It all started earlier in the week when Ken and I were at a local holiday banquet. Ken was tasked with creating a ‘fun’ trivia quiz, and I wasn’t allowed to know anything about it so that I wouldn’t have a leg up on everyone else because I’m very good at trivia–my mind is like if a jukebox had a baby with an encyclopedia and they all had OCD, and also, the jukebox NEVER STOPS PLAYING. At any rate, one of the trivia questions was about Good King Wenceslas from the Christmas Carol.

What year was King Wenceslas born?

640 BCE
907 CE
1595 CE
1853 CE

So I said 1595, since none of the other answers made sense, but the correct answer was 907, and I was confused because they didn’t have saints before, like, the late 900s AD or something, being as there was no Christianity before 0 AD or whatnot, but then Ken pointed out that I had misread the question, that it was his birthdate, not when the song was written, and that CE was the same as AD, but that AD was a religious term and Common Era wasn’t so it was better to use ‘CE’, and then I POINTED OUT that AD is the common vernacular, and I’d had a couple of glasses of wine, KEN. Anyway, my partner Cathy and I did really well on the trivia, despite the dating debacle. And the wine.

Then, the next day, we were talking about it and I remembered why Good King Wenceslas ranks up there with the most stupid carols. Let me break it down for you:

“Good King Wenceslas looked out
On the feast of Stephen”

So he has nothing better to do during a feast but look out the window? Shouldn’t he be hosting the banquet that HE organized?

“When the snow lay round about
Deep and crisp and even
Brightly shone the moon that night
Though the frost was cruel”

That’s some heavy foreshadowing right there. Best to stay inside where it’s warm, but no…

“When a poor man came in sight
Gath’ring winter fuel”

Why wasn’t he invited to the feast? Is it because he’s poor? So classist.

“Hither, page, and stand by me
If thou knows be telling:
Yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?”

So he just assumes that his servant knows every single peasant? Even more classist. Also, it’s like the way people conceive of Canadians: “Oh, you’re from Canada? Do you know Bob from Kamloops?” Narrator’s Voice: She does. Just like the page, because plot twist…

“Sire, he lives a good league hence
Underneath the mountain
Right against the forest fence
By Saint Agnes’ fountain”

And those are some VERY specific coordinates. Like maybe he’s been there before, probably when the weather wasn’t so shitty, maybe for a barbeque…

“Bring me flesh and bring me wine
Bring me pine logs hither
Thou and I will see him dine
When we bear them thither”

Seriously? We’ve already established that ‘the frost was cruel’ and now we’re going traipsing out in the middle of the night into a blizzard to give a guy, who already HAS WOOD, some MORE WOOD, as well as some FLESH? You couldn’t wait until the morning? So impetuous. Also, who’s carrying all the flesh and wine 3 miles through the snow? I bet you dollars to donuts that it ISN’T Wenceslas.

And then of course, you know the rest. The page almost dies of hypothermia, the king is like ‘Oh, just walk in my footsteps and you’ll be fine, and by the way, don’t drop the flesh and wood,” and we never find out if they get to the peasant’s house.

Me (driving): I’ve never understood the popularity of a song about some sundowning old guy deciding to wander off into a snow storm during a banquet that HE organized and almost killing his page.
Ken (on his phone):It says here that the feast of Stephen isn’t an actual feast. It’s Saint’s Stephen’s day, December 26th.
Me: Yes, I’m aware, KEN. That was just for comic effect.
Ken: It also says here that he wasn’t an old guy. Wenceslas was only 28 when he died.
Me: Only TWENTY-EIGHT?! Well, now it make sense. He wasn’t trying to be charitable—he thought the peasant was getting ready for a party and he wanted to horn in on the action. He was just lonely, and the flesh and wood were weird-ass hostess gifts. He and the page were probably already drunk and like, “Dude, it’s so BORING here in the castle–isn’t this supposed to be a feast day? Let’s find a peasant we can hang with. Don’t worry about your coat—it’s only a couple of miles. If you get cold, you can just…I dunno…walk in my footsteps,” and the page was like, “Cool. Maybe it’s a barbeque.”
Ken: Wenceslas was murdered by his brother.
Me: Honestly? Not surprising.