Danger on a Silent Night
© 2013 Focus on the Family
ISBN: 978-1-58997-739-6
A Focus on the Family book published by Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188.
Focus on the Family and Adventures in Odyssey, and the accompanying logos and designs, are federally registered trademarks, and The Imagination Station is a federally registered trademark of Focus on the Family, Colorado Springs, CO 80920.
TYNDALE and Tyndale’s quill logo are registered trademarks of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.
All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. (www.zondervan.com).
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of Focus on the Family.
With the exception of known historical figures, all characters are the product of the authors’ imaginations.
Cover design by Michael Heath | Magnus Creative
Cataloging-in-Publication Data for this book is available by contacting the Library of Congress at http://www.loc.gov/help/contact-general.html.
ISBN 978-1-62405-115-9 (ePub); ISBN 978-1-62405-116-6 (Kindle); ISBN 978-1-62405-114-2 (Apple)
Build: 2013-11-15 12:02:35
To Arman and Elham,
Just as the wise men did, you started your journey in Persia. Then, oh glorious day! You found your Savior, the King of the Jews. May God continue to bless you with the joy of His presence as you share the good news with others!
—NIS
Contents
Chapter 1: Present Problems
Chapter 2: Magic!
Chapter 3: The Palace
Chapter 4: Apellus
Chapter 5: Three Wise Men?
Chapter 6: Only One King
Chapter 7: Simeon
Chapter 8: The Lion of Judah
Chapter 9: Herod’s Lies
Chapter 10: The Secret Meeting
Chapter 11: Footsteps
Chapter 12: The Baby Jesus
Chapter 13: Trapped!
Chapter 14: The Vision
Chapter 15: The Workshop
Questions About the Wise Men
Secret Word Puzzle
About the Authors and Illustrator
Present Problems
Patrick’s boots crunched in the snow on the sidewalk. He was on his way to Whit’s End. His cousin Beth walked beside him.
Patrick’s nose felt frozen. He clutched a small gift bag in his hand. It had a big red bow on it.
“I still think your decision is weird,” Patrick said to Beth.
Beth shook her head. “Mr. Whittaker will understand.”
“But I don’t understand,” Patrick said. His words turned into little clouds around his mouth. “I’m bringing him a present. But you’re going to tell him that you’re not giving any presents this year. To anyone.”
Beth frowned. “You left out the reason why I’m not giving presents. It’s because I’m saving my money to give to the poor.” She said the last part in a dramatic voice.
Patrick opened the door to Whit’s End. The bell on the door jingled as he stepped inside. Beth followed close behind.
Mr. Whittaker stood behind the counter. He was making a milk shake. He looked up and smiled. “Merry Christmas!” he said.
“Merry Christmas!” Patrick and Beth said together.
Patrick walked to the counter and held out the bag to Whit. “My mom baked these for you,” he said.
Whit took the bag and looked inside. He closed his eyes and sniffed deeply. “I love gingerbread cookies. Thank you,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” Patrick said. He glanced over at Beth.
Beth looked away.
“Do you mind if I share these?” Whit asked Patrick. He put the gift on a shelf behind him. “If I eat them all myself, I’ll gain weight. Then I might have to ask for a new belt for Christmas.”
“Sure,” Patrick said. “They’re yours. You can do whatever you want with them.”
The cousins took off their mittens and sat at the counter.
Whit busied himself with making mugs of hot chocolate. “Are both of you ready for Christmas?” he asked them.
“Almost,” Patrick said.
“I am,” Beth said.
Whit raised his eyebrows. “You’ve already done all your Christmas shopping?” he asked her.
Patrick looked at Beth to see how she would reply.
“I’m not shopping for Christmas this year,” Beth said. “I’m not giving gifts.”
“Oh?” Whit said.
Beth lifted her chin proudly. “I’m giving my money to needy families,” she said.
Whit looked impressed. “Well, that’s a sacrificial thing to do,” he said.
“She didn’t say she wouldn’t take any gifts,” Patrick said in a sharp tone. “She said she isn’t giving any.”
“I’m not asking for any gifts this year. I have told everyone not to give me gifts,” Beth said. She frowned at Patrick. “I don’t want any money spent on me. It should go to the poor instead.”
Patrick looked at Whit. “Help me, Mr. Whittaker,” he said. “What’s it going to be like with no Christmas presents under the tree? It’s crazy.”
Whit rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You don’t always have to buy gifts,” he said. Then he turned to Beth. “You could make something by hand—like decorate a picture frame or knit a scarf.”
“I would still have to buy the supplies,” Beth said.
Patrick put his face in his hands and groaned. “You can’t have Christmas without presents. It’s . . . it’s . . . tradition.”
“It wasn’t always tradition,” Beth said. Then she looked doubtful and asked Whit, “Was it?”
Whit put some mugs of hot chocolate on a tray. “Let me deliver these drinks. Then I’ll show you the answer,” he said.
