She nodded. “If not able to read dreams, we at least are often granted a sense of what is to come.”
“Then tell me what you sense of this: I dreamed again of my little soldier; I could hear wolves howling in the blackness of night, but he did not seem afraid. And then time seemed to pass, but I know not whether it was days or weeks—he appeared in the daylight, and he had no limp.” Gracus swallowed hard. “Does this mean he has died, and the gods have granted him immortality?”
Polla clasped her hands together. “Did he seem to come toward you?”
“Yes, I remember more of the dream now. He actually ran to me, and he limped no longer. I picked him up and heard him purr. And I marveled that his leg was straight once again.”
Polla shook her head, and the thick blond braid swung as she did so. “The gods must have sent you this dream. I am sorry, but I cannot tell the meaning of it. If he has gone to a better place, perhaps with the gods somewhere, it is obvious he remembers you with love and admiration. What of the other two cats?”
“They were not in my dream.” Now it was Gracus’s turn to sigh. “He would not leave his foster sisters. My heart fears he is dead, perhaps killed by the wolves I heard howling.”
Polla took Gracus’s hand. “Then if this is true, he died a warrior’s death, most probably defending his sisters.”
“But what then has happened to the wise men?” Gracus asked her. “Have they all perished upon the journey to find the King they sought?”
13
THE CAMEL CARAVAN journeyed two more days, and on the T morning of the third, as they made ready to strike their night’s camp, the group was accosted by a surly band of soldiers. Their commanding officer rode up on a skittish horse and shouted at the travelers.
“Whoever is deemed head of this crowd of trespassers, come forth! You are not within boundaries of the designated routes.”
Kaspar looked at the other wise men, who nodded to him. The soldier’s horse blew out its breath and danced about, frightened of the many camels, which were protesting and grumbling as the servants placed their packs and saddles upon them once again.
“I speak for us all,” Kaspar said quietly. “And surely we do not trespass with intent to do so. We seek safe passage to Jerusalem, but we were set upon by wolves two nights past. We may have strayed from the route then, for we had to move our camp to protect the livestock.”
“And what is your business in Jerusalem?” the officer demanded as he cleared his throat and spat. He had not even courteously dismounted while speaking to Kaspar. With a quick movement of his hand, he signaled his ragged group of foot soldiers to spread out along the edge of the camp while the servants finished preparing for the day’s journey. Several of the men looked greedily at the packs, for here and there could be seen a glimpse of fine silks or tiny sparkles of jewelry.
“We seek the King of Kings,” Kaspar said simply. “Have you heard word of His birth?”
“His birth? We have but one king, the king of Judea, and that is King Herod. You must pay us passage and then we shall escort you to him, so you may pay him homage. If you do not, we will imprison you and divide your goods among us. What will you?”
Balthazar stepped forward. “We bring gifts fit for your king,” he assured the officer. “And passage money for those who serve him.” He drew a leather pouch from a belt at his waist and opened it. Small gold coins fell out upon his palm as he shook the bag gently. He stepped up to the officer’s horse and offered two gold coins to the man.
Next he swiftly walked to the foot soldiers and gave each of them one gold coin. Suspiciously, they bit the coins he had given them, and then their sullen faces showed surprise and pleasure at finding the coins genuine.
“Our passage is paid,” Balthazar said.
“We will escort you to King Herod,” the officer decided. “You are but one day’s travel from his city, so you have only this night to camp upon the desert before you sleep in a palace.” Laughing coarsely, he kicked his horse and gathered his men. They watched until the travelers were ready to leave, and then the officer rode to the head of the group while the foot soldiers brought up the rear.
Ira was appalled at the slovenly appearance of the soldiers and their equally dirty officer in command. Even the horse’s trappings are in poor condition, he noted, watching the leader from his basket on Kaspar’s camel. None of them have bathed in weeks. They smell almost as bad as Asmodeus, by Mars.
