Many people love the Christmas Carol Good King Wenceslas and sing it every year without quite figuring out the story that it tells.

This Musical Christmas Double brings you the story and the song together so that you can compare the two.

Listen out for the beautiful rendition of the carol sung at the end of the story by Gabriella Burnel with Jamie McCredie on the guitar.

And the story is told by our very own Natasha. You can read Natasha’s reflections on this special Christmas story in her Post Recording Review.

The adaptation of the tale for Storynory is by Bertie.

A bit of history….

King Wenceslas (or Wenceslaus) was the Duke of Bohemia in the years 921-935. He is now patron Saint of the Czech Republic and is statue stands Wenceslaus Square in Prague. His feast day is September 28.

The chronicler Cosmas of Prague, writing in about the year 1119, says

Rising every night from his noble bed, with bare feet and only one chamberlain, he went around to God’s churches and gave alms generously to widows, orphans, those in prison and afflicted by every difficulty, so much so that he was considered, not a prince, but the father of all the wretched.

The episode in our story involving the pagan woman is a bit fanciful, by the way, and not history – although it was a time of conflict between Christians and pagans. The Duke’s mother, Drahomíra, was the daughter of a pagan tribal chief of Havolans and was baptised at the time of her marriage.

Audio hosted by SoundCloud.

On Christmas day as was his custom, on this special day every year, Duke Wenceslas visited each of the servants and soldiers in his castle, and pressed a gold coin into his or her hand.

The Duke walked through the cold stone passageways in the lower depths of his castle. As he stepped kitchen through the door, a fierce heat struck his face, and the smell of roast meat filled his nostrils. Two servants were turning swans on a giant spit over the fire. Elsewhere men and women, young and old, were busy with fetching, rolling, shouting, stuffing, stirring, scouring, scraping, and all the other tasks of the kitchen. Those who saw him enter stopped their work and bowed deeply. His page called out:

“Line up, line up for the Duke.”

And the kitchen staff scuffled around arranging themselves in order of rank, from the head cook to the young scullery maid who was just eleven years old.

Each of the servants received gold coin from the hand of their ruler with the words: “May the Lord Jesus Christ, our Saviour who was born on this day, bless you and watch over you.”

After the kitchen, the Duke proceeded to the guard house, and then to laundry, and then to maids of the bed chambers, and then to the stables. Last of all, he visited the dungeons. The jailers received his blessings and gold, and the prisoners received just his blessings.

He spoke last to an old woman prisoner:

“May the Lord Jesus Christ, our Saviour who was born on this day, bless you and watch over you.”

He looked into the woman’s eyes and saw that they were piercing blue. She must have been quite a beauty in her youth. He felt sorry that her life and folly had brought her to this dark prison cell on Christmas Day.

“What is her crime?” he asked the Jailer.

“My Lord, she is a priestess of the old school. She performed pagan rites and lead the people in the worship of false gods.

At this Duke Wenceslas said sadly:

“Tis a pity. Had she been guilty of a lesser crime…. had she been guilty of even murder, I would have set her free to go home and to die in her bed among her family.” And then he turned to the old woman:

“Do you not see now how the Christian religion teaches mercy and kindness? This Christmas Day I have pressed gold into the hands of the lowliest servant in my castle. Are you not impressed by my good works in the name of Jesus Christ? Do you not renounce the devil and your gods and come to the true Savior?. Only say the words “I do” and you shall be rid of your chains this Christmas Day.”

And the priestess lifted her gray head and fixed the Duke with her blue eyes:

“The scummiest jailer in your castle is a lord in comparison to peasants outside. You have no idea what it means to live in a hovel, to freeze in depths of winter, to have rags for clothes and a few sticks for a fire. Throw coins to your grovelling servants if it makes you feel good before you stuff yourself with rich food. But don’t talk to me of your false charity.”

As it was Christmas Day, the Duke did not order the woman to be whipped. He just shook his head at her insolence and her missed chance of freedom.

But as he climbed the winding stone stair back to the lighter world of his busy castle, her words were turning in his heart. And when he saw his servants going about their work, briskly, but smiling, he thought “Yes, you are the lucky few.”

He no longer felt satisfied with his Christmas routine. He ordered his servant to bring him his fur-lined cloak, boots, gloves and hat. Another servant strapped a sword to his side. The head stable boy brought his horse out into the courtyard and placed a small ladder against its side. Snow was already flecking the Duke’s beard as he stood and waited for all to be ready. And then he clambered onto his mount and rode through the gates of the castle followed by just a page on a gray mare.

