by Rena Rossner
But the boys looked to me, then back to Nikolas, and one of them said, “We have heard there is a cave within a mountain. A cave under a lake. It is called Balea. There are others there like us—waiting for us. There is a man there, his red hair blazes with light. He has started an academy—a scholomance, he calls it. A place where we can study and practice our faith without fear” He turned to me and said, “We would like you to take us there.”
The other boy turned to Nikolas and said, “We ask that you provide us with as many horses as we need to make the journey and a promise to protect that mountain range. To close access to it each winter when we might practice our faith in freedom.”
“I cannot convince you to stay?” Nikolas said. “I would raise you, care for you. It’s what your mother would have wanted.”
“We belong with our people,” one of the boys said.
“Our stars burn too bright for this world,” the other boy answered.
“You may take as many horses from our stables as you need,” the Voivode Basarab replied.
The candle flickers. The hour grows late and soon I will be in darkness. I must get a few hours of sleep before tomorrow. Today was a long day and tomorrow will be longer. I need my strength for the days to come. I will finish the story tomorrow.
Levana
The palace guards
take Marghita
from the palace.
I watch it happen
from the sky.
I float closer to earth
than any star
has ever dared.
I follow the carriage
that takes Marghita away.
Nobody notices me.
Now that I am a star,
bright as all the heavens,
no one notices me at all.
Once I burned bright,
once I wanted
the attention.
Now I’m just part
of the firmament.
Marghita stands
on the roof
of the bell tower.
The Black Mist
swirls around her.
Tears wet her face,
but I don’t care.
She deserves this.
“I only ever wanted
to feel like a star.”
She looks up at the sky.
Does she see me?
“I wanted
to burn brightly,
to know I had
a permanent place
in the firmament
of history.”
Does she hear me?
“I have failed you, Radu.”
She isn’t speaking
to me at all.
She is looking for him,
the Black Dragon.
She waits and waits,
but he doesn’t come.
Sarah-Theodora
There is no shiva for me to attend for my sister. No way for me to send word to my parents without revealing my faith and my people. I must stay and bloom where I’ve been planted.
My parents will never see or hear from me again.
But I know there is a star that shines high above us. A star, like Esther, who watches over us all.
It is enough.
When Ivan Alexander goes to war, let it be said that sometimes there is a dragon, a serpent of fire, that takes to the skies to ensure his victory.
Balaur, they call it, but I know the truth.
It is a future for myself and my children.
Something written in the stars a long time ago.
A dragon that once lit up the sky and a girl who tried to understand what she saw.
A story that you can tell now, to your children.
Remember me.
Levana
I watch as Marghita climbs up
onto the ledge of the bell tower.
I watch as I see her decide.
I stepped onto a ledge once too.
I wanted to feel
what it was like to fall,
the rush of light,
the slow burn of it,
the last flare of flame
before all goes black
to hang suspended in air,
like a star.
But I never got
to make that choice.
Maybe had I stood there,
I would have chosen differently.
But she took that choice
away from me
She took away
my chance
to be a mother—
to raise my sons.
She snuffed out my light
and now, all I can do is burn.
There is no mercy for her.
My beloved
pines for me—
The Song of Songs
is Solomon’s
but this song
is my own.
I pay him no attention
I was lovesick
I shine my own light
And now I am sick of love
Two pieces of me—
two boys
carry a sliver of light
inside them
a piece of my heart
down on earth.
My beloved spoke,
he said unto me:
Rise up, my love,
my fair one,
and come away.
Arise my fair one,
and come away.
Come away.
I answered his call.
By night
on my bed
I sought him
whom my soul loveth;
I sought him,
but I found him not.
But foxes
spoil vineyards
with their greed.
My beloved came
into my garden,
He ate precious fruit.
I opened to my beloved;
but my beloved turned away.
I sought him,
but I found him not.
His head was gold
His eyes like doves
His body polished ivory
Yet my beloved
was no more
than any other.
Awaken not,
nor stir up love,
until it please.
There is dread
in the night
For love
is strong as death.
And jealousy is cruel
as the grave.
Marghita steps off
the roof
and lets go,
and I fall with her.
My starlight traces the line
of her dark descent.
Change comes slowly
or all at once.
Like a spark of light
in a dark sky.
Sometimes it hides
behind a cloud.
Sometimes it falls
and burns.
Sometimes it sits
beside a throne
and waits
for the future to unfold.
My light will guide
the way for others.
I will be there,
shining in the midnight sky
a bright guide.
Hannah
26 Iyar 5123
Abba helped the boys say kaddish for their mother this morning.
