by Cody W Urban
“Nay,” Nicholas replied. “This I must do and I do it for peace.” He looked long at the cross expressions pointed his way and finally said softly, “I will only go with your blessing.”
“Then I am coming with you,” Nysa told him sternly. “I have spent too many years of my short lifespan absent from you and will not part again.”
Shortly after Nicholas sailed into the harbor of Myra, he departed from it with Nysa and Pete en route for Milan. They crossed the open seas swiftly and without incident. They rounded the southern boot of the Italian peninsula and made berth at Napoli where they bought passage north to the port of Genoa. There they boarded a wagon and rode up north to the city of Milan. Once they arrived, it wasn’t hard to follow the throng of Roman soldiers and red banners to the great palace where Flavius resided. Nicholas explained to the officials who he was and that he came in response to the open invitation the Emperor had made to treat with the religious leaders. Without suspicion—they didn’t even search him for concealed weapons, believing the bearded man in vestments was but a docile spiritual advisor—the sentry escorted the Bishop to the royal bedroom.
Flavius stood looking out a window to the grand city of Milan when the escort heralded Nicholas’s arrival. Flavius turned and faced Nicholas, revealing himself to look a much older and withdrawn individual. The light he once shone from his eyes, a spark that enticed so many to his beckoning demeanor, the flame that inspired men to die for him, was severely dimmed if not entirely absent.
“Welcome Bishop,” he said feigning a smirk. Then to the guard and the herald he directed, “Leave us.” The guard punched his chest, nodded, and exited through the curtain behind the herald. Nicholas watched them, afraid to keep his eyes on Flavius. His stomach churned and his fingers felt cold and numb. He forced himself not to worry if the man before him recognized him and at a simple cry could command a host of soldiers to put him to death. Nicholas became stoic and reminded himself that he stood before the Roman Emperor with a single purpose—a mission that he would not fail.
“Can I offer you a refreshment?” Flavius asked. Nicholas waved his hand, silently saying “no.” The Emperor walked toward him, past a billowy couch, but still a step above Nicholas, and said, “You are the lone one of sufficient boldness to visit me. I can appreciate this after all the turmoil the Empire has pressed upon your people. And they have been multiplying like breeding rabbits; an unstoppable lot.”
He glanced to Nicholas with a smirk as though he had said something funny. He also wanted to see if the silent one was listening. Nicholas feigned a grin briefly, letting Flavius know he was attending his words. “That is past. And the world revolves from night to day. I have spent most of my life in the darkness and have finally seen the light.”
“The light?” Nicholas asked, now curious where Flavius was leading the conversation.
“Ah, he speaks,” he replied. “Lo! I beheld a cross! The glory of God shown to me in a dream telling me to come to Him and alter my lifestyle. Thus I have released your lot from our dungeons and have returned everything robbed of you by Galerius. Alas, ‘twas not enough to assuage this deep yearning for an entire spiritual renovation.”
“And ye would do that?” Nicholas asked, alarmed by the unexpected events his enemy had gone through.
“Aye,” he replied, at first eager, but then as if someone had given him ill news, his demeanor dropped to gloom. “If not for... my sin. I have sinned terribly.”
Flavius turned his back, sat upon the couch, looked into his hands, and spoke softly. “More than anyone knows, I have sinned to achieve glory and forge my destiny. Now I am called to God, an advent I never suspected. Alas, guilt holds me restrained for my egregious deeds. I cannot sleep nor eat much, if at all. It consumes me through and through.”
“Confess it to me. What did you do?” Nicholas said, stifling the surging aggression inside. He wanted this criminal to plead guilty for his crime against him. He wanted to know if he even remembered it—if not, he was willing to remind him.
“I took many lives, Bishop,” he said heavily.
Nicholas stepped closer and persisted to ask, “Like whom?”
“I cannot even remember their names,” he whispered and lamented. Then he turned to face Nicholas and confessed, “Verily, there were exceedingly many!”