“Boy,” he called back to the page,”Were you born in a village?”

“Oh no sire. I was born in the castle,” replied the boy.

“Do you have any relatives in a village?”

“Oh yes sire. My grandmother lives in a village not far from here.”

“Well take me there.” said the Duke.

And when they arrived in village, they found the boy’s grandmother at the drinking well, known as the fount of St. Agnes. She was using a long pole – a branch broken off a birch tree – and ramming it down into the well to break the ice.

“Here, give the good lady some gold,” said the duke. Which the page gladly did. At this, the other peasants of the village, who until now had been plodding through the snow on their business, came rushing over from all sides to beg the Duke for money.

“Back Back!” cried the page boy. The Duke took a handful of coins and scattered them on the ground. The peasants dived on them like a flock of birds on some crumbs of bread.

The Duke returned to the castle to resume his Christmas worship and festivities, but instead of feeling better for his generosity, he somehow felt troubled by it. As he celebrated the last Christmas of the millennium, the image of the priestess in the dungeon was always in his mind.

The next day – the feast day of St. Stephen – there was boxing and jousting in the tiltyard. Music, dancing and merrymaking continued throughout the afternoon and evening. But the Duke’s heart was still not fully in the celebrations. He stood up from his place in the banqueting hall, and went up onto the ramparts of the castle to take in the cold fresh air. It was a clear moonlit night. He looked out towards the village that he had visited the day before. He saw a peasant wandering across the fields, bending down every now and then to picked up sticks for the fire.

“Page, Page!” he called out – for his attendant was never far away – bring me food from from the table, the best bits, and bring wine, and fetch some logs for the fire. I intend to go out and give these things to that man – hurry hurry now. I shall wait for you by the gates of the castle.”

The Duke took the winding stairs down to the courtyard. Servants brought him his fur-lined clothes and boots – “No No,” he said. “I shall go without them”. And instead he took off his shoes and stood on the snow covered cobble stones. His feet were entwined in woolen strips – but that was their only covering.

The stable boy stood by with the Duke’s horse.

“Follow me,” the Duke said to the paige, “We are going on foot.” And seeing that that his master was not wearing a coat or hat, the poor page felt that disrespectful as he put on his own clothes – but the master did not seem to take notice.

The Duke and the boy, walked out through the gates of the castle, their arms filled with gifts. The servants shook their heads, convinced that not only had their Duke gone mad, but that he would catch his death of cold.

The peasant was heading for the village, and the Duke and the boy hurried after him. The Duke’s almost bare feet sank deep into the snow, but he did not seem to notice the cold. He strode on, propelled by some sort of super-human strength. The poor page boy felt the chill coming up through the soles of his boot and through his whole body. The wind cut into his face and he rubbed his nose to stave off frostbite.

“Sire, Sire,” he called out. “My strength is failing me.”

At first the Duke did not hear him. Only when the boy called out: “I cannot go on.” did he halt his progress across the snow. He turned round and saw the boy had fallen to his knees.

Duke Wenceslaus looked back to the castle. Although the night had grown darker, he could clearly see his footsteps all the way back. They were luminous like the moon.

“Good boy,” he said. “Stand up and place your feet in my footsteps.

And page, who was used to obeying his Duke’s every command, gathered his strength and rose to his feet.

“Here, here,” said the Duke. “This is my step. Place your foot on top of it.”

And the boy, seeing the pale blue glowing footsteps, placed his foot on the spot where the Duke’s foot and sunk into the snow. Then he lifted his other foot and placed it in the footstep behind. Instead of cold, he felt warmth and energy rising through his body. The Duke carried on ahead, and the boy, followed behind, now feeling as as full of life and energy as if he was striding across a meadow full of lambs one day in spring.

The Duke and the page caught up with the man just before he reached his village. They gave him their gifts, for which he thanked and blessed them. And on his return to the castle, the Duke set the pagan priestess free from the gaol.

Good King Wenceslas looked out
On the feast of Stephen
When the snow lay round about
Deep and crisp and even
Brightly shone the moon that night
Though the frost was cruel
When a poor man came in sight
Gath’ring winter fuel

“Hither, page, and stand by me
If thou know’st it, telling
Yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?”
“Sire, he lives a good league hence
Underneath the mountain
Right against the forest fence
By Saint Agnes’ fountain.”

