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Two New Year's Eves from now in a place you've never heard of... “New Year's in the Lost Kingdom”
by Dr. Philip Edward Kaldon
Saturday 31 December 2016
21:55 CET (GMT+1)
Sommerhus, Eisbergen
According to the media, much of the world was spending New
Year’s Eve drinking - if sixteen-year-old Crown Princess Daniska
Elsinor believed the media. That might be true. It might even
be true for her Eisbergen. But not for all. Some people had to
work, if not for a living, then for the good of a kingdom.
In the barn’s dim light she scraped the shovel against the
floor and deposited another load of cow dung in the wheelbarrow.
The main door to the west barn screeched open and a rough
voice called out in the old Ur-Danish, “Who’s there?”
“Me,” Daniska replied. This was her kingdom. She really
had no one to answer to except her father King Henrik VII and
God - in some order she never felt she wanted to debate.
She kept shoveling until the intruder came around the pens.
“I saw lights on... What the hell are you doing shoveling the
shit at this hour, princess?” Klaus Jønsson asked, irritated at
her as usual. The middle-aged farmer used the word princess as
if it was a taunt, not an honorific.
“Could you shut the doors? You’re letting the heat out.”
Klaus might not have liked the royalty of Eisbergen or how
they ran things. But he did know and care about animals - and
was famously frugal - this was a request he responded to, even
if he acted grumpy as usual.
“You haven’t answered my question, princess,” he said when
he came back. He stood 6’5” and solidly sturdy - she straightened
up to her slender 6’4” height so they stood eye-to-eye in the
barn.
“There wasn’t time to answer you - and I wasn’t going to
shout after you like you were a servant or something.” Daniska
didn’t know why she felt she had to needle him as well. “It’s
New Year’s Eve. There is going to be a lot of drinking in Eisbergen.
And the livestock needs to be attended to, no matter what day
it is. Everyone is going to be moving slow in the morning.
I’m just trying to lighten the load.”
“You’re going to smell to high heaven if you keep up at
this,” Klaus said, grabbing an old iron rake and starting to
pull some of the sodden straw out of the stalls. One of the
cows moved out of his way.
“Too late,” Daniska said, pausing to wipe the sweat on her
brow with the back of a glove. The jeans she had on were old,
as was the tattered and faded University of Oslo sweatshirt.
“Well, it’s good to see you working for a change,” he
grudgingly acknowledged.
“You have no idea what I do,” she replied calmly. “You’re
too busy running your farm or trying to rile up the citizenry.”
“Hmph. Well, you may be right about that. It certainly
looks like you’ve shoveled shit before.”
Her iPhone rang before she could come up with a rejoinder.
“Yes?” she answered on speaker, after waving a hand over the
camera. It was her sister.
“Dani, where are you? It’s almost ten o’clock. You have
to get ready.”
“I’m almost done.”
“Done what?”
“Cleaning out the barn.”
“You went out there two hours ago.”
“You didn’t come to help.”
“Not fair - I had baking to do.”
“I’ll be there,” Daniska said, waving her hand again -
the handsfree app she’d written disconnecting. “Still think
that all royals are worthless leeches on the backs of the workers?”
Klaus glared sourly. “You should go, princess. I can
finish this. I don’t want Marcellus or one of his Romans to
come and get me.”
“They wouldn’t be after you,” she said, finally putting
one last, large shovelful in the wheelbarrow. “They’d be after
me.”
Grabbing the old coat that lived in the mud room off the
back of the kitchen at Royal House, Daniska bundled up and headed
out.
“Don’t you stay up so late here, either, Klaus. It’s New
Year’s Eve.”
“Ah-hhh, bah,” he waved a hand at her in annoyance. “And
shut that damned door behind you. Don’t let all the heat out.”
***
New Year’s Eve - twenty minutes to midnight - in the
warmth and light of Royal House.
“Anaulka - are you dressed yet?” Daniska called up the
stairs.
“I’m coming,” the girl responded. And indeed, within a
minute she emerged from their bedroom and came clattering down
the stairs.
“Are those my shoes?”
“Yes.”
“They don’t quite fit you,” Daniska sighed. Anaulka wasn’t
one to give up. “I heard you all the way down.”
“Urrrrgh.” Anaulka kicked off the chunky white heels.
“I can’t wear your really high heels anyway.”
“Not yet.”
“And I don’t have any women’s shoes. All I have are little
girl’s shoes.”
“We should correct that then.”
“I’m thirteen,” Anaulka insisted.
“There you are,” their mother Queen Joelle said, coming
out of the kitchen in an elegant royal blue evening gown, her
short dark hair contrasting with the girls’ long blond hair.
