The Light of the Midnight Stars

by Rena Rossner

  I wish I could ask Anna if this is how she used to feel when she was in command of the garden, or if Papa felt this way when he rode a cloud dragon in the sky. But they’ve both cut off those parts of their lives completely. And as usual, it’s too late for me to join them. All Papa does is work the field and sit by the hearth each evening. He doesn’t pray or chant or go out at night to the forest. I haven’t seen him utter a prayer in months.

  I haven’t set fire to anything in so long that I was convinced I’d forgotten how. But the rage has gone out of me. Now the fire burns with something else—the fire of truth. This feels stronger than my rage ever was. I don’t need to burn in order to be seen anymore. It’s enough that I know the fire’s ready and waiting.

  Like Rabbi Elazar Ben Azarya who aged seventy years overnight, I’ve grown up in an instant. The things that used to matter to me aren’t important anymore. Guvriel came into my life and taught me that I was so much more than what I thought I was. And now Theodor is asking me, Who are you, Stanna? Without your family and your past and Guvriel. Who are you? He’s challenging me: who do you want to be?

  The serpent inside me wants to find out.

  I happen upon Theodor a few days later when I’m walking the road to town. I’ve been searching for someone who might take me on as an apprentice, and I remember meeting Guvriel at the crossroads in what feels like a lifetime ago.

  “Stanna,” Theodor calls out as he rides closer. His face lights up when I stop and turn.

  “Good day. What brings you out here alone?” I say. There is no guard beside him.

  “Can we ride? I came to see you.”

  “I… My family is expecting me. I don’t want them to worry.”

  “What if I give you a ride home? You can let them know you’re safe, then come out with me?”

  “Okay,” I hear myself say.

  He dismounts to help me up onto the horse and we set off.

  “Wait for me here,” I say when we arrive at the front door, and I slide down off the horse.

  I wonder if that was the wrong thing to do. The son of the voivode is here at my family’s home and I didn’t invite him in. Was that rude? It was only ever Anna who sat beside father when he met important people and constituents. I’ve lost all sense of right and wrong.

  “Any luck?” Papa asks as I enter. His head perks up from the wood he’s whittling.

  “No,” I say. “Nothing. Where are Anna and Laptitza?”

  “Out in the forest, I think,” Mama says. “Was that a horse we heard?”

  “Someone passing by,” I lie, not wanting to tell them more. “I’ll be back soon.”

  “But you just came back,” Mama says, her hands on her needlework.

  My parents are acting like they’re in some kind of dream. I see it now, as if a veil of darkness has been lifted from my eyes. The air inside our home is so heavy and thick with longing and sorrow that I can barely breathe in here anymore. We haven’t started again. We’re hiding in plain sight. Without our community, without my father’s disciples, without our faith, who are we?

  I walk out the front door and no one follows.

  Theodor takes me down the road, farther than I’ve ever gone before. It’s thrilling—galloping on a horse at high speed, the air icy and crisp on my face. I can breathe out here, and I realize why my sisters and I keep going to the forest—they feel it too. They may not be able to put a name to it, but their lungs thirst for this fresh air.

  He leads the horse off the road and into a different part of the forest. It’s denser here, greener. Soon he stops the horse, leaps down, and ties him to a tree, then helps me down.

  “How did you manage to get away? By yourself?” I ask him.

  The look on his face is grave, serious. His eyes a piercing green. He takes his helmet off and I wait for the cascade of red, but it doesn’t come.

  “You cut your hair!” I say.

  He runs a hand through his shorn locks. “I did, yeah.” He looks down at his feet, then back at me. Then he takes a step forward, and another step. My heart beats fast.

  He reaches his hands out and takes mine in his. “Thank you for coming out here with me. There’s something I need to tell you.”

  He puts his hands on my cheeks, cradling my face like he’s scared he’s going to break me. I want to tell him that I’m not ready, that I’m promised to another, but he looks so fragile that I’m stunned into silence.

  What has him looking so grave? What does he have to tell me?

  My heart races as I stare into his eyes.

  He leans in and kisses me.

  I freeze in place. My lips don’t respond.

  Tears smart in my eyes. Maybe this is all he ever wanted from me. I’m not sure if I should be angry or relieved.

  Yet—something is clearly troubling him.

  He pulls away.

  “What’s wrong? Why are you are crying?” he says.

  “I’m sorry, I…”

  “No.” He turns away from me. “You have nothing to apologize for. I shouldn’t have done that. It’s just that… I was scared that if I didn’t try now, I might never get a chance. I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first time I met you. But clearly that was the wrong thing to do. I’m sorry.”

  I open my mouth but no words come.

  “Stanna, I’ve been dishonest with you,” he continues.

  “Dishonest?” A thick flood of ice runs through me.

  “I only wanted to…” His hands flit, nervous and unsteady. I’ve never seen him like this before. “I had to try at least once before…” He looks away.

  “Before what?”

  “Can we sit?” he asks.

  I nod, still confused by what just happened. It’s not like last time—I don’t feel the need to blaze at him in anger, and I’m not afraid to be alone with him. I’m worried and curious.