When all the men left, Eema took the boys to the kitchen to feed them.
They have named themselves. They tell us to call them Hillel and Shabtai.
And I hear my sister’s voice in my head, I will name one for the star of morning and the other for the star of light.
And I think that if Levana was still with us, she would approve.
I can’t help but think that my father finally has the sons he’s always wished for. What might have happened had he wished for the daughters he got instead?
But life has a way of surprising us all, I suppose. And even though some destinies are written in the stars, or rooted in the gro
und—it doesn’t mean we don’t get a chance on this earth to try and change them.
If our God can move heaven and earth and we are but vessels of his light, there is no end to what we might become—if we allow ourselves the freedom.
“Can I tell you a story?” I hear Eema say to them now in the kitchen. I can see them smiling up at her like we once did.
“There was a time when everyone knew about the town of Trnava,” she begins. “Once, it was a bustling market town that sat at the crossroads between the kingdom of Poland and the rest of Bohemia. Once, the king of Hungary, Charles the First, visited the town and conducted important negotiations there.” This one is a story that I’ve never heard. “But there are stories you don’t know. Stories the residents of the town like to keep secret…” she continues, but I stop listening.
I have begun to write my own story in these pages. The story that I will tell my children.
About a girl who fell in love with a star
About a girl whose heart was made of fire
About a girl who found a way to plant herself in the earth and grow
27 Iyar 5123
Constantin came home last night. There was a knock at the door, and I answered.
“I came as soon as I heard,” he said, and he wrapped me in his arms. I took comfort in his strength, in the smell of him, in how solid he felt in my arms, but I knew that I couldn’t hold on. So much in our world had changed so quickly. My heart had been broken and broken and broken again. I was prepared to let go.
I stepped away and looked into his eyes.
“There is so much to tell…” I swallowed hard, not sure how to continue.
“I’ve heard most of it. Nikolas briefed me,” he said.
“I… We have to go. We can’t stay here. I have to get my family to safety,” I whisper. I don’t know how to say the words. They feel like betrayal. What about the roots around our table? My heart aches.
“I’m coming with you,” he said. I stared at him. I couldn’t understand the look on his face. Didn’t he know that I’d deceived him? That I’d claimed to be something I’m not? “Nikolas has appointed me as his twin sons’ private guard.”
“He has?” My eyes grew wide.
“He has,” he said and leaned in to kiss me.
“Then it’s time for us to go,” I said.
We leave now for the mountains. The horses await us outside.
Blessed be the true judge.
Sarah-Theodora
Ivan Alexander divorced his first wife Theodora and sent her to a monastery.
I know the truth, and now you know it too.
He never saw Theodora again. She was replaced by the emperor’s consort—a woman named Sarah-Theodora who they say was of Jewish descent.
She became empress of all of Bulgaria.
Together they had five children: Kera-Tamara, Kera-Maria, Ivan Shishman, Ivan Asen, Desislava, and Vasilisa.
After Ivan Alexander’s death, Sarah-Theodora did not retire to a monastery. She spent the rest of her life surrounded by her children and grandchildren who went on to rule all of Romania, Bulgaria, and Wallachia.
They say her daughter Vasilisa liked to wear armor. She rode a gray horse named Torent and was sometimes seen riding what can only be described as a cloud dragon in the sky.
There is a single pillar extending from heaven to earth… When there are righteous people in the world, it becomes strong, and when there are not, it becomes weak. It supports the entire world, as it is written “tzadik yesod olam.” If it becomes weak, then the world cannot endure. Therefore, even if there is only one righteous person in the world, it is he who supports the world.
—The Book of the Solomonars, page 212, verses 6–8
My mother was a storyteller. She wove stories with her words into great tapestries that played themselves across the sky and entertained us endlessly. It wasn’t until I was older, a married woman myself, when I learned that her stories had power. That, in telling them, she was making them come true. They say these things run in families. The same powers manifest themselves over and over again. I’ve done what I can. I’ve told the stories the best way I know how. But if I learned one thing from my mother, it’s that sometimes stories have a way of telling themselves. Forgive me. I did the best I could. I will tell one last story.
Esther Solomonar
There was once a woman who lived in the mountains. It was said that she had red hair and that she controlled the rain, the wind, the hail, the snow. She knew the nature of the trees, the wild beasts and fish, the birds in the sky. She controlled the planets and the constellations, the purpose of the sky and everything in it. She could heal the sick and curse the healthy for she knew every medicine and potion.
Some say she was born of a people who came to Wallachia from the mountains, from the kingdom of Khazaria. Others say that she came from Magyar, because her people were persecuted there. Still others say she became what she was out of great need—a need to protect her nation, a need to save her family.
