He was, of course Good Duke Václav (of Bohemia), and he last looked out—actually, ran out, before being sliced open by his brother's co-conspirators—on the feast of Cosmas and Damian, but that was a bit later than the time Neale wrote about. In a nice little touch, a church denied him sanctuary—the reward for taking Christian charity to heart, one supposes. He was promoted to the rank of king posthumously. The mystery to me is how Václav became the mouthful Wencesla[u]s.

As for Orientare, you have your choice. First of all, the actual number of kings (magi) wasn't specified in Matthew—only the three notable gifts (which surely wouldn't have been the only ones, being totally unsuitable for a newborn infant). The best historical clue we have is that they were probably Zoroastrian priests and scholars. Zoroastrianism was a big religion at the time, and wide-spread, but it was hottest in eastern Greater Iran—think Afghanistan and surrounding -istan countries; more likely, though, these Zoroastrians were closer to home, "afar" being a relative thing. If you accept the magi's later "identification" (from spurious sources), Caspar was Indian, Melchior was Persian and Balthazar was Arabian. For the holy family to have remained so poor after the magi's visit, the virgin Mary must have been a fiend for bonbons and reeked of frankincense (why didn't Herod use tracking dogs?), or maybe Joseph lost all the booty playing three-card monte. The Bible is oddly silent on this point.

I could say Orientare was east of Occidentare, but that would be flippant.