by Caroline Lee
“Me neither,” she admitted. “And you can bet I searched pretty extensively. I’ll link those searches to Velarno and your grandmother, but I don’t know if it’ll help.”
“Maybe the woman’s name will turn up something.”
“The woman?” She glanced at him quickly. “You mean the woman Magnus married, the one from the indigenous population? You found her name?”
He remembered her name, but that was because he remembered most of the legend already. Still, he was pretending here.
“Ljós. She was the daughter of one of the local chieftains, who offered herself in marriage as part of the surrender.”
“And? Come on, there’s gotta be more than that!” She flicked the steering wheel impatiently. “It was a political union?”
He shrugged, not wanting to give away his source just yet. He needed to give Nova a reason for wanting to be with him and learning the rest of the story was good enough.
She was still drumming on the wheel with two of her fingers, obviously thinking. “Okay, so what we know of pre-conquest and pre-unification Aegiria tells us that they followed the really ancient ways, which is possible if you live on a secluded island, I guess. The tribes didn’t have hereditary leaders. That means each year someone new was chosen by random draw, usually the old bean-in-the-porridge trick, and whoever gets the bean is the new ruler.”
“Wait, really?” he interrupted. “They serve that porridge every Christmas morning. Not a bean though. In Aegiria they use…” He trailed off as he realized what he was about to say.
She was nodding. “They use a disk carved with an eight-pointed star.”
He whistled under his breath, wondering if that was another connection to the old ways.
Nova took a deep breath. “So they’ve got this new king each new year—remember, the new year starts at the longest night of the year, the solstice. And as long as the fish were plentiful, the battles successful, and the winters not too harsh, he’d be a good king. Or chieftain, I guess.”
“And if not?” He loved learning from her.
She shrugged. “His death could either be ceremonial or in battle, but it’d be considered a sacrifice to ensure life went on the way they wanted. Their life, at least, not his.” Huffing out a little breath, she rolled a kink out of her shoulders. “The point is, if she was the daughter of one of them, either they unified sooner than we think, or her being offered as a potential mate to someone as powerful as Magnus meant she was ready for a change on her island.”
It was so interesting, hearing how she could extrapolate so much from one little fact. “It’s a powerful narrative, giving her agency.”
“Women are stronger than history gives them credit for.”
When she frowned thoughtfully, obviously thinking about history, he prompted her. “Did you catch her name?”
Nova only hesitated a moment. “Ljós, right? It means ‘light’ in Old Norse, doesn’t it?”
He shouldn’t be surprised she’d known that; she was one of the smartest people he’d met. “Yeah.” He shifted so he could see her better. “I always— I mean, I wondered if it was a metaphor itself, or maybe her name was Lucia, or some variation.”
“In any other nation in the thirteenth century, Lucia could’ve been perfectly valid. Her saint day just passed, didn’t it?”
Aegiria didn’t celebrate St. Lucia’s Day the way her northern neighbors did, but Enzio recognized the traditions enough to know she was right again.
“Yeah, but then I reconsidered that hypothesis, because of you.”
When she glanced at him again, that adorable “V” was back between her eyes, which told him she wasn’t quite frowning, but thinking hard.
“Me? What do I have to do with her name?”
He shrugged, suddenly embarrassed to be proposing historical hypotheses to a woman who’d published entire books on the subject. “Uh…well, your name is Nova. I mean, it’s unusual, and it means light—”
“It’s a star, not light.”
Great. Now he was arguing with an academic. But he knew he was right in this, at least.
“An exploding star,” he said quietly. “A brilliant source of light. It was what I thought of first when I saw you.”
“In the cafeteria?”
He chuckled. “No, remember I told you I’d seen you before and wanted to meet you? Well, that’s why. You were…” Luminous. That night in the courtyard, staring down at her, he’d been breathless at the light she seemed to exude. “Beautiful,” he finished quietly, knowing that wasn’t the word he meant.
She was frowning again. “I told you I don’t like charmers.”
Many times, yes.
“I’m not being charming. I’m telling the truth.”
A flash of blue as her eyes flicked over his face—to see if he was telling the truth? Enzio had to fight to keep from practicing his Number Thirteen You-Can-Trust-Me smile. Nova deserved better than that.
She hummed quietly. “I think maybe you are.”
Before he could take the time to rejoice over her admission, she reached into the console and pulled out her phone. “Here,” she said, shoving it towards him. “Make yourself useful and get us to Bergnfjord. The turn-off is coming up, but I’ve only been here once before, and these little roads all look the same to me.”
Make yourself useful.
“I can do that.” Enzio took the phone and noticed she was careful not to let her bare fingers touch his as he did so. Why didn’t she want to touch him? What was she scared of?
He matched the GPS icon up to their surroundings. “Take the next left— No, sorry, not this one, that one up there.”
“Got it.” The SUV barely slowed as she made the smooth turn.
“Now… Looks like the next major junction, you’re going to turn back towards the coast.”
