Author's Note: This is my first jaunt into the realm of the songfic. "The Coventry Carol" is one of my favorite Christmas carols, but it has always struck me as odd that it is so popular, considering the story that it is based on--that is, Matthew 2:16-18, where Herod orders the slaughter of all boys under the age of two. This idea has been buzzing around in my head for so long that I figured it was time to let it out.
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Lullay, thou little tiny child
By, by, lully, lullay
Lullay, thou little tiny child
By, by, lully, lullay
Rachel stood at the closed door, listening to the sounds of clattering metal and muffled screams coming from the streets, and peered through the crack along the left edge of the rough wooden door. Soldiers surged through the narrow streets, faces hard and swords drawn. She didn't understand what it was they wanted.
Then she saw Hannah rush from the house across the street, her hair uncovered, her baby boy in her arms. A soldier pursued her, caught her by the hair, jerked her back until she fell to the ground. She screamed as the soldier ripped her baby from her arms.
Rachel saw the soldier flinch a little as the baby began to cry, but he still raised his sword and sliced the boy's tiny throat.
O sisters, too, how may we do
For to preserve this day
This poor youngling for whom we sing
By, by, lully, lullay
There were soldiers everywhere, everywhere Rachel tried to turn. She hugged her son close to her body and prayed to the LORD that he would stay quiet. But there were soldiers everywhere, and the streets of Bethlehem were erupting with the screams of dying babies, the wails of begging mothers. The soldiers took pity on no one, not even the youngest of babes.
It was King Herod's order: any boy under the age of two years had to be killed.
Rachel clung to her year-old son and begged him to stay quiet. She wondered who Herod was looking for, why he had ordered such slaughter.
Herod the king in his raging
Charged he hath this day
His men of might, in his own sight
All children young, to slay
There were too many soldiers. Even though her son stayed quiet, too scared by the horrible sounds of screams and tears and pitiless soldiers to even shift in her arms, there were too many soldiers. She couldn't escape the streets of Bethlehem before one of the soldiers noticed her, found her.
He was an old soldier, grim-mouthed and black-hearted. He said nothing to her as he tore her little son from her grasp and killed him.
Then woe is me, poor child, for thee
And ever mourn and say
For thy parting, nor say, nor sing
By, by, lully, lullay
Rachel collapsed to the ground by her murdered son, pressed her forehead against his small chest. There was no heartbeat within it; all she could feel and smell and see was the blood spreading across his tiny body.
Sobs choked her. She rocked back on her heels, her hands reaching up to tear at her uncovered hair, and raised her voice to the sky in an anguished cry. "Why, LORD? Why did this happen?"
A voice was heard in Ramah,
weeping and great mourning,
Rachel weeping for her children
and refusing to be comforted
because they are no more.
Matthew 2:18