  We sit in silence for a while as he runs his hands through his shorn hair.

  “Can I tell you a story?” he finally says.

  “Yes,” I say. At the very least it will give me space to think.

  He stares off into the trees and begins.

  Once there was a man who lived in a land that was not his own. Nobody remembered where he came from, and nobody spoke the language of the country he was from. He arrived in the land, hoping that he would find in it a place where he could feel truly at home. Where he might become the father of a people who could be truly free.

  But the land he found was being ruled by another. Soon, he’d grown a following of others like him, and they began to gain a foothold—town by neighboring town.

  When the prince of the land heard what was happening, he attacked, certain he would be successful in overthrowing this upstart. But instead, his royal troops were decimated. The man succeeded in making his dream come true. He declared the land independent, with freedom of religion and worship for all. He married a woman not of his faith, for he thought that she believed in his dream. She was already pregnant with the child of the prince. Some say her husband disappeared. Others say he haunts the forest and the land, that he became a beast—a smoke-walker—and that one day he will come back for her and for his child.

  When the child was born, it was healthy and beautiful, though the baby’s mother was disappointed that she hadn’t borne a son. But the new ruler saw it as an omen—a sign from God that his rule was right and true. God had blessed them with a child—it mattered not if it was male or female. He called the baby Theodora and sent out a proclamation that God had blessed the new couple with a daughter.

  Soon his wife grew pregnant again. This time she bore her husband a boy. The kingdom rejoiced. The voivode’s dynasty was secured.

  But the son didn’t like doing all the things that the other boys in the palace did. And the voivode’s daughter didn’t like sitting and sewing with the women. But they were young and the voivode was healthy and the children were both loved and indulged so they did as they pleased.

  As the girl child grew older
it became clear that she was born to lead, to rule like her father did before her. The voivode saw all of this as proof that he had done right by this child—some men are meant to rule, he’d say, but some women are too.

  But his wife did not see things the same way. She wanted her child to marry and unite their kingdom with a neighboring one. The child was distraught, and also deeply unhappy. She didn’t know why she couldn’t just be herself—whoever it was she wanted to be on any given day. A knight by day and a princess by night. For if she couldn’t be true to herself, how could anyone ever be true to her?

  Theodor’s voice cracks as he speaks. He takes a deep breath and we sit in silence for a while.

  But I want to know the ending. I’m about to speak, when he says, “I’m the daughter in the story, Stanna. My name is Theodora.”

  My eyes go wide. This was not what I expected.

  “You were so brave and honest with me. I needed to tell you the truth. I was scared that if I told you, I might never get a chance to show you how I feel. I’m sorry if I touched you, if I kissed you without your permission, but if I never taste another set of lips again, it was enough to last me a lifetime.”

  “Theodora?” I say like a question.

  “Is it really such a difference? The addition of one little letter…”

  But my eyes are still trying to re-form this Theodora into the shape of the person I know. The longer I stare at him—her—them, the more I see the same person. Everything merges into one.

  I had to turn into a creature of light in order to show Theodor my true form. All Theodora has asked for is the addition of a letter to her name.

  “I will burst if you don’t say something soon,” Theodora whispers.

  I look up at her. “Do any of us really know who and what we are?” I say quietly. “I think we are always in the process of becoming.”

  “It is not an easy path,” Theodora says. “Be careful what you say. Don’t give me false hope.”

  “No path is easy,” I reply.

  I’m shocked, I admit: I didn’t even once think that Theodor was something other than what he seemed. But as I look at him… her… I realize that I don’t see her any differently now.

  “I’m sorry that I kissed you when you clearly didn’t want to be kissed. I’ve been dishonest with you. I’ve lied to you and I tried to steal a kiss that was not freely given. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

  “Why did you cut your hair?”

  “Because my mother has decided to marry me off. The first of the suitors arrives tomorrow. And if today is to be the last day I can wear armor, I wanted everything about me to express what I feel inside. And anyway—” She grins. “—now it will be harder for Mother to find someone suitable. They’ll call me the bald princess.”

  “I think anyone would be lucky to marry you,” I say.

  Theodora’s face falls. “I don’t want to marry a man. I want to lead an army.”

  “And you still can—” I start to say, but she cuts me off.

  “You don’t understand our ways,” she says. “A palace for me will be no more than a prison. When I met you… I saw someone who was different. Someone who might be able to understand that every man or woman in their life plays many parts. You’re the first person I’ve ever felt this way about. But I can’t promise you anything. In another kingdom, or another world perhaps, but sadly not in this one…”

  I think about the promise that was made to me—the promise I once made to someone else. “I couldn’t have promised anything to you either—for I am promised by word and in my heart to another.”

  “Perhaps it’s better that way,” she says sadly. “My future is not my own.”

  “None of our futures are,” I say, thinking about Guvriel and how I once thought my future was set in stone. “I don’t want you to promise me anything. Promises can be broken.”

  “You’re stronger than you think you are, if you’re still here beside me after everything I told you.”