Nicholas pulled out a concealed dagger and held it toward Flavius’s neck. Flavius tried to move back, but the couch blocked his retreat and he turned petrified in bewilderment. “Would you remember a face?” Nicholas asked sternly.
“What is the meaning of this?” Flavius asked in alarm.
“Remember my face?” Nicholas said angrily through clenched teeth. Flavius was speechless in shaking his head. “I am Nicholas, son of Epipheneos of Patara. A soldier in your legions on the Danube. Stabbed and left for dead by your hand!” Nicholas brought the blade just into his flesh almost breaking the skin.
“Nick... Nicholas?” Flavius stammered. Then as he was struck with a heavenly revelation his eyes widened and glossed with tears. Nicholas retracted the blade as Flavius fell to his knees and cried out, “Oh God! You are the shame on my mind. The guilt burdening my heart these long years. Too many I have felled in war, yet you I betrayed; an innocent man!”
“You stole my life!” Nicholas shouted.
“I thought I did,” Flavius said, lost in astonishment of the episode befallen him. “You were supposed to be dead.” Nicholas frowned and placed the blade to Flavius’ neck once more. Flavius surrendered and tears fell from his eyes. While he sobbed—a pathetic miserable sight—he said, “I deserve your vengeance. I deserve this punishment! Do it, Nicholas.”
These were not the words Nicholas expected to hear and his heart skipped a beat. Nicholas flinched and stepped back. “What did you say?” he asked in a whisper not believing his ears, not trusting his eyes. All his senses seemed to betray him now. When he came to face a vile murderer, he found a penitent man accepting his guilt.
“I have sinned, Nicholas,” he said as he wiped a tear from his eyes. “By providence I may die by the one most deserving of taking my life. Yet, I would leave this world absolved. Is there any way I can be forgiven?”
Nicholas's eyes widened and he almost began to weep himself. “Do you mean this?” he asked with a trembling voice.
“With every fiber of my being,” Flavius admitted. “Death, I know I deserve.” More tears traveled down his cheeks and Nicholas was overcome with grief.
Nicholas hated himself for losing his joy, for spending so many years seeking revenge that he was never to reach. “If I believed you and left this meeting, how would you prove what you say?” Nicholas asked. “If I spared your life, ye would be cursed should ye not differ from your current course.”
Flavius spread his arms out to his sides in submission. “I yield all I am to God above. Let Him do with me as He will. My throne is His!”
It was such a hope and thrill that filled Nicholas now as he stood before the one who had the authority to effectively bring peace to the world. Nicholas smiled, remembering how to manifest his joy, and he stepped forward to kneeling Flavius. “The Lord forgives the unforgiveable,” he explained and then he rested his hand upon Flavius’s head. While it was a bit of a struggle to come to terms with, he was willing to exonerate Flavius. It was mostly hard to believe that he was doing it. Regardless, Nicholas swam hard upon the divine river of destiny to grab hold of the persona he desired. He wanted to be the peacemaker and so he would absolve the murderer before him. “Likewise, I... I... I forgive you, Flavius Constantine.” At these words so unexpectedly coming from his mouth his eyes began to well with tears of such overwhelming shock, joy, and freedom.
Nicholas smiled as a great burden lifted from him and he was free. Flavius’s heart broke and he wept further, now with pleasure as he too had just found spiritual freedom. Nicholas pulled away, wanting to leave Flavius alone to his prayers but before he exited through the doorway he turned and said to Flavius, “He will
hold you to what you said. Never forget that.” Flavius nodded and wiped away his tears and smiled at Nicholas.
3
Joy to the world, the Savior reigns,
Let men their songs employ;
While fields and floods, rocks, hills, and plains,
Repeat the sounding joy.
History shows that Flavius Constantine did uphold his oath. Constantine brought the rebellion to its knees, squashed civil war, and marched for the first time as a believer with his armies holding standards topped with the cross and his soldiers donning Christian symbols. Shortly after his victory, back at Milan, he signed an edict that began the institution of religious tolerance through the Roman realm and made Christianity the standard faith of the Empire. Flavius had gone from a stone cold killer for the cause of attaining power and authority to an ambassador of God who would bring peace to the nations.
