The Light of the Midnight Stars

by Rena Rossner

  Radu Negru wasn’t a man who denied his wife anything, so he hired the most talented mason he could find, a man named Manole, and told him to gather as many men as he needed.

  Manole only hired nine men to help him. Radu Negru couldn’t understand how the mason would be able to build such a monastery with only the help of nine men, but he trusted in powers higher than himself, and construction began.

  Except, every day the walls of the monastery would grow, and every night, the walls would crumble. In the meantime, Radu Negru’s wife’s stomach grew and grew, and he was mad that his wife’s stomach was growing at a faster pace than the monastery, so he threatened to kill the mason and his workers if they couldn’t find a way to get the walls to stand in time for his child’s birth and baptism.

  The mason told him that he had a dream where an angel came to him and said that in order for the monastery to stand for as long as the king would rule, he had to entomb within its walls a person beloved by Radu Negru.

  Radu Negru was distraught. The only person he loved with all his soul was his pregnant wife. He figured, at least this way he could ensure that his child would be born and die in holiness and purity. And his wife would be immortalized.

  The next day, Radu Negru saw his wife out for a stroll on her way to check on the progress of the monastery. He prayed for a rainstorm to start so that she might turn back, but her love for him was stronger than a rainstorm, and she kept walking despite the downpour. He prayed that a fox should cross her path and scare her away, but when the fox appeared she bent down and offered it some grapes from her pocket. The fox stopped to eat, and Radu Negru’s wife kept walking. He prayed again that a star might fall from the heavens, an omen of death, and sure enough, a star fell, but she merely walked around it, thinking it an omen of good fortune, and laughed at the scorch-marks it left in the earth.

  When she finally arrived, Manole and his workers were waiting for her. They asked her if she would play a game, that they wished to measure the size of her stomach to match the spire to the width of the Holy Mother when she was pregnant. They needed to build walls around her body in order to ensure the spire was of the proper width and size. She gladly accepted, flattered that she was being compared to the Holy Mother, and certain this would mean the monastery would be blessed by God.

  However, as the walls went up, she began to panic. She started to cry and scream in wails that pierced the heavens. But Radu Negru knew that in order for the walls of the monastery to stand, he had to keep his promise. When it was done, he was wracked with grief, for he realized there would be no baptism. Without his wife, the monastery felt empty and cold.

  He asked the builders if they thought they could ever construct an edifice more beautiful. They answered that they certainly could. Fearing that they might create a bigger and more intricate structure for someone else, Radu Negru asked them to meet him on the roof of the monastery for a festive ceremony to celebrate their accomplishment. There, he gave them each a gift—a set of wooden wings. He told them that if they could fly off the roof, he would reward them handsomely. One by one, they fell to the ground and perished until Manole was the last man left.

  “What will you do now?” he asked Radu Negru. “For if I perish, as all my workers did before me, you will be entirely alone.”

  Radu Negru answered, “I will not be alone, for I will fly away after you on wings of smoke, thereby ending my reign. I will be with my beloved, and the walls will come crumbling down.”

  Manole jumped and where he fell, a well of clear water sprang up. Radu Negru grew wings of smoke and those that saw him said he looked like a black dragon in the sky.

  The next morning, the walls of the monastery split open, and out walked his wife, still pregnant with their child.

  Some say you can sometimes see him, a black smoke dragon circling the spire of the keep. Others say they’ve seen him as a smoky-gray owl; still others say a raven, dark and black and fierce. Some say that he is not the man he used to be. That he is dark and twisted now—a black dragon of smoke and mist that haunts the skies above Wallachia and its surrounding lands, bringing pestilence and plague and spreading hatred.

  Legend says that anyone who drinks from the well of Manole will have eternal life. But others say that those who’ve tried to drink from it have turned into smoke creatures that haunt the night. It is said no birds go near the water for fear of its black depths, and that the keepers of the monastery have placed a large rock over the spring so that no one might be tempted by it.

  It is said that for his sacrifice, Radu Negru’s wife and child were granted eternal life, and that one day he will return, the raven king, the Black Dragon, a smoke-walker like the old gods, and that when he does, he will reign eternally.

  “I used to wish for that, as a child,” Theodora says. “For his return. But I’ve seen the things my father does and I know better now. It was not me who called him. Not me who called the mist and brought the darkness to our streets. I don’t know why he’s back, but I suspect it’s something my mother is planning.”

  Her fingers thread through my hair.

  “Basarab trained me to be swift on a horse and good with an arrow. I am not my father. I will not allow his legacy to become my own. Everything I learned about my powers has come from deep inside me. I had to teach myself to groom smoke into form. You can do the same. Smoke and fire are two sides of the same coin—light and dark.”

  She is silent for a while, humming to herself. “I was scared, draga mea; I’d never opened myself up like that for anyone and I only did so because you were so brave—you are my shining star, my inspiration. If you, who’s been through so much, could be brave enough to show your true form—golden scales and all—I knew I had to try.