“Bring me flesh and bring me wine
Bring me pine logs hither
Thou and I will see him dine
When we bear him thither.”
Page and monarch forth they went
Forth they went together
Through the rude wind’s wild lament
And the bitter weather

“Sire, the night is darker now
And the wind blows stronger
Fails my heart, I know not how,
I can go no longer.”
“Mark my footsteps, my good page
Tread thou in them boldly
Thou shalt find the winter’s rage
Freeze thy blood less coldly.”

In his master’s steps he trod
Where the snow lay dinted
Heat was in the very sod
Which the Saint had printed
Therefore, Christian men, be sure
Wealth or rank possessing
Ye who now will bless the poor
Shall yourselves find blessing.

St. David is the patron Saint of Wales and his day falls on March 1st, when Welsh people celebrate by wearing leeks and daffodils – two of the symbols of Wales. The Welsh Dragon is another symbol.

David was born in Wales around the year 500 and there are loads of legends about him. Some are a bit fantastical – and very few people these days would believe these stories as history – but they give a flavour of how respected he was by the Welsh people – and indeed
by all of the Britons.

If you listen to this story, you will learn something about Natasha.

PCR, St David’s Day Dancing and the Eisteddfod.

Dear listeners,

This story of St David, about the Patron saint of Wales is one that is very special to Welsh schools, as it is when they begin taking part in what is known as the Eisteddfod. If they are successful the festival gives the children opportunity to perform stories or poems they have written and or act in plays they have devised or even sing in choirs.
The themes of what the children can use must be creative or modern or take from traditional pieces like the Flower Dance, that uses the
Daffodil, a symbol of their heritage, to dance with in order to honour the bard. As you can see of the girls in green that dance the sequence here:

http://www.museumwales.ac.uk/media/1/1/7/4/4/dawns-flodau-2009.jpg

Dewi saint the patron saint of Wales, whom the St David’s day story is about, is known to have recited Welsh scripture, in the lakes of South Wales, where he lived, which gives a sense of background and the spirit of what the Eisteddfod is about. The material of the performances that come from schools, reflects culture and heritage of Wales and helps to keep the welsh language alive.

The festival itself has its own performance and concert venues, taking place between the 30th of July and the 06 of August in Wales, why not take a look:

http://www.eisteddfod.org.uk/english/

And see how the welsh are celebrating St Davids day this year….

Bye Bye

N*

You might also be interested in our other saints stories:

• St. Valentine – 14th March
• St. Patrick - 17th March
• St. George – 23rd April

Read by Natasha. Duration 8.26.

David’s father was the King of Ceredigion, and some say that he was the nephew of the famous English King Arthur, whose knights sat around a round table. David’s mother was a poor but beautiful young woman, and the King did not look after her. When she was ready to give birth to David, she found that she was caught outside in a storm. The sky was filled with great flashes of lightening, and there were terrifying crashes of thunder. Hail and rain was coming down everywhere, except on the spot where she got herself ready to deliver the child. All around her was dry and lit by the sun.

David was baptized by a blind monk. Some of the water from the font splashed onto his eyes, and immediately he could see.

When David grew up, he became a monk, and he travelled around Wales and England. He founded monasteries and churches including the famous Abbey at Glastonbury where it is said that King Arthur is buried. You can still see the beautiful ruins of the Abbey to this day.

David told his followers to be vegetarians and of course, they ate a lot of leeks which grow very well in Wales. The monks who joined him had to give up much more. They didn’t use animals for farming – and they even pulled ploughs themselves instead of using oxen. They weren’t allowed to own any possessions, and if one of them said “MY book” he had to do a penitence, which is a kind of punishment.

Despite his tough ways, St. David became very popular – perhaps because he had the gift of working miracles. For instance, when his neighbours land was drying up, he stuck his staff into the earth and a spring sprung out of the ground. A local ruler became very jealous of his popularity, and his wife told him to send slaves with sticks to beat David and his Monks – but as they came to attack the monks, their arms lost all their strength, and all they could do was to hurl filthy insults at them. When they returned home, they found that all their cattle had died. They returned to the monks and asked forgiveness, and this time when they went back. all their cattle had come back to life.

Other time, some of St. David’s monks turned against him, and decided to poison his food. But a friend of his in Ireland foresaw this in a dream and he sent St. Scuthyn to warn him. There were no ships ready, to carry Scuthyn across the Irish sea to Wales, but he waded into the water and a Sea Monster picked him up on his back and carried him across. When he arrived he warned St. David that his cook had put some deadly poison into his bread. At dinner time, St. David broke the bread into three pieces. He gave one piece to a dog, and another to a crow. Both immediately died. Then he blessed the third piece and ate himself. Everyone watching thought that he would surely die too. But he was perfectly alright.

