by Fish, Susan
Two days later, we came to our first Israelite town. Entering its gates, Shaz found the city elders in the square and presented them with our marauder. Heads were shaken and eyebrows raised with recognition of the man. We were assured that justice would be done in the matter of Balzar’s death. We were prepared to trade for food and water but found ourselves welcomed with hospitality and delicious food. For the first time, I was glad for Shaz and Caspar’s presence on the trip: they had skills of diplomacy I did not have, knowing what to say and when to say it. Shaz sometimes said too much, but Caspar was a restraining influence on him and a good listener.
When we resumed our journey toward Jerusalem, Caspar shook his head as he spoke. “They know nothing of a new king or a star. And Herod most certainly is alive. It is he who built the library we just saw. They seem to see him as a most progressive king.”
“And so he is!” Shaz smiled. “It will be a pleasure to honor him! I wonder if we will be the first to arrive.” With this ambitious thought and no Balzar to slow our progress, Shaz urged us quickly through the rocky, mountainous terrain on our descent toward the city of Jerusalem.
As we crossed the last of the mountains, the city of Jerusalem rose on the plain before us, an impressive sight. Though farther from the border, the people of Jerusalem seemed less surprised by our presence and appearance. We soon saw why—in the public square were many foreigners. Indeed there were people from every corner of the world, including Jews who had returned from exile. Shining in the sunlight stood the magnificent half-completed temple, which would be a lasting memorial to Herod’s reign. We entered its outer courts to survey its beauty—I had never seen such a marvel of gold and white stone—before Shaz reminded us of our purpose in the city. We found one of the city’s elders, who was pleased to escort foreign astronomers to the court, where Herod was holding state in this dry season.
~ 15 ~
King
The man himself was small and twitchy. The condition appeared to be contagious. At Herod’s slightest move, a swarm of people would oblige him, almost panicked in their haste. The atmosphere around the man was one of great terror, with Herod at the center of everything. I found myself watching his face. The face we saw was welcoming, but Herod’s hands gripped his chair like talons, causing me to recall my dream and wonder if another face lay beneath and what sort of face it might be. My heart pounded as the doors closed behind us.
I could see Shaz was bursting with excitement. These were the moments he savored: opulent surroundings, men of power, all eyes on him. I stood to the side of the group, where I could watch the rituals Shaz had explained would take place.
There were none. Eyes glittering, Herod leaned forward and addressed us: “What is it you want?”
Shaz swallowed, adjusting to the situation, paring back the words he had prepared. “Where is he who is born king of the Jews? We have seen his star in the east and have come to worship him.”
A vein throbbed in Herod’s neck, and a tremor ran through the room.
“King of the Jews? Star?” Herod spoke too quietly.
“Your son?” Shaz offered with an ingratiatingly hopeful smile.
Herod stood up. With no further words, we were dismissed.
The air seemed lighter outside of Herod’s throne room. Shaz, however, was at a loss to understand what to do next. He scowled at me, wondering perhaps if my Hebrew prophecy had misled our journey. I wondered this—not for the first time—myself. Caspar spoke courteously to one of Herod’s attendants, explaining that we were ambassadors from our king and inquiring whether we might be permitted to refresh ourselves after our long journey and to stable our horses for the night. The attendants conferred, then disappeared into Herod’s chambers once again. One of Herod’s quivering advisers returned with the attendant. We were immediately escorted to the palace, where we were housed in rooms with soft beds raised off the floor. We were shown a room where we might bathe. We left Shaz in this room, where he insisted he could think best, and sent our own servants off with the attendants to stable the horses and to find food for us. Balzar’s son now occupied a strange position on this trip: officially he was still one of our servants, but in reality he was an astronomer, and out of respect for his father, we treated him as one of the delegation.
“You can stay with us and bathe, Hasin,” Caspar volunteered.
Hasin smiled his appreciation but shook his head. “I want to go, to see what I can learn.”
I was eager to bathe. My muscles were aching from the long ride, and my heart ached with grief. I felt I could not completely exhale in this foreign city, but Herod’s bathing pools were legendary, and if anything could soothe me, a bath would be it.
When we arrived at the pool, Shaz was floating on his back, a perturbed look on his face. We did not have to ask the reason for his frustration. As soon as he became aware of us, Shaz spluttered out his complaint.
“Look at these girls! What kind of royal bath is this? No wonder Herod is out of temper—not one of them would come into the water with me.”
I looked at the trio of young girls who stood along the edge of the room, and I thought of Reta. “Hebrew girls are modest,” I said.
“Modest?” Shaz snorted. “Girls aren’t in a palace to be modest. Not in a pool just to stand there.”
There was no arguing with Shaz and his various desires. I realized Caspar had submerged himself in the warm salt water, and I did likewise. The water was soothing. I felt my muscles unfold and grains of sand fall out from every corner of my body.
Nearly three weeks had passed since I left Reta. I thought of her in this center of her homeland, a place she had never been. Perhaps someday I could take her and our child to Jerusalem. An image of Herod crossed my mind like a shadow, and I thought perhaps I would not.