She kissed the top of her younger daughter’s head, noting that
without shoes, she was her height for once, almost 6’1”. “I
was beginning to be think you’d never make it, Ani. Now, both
of you - turn around.”
Daniska was three inches taller than her sister anyway,
but since Anaulka was barefoot, she towered over her. Both
princesses wore loose, full-length white dresses with embroidered
square necklines. Their waist long blond hair was free tonight,
partly pulled back - Daniska’s by a 12th century silver Viking
comb, Anaulka’s with a black velvet bow. The comb kept slipping
against Daniska’s unruly wavy hair, threatening to fall out every
ten or fifteen minutes. She’d rather braid it and forget about
her hair.
“You both look lovely. But no shoes, Ani?”
Anaulka pointed at the shoes lying in a heap near the bottom
of the stairs. “They didn’t fit.”
“She can’t just wear my things,” Daniska told their mother.
“Don’t let that tomboy attitude fool you - you’re growing another
woman in this house. Another princess.”
“Yeah,” Anaulka said. “You’re neglecting me, Mother.”
“You’re not helping.”
Anaulka stuck her tongue out at her sister.
The queen sighed. The girls were right about one thing -
she didn’t spend enough time with them. Both were growing into
lovely young women. And from what she heard, the kingdom liked
their princesses. The sad thing was she wasn’t likely to change -
Dr. Joelle Lund liked her academic world south in Oslo far too much.
The kingdom and her girls was just some place she visited.
Infrequently.
“Someone bring the herring and the champagne glasses.”
“Herring!” Anaulka called and went to get the two platters
of pickled herring, plain and with cream sauce.
“Henrik - it’s time,” Joelle called to her husband.
“Yes, yes,” he replied, emerging from his study. Amazingly
he carried no papers - Daniska wasn’t even sure he had his iPhone.
Indeed, the 6’7” king was, for once, elegant himself in full
black tails and tie. His dark blond hair was cut short and curled
in the old Roman way - his beard fierce and Viking. The king
and queen looked every bit the royal couple they were.
The elaborate grandfather’s clock in the parlor began to
chime.
“Four... three... two...” Anaulka counted out loud, her
eyes sparkling with anticipation. “TWELVE! Midnight everyone -
Happy New Year!”
The two princesses kissed and hugged.
“Happy New Year, my dear,” Henrik said to his wife and they
embraced and kissed while the girls stood by smiling. Anaulka
elbowed her sister.
They heard a series of cracks outside.
“Someone has firecrackers,” Anaulka observed. “Oh, and
happy birthday, sister.”
“Yes, my little Y2K bug - Happy Birthday,” Joelle came
over and kissed Daniska. Then the princess was kissed by her
father and her sister. Blushing, Daniska went back into the
kitchen.
New Year’s Day 2017 A.D. in Eisbergen. Seventeen years
ago, 1 January 2000, at 2:32 in the morning, Daniska Elsinor
Raphaella Rachel had presented herself to the world and the then
Crown Prince Henrik. She didn’t remember it, of course, but
the world had survived the calendar rolling over from 1999 to
2000 without catastrophic computer losses. Anaulka joked that
it was the source of her sister’s superior computer coding abilities
- an omen.
Daniska came out carefully hanging two bottles of champagne
in elegant black bottles by their necks in one hand and a tray
with four tall champagne flutes in the other.
“Two bottles of champagne, Father?” Anaulka asked. “You
are about to sink one, are you?”
Henrik frowned. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“She’s teasing you,” Daniska said, setting down the tray,
then the bottles. “Sinking is ordering two bottles of champagne
and pouring one down the sink to protest some silly Swedish law
against spraying champagne in a public place.”
“This is not Sweden, my dear, or have you forgotten?” Henrik
said to Anaulka. “There is no law against spraying champagne
in Eisbergen - only common sense enough to know not to waste
any precious product.”
“But it’s Swedish champagne. HATT et SÖNER Prestige 2005
Le Grand-Père,” Anaulka said, picking up one bottle and reading
the label. “So I thought, when in Rome, do as the Swedes do?”
“That one doesn’t even work,” Daniska said, shaking her
head.
“We are Rome,” Anaulka said helpfully, and as Eisbergen
was founded in part by a Roman Senator as one of their three
crowns in 460 A.D., it was true.
“The company may be owned by Swedes, not Frenchmen,” the
king explained, “it is still French champagne. Otherwise under
all those arcane EU rules and regulations, they couldn’t call
it...”
“Henrik,” the queen said.