  “I don’t know if you can hear me, but just being by your side calms me in a way that nothing else ever has. Will you come to Bulgaria with me? I thought you would be better off without me—but I was wrong. I don’t know what the future holds, and I know it’s not the life you may have wanted, but it’s what I can offer. Will you come with me?”

  But before I can answer, I hear the sound of hooves outside the door. My heart beats fast. Theodora sees me tense up. Horses never mean anything good…

  “My men have come,” she says. “I sent for them. They brought a carriage. Can I move her?” she asks my sister. “I will take her back to the palace with me. I depart soon for Bulgaria and there are many things still to get ready.”

  Theodora looks back at me. “Will you join me, draga mea?” there is a world of fear in her eyes. She’s making herself vulnerable again before me, and I don’t have the heart to say no. My heart tells me that this is the future God is setting out for me—two roads—both safe and dangerous in equal measure.

  “Is this what you want, Sarahleh?” my sister whispers. In an instant, she looks like Hannah again—young and studious yet full of quiet passion.

  “Yes,” I say to Theodora. “Yes, I will come on this journey with you.”

  Theodora turns to Anna. “Thank you for saving her.”

  “Take care of my sister.”

  “I promise.” She carries me out to the carriage. “I will never leave you,” she whispers into my hair. “I will take care of you. You will remain forever by my side.”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” I whisper, but I don’t know if my lips succeed in forming words that she can hear.

  Laptitza

  I go to the clearing

  to wait for him.

  I wait all night

  until I am frozen

  and still alone.

  I wait again the next night.

  And the next night.

  And the next night again.

  But he doesn’t return.

  Anna

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  After Theodora and Stanna took off in the carriage on their way back to the palace this morning, I turned to Constantin. “I’m worried. How will I tell my parents? What will become of my sister?�
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  “I know Theodora. She will do everything in her power to take care of the people she loves. It’s what made us all trust her with our lives and follow her into battle. She is more than what she seems.”

  “But my sister… She was in love before. He was supposed to follow us…” I shook my head. “She’s been through a lot…”

  “Shhh…” he said. “Come here, draga mea. Let’s not speak of this right now. I wish to show you exactly how much I love you.”

  “Because you finally have me all to yourself again?” I teased him.

  “Because I would like to see how your healing hands work on me…” he said with a smirk.

  “Oh, poor baby, does it hurt you somewhere?” I cooed.

  “I ache for you,” he said. “You will have to use your hands to find out where…”

  “Well, you will have to wait. I must prepare dinner.” I turned away from him.

  “The only thing I am waiting for is to see you grow plump and round with my seed, because that is the only future I care about. Mine and yours, and this table someday full of strong young men and women who will put down roots here,” he said, and started kissing the back of my neck.

  “There will be no future if you do not find time to come home from the palace and plow your fields. It’s nearly time to plant the wheat.”

  “There’s only one field I intend to plow tonight.” He spun me around and kissed me, gently at first, then with more passion. He lifted me up and I wrapped my legs around him. He lowered me onto the table and reached his hands under my skirts, stroking my legs, reaching up to part my thighs. I gasped as he stroked exactly in the places where I ached for him the most.

  I sat up and placed my hands on his chest. “So where does it hurt?” I purred.

  He unlaced his pants. “I will show you,” he said, and in an instant was inside me. All thoughts of sisters and foxes were lost in the crescendo of sounds that we made. I was close, so close, and then I was lost in the moment beyond all thought that brought us both over the edge. I’d never known that coupling could be like that. And I was suddenly sad that it had taken me so long to find out.

  Constantin’s seed will take root tonight. I can feel it. He woke something up inside me that was buried by ash but is now remembering how to grow.

  By morning, a small plant will grow in the crack between two beams of wood under the table, a sapling that matches the one he planted in my belly. I can feel it underneath my feet. It will grow in the center of this room—a linden tree—and no matter how many times I will try to cut it back, it will just keep growing.

  Beware the Black Dragon that haunts the skies. Thy sons and daughters the very teeth of venomous dragons overcame, for thy mercy was ever by them and healed them.

  —The Book of the Solomonars, page 96, verse 4

  Once there was a star that fell from the sky.

  Once there was a girl who loved him.

  But one day the star disappeared,

  and a dragon took to the skies in its place.

  Laptitza

  Nikolas brings me

  to the palace

  to prepare

  for the wedding.

  Everything happens

  so quickly.

  Our engagement

  is a surprise

  To everyone:

  My parents,

  still reeling from Stanna

  having moved into the palace.

  The voivode

  and Marghita are furious.

  Everyone had been so focused

  on Theodora’s engagement

  to Ivan Alexander

  that nobody noticed

  a young boy

  and a young girl

  sketching their future

  between the stars.