He managed to get them to Bergnfjord without any screw-up—Yay, me—and soon they were parking beside what looked like a town hall. It felt good to climb out of the car and stretch his legs. He zipped up his parka in the chilly December air, and noticed Nova doing the same.
But she was frowning at him again. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just stay in the car?”
The question jerked his head back. “What? Why?”
She shrugged. “You could leave the heat on, and I could lend you a book or something. I mean, you’d probably be more comfortable by yourself than with…”
“With you?” Impossible.
Another shrug. “I was going to say with people like the ones who live here. They’re simple folk, Enzio. And you’re—”
She was about to say a prince. He knew it. “I’m a man who likes to learn, to hear people’s stories. I’m fairly well-traveled, and I do know how to slum it among the peasants, you know.” He made sure his frown was comical. “I’ve been hanging out with you all morning.”
To his relief, she burst into laughter at his jab at her expense. He really liked that—unlike some of the women back in Velarno—she wasn’t intimidated, impressed, or charmed by his title. Maybe because she’d gone on a date before she’d known it?
Or maybe because she was the most self-assured woman he’d met. She knew who she was, and knew she didn’t need others’ approval.
He liked that about her. He liked a lot of things about her.
Time to change the subject, before he began to over-heat.
“So… Bergnfjord, huh?” He’d managed to find out her schedule for the day on the staff online calendar, but not why she was here.
She jerked her head, and he followed her to the edge of the parking area, on the backside of the building. The land fell away at a little cliff which had been shored up by stones, and some distance below, a path wound its way down towards a crescent-shaped inlet.
“This village is far enough away from the capitol to have kept its position as an important fishing center. For this quadrant of the island at least. They’ve modernized, of course”—she used her thumb to point to the large cell t
ower in the distance—“but the residents are founts of old stories.”
Old stories? Enzio felt himself smiling. He was going to like this place.
“Yeah, exactly,” she said.
When he glanced at her, she was grinning knowingly at him, and he liked she wasn’t trying to hide her smile. Even if it was at his expense.
It felt nice to share a smile with her. “Well then, let’s get started.”
Nodding, she turned back to the town center. He followed her to a center square, a large green area ringed by incongruous fir trees and quaint little old buildings. They were inconspicuous, however, compared to what was going on in the middle of the square.
”What the— What is that?”
“That, Your Highness,” she said with a proud grin, “is why we’re here. Bergnfjord is one of the few villages who celebrate the pre-Christian tradition of the Konungyr.”
He tried to work out the word “A…king?”
She chuckled at his expression. “Konungr is Old Norse for king, yes, and nyr is new. At least, we think the word is supposed to mean New King. It’s hard to say, but since that’s basically what it symbolized, that’s what we assume.”
As they walked closer to the monstrosity at the center of the square, he hummed thoughtfully. “So they’re constructing a new king? Made from straw bales?”
“It’s a tradition unique to Aegiria. Being an island nation means the folklore has been insulated, and a lot more of the old ways are celebrated here, rather than—to pick a place entirely at random—Velarno.”
When he glanced over, he saw her smirking at him. He inclined his head, wondering if she was still angry he’d kept his identity from her. He hadn’t wanted to, and he hadn’t lied either; he wanted to be just Enzio when he was around her.
He thought back to what she’d told him in the car about Ljós as he watched the group of men swarm over the bales of hay, lifting and tying them into place. Two mighty legs were already in place and were being anchored with lines and scaffolding, and there was a group of women standing to the side unrolling huge red ribbons.
In a far-away voice, trying to connect several flapping strands of story and history, Enzio said, “Does this have anything to do with the tribes electing a new chieftain each year?”
“Yes!” Beside him, Nova gave a little bounce; half-dance, half-jiggle. Was that pride he’d heard in her voice? “Good work!”
Apparently so.
And God help him, but Enzio beamed under her praise.
She waved to one of the old men who was supervising below the construction. Her contact, maybe? Then she turned back to Enzio with an excited smile.
“So a sacrifice to the old gods would keep winter at bay, right? And sometimes that was the king himself, if things were going badly and the old gods needed appeasing. But at the same time, we have to remember all the legends and traditions about light keeping the darkness away, and the fact that the new year started—”
“During the longest night of the year!” Enzio could see where this was going.
“Yes! So there are all sorts of traditions involving light—candles in the window and whatnot.”
“They’re going to light this Konungyr on fire, aren’t they?”
She bounced happily, and let out a little bark of laughter. “Yes! The Konungyr became the stand-in for the old ways, the star-in-the-porridge, the new king each year!” She gestured towards the bales of straw which didn’t quite look like a man yet. “And it became conflated with the coming of the Christian King, Jesus, whom the early church said was born at the solstice in order to take advantage of the beliefs already in place. So here we have a new king, not elected, but built by the people—”
Enzio was ready to laugh out loud as well, loving the way his brain was sparking as he made the connections. “Which they’re going to burn on the solstice—”
“No, Christmas Eve!”
“Close enough! So they burn it Christmas Eve to keep the darkness at bay, as a sacrifice?”