  I stare at her shorn hair—still red and vibrant to the roots. Her delicate yet angular features. Her lips uttering words I never thought I’d hear again.

  “I will call you whatever you would like to be called,” I say. “Sometimes we all get lost. Sometimes it takes us a while to find yourself again.” My heart grows brave. “My name is Sarah,” I say.

  Anna

  24 Sivan 5122

  I have so much to write and the candle burns low, but I must get it all down now or I fear I’ll forget.

  There was a knock at our door around dinner time. Eyes met eyes across the table. Our meal consisted of coarse black bread and cabbage soup—perhaps that detail is unimportant, but it was a normal meal, a quiet one, like all our meals here. Nobody had knocked on our door yet, and I think we rather liked it that way. I still tremble each time we hear a knock, for I instantly remember the knock on my door which changed everything.

  I saw the hesitation in Papa’s eyes. He looked to me like I was the parent and he the child. It hurt, because I know he wants so badly to be able to open a door and not live in fear for what is on the other side. He wants us all to think we are safe, though he does not believe it himself.

  He put a finger to his lips—though he didn’t need to: we are already all silent and still. He crept to the door, peeked through a crack in the wood, then opened the door.

  I heard a familiar voice.

  “Good evening, sir. Apologies for disturbing your evening meal, but there is a matter I wish to discuss with you. May I come in?”

  It was Constantin. My heart beat fast. Why was he here? I wondered if something was wrong. My eyes strayed to the door as I caught the look in Stanna’s eyes. Is everything okay? she silently said to me. Why is he here? Everything about the men we meet out in the fields is a secret. Something we’ve kept between us.

  “Come in, come in,” Papa said. “Of course.”

  But my father was confused and scared.

  Constantin held his hat in his hands, his head bowed.

  I remembered the way he looked that last time I saw him. Lost. Holding enough sadness in him to flood a field. I couldn’t ignore him, couldn’t cause him more pain.

  I got up from my seat. “Constantin!”

  “You know this man?” Papa asked.

  Constantin looked up and saw me across the table. His face lit up, almost as if he hadn’t been sure he was in the right home till then, as if he was more terrified at the prospect of entering my home than he was at facing hundreds of thousands on the battlefield. It was the face of a man that I thought I could love.

  Everything about that moment reminded me of things that I’d blocked out of my mind. I was having trouble breathing.

  I don’t know if it’s my fate to love and lose and love and lose over and over again. And if this is yet another mistake I’m making.

  He seems to take courage from the air, as he takes a deep breath and says, “I’ve come to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

  My heart fell when it should have felt buoyant. No, it said. Not again. Not this pain.

  Papa furrowed his brow. “Which daughter?”

  Constantin laughed. A deep belly laugh. He looked over at me. “You’ve told him nothing?”

  “I’m sorry…” My face flushed.

  “My apologies,” he said to Papa. “But I’ve come to ask for the hand of Anna, the daughter of…”

  “Ivan,” Papa said.

  “Anna the daughter of Ivan and…”

  “Elena,” Mama said.

  “Despite the fact that Anna, the daughter of Ivan and Elena, has told you nothing about me.” His eyes danced. “I assure you both that my intentions are completely honorable. There is nothing I want more than to take care of your daughter and your family by extension. I swear it on my honor, and on the throne of the Voivode Basarab the First, Lord of Wallachia.”

  I barely know him, my mind raced. Everything could still go wrong, my heart said. In the past, ever
ything has gone wrong.

  But how well did I know Jakob? How well do we know anyone?

  Maybe if I get married, my bad luck will leave my sisters and parents alone. Then they can be truly free of the curse that has bound itself to me.

  “Do you know this man?” Papa asked me.

  “Yes, Tată,” I said, using the local word for “father.” “I do.”

  “Sit. Eat with us,” Papa said to Constantin.

  While Constantin sat at the table, I watched every move he made. I saw that where his fingers gripped his hat, they trembled. I thought of the things he told me the other day about Sofia, and thought about what it must have cost him to come here, to make himself vulnerable again in that way. He was at our table. His heart out on a plate before us.

  I reached to take his hat from his hands and my fingers brushed his. He looked up at me and it was as if the sun had risen on his face. I didn’t need a book to tell me it was genuine.

  I didn’t have it in me to say no. I couldn’t crush the look I saw there. I knew then that I wouldn’t deny him.

  Mama got up to bring a drink and some cups from the kitchen. I saw tears shining in her eyes. I followed her.

  “A man only looks at a woman once in her life like that,” she whispered to me, and then she winked. “Sometimes twice.”

  “Mama, he’s a goy…” I say the word so softly it’s barely there, but still. A word from another life—from a lifetime ago.

  “He’s a man,” Mama says. “And he loves you.”

  My eyes smarted with tears as I went back to the table. I don’t deserve this kind of happiness.

  “Constantin, what is your family name?” Papa asked as Mama set another plate of food before him, and a cup which she filled with honey wine.

  She looked over at me encouragingly. But my stomach felt like it was on fire.

  She poured some wine into my cup, then she poured for herself and for Papa.