After we emerged from the pool, the young girls indicated mats on the floor, where we stretched out while they rubbed aromatic oils onto our feet. I glanced over at Shaz and rolled my eyes at his unmistakable arousal. I thought of Stela and how utterly foolish she had been to marry this man. Then as the herbs, the warmth, and the massage began to sink in, I drifted off to sleep.
The next thing I knew, the room was darker. Several hours had passed, and the sun had changed places, casting long shadows across my now-chilled body. I could hear the sound of water splashing, and I sat up. It was Hasin, refreshing himself in the pool. Caspar, who had also slept, now rolled over. Shaz was gone, and I felt some misgivings for the virtue of the young Hebrew girls. Hasin climbed out of the water and stood dripping before us.
“Herod sent a messenger for Shaz, just a few minutes ago,” he explained. “I passed him in the corridor.”
Hasin dried himself. Caspar propped himself on his elbow.
“What did you find?”
Hasin shook his head. “It’s amazing how news travels,” he said. “The whole city is stirred up, troubled even. Everyone knew who we were, and no one was happy to see us. At each stall I was asked, ‘Are you the foreigners who brought the threat to our king?’ I kept repeating, ‘We mean peace to Israel and her king,’ or I would never have been sold food. I’m not sure I wouldn’t have been asked to leave the gates before sunset.”
Caspar and I stood up.
“I guess Herod has no son,” I said as we gathered our clothes and hurriedly dressed.
“Or doesn’t want one,” Caspar replied
“Do you think we misunderstood the stars?” I asked, afraid to hear Caspar’s answer.
He shrugged. “No. There is a new king. Why else would Herod be so troubled?”
Shaz did not return to our room until late that night. He had enjoyed Herod’s full hospitality of food, wine, and women, having discovered that not all Hebrew women were modest. Shaz had never been treated so well by our own king, and we could see immediately that he would not share the apprehension we felt.
“Her
od wants a secret audience with us in one hour’s time,” he announced. Exchanging eloquent glances, we prepared for a second meeting with Herod. Shaz fell into a satisfied sleep and had to be awakened when Herod’s advisers knocked on the door. This time we were conducted not to the throne room but to one of Herod’s private rooms. He was alone and had various scrolls and maps spread on a table in front of him. His face was crimson and drenched with sweat, though his expression had not changed from our first encounter.
Herod carefully questioned us about when the star had appeared to us and when it had disappeared. He read to us the Jewish prophecy that indicated that the king of the Jews, the Messiah, was to be born in King David’s city—in Bethlehem—and asked us to search diligently for the child, reporting back to him so that he could also go and worship.
Nothing could have induced me to speak or draw attention to myself. I could not be out of his lair soon enough. I was relieved when the interview was not prolonged. As we bowed and prepared to leave, Herod suddenly added, “I have arranged for your leader to remain with us a while longer. It turns out he is not only a brilliant astronomer but a cousin of my dear Mariamne. She will be so pleased to see him.”
Shaz smiled broadly. I was alarmed. Surely Shaz was not taken in by this man? And yet Shaz had heard exactly what his flattery-loving ears craved. What did Herod want with him? Wisps of fear curled inside my stomach. No conversation was sanctioned, and so with hidden heavy hearts, promises to return, and swift feet, we made our exit, gathering our servants and horses from the famous stables. We were swiftly escorted out of Jerusalem as day was nearly breaking.
“Is he dead then?” one of the servants whispered to me as we rode.
I shrugged. “He’s staying behind.”
The servant whistled and dropped back to share the news.
As the city gates closed behind us, we gathered around Caspar, who had become our leader without discussion. Caspar pointed at the eastern sky. There, far above the pinkish tints of sunrise, shone the moving star. Joy dawned on our faces, and the conversation of concern and strategy we were about to have melted away. Elated, we set off in the direction the star led, which was indeed Bethlehem.
~ 16 ~
Wonders
The journey was short, but now, wary of Herod, we were cautious of revealing our plans to anyone. We arrived in Bethlehem in the heat of the day and were greeted with the same hospitality we had been welcomed with in every Hebrew town. All Caspar would say to inquiries was that we were on a diplomatic mission on behalf of our king and that we were passing through their village. None of the rumors and fears in Jerusalem had yet reached this little town, and so his simple explanation was accepted. We had decided not to explain the details of our quest but to find any possible king ourselves; in a small town, we reasoned, it would not be easy to hide a king. And yet life seemed perfectly normal. If the elders were bursting with civic pride at housing royalty, they certainly hid it well. Children were everywhere, greatly admiring and petting our horses, and I found my eyes drawn to them, wondering if one might be the king. We were invited to sleep in the home of one of the village elders, and, our search for the king incomplete, we happily accepted the offer.
In the middle of the night, I was startled awake. My heart pounded, and I breathed heavily. The house was still. I sat up, taking care not to wake Caspar, who slept beside me. When time had passed and still the household was quiet, I began to search my mind for dreams, wondering if that was what had awakened me. In an instant, the vision came flooding back, frightening me with its intensity.