“Quite so. The new year is precious seconds old - and
we have not yet poured and toasted. And,” the king said, pausing
to remove the wire cage from the first black bottle, “I am not
averse to popping the cork on these festive occasions.”
Bwoop!
“Ah...” The ladies all applauded as the cork sailed up
almost to the sixteen-foot ceiling of the great hall and bounced
on the stairs.
“There’s four of us - and two bottles,” Anaulka said, as
Henrik began pouring into the tall thin glasses. “Is that half
a bottle each?”
“No,” Daniska said. “You have two bottles in case one is
a dud.”
“Or unexpected company arrives,” the king said.
“It’s midnight in the most secretive country in the world,”
Anaulka frowned. “Who could possibly come unannounced?”
“You never know,” Henrik said. “Everyone has a glass?
Yes? Then Happy New Year to all of us and our kingdom.”
“To the New Year.”
“God grace the king,” Daniska added. The others immediately
replied and Henrik nodded.
“And a very happy birthday to my Princess Daniska,” he answered,
which began yet a third round of toasts.
They had barely started on the black bread and the pickled
herring when the front door chimed. The girls looked at their
father, who had a mischievous smile.
“Who could that possibly be at this late... er, early hour?”
he asked.
Taking his wife by the arm, they advanced to open first
the inside double doors and then with a flourish, Henrik pulled
both of the outer doors at once.
“General Marcellus,” he greeted the Roman Centurion standing
on the porch, the slowly falling snow glistening on the full
ceremonial armor.
Marcellus saluted, fist out. “Your Majesty, Your Grace -
Happy New Year.” He held out a small stoneware crock, wrapped
in a towel. “I bring fish soup to give you good luck throughout
the year.”
“Come in, come in, old friend.”
The sixty-year-old Roman carefully stepped over the threshold,
planted both feet and handed the king the crock. It occurred
to Daniska that this was a ceremony of some sort. The first
visitor of the new year? She would have to look it up. It seemed
that her father was also not averse to reviving old customs.
“Daniska - we shall need more glasses.”
Behind Marcellus on the porch, were the part-time Steward
of Royal House and his wife Greta, their part-time cook and housekeeper.
“Now it’s a party,” Anaulka observed.
“Happy birthday, Your Highness,” Marcellus said, removing
his helmet with the red brush on top and presenting a small package
wrapped in silvery paper to Daniska.
Daniska set the additional glasses down and accepted the
gift. “Thank you very much, Marcellus.” She kissed him on both
cheeks. Then she held up a silver spoon. “I think we should
pass your soup around and skip trying to dish it out.”
“An excellent idea,” the Roman said, rubbing his hands.
“It is damned cold out there. And we need some good luck in
the new year.”
“I don’t know about luck,” Daniska said, picking up the
crock in one hand after wrapping it in a towel, “but we have
champagne, herring, bread and fish soup. We are certainly trying
to appease the gods as much as possible. Oh, this is good.”
“Most of the meals that I cook myself are based on basic
Roman camp food recipes. I’m afraid I’m stubborn that way.
Be a Roman, be a Roman all the way. But this? This is my mother’s
and she got it from her mother - generations back.”
“Well, you can clearly cook, good sir.”
The bell jangled at the door again - this time for the
realm’s two fishermen and their wives.
“It’s time to sing,” one of the fishermen shouted. “It’s
New Year’s for God’s sake.” The suggestion was greeted with
applause and everyone looked to the princesses.
Anaulka and Daniska realized they would not get out of this.
So the birthday girl sat at the piano in the parlor, and Anaulka
stood nearby. Her singing voice was higher and sweeter than
Daniska’s, but she could start strong and low enough to suit.
“Skuld gammel venskab rejn forgo
og stryges fræ wor mind?
Skuld gammel venskab rejn forgo
med dem daw så læng, læng sind?
Di skjønne ungdomsdaw, å ja,
de daw så svær å find!
Vi'el løwt wor kop så glådle op
for dem daw så læng, læng sind!”
Daniska came in on the chorus and the duet soon became a
trio as their Father’s baritone was added. Soon everyone joined
in the choruses as Anaulka sang the next stanzas - the ones
that most people didn’t know, Daniska smiled.
“I think we did Robbie Burns proud,” Anaulka said to her
sister, after they took their bow.
“I think on New Year’s nobody cares - they just want it
sung. But,” Daniska hastily added, “you did beautifully.”
“Thank you,” Anaulka beamed.
The champagne was long gone - there were eleven in Royal
House now - and so the adults had switched to whisky and brandies.
Daniska took a small glass of brandy.
“We’re sharing,” she told her father as he frowned.