Nicholas went from a warrior with a mission of vengeance, to a champion against the ruling powers to protect his people, to being the catalyst through his forgiveness to bring tolerance to the lands and harmony amongst the believers. Finally his mission was accomplished. Finally he felt he had come to the end of the stream of destiny and could live happily with his loved ones for the rest of his days.
Chapter Sixteen
Here Comes Santa Claus
Bells are ringin’, children singin’,
All is merry and bright,
Hang your stockings and say your prayers,
‘Cause Santa Claus is coming tonight.
Nicholas continued to ride as the Scarlet Rider for the rest of his life, bringing joy and gifts to the people, especially the children. Nicholas and Nysa, and any who would volunteer like Pete or Lysander, made gifts all year and gave to those in need regularly. He traditionally made his rounds on the night of Sol Invictus, but the holiday was called Christ’s Mass as the Empire had turned all festivals toward a holy focus. As foretold, he grew a passionate love for the Holy Day and endeavored tirelessly to make it a day of generosity and love.
Now, his years nearly spent, a well-aged Nicholas with white hair and beard, he and his wife packed their belongings and prepared to make what would be—in their minds—their final journey. At last, the Elven King had offered Nicholas and Nysa citizenship among their people. At long last, Nicholas could return to the Blessed Realm, a place he always considered his true country. Surrounding him were the never-aging Elves, and elderly Lysander who leaned on a cane, and Adult Pete. Pete leaned in to Nicholas and kissed his forehead.
“I love you, my father,” he said. Nicholas, with teary eyes pat Pete’s head and hugged him.
“You know you cannot leave, my friend,” Lysander told him. “Who will drive your sleigh?”
“Others will have to continue the trend of giving,” Nicholas said with a cough. “It is the meaning of the Holy Day.”
“Aye, that it is,” Tomte said. “And we have ye to thank for reminding us of that maxim.”
Nisse stepped beside Nicholas, held his hand and looked upon him with deep care. If his heart didn’t already lay in Nysa’s possession, she may have loved him in a romantic way. But he was a brother, a friend, and an inspiration to her all the same. “I had always believed in you, Nicholas,” she said. “That you should be the one to fulfill our prophecy. Now, are ye ready to go?”
Nicholas nodded. “The people of Lycia will believe I passed away in my sleep this night. I hope it doesn’t grieve them too much,” Nicholas commented. He coughed again and added, “Without me working still, would Christ’s Mass be forgotten by the children of ages to come?”
Nysa stepped up beside him, dropped a duffel bag full of belongings, took Nicholas's hand and rubbed it gently. “It will never be, thanks to you, my dear Nicholas. Christ’s Mass will be remembered and the meaning honored because of your deeds.”
He stepped outside the church, bid farewell to Bedros—Matthias had now passed—and told him he would most likely be the next Bishop. Juno and Sleipnir, by the continuous consumption of the Elven remedies, were given prolonged life—though were very old and tired easily—stood ready beside the carriage the sojourners were to take. Nicholas parted ways from Lysander and Deborah, Pete and his family, his parish and parishioners, and traveled with Nysa and the Elves up to Lapland, the home of the immortal folk.
2
Peace on Earth will come to all,
If we just follow the light.
So let’s give thanks to the Lord above,
That Santa Claus comes tonight.
This was Nicholas forever: Nicholas’s legacy did not end there. Word of his deeds spread far and wide, even up to Scandinavia and Hákon’s people. The children there hadn’t forgotten the man who came donned as Odin bearing gifts and when they heard the tales of his gift-giving deeds down south, they adopted Nicholas in place of Odin as their gift-giver from then on. In fact, the church proclaimed Nicholas a Holy Saint, and Saint Nicholas was declared the patron saint of sailors, archers, many diverse nations, and of course, the patron saint of children.