  I go about my days despondent.

  I watch the sky each night,

  but there’s no sign of him.

  When it rains,

  I stand by the windows

  and watch.

  When it snows

  I go out onto the balcony

  and wait.

  I am cold

  all the time.

  I wear the white fur

  that Nikolas gifted me

  and watch as the skies

  as flakes of snow

  fall on my cloak.

  When will he

  come for me?

  Some nights

  Nikolas joins me.

  Other nights

  he watches me

  as I watch the sky.

  If he sees a star fall,

  he wishes on it.

  And I don’t know

  if he’s praying for me

  or for himself.

  The night before the wedding

  I go to the linden tree

  at the heart of the wood.

  Nikolas comes with me.

  We walk hand in hand.

  He wants me to be sure;

  he wants me to be safe.

  “Tell me about him,” he says.

  “He is bright.

  The brightest star

  in the sky.”

  “Here, we believe,” he says,

  “that every star

  in the sky

  is a soul.”

  “What happens

  when one of them

  falls?” I ask him.

  “What happens?” He laughs.

  “They die.”

  “You’re wrong.

  When a man falls

  from the sky,

  that’s when his future

  begins to unfold.”

  Nikolas furrows his brow.

  “My mother

  always told me

  that a falling star

  is a portent of…”

  “Of what?”

  “Nothing.

  I’m sure

  it’s nonsense.”

  “Tell me.”

  He opens

  his mouth

  and then closes it.

  “It’s not important.”

  We watch

  and wait

  for hours.

  This time,

  while I wait,

  palm outstretched

  to the sky—

  Nickolas reaches up

  and makes a wish:

  If her true love could fall

  from the sky like that,

  maybe mine could too.

  I insist on a midnight ceremony—

  when the stars will be brightest

  and the moon can bear

  luminous witness.

  I walk around him seven times,

  call it a peasant custom

  from our old town.

  By the time I start making

  my slow circles around him,

  I am not thinking

  of the stars at all.

  I am watching my mother,

  wide-eyed with wonder

  at the beauty of the dress I wear,

  the white fur on my shoulders.

  My father looks lost, bewildered,

  like he’s hearing a melody

  he remembers

  from another time.

  Pondering how

  he could have lost

  so much,

  so quickly.

  But I can’t allow myself

  to think such thoughts

  on my wedding day.

  I concentrate on removing

  the barriers between us

  with each circle I make,

  so we can be together

  with only truth between us.

  I finish my last circle around him,

  look up at the sky one last time.

  Nikolas puts his arm around me.

  With this ring, I am wed.

  Stanna

  The night in the woods stays with me like a black fog in my brain. I walk and sleep and eat, but the place where the fox bit me still burns and there’s a kind of fever—a panicked burning
in my chest. I barely get through Laptitza’s wedding. She looks dazzling in a white dress that sparkles with silver beads and thread, and she wears the fur of a large white wolf around her shoulders. I didn’t make a veil for her. There is pressure on my chest, as though I bound it with fabric, and there’s also a voice in my head that repeats itself over and over again: Not for you. Never for you. No one will marry you.

  The parting with my parents is difficult.

  “I’m so proud of you. You found your own way, my child. My little spark. And you found yourself such promising employment. A future as a lady of a great court,” Mama says, tears in her eyes, which spark tears in mine. I turn to my father, but his expression is inscrutable. He hugs me and says into my ear, “Esther did not reveal her people, or her nation,” quoting from The Book of Esther. I look up into his eyes, hoping to see a spark of light back in them—a spark of the Torah he used to learn and speak all day and night, but his eyes are stones.

  I put my arms around him again, but my face falls behind his back because I know, with bitterness that still resides deep in my heart, that these are not the words he would say to me if I was a boy—his son, his heir—he would not be so cavalier about seeing me go. This is not the warning he would give me. The roads that I travel seem to begin and end at crossroads, and over and over again, I make the wrong choice.

  The day after Laptitza’s wedding, we leave for Bulgaria. The journey takes nearly a week, and I don’t remember much of it, only that I watch endless acres of forest go by and muse about how in the space of less than a year I have found myself traveling again. This time by horse and fine carriage.

  My hand heals and the fog doesn’t cloud my head like it once did, but I still feel weak. My insides burn and ache but there is no fire. My flame feels utterly spent.

  Theodora chooses to spend most of her time riding so that I might convalesce inside. I slip from sleep to wakefulness and back, opening my eyes each time in a panic that I’m lost and forgotten again.

  Finally, I fall into a sleep that feels like a nightmare. I remember sharp pain, then I’m alone and drifting in an icy river. But I know I’m warm, and the bed I sleep in is comfortable, with lavish blankets and sheets, softer than anything I’ve ever felt before. I’ve had this dream before. I’ve woken up startled and screaming with no one beside me.