“Show us?” Patrick asked. Then he realized what Whit was saying. “An Imagination Station adventure?”
Whit chuckled as he walked away with the tray.
Patrick looked at Beth. Beth seemed excited for a second. Then her expression changed to serious. “This won’t change anything,” she said firmly.
“Are you sure about that?” Patrick asked.
“You’ll see,” Beth said.
Whit led the cousins down a set of stairs to his basement workshop. They crossed the room to a large machine. It looked like the front of a helicopter. The Imagination Station! Patrick patted its side and felt the cool metal.
The Imagination Station was one of Whit’s inventions. It was kind of like a time machine. It let kids experience history for themselves.
Whit pushed a button, and the door slid open. The cousins climbed inside and sat in the seats.
Whit pushed several keys on the machine’s control panel. The Imagination Station started to hum. Lights flashed on and off.
“I hope you enjoy yourselves,” Whit said.
“What will this tell me about giving gifts?” Beth asked.
Whit smiled and waved. “Push the red button when you’re ready,” he said. The doors slid closed.
Patrick reached out and pushed the red button.
The Imagination Station started to shake. It seemed to move forward. Then it rumbled. Then it whirred.
Beth gasped.
Patrick felt the machine speed up. It zoomed along through a kind of tunnel. The tunnel seemed to get smaller and smaller.
Suddenly, everything went black.
Magic!
Patrick felt a warm glow on his face. His nose wasn’t cold anymore. He blinked at the sun. Then he looked around. He was sitting on a large rock. The ground was sandy at his feet.
The Imagination Station faded away.
I forgot to ask Mr. Whittaker where we were going, he thought.
Patrick wondered what kind of clothes he was wearing. He always found himself in different clothes in the Imagination Station. Maybe they’d give him a clue. He looked down. He was wearing thick robes with colorful embroidery. A heavy gold necklace hung around his neck.
He noticed a hat on his head. Patrick reached up and felt cloth. A wide strip of material was twisted like a cinnamon roll. A turban, he thought. He touched a large jewel attached to the front of it. It was about the size of a baseball.
He searched his pockets. Whit often gave him a small gift to use in each adventure. But his pockets were empty. Did Mr. Whittaker forget to give me something? he wondered.
He stood up and looked around. On Patrick’s left was a large open field of sand. On his right stood a row of tall, thick bushes. A few were as tall as a man. Beth was nowhere to be seen.
Suddenly he heard voices coming from the other side of the bushes. They were angry voices.
Uh-oh, I hope Beth isn’t in trouble already, he thought.
Patrick crept up to the bush. He spread apart some branches and peeked through the opening.
He saw two groups of men. They were standing on opposite sides of a hole in the ground. Square, flat stones lined the hole.
One group of men wore simple brown robes. A herd of twelve donkeys was gathered near them. Each donkey carried a large bundle on its back. The animals looked worn and tired. They only moved to twitch their ears.
The second group of men wore beautiful robes. Jewels decorated their clothes. The shiny gems looked like giant candy gumdrops without the sugar.
More than twenty camels stood around the men. Each camel was covered with a fancy blanket that looked like a carpet. Each blanket had dozens of long tassels. Patrick whistled to himself. These men had money. Lots of it.
The men in brown robes were different. He remembered drawings he’d seen of trading caravans in the Middle East. The men in brown robes looked like traders.
The shouting between the two groups grew louder.
One man in a brown robe stepped forward. His fists were clenched. Then a man from the other group came closer. He pointed to the hole.
Patrick guessed the hole in the ground was a well. The two groups seemed to be fighting over it. He scanned the crowds. He was hoping to spot Beth. But he saw only the men and their animals.
A man from the wealthy-looking group tossed his hands in the air. He looked disgusted. He shook his head and then turned and walked toward Patrick.
Maybe he’s seen Beth, Patrick thought. He stepped out from behind the bush as the man approached.
The man looked surprised to see him there.
“Have you seen a girl with brown hair?” Patrick asked.
The man looked at Patrick with an odd expression. He shook his head. “A girl? No, of course I haven’t,” he said. “We travel only with men.”
“What about them?” Patrick asked. He pointed to the other group of men.
“You’ll have to ask them yourself,” the man said.
Patrick looked at the arguing men. “What are they fighting about?” he asked.
“Our caravan has been traveling for days,” the man said. “Our camels need water. But the traders say the well is theirs because they were here first. We said we’d be happy to take the water after them. But they insist we cannot have any water at all.”
Just then, Patrick heard a man in a brown robe shout. That man shoved a man from the other group. The other man shoved back. A few other men began to throw punches. The argument was turning into a fight.
“Oh no,” the wealthy man said to Patrick.
“What can we do?” Patrick asked.
Suddenly there was a loud ka-pow! and a bright flash of light. A thick cloud of white smoke exploded next to the bush.
Patrick jumped and stumbled away from the explosion. He bumped into the wealthy man. The man reached out to steady him.