She shrugged inside her parka, still grinning. “Aegiria has been a Christian nation for centuries. I doubt very much that’s why these people are building a Konungyr, but that’s probably why their ancestors did it.”
By now, they were close enough to the straw bales Enzio had to tilt his head back to watch the men working up there. “It’s interesting how legends start for a reason.”
“Like how the Star of Aegiria originally related to the union of two people, but was remembered for the unification of the nation.”
“But the royal family kept the history, so that’s why no one else remembers the original story.”
“Yep.” She smiled at him again, and he felt like a prize student. “Which just goes to show I’ve been interviewing the wrong people!”
He found himself flushing—like a teenager!—at her praise. “Oh, I don’t know about that.” Shrugging his shoulders, he shoved his hands further in to the fleece-lined warmth of his pockets. “But I’m happy to help however I can.”
As long as it keeps you interested in me, and me useful to you!
She cocked her head as she stared at him, her smile still in place. “Funny you should say that.”
“What?”
“See those guys? I’m here to help them construct this year’s Konungyr, and I think you just volunteered to help.”
He met her eyes with a smile of his own. “Just tell me what to do!”
Velarno had a military. Not a big one, but well-equipped, thanks to Enzio’s father. Most men, and a lot of the women, did a stint after they finished school, and Enzio had been no exception. In fact, he’d always suspected his father once had a word with his commanding officer, instructing him not to go light on the “playboy prince.”
It had been two years of physical labor, mud, and crude jokes.
But even then, it was nothing compared to constructing a Konungyr out of straw alongside a bunch of jolly fishermen.
And Enzio had fun. It wasn’t a surprise; he’d always enjoyed meeting new people and practicing his language skills. The tabloids called him Prince Charming because of his exploits with women, but he was equally charming to men, to everyone. Being charming was just showing interest in what the other person had to say, and making sure your jokes were appropriate.
By the time they had the torso of the straw king up, these old men were his best friends.
Straddling the huge hay bale they were using as the Konungyr’s shoulders, he waved down to Nova, some thirty feet below. She’d been helping to wind the thick red ribbons—although they were really more like blankets—around their straw man’s legs, to look like boots, he supposed. Of course, her phone was never far from her hands, so often was she pulling it out to dictate notes into it, or take video of the proceedings. He wondered how many of those photos would make it into the Christmas Eve documentary. Would he be in it too?
The thought made him even prouder of the work he was helping with.
It felt good to be involved, to help. He was picking up the lyrics to a few of the songs the men were singing—some were Christmas carols, some were ballads of the sea, and one was naughty enough to make the women down on the ground groan and scold. He’d even taught them one he knew, a simple children’s chant from his home.
No doubt about it, he was having fun.
It was mid-afternoon before the mayor, a big man with a beard to rival the Babbo Natale’s himself, called a break and gestured Enzio and his companions down the ladder. Two of the women shooed everyone into one of the homes, where a feast of roast cod, potatoes, and thick brown bread awaited them.
Enzio didn’t bother to hide his smile as he threw himself down on the bench beside Nova, who was already tucking into her fish.
“Thanks for letting me tag along.”
Her eyes sparkled with an inner light as she finished chewing. “You looked like a natural up there. Are you sure you’ve never constructed a gigantic straw man before?”
He chuckled at her
teasing. “It’s a hidden talent, I’ll admit.”
“See?” She nudged him with her elbow. “You do have some talents.”
Enzio had frozen, but she probably hadn’t noticed. Not at her joke about his talents—he’d always known he had talents, just not useful ones—but at her touch. A jab in his side with her pointy elbow wasn’t exactly a caress, but it was the first time she’d touched him.
And look at that, neither of us combusted.
Slowly, he relaxed back into the flow of conversation around him, and enjoyed listening to her teasing their new friends. Halfway through the meal, she pulled out her phone and began to take more notes, which was almost impossible with creamy potatoes balanced precariously on her fork.
He was already finished, so he reached over and plucked the phone from her hand. She gave him a surprised look—with her mouth full, she couldn’t tell him to stop—but he just gestured for her to continue, and his fingers began flying across the screen, continuing her notes.
It was interesting, to try to figure out what she would think was important and get it down with the least amount of words. She watched over his shoulder for a few minutes while she ate, then made a little noise of approval—Enzio’s heart leapt at the sound, which was a little embarrassing—and began asking questions about the origins of their earlier work.
The rest of the meal was spent listening to the villagers trying to talk over one another in response to Nova’s questions, while he took frantic notes and felt…
Useful.
They still had to construct the Konungyr’s head and arms, so the two of them followed their hosts back out into the cold, laughing together in the waning afternoon light.
But within a few steps, Enzio knew something was up inside his boot, as if the tongue had flopped over or something. He kicked his toe against the frozen ground a few times, hoping to slip it back into place, but no luck. That was okay; he hadn’t put his gloves back on yet, and it would be a simple matter to fix.
“Hold up,” he called to Nova, who was walking directly ahead of him. He veered off to the side, heading for one of the trees lining the square. It was odd to see the firs this close to the coast, and these had all been decorated with lights and silver ribbon.