The Boy Who Never Was learns about Transylvania

The Boy Who Never Was stood agog before the alpine beauty of the land. Here and there, among the pine trees, he could catch glimpses of the reconstructed ruins of ancient stone castles and country homes. Some of them were perched precariously, clinging to mountain crags. A steep and solitary pathway wound narrowly though the high mountain reaches.

“For many centuries people in this part of world have fought to own these coveted corners,” said the Big Foot Yeti. “It used to be a mighty crossroad nestled among Moldavia, Hungary and Romania. It was part of an older country named Wallachia and many rulers coveted it, especially the sultans of the Ottoman Empire.”

“What does the name ‘Transylvania,’ mean?” the Boy Who Never Was asked him.

“In Latin, it means, ‘land beyond the forest.’ It refers to the ‘Schwartzwald’ or ‘the Black Forest of Germany,’” replied the Big Foot Yeti. “It was in that forest that many of the folktales and legends of European lore got their start.”

“Do you mean stories like Hansel and Gretel, who were captured by the cannibal witch and then imprisoned because she caught them nibbling from her gingerbread house?” asked the Boy Who Never Was. “I was always afraid of that tale.”

“Yes,” the Yeti replied. “But that story came from the Black Forest. The tales from this area were much older. The witch over here was named ‘Baba Yaga,’ and she lived in a house, not made of gingerbread, but rather, of human bones and skulls. In fact, the house used to follow her on chicken feet. She used to fly through the air in a tin tub and sweep away her tracks with her broom.”

“Were the people here afraid of her, Master?” the Boy Who Never Was asked him.

“Some of them were, my child,” answered the Yeti. “Some emissaries thought that because the ruler was young Vladimir, who was helped by his younger brother Radu, they could treat him with disrespect. Well, one day the Ottoman emissaries stood before King Vladimir, without removing the turbans from their heads. In order to teach them that he was a great king, Vladimir nailed their turbans to their heads so that they would never forget it. Soon Vladimir acquired the reputation of being a ruthless ruler.”

“Doesn’t the name ‘Vladimir’ mean ‘Prince of Peace, in Romanian, Master?” the Boy Who Never Was asked him.

“Indeed it does, my child,” retorted the Yeti. “Prince Vladimir became known as a blood-thirsty despot with little regard for either friends or enemies. Some of his enemies thought that Prince Vladimir was the reincarnation of Tsar Ivan the Terrible of Russia.”

“Was he really that cruel, Master?” the Boy Who Never Was asked.

“He had a soft-spot for his lady-love named Maria Elizabeta. She was his cousin because in those days, families married one another in order to keep the power among themselves. Well, Vladimir’s enemies killed Elizabeta by hurling her off a cliff.

“Prince Vladimir was very religious, having read holy writ throughout his youth,” the Yeti continued. “He knew and imitated the life of Christ as any good disciple would. He knew that Jesus had been crucified. That was the Romans’ way of humiliating foes and making them suffer for several days. He would pray to receive the Eucharist every day, and he prayed before ancient icons that were family heirlooms. The death of his beloved, drove him to the point of insanity. He swore revenge on all of his enemies, and he wanted to chastise them all for founded and unfounded crimes. He began a campaign of terror that earned him the name of ‘Vladimir the Impaler.’”

“What does the name ‘Impaler’ mean, Master?” the Boy Who Never Was asked him.

“To impale someone means to drive a stake through his heart while he was still alive.”