In camp that night, the three cats sat in a group so they could talk softly while on sentry duty. The city of Jerusalem was on the horizon, and small campfires dotted the desert landscape. Many other travelers—merchants, businessmen, slave traders, religious scholars, and pilgrims—were journeying to the city also.
“Who is this King Herod?” Kezia asked. “And why did the officer threaten Kaspar with imprisonment for all of us if they had no passage money?”
“I think they may not be actual soldiers in service to this King Herod they speak of,” Ira said. “They resemble a band of brigands rather than military men. They are not Roman soldiers. I expect them to simply melt away, as the wolves did, once we are inside the city gates.”
“As for Herod,” Abishag said next. “He may well be the man Ptolemy called the ‘false king.’ We do know he is certainly not the one we seek.”
“Well, I shall see a real palace at last,” Kezia said. “But somehow things of that sort are beginning to seem less important. You know—” She paused. “I miss Gracus and Polla and Citus. But most of all, I am beginning to miss the ship and poor Alexos.”
“What? Why?” Ira asked her, startled.
“You will think I am foolish. But Alexos thought I was the most intelligent, most beautiful cat he had ever seen. All because I killed that snake! He would slip tiny bits of delicacies to me after that. I tasted oyster and shrimp, mussel, and even rare abalone. If I fell asleep on his desk as he plotted the next day’s course for the ship, he never pushed me roughly aside. Sometimes when I doze in my basket aboard Melchior’s camel, I think I’m back on the ship . . .” Her voice trailed off, and Kezia looked dejected.
Abishag touched noses with her foster sister. “Why don’t you plan on returning to Alexos, once we have completed our journey to see the Messiah?”
“But I would have to leave you two, if I did so.”
Ira took a deep breath. “You would not be leaving me, for if the gods—or Ptolemy’s One God, of Whom he taught us, permits, I wish to rejoin Gracus. I want to continue being a soldier; it is to my taste.”
Abishag looked up at the star, which had grown huge in the eastern sky as they traveled these last weeks. She had already known the others did not wish to return to the tower. “We three will see the King of Kings,” she said softly. “And then we three shall be parted, for I wish to return home.”
“To Ptolemy,” Kezia said. “Have you never realized he loves you?”
“He loves me as a daughter,” Abishag told her.
“I don’t think that’s true,” Ira said. “I saw his face when you would enter our room at the tower. He always looked happier to see you than either of us.”
Now it was Kezia’s turn to reassure her sister. “Ira’s right. You will be a good wife to Ptolemy. And even though he is old, he still may have many more years left.”
Abishag sighed and began to wash her face with a paw.
“Thank you for your kind words. I, too, hope Ptolemy still lives, for I want to tell him of all we have seen and done.” I will not allow myself to hope he cares for me as I do for him, she thought. That hope must be set aside for the future.
Carefully concealed in a pack, Asmodeus scratched a flea bite. Well, I have no desire to return to that tower. But I hope I may never see another camel again in my life. Wretched creatures; they spit upon you when they are displeased—and when are they not?
As the sun came up, the servants busied themselves with packs that had not yet been opened during the journey. Asmodeus had to desert his usual
hiding places many times to avoid being caught by a human. Rich trappings for the camels were produced, and saddles were hung with tiny golden bells that rang sweetly with the beasts’ movements. Beautiful, heavy robes with lavish embroidery and fur were pulled from the packs for the wise men, and their servants were dressed in bright colors of wool. Jewels twinkled from hands and chests. As their leather collars were gently removed and ropes of small pearls hung about their necks, Kezia and Abishag teased Ira about his obvious reluctance to part with the leather harness Citus had crafted for him.
“Come, little soldier,” Kaspar said gently. “Do not hiss at me; you frightened my poor servant a moment ago. I will have your soldier’s garb cleaned with saddle soap and carefully re-stitched while you match your sisters’ finery and wear a gold chain as we enter the city.”