It is said that when such a child is born—with red hair and a mark like a star on their foreheads—it is an omen. They will be taken by the Solomonars and raised in a mountain cave for seven years, in a place they call a scholomance, where they avoid the sun and study a sacred book of spells. Only then can they emerge and join the Order of the Solomonars.
It is said that the Solomonars can ride cloud dragons in the sky and control the air. Sometimes they are men, sometimes they are women, sometimes they are something in between. They perform rituals to call the rain and light candles to banish the darkness and call down their dragons from heaven. It is said that some of them are ancient beings—dragons called teli that live among us.
They live in forests and hunt with iron axes, sticks that kill snakes, and bridles made from birchbark with which they ride their dragons which are sometimes called balauri and other times called zmeu and still other times they are called by their real names—their hidden names—and that is when they are called nothing at all—only hope.
They always carry their book of wisdom with them—strapped to their hearts but also memorized fully in their minds. For they claim that wisdom is the best way to fight darkness.
They can speak to animals and take on their form. Some say that they ride with the moroi in night hunts, and others say that they are part moroi, and still others say that when the weather fights with itself you can see a white dragon chasing a black dragon across the skies.
There are still peasants alive today who claim to have seen them—boys with golden stars on their foreheads, golden dragons with wings and scales, and a red-haired mountain woman who cares for them along with a wizard-like old man who rides a cloud dragon in the sky. There is a saying in Romania, “If you see a fox, it is an omen. It means there are wolves nearby.” When people see the red-haired woman, they say she always carries a basket of strawberries.
Author’s note
The Light of the Midnight Stars started as all good stories do, with only a kernel of an idea. My father always told me tales about how his mother, who was from Romania, used to light Shabbat candles on Friday night in a closet. By the time I came around, the candles had migrated toa the center of the table, and my grandmother’s dementia had taken over. She no longer remembered why she did so.
Growing up, I most commonly associated stories of women lighting Shabbat candles in a closet with the Spanish and Portuguese conversos who kept their Jewish identity and customs hidden because of the Spanish Inquisition. Were there Spanish and Portuguese Jews in Romania? Was that a part of my heritage? I needed to know. But the tangled paths my research took came up with no conclusive answers and kept leading me back to Hungary. Why would my grandmother light candles in a closet if that was where her family originally came from?
What I discovered along the way was that the Spanish and Portuguese Jews were not the only Jews who lit candles in closets. Throughout history there have been Jews who have had to hide their faith a
nd its various practices because of persecution. This happened in places such as Russia, Ukraine, Poland, Romania, Italy, Morocco, Spain, Portugal, India, Mexico, New Mexico, Bolivia, Costa Rica, Peru, Colombia, Ethiopia, and more.
My quest for the truth of my grandmother’s heritage kept pointing me in the direction of what was then the Kingdom of Hungary, where sources and research seem to indicate she may have come from, and where Jews were once forced to wear a red cloth in public as a sign of their faith long before World War II—all the way back as far as the thirteenth century. During the Black Death, they were expelled from the kingdom, readmitted, then expelled again a second time. Many of these Jews ended up in Wallachia and other parts of Romania. Bessarabia, a name commonly used to describe the area and often associated with the Pale of Settlement, is said to have taken its name from Basarab the First—the ruler of Wallachia mentioned in this book.
Basarab himself is a figure of legend—he may or may not have been Radu Negru himself, and his wife was Marghita who, legend has it, was the wife of Radu Negru first. Basarab himself may have been Turkic in origin, and some legends even say that he may have been a Khazar, or a mountain Jew who came to the region of Romania seeking religious freedom. What we do know is that Basarab had a daughter named Theodora who married Ivan Alexander of Bulgaria and that at some point Ivan Alexander abandoned her and married a converted Jew named Sarah-Theodora.
What I ended up with was part hypothesis, part fairy tale and no conclusive answers, but I found myself in the midst of a fascinating forest of history. As I walked through the winding pathways of the history of the Jews in medieval Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria and what is today Slovakia, I encountered the mythology and folklore of the region. I delved into local fairy tales along the way, and into the rich heritage of Hassidic tales from the region.
The Light of the Midnight Stars is also fairy tale retelling of the Romanian tale “Boys with Golden Stars” from Andrew Lang’s Violet Fairy Book, in which three sisters each make a bid to marry the son of the emperor by promising something fantastical. It is the youngest sister who says that if she marries the prince she will give birth to twin boys with golden stars on their foreheads. Golden stars, something Jews were once made to wear in shame, always made me feel like this story was part of my story.