As the act of gift-giving became commonplace among the Christmas festivities, nicknames were given to Saint Nicholas. When England branched away from the Catholic Church, they decided not to call their giver a saint but adopted to call him Father Christmas instead. Other Germanic areas said that the giver was the Christ Child, Krist Kindle as they pronounced it, which evolved to be another name for Nicholas as Kris Kringle. Centuries later, when the Dutch, descendants of Hákon’s people, came to the New World, they brought Saint Nicholas stories with them. They called him Sinter Klass, or in their accent Sintniclaus, which the American children adopted and turned finally into Santa Claus. And the people all over would hang up their stockings in eager expectation for a visit from Saint Nicholas to come riding in his scarlet colors with his reindeer and sleigh to bring gifts.
Why would he be remembered and immortalized after nearly two-thousand years later? Some believe that it happened like this: when Tomte, Nisse, and the other Elves brought Nicholas before their king and told him of Nicholas’s selfless acts and generosity, they begged for him and his wife to be immortalized. Thus the rumors spread that Saint Nicholas was still at work from beyond the grave, returned from heaven to continue his work of bringing gifts to children and to preserve the sacred night of Christmas, the birth of Jesus Christ, Savior of mankind.
Regardless, he lived on forever as a symbol of hope and love. He lived on as an inspiration of altruistic generosity. He lived on to bring joy to the world by giving gifts to children of men so that they would give unto others and in turn the world would have peace and charity spreading abroad. In the manner the magi brought gifts to the baby Jesus, and in response to the greatest gift of all in God sending His only begotten Son as a gift unto all mankind, the practice of giving gifts continued to be celebrated on the Holy Night designated for the celebration of the birth of Christ. And while Christmas has many enemies, as long as there is a Santa Claus, the night will never be forgotten.
Though some doubt, and many disregard and disbelieve, others still hold Saint Nicholas alive in their hearts and minds. Sometimes inexplicable acts of generosity and gifts of unknown origin are found under trees, in stockings, under pillows, or found in least likely places. Let the doubters doubt, for many will continue to believe nonetheless that Saint Nicholas rides out to bring hope and joy to all. The Scarlet Rider rides still for the good of children everywhere in hopes to touch a human heart at a young age and inspire them to grow into heroes who too will stand for justice, peace, and charity. Many, on the night of Christmas Eve, fall asleep at night hearing the distant jolly voice of a loving man say after centuries, “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.”
Acknowledgments
After years of research, writing, and revising this labor of love, I first and foremost want to thank God above. I feel as though I never wrote a single word without His inspiration and help and every day for years He’s put up with my continuous asking for His h
elp. Thank you, Lord.
I want to thank Mom and Dad for always giving me support, love, encouragement, and for every year of my life making Christmas such a special time. Your love and generosity has always been an inspiration to me and I thank you for warm days by the fire surrounded by your love and instilling in me a deep appreciation for Christmas and a love for family.
Thank you to all my friends, family, and coworkers who let me bounce ideas off of you, who always supported me, and kept telling me that you couldn’t wait to read my novel. Your encouragement has been a fire in my engine for sure. Thanks to the furry members of my family, Juneau and Bailey, for inspiring me and giving me such warm delight.
I would be remiss to not acknowledge and thank from the bottom of my heart Larry Witten, a man who has given freely so much of his time and effort to guide me in crafting this book. Who knew being best man at my best friend’s wedding would lead to meeting such a wonderfully talented and giving person? I sincerely thank you, Larry, for all of your help.
Lastly, to my beloved bride, Heather. Having you believe in me, put up with me, endure my long hours of locking myself away onto my computer, and dealing with me asking for five more minutes several times when dinner has been ready for half an hour has shown me such love and back-up I could never ask for. If it wasn’t for you, I would have foolishly published this book with far too many typos. You are a true help and inspiration. Thank you, sweetheart, for being on my side and doing this with me every step of the way.
Maps
Table of Contents
Foreword
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three