Melchior chuckled. “He feels as foolish as we do in all this grandeur.”
“But we must make an impression upon this king and win his regard if we are to be allowed passage to the Messiah,” Balthazar said. “He rules not just Jerusalem, but all of Judea. And yet he began as a zealous tax collector.”
“I heard he was valiant in battle,” Melchior said. “And became a favored son of Rome by that means also.”
A sumptuous procession entered Jerusalem upon that cold winter morning. People stood and stared, elbowing and pointing fingers for their neighbors to look also at the spectacle. Murmurs ran through the crowd: “They must be kings—only look how richly they are clothed!” “Even their servants are attired in wool and silk.” “Not only servants—see the cage of doves—and is that cat wearing pearls?”
True to Ira’s prediction, the motley group of soldiers had disappeared as the three wise men and their entourage entered the city. The black cat was glad to see real Roman soldiers just inside the gate, awaiting the travelers. Clean and in uniform as soldiers should be, he thought.
“In the emperor’s name and that of King Herod, where do you travel and whom do you seek?” asked the gatekeeper.
“Hail to the emperor and also hail to King Herod,” Kaspar began. “We seek an audience with King Herod, if it please him, for we have prophecies to relate and to verify with him.”
A detachment of soldiers marched up then and quickly pushed aside the bystanders and foot traffic, opening the crowded road for the travelers. Six cavalrymen rode up and turned their mounts to lead the travelers to Herod’s palace. “Follow these men,” the gatekeeper ordered and returned to his post.
Oh, my, Kezia thought. I often wished to see a procession such as this, and now I’m in one myself. What a strange world I have entered upon.
Word of the visitors had of course been relayed with all haste to King Herod, and the heavily guarded gates to his palace stood open as they neared them. The contrast between the houses and walls of the city was startling, for the palace gleamed even at a distance with gold and inlaid tiles. A huge courtyard with a fountain many feet high could be seen as well, making the city about the palace seem drab and commonplace.
Once inside, the small caravan was greeted by King Herod’s higher-ranking officials. Palace servants and slaves hurried to help the travelers dismount and offered delicate bowls of perfumed water and soft towels to dry their hands. They were then ushered to a wing of the huge building set aside especially for guests and visitors, or so they were informed by yet another official.
“May we speak with King Herod?” Kaspar asked.
“The king has not been well,” the man answered. “I myself will ask his attendants to proffer your request to him. Meanwhile, please enjoy the comforts with which we have provided you.” And he turned and left the main hall of the guests’ wing.
“There is a feeling of deep sadness within this place,” Melchior said softly, leaning toward his companions so he could not be overheard.
“It is an oppressive feeling, to my heart,” Kaspar said. “We should not linger here, whether we are granted audience with King Herod or not.”
Balthazar quietly gave orders to their servants to water the camels well and to remove the bells from their saddles.
“Also, except for the four of you who must accompany us, put away your own finery and lay out plain robes for us. Replace the cats’ pearl necklaces with their leather collars, and return to the small soldier his leather harness. We shall leave immediately after whatever word comes from the king.”
They settled themselves to wait.
To their surprise, within twenty minutes slippers could be heard slapping the marble floors of the corridor leading to their temporary quarters. The doves fluttered in their cage in fright as a slave ran into the room and prostrated himself at Kaspar’s feet.
“King Herod bids you welcome, and to follow me to his rooms, for he has not been well, and does not wish to risk chilling himself.”
The three men looked at one another, for the entire palace was overly warm, despite the winter winds.
“We are honored by his welcome,” Melchior replied and raised the slave to his feet. “Why, you are but a boy!”
“I am in training for service to King Herod, king of the Jews,” he answered. “And I have enough years to serve him well.”
They had been offered subtle insult by Herod’s officials having sent a mere slave lad to summon them to the presence of the king, but the men ignored the slight and began gathering their gifts.
