, this time everyone couldn't hide their disappointment.

What was inside was...

Just grapes.

Though they were especially plump, transparent in color, and each grape was huge... just grapes.

Even the Queen of England glared as if asking if he was making a fuss over this, but Raleigh didn't panic and held out the grapes before the Queen.

"This is the fruit most precious to the savages, which my trusted explorer John White begged from an equally noble 'local collaborator' to bring. Perhaps their local great king or emperor, I suspect."

"Hmm..."

Pop.

"I've had them washed already, so you can eat them as is."

Raleigh places one grape he plucked onto the Queen's palm. The Queen glares at the grape with an unsatisfied expression before rolling it into her mouth at once. And...

Crunch.

"..."

"..."

"..."

Silence falls.

Bang!

"Th-this mere grape! Such vulgar nature... is this all you present to Her Majesty after worrying her and returning, just this mere grape?"

"Calm yourself, Earl of Essex. If you're jealous, say you're jealous, and if you want to eat these grapes, say you want to eat them."

"Bah! What's so special about this grape. Give it here! This... mere... gra..."

Crunch.

"..."

"..."

"..."

Silence falls again.

Everyone watches the Queen and Earl of Essex tensely. Wondering if perhaps the mad Raleigh had tried to poison the Queen.

And...

"Ah, aah... L-Lord, good heavens..."

"Uuuh... uuuuuh..."

As the Earl of Essex takes another grape, the Queen, as if unable to lose, takes two and rolls them in her mouth. Unable to contain their curiosity, both William Cecil, Lord High Treasurer and Secretary of State, and Francis Walsingham, Principal Secretary, approached and took a grape each to put in their mouths.

And.

"Ooh, oh... ooooh!"

"Uaah... uaaah... th-this is..."

"Other sailors who've tasted these grapes say... they're like fruit grown by angels."

January 6, 1591, Epiphany.

The fifth monarch of the Tudor dynasty.

The great Queen of England and Ireland.

'The Virgin Queen' Elizabeth I - this was the day she first ate Shine Muscat grapes.