Several donkeys reared back. The fighting stopped. Both groups of men turned to see what had happened.
Patrick saw a white cloud of smoke. As the smoke thinned, a young man stepped forward. It seemed as if he had magically appeared. He wore a huge gold turban like a snail shell. His robes were made from shimmery fabric. He looked like a prince.
“Stop fighting, and share the water!” he called out. “There is enough for all!”
Then he raised an arm toward the sky and opened his hand. There was another ka-pow! and cloud of smoke. The young man vanished.
The men in brown robes were amazed. Some fell to their knees.
“Magic!” they cried with fear. “They have magic!”
The Palace
Beth opened her eyes. She was now sitting on a low couch.
She stood up. She was wearing a long white dress. It felt like silk. She turned her head. Something else felt different about her. She put her hand on her head. Her hair was pulled back and fastened into a bun.
Beth quickly glanced around. She was in a large room made of stone and marble. A low table was against a wall. It reminded Beth of a coffee table. Two chairs with plump cushions were also against the wall. Next to her was a tall golden screen with tiny holes in it.
“Patrick?” Beth said.
“Who’s there?” a voice called back. It was a girl’s voice.
Beth pressed her face against the screen. She could see through the holes. A girl stood on the other side. She looked older than Beth.
“Come out where I can see you,” the girl said.
Beth stepped around the screen.
The older girl was wearing a long white gown like Beth’s. Her hair was pulled back in a bun too. She held two long wooden tubes that looked like flutes.
“You must be the new servant girl,” the older girl said. “I’m Judith. What’s your name?”
Beth smiled shyly and said, “My name is Beth.”
“You’re just in time, Beth,” Judith said. She pointed at a small harp sitting on a table. “You may carry my lyre. I’m going to entertain the king.”
Beth wasn’t sure what to do. Where was Patrick?
“Hurry!” Judith said.
Beth picked up the lyre. It was heavier than it looked.
She followed Judith through a maze of dim hallways. The plaster walls were painted with pictures of grapevines. The marble pillars were draped with curtains. Fancy clay lamps sat on ledges along the walls. The light glowed in the hallways.
Beth thought each hallway was more beautiful than the one before it.
The girls entered a large room. The walls were made of marble. Tall, majestic columns stood in rows. The floors were covered with brightly colored stones. They formed pretty pictures of winding vines.
Beth noticed a thin, old man at one end of the room. He wore a long white robe with wide purple trim. He sat on a large chair with a high back and white cushions. The throne was on a raised platform.
Several men were in the room. Some stood, lingering near the throne. Some rested on low couches. Most wore togas. Beth knew they were from ancient Rome.
Am I in Rome? Beth wondered.
Beth looked at the old man on the throne. He was talking to a man wearing a soldier’s uniform. The soldier had a long, pointy nose. He reminded her of a rat.
“This way,” Judith said. She led Beth around to one side of the throne.
Beth could hear the man’s words as they came closer.
“It’s the richest caravan I’ve ever seen, King Herod,” the man said. “It came from the East. It’s the talk of all Jerusalem.”
King Herod’s eyebrows shot up in alarm. His eyes darted wildly around the room. He placed his hand i
n front of his mouth. He leaned closer to the man and whispered something behind his hand.
“Rumors are that some in the caravan are magicians,” the rat-faced man said. “I was told they could turn ordinary rocks into gold!”
“What’s going on?” Beth whispered to Judith.
“The king is holding counsel,” Judith whispered back. Then she tipped her head toward the rat-faced man. “That man is Brutus. Stay away from him.”
Brutus now noticed Beth and Judith. He stopped talking. His pointy nose twitched.
“Did Your Highness ask for music?” he asked. He glared at the girls.
“I did,” the king replied. He waved to the girls.
Judith sat on the stairs near the throne. Beth sat behind her. Judith put the mouthpieces of both flutes in her mouth at once. She played a soft song on the wood instruments.
The king closed his eyes and listened. Brutus sneered and stepped away with a slight bow to the king.
The music sounded different from anything Beth had ever heard. It didn’t follow rhythms or have a clear melody.
Beth looked around the room for Patrick. She didn’t see him anywhere.
Soon Judith finished the song. Then she handed Beth her flutes.
Judith then took the lyre from Beth. She began to pluck at the strings. Beth wasn’t sure she liked the music.
King Herod gestured to Brutus.
The man stepped forward.
“Enough,” Brutus said to Judith. “The king tires of music.”
Judith stood and bowed. Beth imitated her. Then the girls turned and headed for the hallway.
“Wait!” a voice called out.
Both Beth and Judith turned. It was Brutus.
Brutus marched up to the girls. His helmet covered most of his face. But Beth could still see his eyes and nose.
He studied Beth. “Are you the new servant girl?” he asked. His nose looked even pointier up close.
Beth wasn’t sure what to say. So she nodded.
“You were very watchful in the throne room,” he said. “What were you looking for?”
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