Bodies. Dead children clutched by grief-torn parents. Shaz’s body broken beside the road. I felt the menace of Herod’s wrath, and the thought came clearly into my mind that no matter what else happened, we must not return to Jerusalem. In an instant, I was ready to return home, convinced of the imminent danger. So certain was I that I shook Caspar awake and told him my dream in all its detail.
Caspar was a strong believer in dreams, and he got up and began to pace the floor, considering seriously what I had dreamed. He reached into his bag for our ephemerides to understand whether an omen was foretold. He moved to the window to read in the moonlight and suddenly gasped. Fearing that my dream had already come true, I ran to look at what had arrested his attention. The ground below was shadowy but undisturbed. Caspar shook his head and pointed above.
There in the east, the star we had followed now hung so low that we could almost touch it. As we watched, it proceeded across the houses of the town and then came to rest.
“Our mission is not yet accomplished, Melchior,” Caspar said at last, when we saw that the star moved no more. “I swear by the gods—this star will show us the king of the Jews, and I will go this night to present him with our gifts.”
I stared at him in wonder. “In the middle of the night? They will never open to us.”
“They must!” said Caspar with urgency. “Your dream convinces me that we are in more danger the longer we stay here. Herod will find us, and we will see another side to him.”
I agreed to join Caspar. As we dressed, Hasin awoke, insisted on accompanying us, and was ready in a moment. We climbed down the staircase from the roof, pointing out the low-hanging star to Hasin, who marveled at it. When we reached the stables, Caspar spoke to the servant who stood guard. We set off through the deserted streets, carrying a lumpy bag that had seen many years in the desert. I had no idea what we would say if we were caught, and I quickly said a prayer of sorts to whoever might hear me, that we might be safe.
Indeed we were the only ones on the streets.
We walked silently through the town, eyes directed upward and ears attuned for any sound. Finally we found the star’s resting place. Starlight poured on a small house, like cool, clear water over a bowl, richer and brighter than moonlight. I looked around. We had moved out of the prosperous part of town; we were near the market, in the merchant district. We stood in front of the light-drenched door and looked at one another. Caspar took a deep breath before knocking softly. My dream and the knowledge of Herod’s marauders caused my heart to quicken as the house remained silent and we stood exposed in the starlight in the street. After a while, I despaired that anyone would ever answer the door. Caspar dared to knock a second time, this time low and insistent. Noise stirred within, and a different anxiety gripped my heart: we had journeyed after a silent, moving star, following ancient prophecies, but this small house was different. We would face people who would either dismiss us as fools or perhaps—
The door opened a crack, and a gruff voice spoke from the darkness.
“Who’s there?”
I exchanged glances with Caspar and Hasin before speaking. “We are travelers,” I said, hoping the simplest truth would gain us entry. It quickly became apparent that Hebrew hospitality was less universal at the third watch of the night.
“What do you want?”
“Direction,” I said, suddenly inspired. “And perhaps a cup of water.”
The darkness grunted, and the crack widened. A man’s face emerged into the starlight. Squinting, he looked at us. “How many of you are there?”
“Just three,” I responded.
“May we come in?” Caspar asked. “I realize the hour is late.”
“It’s very late,” the man said with a yawn. “You can come in.”
As the door closed behind us, I exhaled and looked around. The only light inside was from a dim lamp held by the man, which he placed on a low table. After the brightness of the night sky, the house was dark and shadowy. At the same time, it was clearly not a palace. I felt a mixture of disappointment—surely we were mistaken in our destination—and confidence. For once, city-born scholars Caspar and Hasin were in foreign territory, with no idea how to speak to this rough-haired laborer, while I felt instantly at home.
Having allowed us entry, the man now seemed to decide he should embrace us
as his guests. I was amused by the awkwardness of my companions, but when the man reached for me, I apologized for my bad hand.
“I wove rugs for many years, until an accident—”
The man’s eyes brightened with recognition, sparkling in the dimness, as he revealed a finger missing from his left hand. “I am a carpenter,” he said. He gestured for us to sit. “What leads a rug maker and his friends into the streets so late in the night?”
“Since my accident—even before it—I have studied the stars,” I said. “My friends and I are magi. We come from a land east of Israel, where we study stars for our king.”
“How does this bring you to Bethlehem? What is this direction you said you needed? Are you lost?”
I swallowed. The time had come. We were face-to-face with a man who could determine the success of our journey. My heart pounded faster than it had when we faced Herod with the same questions. “Could I perhaps trouble you for that cup of water?”
The man rose, apologizing for forgetting our need. As he did, a woman emerged from the shadows and put her hands on the man’s shoulders, indicating that he should sit again.
“I’ll get it, Joseph,” she said. In the dark, I heard the trickling sound of water, and then she handed a cup to each of us.
“Thank you,” I said, taking a slow draught. The coolness of the water clarified the tumult in my mind, and I spoke to the two, who were watching me intently.
“Some moons ago, a new star appeared in the sky and began to move in a way stars do not move. We watch the sky for signs that tell us what may happen on earth. This star was certainly a sign of something important.