His most famous miracle happened at a great religious meeting. There was a vast crowd of people in the audience, and none of the Bishops who spoke could make themselves heard – except for David. The ground beneath him rose up into a hill so that he stood high up above the crowd, and a dove landed on his shoulder. His voice rang out as clear as a trumpet. St. David is often pictured speaking with a dove on his shoulder.

David became Bishop not just of the Welsh, but of all the Britons. At that time, the Britons often had to fight off Saxon invaders from Europe. Before one great battle, St. David told the army of the Britons to wear leeks in their hats as a kind of uniform. They won the battle, and ever since Leeks have been a welsh symbol. To remember the victory, Welsh soldiers eat raw leeks on the eve of St. David’s day.

St. David lived to be more than 100 years old, and as he was dying, the Monastery in which he lay filled with angels. His last words were ‘Gwnewch y pethau bychain mewn bywyd’ which means Do the Little Things in Life, and to this day, it’s a common saying in Wales.

And those are some of the stories about St. David. I do hope you enjoyed them – and that they gave you a little flavour of wales 1,500 years ago. We have other Saint’s stories on Storynory.com, including those of St. George, St. Patrick, and St. Valentine. For now, from me, Natasha

The story of a knight, a maiden, and a dragon has all the makings of a fairy tale, but of course the most famous dragon-slaying tale is the legend of St. George.

The story was popular in the Middle East and it was picked up by the Crusaders when they went out to that part of the world. Ever since St. George has been associated with Knights and chivalry. He is patron saint of England where his popularity has revived recently, but he is shared with many other countries and cities around the world. In England, St. George’s day is April 23rd. In Eastern Europe he is usually celebrated on May 6th.

We’ve adapted our version from the Lives of the Saints - but we’ve made a slight change to the ending. In the original, St. George (a Roman soldier) forces the townspeople to convert to Christianity before he kills the dragon. We thought that wasn’t quite the right message for the modern age – but just so that you know. He later went on to become a Bishop and a martyr. Various versions of the story are outlined here. The famous historian Edward Gibbon debunked him as a rogue trader to the Roman army.

Read by Natasha. Duration 9 minutes.

St. George stands for courage, and chivalry. Chivalry is the code of honour which knights in armor used to follow. They had to swear to be brave, fair, true to their word, and to protect the weak and the poor. Of course not all knights kept the code – but St. George did.

He is the patron saint of England, and the red cross of St. George is on the national flag. In England, his day is the 23rd of April. He is also the patron saint of several other countries, including, Canada, China, Greece, Russia, Portugal, Palestine, Ethiopia, Serbia, and Montenegro. And one country is even named after him – and that’s the Georgia which is situated between Russia and Turkey.

He is often painted as a knight in armour from the Middle Ages, but was in fact born long before those times, when the Romans still ruled much of the world.

One thousand seven and hundred years ago, in the time of the Roman Empire, there was – just outside the City of Cyrene in North Africa – a large stagnant, smelly pond. In this pond there lived a dragon. And whenever the dragon breathed on a person or an animal, they died on the spot. At first the dragon breathed on all the sheep that lived in the fields around the city. Then he started to attack the people, and threatened to kill them one and all.

The people of Cyrene had no choice but to come to terms with the dragon. They agreed to give him one person every month, so long as he left the others alone and unharmed for the rest of the time. But how were they to decide which person to sacrifice?

The king decreed that the names of every citizen should be scratched onto pieces of pottery, and kept in a great urn. Each month, one of the names would be drawn out of the urn, and that person would be given to the dragon. In this way men and women, both rich and poor, were chosen to be fed to the evil beast.

Then one day the name of the princess was shaken out of the urn. According to the King’s own law, his daughter must be sacrificed. He called the people together and offered them gold and treasure if only they would agree to spare her from the dragon. The judges who oversaw the lottery said that it must be completely fair, or else the people would no longer accept it. And so, much saddened, the king said to the princess: “My dear, I shall never see your wedding day.”

A week went past, and the day arrived when she must meet her fate. The palace servants dressed her in her wedding gown and placed a crown of flowers on her head. They led her out of the city in a procession, and headed for the lake where the dragon lived.

