Finding Yuletide Magic with Odin #5: Finding Christmas Again in London

Yule at Buckland Abbey

“Most people don’t admit it, but Britain owes so much to the Vikings. They call them marauders, but they gave us blood, health and know-how. Their traditions are as much a part of us as our wassail. I hope you enjoy Buckland, and Yule recognition.”

The ancient stones of Buckland Abbey rise from the winter twilight like a ship emerging from Norse fog, its medieval walls glowing amber from hundreds of torches. Ice crystals dance in the air, catching firelight like Freya's tears, while smoke from pine and oak fires threads through the gathering dusk, carrying the scent of centuries.

"They've gone full Viking this year," Axel says, his breath creating dragon-smoke in the bitter air. Their footsteps crunch on frost-rimed gravel as they approach the great wooden doors, each step releasing the sharp scent of frozen earth. "The Abbey was a Cistercian monastery, but before that..." He grins, looking boyish despite his silver hair. "This whole area was Viking territory. They say the ghost of a Norse warrior still walks the grounds."

Olivia pulls her faux fur collar closer, the material soft against her throat where Andy's brooch catches torchlight. "Should I be worried?"

"Only if you haven't brought an offering for the Alfather." He pats his coat pocket mysteriously, then guides her through an arch where pine boughs drip with ice, creating crystal wind chimes that sing with each gust.

His lips near hers. “I hear he likes kisses from beautiful women.”

“Oh, really,...