Kaspar walked quickly to the cats’ basket. “Stay here, little ones,” he said softly. “This is a dangerous place for us all. When we return, we shall depart immediately.” Ira looked up into Kaspar’s face and quietly settled himself again in the basket, his foster sisters following suit.
Kaspar smiled at them. “You are good cats.”
Two of their own servants carried the graceful golden cage with the three doves; another bore an intricately carved and inlaid wooden box in which the rings rested on silk; and the fourth carried a fortune’s worth of unmounted jewels in a golden goblet. All followed the slave boy down the long hall.
They entered the stiflingly hot audience room, kept so with huge braziers laden with fiery coals in every corner. The three wise men bowed to the figure reclining upon a low bench with pillows heaped at one end.
“We bring greetings to you from lands that are many miles from here,” Kaspar began.
Herod waved a hand. “I know you are visitors,” his voice rasped. “What do you wish of me?”
Melchior stepped forward. “First, we wish to present you with some humble offerings, and then perhaps, if it does not tire you overly much, to speak with you about prophecies and other matters.”
Herod’s eyes gleamed at the thought of gifts, and he had of course already glimpsed the ornate birdcage. “Bring them forth.” He popped several stuffed dates dripping with honey into his mouth.
The servant presented him with the goblet of jewels first. “A drink to toast your return to health,” Kaspar said, and Herod smiled slightly. He took the goblet with a hand that shook but still managed to pour out the gems upon a small table that stood nearby, and he sifted them through his sticky fingers.
“Truly, one could ransom a king with this many precious stones,” Herod murmured.
Then Balthazar’s servant stepped toward the ailing king. He opened the carved box and presented the rings. Herod frowned. “What are these? They are neither beautiful nor amazingly wrought.”
Balthazar quickly related the story of how the rings had come to be found, and Herod’s eyebrows worked themselves up into his hairline and remained there. “You found them by a dream’s direction?”
“Yes, King Herod. And I know only that they must be precious in their application, for as you have said, they are but metal, stone, and wood.”
“Hmm.” Herod reached for the rings and put them on his left hand, not bothering to wash first. “Surely the metal one would belong to the finger of Jupiter and mighty rulers . . . and the one of stone would be for Saturn, having great responsibility . . . but that leaves the one of wood for the
finger over which the heart rules.” As Herod forced the wooden ring upon the third finger of his left hand, the ring broke in several pieces with a loud snap.
“Ah, what fortune!” Balthazar cried, thinking swiftly. “You see, King Herod, your heart is so strong, it has burst ordinary bonds! Whatever ails you, it must not be a disorder belonging to your chest.”
Herod looked angry for a moment, but then considered what Balthazar had said. “Do you regard yourselves as prophets, then?” he asked silkily.
“In our own countries, we are revered as seers of the stars,” Kaspar told him, and he beckoned the servants carrying the doves forward. Herod peered into the cage. The birds cooed and tilted their small heads, gazing back at the man looking at them. He felt the gold bars, and his lips moved as he began to count the many jewels entwined therein.
When he reached fifty, he sighed and settled back among his pillows. “This is the most richly wrought cage I have yet beheld,” he muttered. “You may take the boy who guided you here with you when you leave, as my thanks.”
The three wise men bowed again. Then Kaspar spoke.
“It is we who must thank you for your gift to us of your slave. But, King Herod, we still wish to ask you of ancient prophecies. We have traveled to your country to seek the one they call the Messiah.”
“What need have you of my thoughts, when you yourselves study the stars?” he growled. Then he snapped his fingers. “You, boy! Bring my chief priests and scribes here.” Grudgingly, he bade them be seated and had another servant offer the wise men some of the honeyed dates.
Within moments, six or seven elderly men assembled in the room. When Herod challenged them as to whether a new Messiah had been born, they gasped and mumbled and appeared extremely distressed. Herod pressed them again.
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