Anaulka sat on the sofa, rubbing her bare feet. “Here,
let me do that for you,” Daniska offered, and as she sat down,
Anaulka propped her legs on her sister’s knees. “You’re cold.”
“I have no shoes.”
“You’re a very silly girl from time to time.”
“Thank you, O worldly princess sister.”
“You should have put on a pair of your own shoes.”
“What would be the fun of that?”
The bell jingled again and the princesses looked at each
other. Daniska went to the front door and was surprised to see
Klaus Jønsson and his two sons.
“Klaus! Dean, Cyril - Happy New Year to you all. Thank
you for coming. Come in out of the cold, please. All of you.
You are always welcome.”
The farmer harrumphed, and kicked his snowy boots on the
side of the door frame before stepping inside.
“Apologies for coming so late,” he said, taking off his
hat.
“Nonsense. It’s New Year’s - we’re going to be up all
night.”
“I wasn’t going to come,” he said gruffly. “But I was reminded
- this is your seventeenth birthday, princess. By the Old Law,
today is your age of ascension. You can become queen on your
own without needing a regent.
“So I suppose I should be nice to you, princess, as someday
you’ll rule,” he finished his speech, handing her a package.
“I brought smoked blood sausage.”
“Thank you, good sir. And let us hope that I am not queen
for a long time.”
Anaulka had come to take their coats. The sons were both
older than the girls. Dean was nineteen and disliked the royals
as much as his father. But the older brother, Cyril, was quiet
and shy - and if he hated anyone in the world, Daniska didn’t
know who it was.
“Cyril, I’m amazed you made in from the south farm in this
weather.” As expected, he didn’t answer her. “I’m sorry, we
had very little champagne at midnight. But there’s whisky and
brandy. And still some herring and smoked fish, plus your wonderful
sausage.”
“Whisky sounds good,” Klaus said and headed over to get
a stiff drink. “Behave yourselves,” he told his boys.
Someone had found the master control panel for the Bang
& Olufsen BeoSystem 5000 stereo, which had apparently fallen
off a truck near Copenhagen back in 1985 and found its way into
Royal House via their Royalists motorcycle club. Below were
sliding wooden doors which revealed hundreds of old LP records.
Soon the background was filled with Frank Sinatra and Harry Belafonte.
It was during Harry Belafonte’s Calypso in Brass from 1966
and “Jump in the Line”, that Daniska was asked to dance by her
father. When she glanced back, Anaulka had pulled her knees
up to her chest, watching and grinning at everyone making minor
fools of themselves.
By two, Anaulka had been recruited to play the straight
violin and soon raucous fiddling tunes spurred on the dancers
- and those who weren’t dancing kept time clapping. Half an
hour later, the younger princess declared she was in no shape
to keep playing at this hour, and the party went back to the
stereo. And Chubby Checkers.
“It’s 3:13am,” Daniska told Anaulka, as her sister came
back out to the great table with a small box. “And you’re eating
chocolates?”
“Nope,” Anaulka said, holding the box out. It was fondant
stuffed sugared dates. “Have one.”
“I’m already stuffed on herring and soup and bread.”
“It’s not like you need to worry about getting fat.”
“Alright. I’ll have one.”
“Good!”
***
In the morning it was of course still dark. But those who’d
gathered at Royal House and had stayed up for all hours, bundled
up against the cold and went to New Year’s Mass at eight.
“What did Marcellus give you for your birthday?” Anaulka
whispered as they took their seats and waited for the kingdom
to arrive and stand for the service. “I never did see.”
“It’s a Chinese black lacquered abacus - very small and
very old. It’s quite lovely and it makes a nice clicking sound
as you flick the beads back and forth. I have no idea where
he got it.”
“I don’t recall reading about any piracy against Chinese
shipping in the Book of Days,” Anaulka said. “Maybe it was a
personal possession on some ship we captured long ago?”
Though much had been lost in 1944, they still had some
stores of trophies collected from centuries of Viking and pirate
raids in the name of the kingdom.
“I don’t know. And Marcellus never tells where he gets
things.”
“He does it to annoy you,” Anaulka said.
“He does it to challenge me, I think.”
By noon the sun made its first appearance for 2017, staying
only for a while. It was just eleven days after the winter
solstice in the secret kingdom of Eisbergen just north of the
Arctic Circle, hidden amongst the mountains and fjords of Norway.
But not Norway.
From Book One of the Lost Kingdom Chronicles
©2014 Dr. Philip Edward Kaldon -- All Rights ReservedThis is the second outing of my Lost Kingdom princesses story.
PLEASE send me feedback.
And All The Best for 2015!
Dr. Phil
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