As they were on their way, a Roman soldier came riding up to the city. His name was George and he was a Christian from Cappadocia in Turkey. George stopped and asked why such a beautiful young woman was looking so sad on her wedding day. A citizen replied:

“Because according to the law she must this day marry the dragon who lives in that lake, and her wedding gift shall be death.”

George immediately replied: “If that really be the case, then let me slay the dragon.”

The citizens warned him that nobody stood a fighting chance against such as ferocious, plague-breathing lizard, but George was determined to save the princess.

The people tied her to a tree by the lake, and left her to meet her fate. George saw the dragon emerge out of the swampy waters, and he charged up on his horse and flung his spear into its shoulder. The dragon let out a piercing shriek. It was wounded but not fatally. While it was writhing in pain, George managed to cut the princess free from her bonds. The dragon was enraged and rounded on his attacker. George retreated and called out to the princes to take off the belt from around her waist and to throw it at the dragon. This she did, and by a miracle, the belt wrapped itself round the dragons neck like a collar. Immediately the dragon became as peaceful as a lamb, and the princess was able to lead it by her belt back to the City.

When the people saw the princess and George leading the dragon back to their walls, they became angry and afraid, until St. George drew out his sword and slew the dragon, And then the people knew that from then on they could live safe and unharmed.

Of all the saints, St. Patrick probably has the biggest celebration. His day is 17th of March and Irish people all over the world mark the day with parades and parties. He is most famous for banishing the snakes from Ireland, and for using the shamrock – a little green plant with three leaves – to explain three-part nature of God.

There are loads of other colourful legends about Ireland’s favourite saint. A good source can be found on Project Gutenberg. We’ve chose a small selection of ancient anecdotes about him.

You may also be interested in the touching tale of St. Valentine.

Read by Natasha. Duration 8.18.

There are lots of stories about St. Patrick, and in a moment I’ll tell you some of them. But first I’ll just tell you briefly about his life. He was born in Wales which is just across the sea from Ireland. It was the year 373, and the Romans still ruled that part of the world. Many of the people in Wales and Ireland were druids, who worshipped the sun and other aspects of nature. But Patrick was a Christian.

When Patrick was 16 years old, he was walking along the beach when some pirates seized him. They took him to Ireland and sold him as a slave where he worked in the fields. One day, he heard God telling him to escape, and he ran down to the sea where he found a ship waiting to take him home. When he was grown up, he heard a voice calling on him to return to Ireland and to tell the people there about Christianity – which is what he did.

Patrick travelled the length and breadth of Ireland, and had many adventures while he spread his message. Quite often, the druid priests were angry with him for telling their followers to change their religion, and his life was always in great danger.

Ireland is a very rainy country, and the fields are emerald green. One of the most common plants that grows among the grass is the shamrock. It’s like a small clover with three leaves. St. Patrick used to pick up the shamrock and explain that the three leaves were the three aspects of God. The Father, The Son, and the Holy Spirit.

St. Patrick is also famous for driving all the snakes into the sea, so that to this day there are no snakes lurking in the beautiful green grass of Ireland.

The Shamrock and the Snakes are the most famous stories about St Patrick, but there are lots of other tales that aren’t quite so well known. Here are a few of them.

When Patrick was still a boy, he used to look after his aunt’s flocks of sheep. One day a wolf jumped into the field, took a young lamb in its mouth, and ran off. That evening St. Patrick’s aunt was angry with him for not taking better care of her flocks. So Patrick prayed all night for the lamb to come back to them, and in the morning when he was in the fields, the wolf appeared once again, with the lamb in its mouth. It came up to Patrick and put the young animal down in front of him. The little lamb got up and ran back to his mother,

In Patrick’s village, there was a man called Gormas who had been blind from birth. One day he heard a voice commanding him to take the boy by the hand and to draw the sign of the cross in the ground by his feet. As soon as he did this, a fountain sprang out of the ground and bathed his eyes. Suddenly he could see ! And to this day, the fountain springs up with the purest most delicious tasting water, and is honoured with the name of St. Patrick.

Later on, when Patrick was traveling around Ireland, he came across two brothers whose father had died. Instead of being sad about their father’s death, they were quarrelling over which one of them should now own their father’s farm and possessions. At first they shouted at each other, and next they started to fight with their fists. St. Patrick called out to them to stop fighting – but they were too angry to hear him. One of the brothers picked up a large rock, and St. Patrick feared that he might kill the other – and so he called out a prayer, and instantly both brothers were turned into stone. They could still hear and see, but they couldn’t move. St. Patrick explained to them that it was wrong for brothers to fight – and when he turned them back into men, they were so amazed that they settled their differences and were friends for ever more.

