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Caspar shifted around in his saddle and grimaced in pain as he surveyed his companions.
"I don't know why they let you call yourself a Magi. Your navigation isn't the best in the world. Now look where
we've ended up, some little dump that's little more than a wayside inn with a couple of houses around it. I'll bet it doesn't
even have a name. For crying out loud, where's Jerusalem?"
"Don't blame me," grumbled Balthasar. "You're the one who wanted to come on a trading mission here in
the west. They'll all be crying out for frankincense you said. We can't fail with this consignment of myrrh, you said.
And now look; all we have is this measly bit of gold for three months of hard graft. We're not even worth robbing. Even
these blasted camels are so underfed and bony that I can't ride another mile."
Melchior snorted. "Will you two kindly pack it in for a few minutes, and ask at the inn where we are, and where's
the nearest town of any decent size."
Ten minutes later, they knew they were in a small hamlet called Beth Lehem, with only one street, and because the tourist
season was in full swing, there were no beds to be had at the only pub in town. However, if they wanted to persuade a pair
of backpackers to let them share their barn out the back, the innkeeper said he would only charge them half the going rate.
"I think she might be having a baby, as there's a lot of yelling and shouts to push going on, so you might not get much
sleep. Can't be helped, not when the tourists are all on their way for a swim in the Sea of Galilee. But no stealing the
donkey's food for those scrawny camels. Animals is extra."
Dismounting thankfully, Caspar grudgingly paid the innkeeper for their lodging and food for the camels, and led the way
round to the back, swearing as he stepped in fresh donkey droppings.
They entered the barn through a rickety door and found a man and woman with a newborn infant which they were wrapping
in bunny rugs taken from their saddlebags.
"Excuse me, but the innkeeper sent us round here," he said respectfully to the man. "Do you mind if we
share your shelter for tonight? We could occupy that empty stall over there."
"What do you think this is, the Appian Way?" yelled the man in exasperation. It's a temporary maternity hospital,
though you wouldn't know it from all the blasted animals in here, not to mention shepherds rounding up their flocks half the
night. If you want to stay here it'll cost you. We're entitled to recompense for the inconvenience."
"But we already paid the innkeeper," protested Balthasar, "So why should we pay you as well?"
"Well, if you'd rather sleep in the street, with your camels, it's up to you, but it looks like rain."
The three travellers conferred, but they had already realised that they had little option.
"Alright, what do you want from us?" growled Melchior.
"What have you got?"demanded the man. "Frankincense, myrrh, what use are they? Oh well, I suppose we
might get a shekel or two for them back home in Nazareth. Is that all? I don't suppose you've got a bit of gold about you,
have you? It looks like it might even snow tonight."
Ruefully, Melchior handed over a small amount of gold, concealing the fact that they actually had more in their saddlebags,
and they moved away to settle down for the night.
While the travellers were at the far end of the barn, feeding the camels with the mouldy hay they had bought from the
innkeeper, the man looked over at his wife, nursing the newborn infant.
"Here, we'd better not let on that we asked them for more money for their board and lodging, or that Herod will have
our heads." He whispered hoarsely. "We'd better tell people that those foreigners were so chuffed at seeing the
brat that they gave us some gifts to set him up for life. Might get me a nice bit of timber for the workshop."
"But we can't do that," she protested. "It's bad enough extorting goods and gold from those men, without
lying about it as well. It"s wrong to lie. Who knows where even a small lie can lead you?"
"Who's going to find out about it? Don't be silly. It'll all be forgotten about in a week or so. Look, shut that
kid up and let's get some sleep. Did you decide on a name for it yet?"
"I thought Jesus, after your father."
"Well, what about David, after my great great great grandfather? Oh well, plenty of time to argue about that later.
I'm tired."
And with that, he rolled over, clutching the bag of gold to his stomach in a death grip in case the travelling salesmen
changed their minds.
And on the hillside, the shepherds watched their recently rounded up flocks.
© Sandy Parkinson, May 2007. Word count: 851
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