There was a man called Eugene, who was rich and powerful, and terribly ugly. His face was the most hideous in all of Ireland. And as he was so ugly, none of his good fortune made him happy. One day he begged St. Patrick to give him a new face. Patrick asked him what he sort of face he would like to have – and he said – “One like that man’s over there” – and he pointed to the saint’s book-keeper, who was was as handsome as he was holy. St. Patrick told the two men to sleep under the same roof for one night, and when they work up they both looked exactly alike – as if they were twins. You could only tell them apart by their beards. And from that moment on Eugene was very happy, and he followed all of St. Patrick’s teachings.

And last, but not least, there is a story that St. Patrick started the tradition that a woman can ask a man to marry her on the 29th of February. You may know that usually there are only 28 days in the month of February, but once very four years, there’s an extra day. Those special years, which are longer than all the rest, are known as leap years.

St. Bridget – who is Ireland’s other favourite saint – complained to St. Patrick that young men were taking far too long to propose marriage to girls. St. Patrick thought about this problem and came up with the solution that once every four years women should be able to propose to men. And he said that if than a man refuses, he should pay a fine. He could choose between giving the girl he refused a silk dress or £100 pounds. And that tradition sill holds to this day.

And those are just a few of the many stories about Ireland’s St. Patrick. Bertie says that they are legends, which means that they have some basis in fact, but they might or might not be 100% true. It’s up to you to make up your mind whether you believe them or not.

Where-ever you are in the world, and whatever you believe, I hope you enjoyed these tales – and there are loads more stories on Storynory.com – so drop by sometime and listen to a few of them.

Until then, from me, Natasha, Bye Bye

St. Valentine was the first person to write a love letter signed “From your Valentine”. He did this in prison on the eve of February 14th, in the year 270 AD and this is his story.

Like many of the saints. St. Valentine met an early end. He was a martyr or “witness” of his Christian faith. Despite this, the saints’ stories manage to be inspiring rather than tragic. And as Natasha says in the introduction, all of their lives sum up a certain special something.

We are planning to mark some of the other saints’ days with stories. We know that Storynory’s listeners come from all over the world, and hold many different beliefs. But as the saints’ stories are bound up with so much history and tradition, we hope that people of all backgrounds will find them interesting. Look out for the stories of St. Patrick and St. George coming up soon.

On a lighter note, you may also enjoy our Bertie Valentine story.

Read by Natasha. Duration 5.45.

2000 years ago, the most powerful army in the world belonged to the Romans. The Romans were so strong, that they conquered almost all of Europe, and parts of Asia and Africa. But then they began to grow rich and a little bit lazy. Life in the army was harsh, and many of the soldiers longed for the comforts of home. They wanted to get married and set up families. The Emperor, whose name was Claudius the Second, was worried that his army was growing soft. And so he made a law that no soldier was allowed to get married.

By that time, many of the Romans were Christians. And one of their leaders was a Bishop called Valentine.

He believed that if a man and woman fell in love with each other, they should get married – and so he decided to let soldiers get married in his church, even though it was now against the law. The soldiers’ weddings were meant to be kept secret, but as you know, all secrets are hard to keep, and soon the word got out. Valentine was arrested and brought before the emperor who demanded that he stop helping soldiers to marry, and instead that he pray to the gods of Rome. When he refused, the emperor sentenced him to death.

While Valentine was in prison, the jailer’s daughter used to bring him his food. She was a young woman who unfortunately was blind. She and Valentine used to spend long hours talking to each other, and they fell in love. One day, Valentine put his hand through the bars of his cell and touched the lids of her closed eyes. When she opened them again, she could see. It was a miracle.

Valentine’s execution was set for February the 14th. On his last night on earth, he wrote his final message to the girl. He signed his love letter, “From Your Valentine”. This took place in the year 270, and ever since, lovers has sent each other messages on February the 14th with the same signature.

And that’s the story of St. Valentine. And Bertie told me another piece of interesting information about the history for St. Valentine’s day.

In the year 1415, while the French Duke of Orleans was imprisoned in the Tower of London, he wrote a Valentine’s Day poem to his wife It began:

On St. Valentine’s day, the lovely sun,
Carrying along its lighted candle,
Made its way that fine dawn, not long ago,
Into my locked chamber, all in secret.

I hope that every February 14th, you receive a special Valentine’s card. But if you don’t, don’t feel left out. One day you will find your true love. That I’m sure of.