A Star to Guide Me: A Christmas Short Story
Far-sighted they call me, and so I am. Long nights, innumerable hours, standing at the top of my tower, staring into the darkened sky, counting, plotting, calculating the courses of the stars, have trained my eyes to see further and deeper than those of others. I love the stars, so steady and regular in their paths, untouched by the woes of this earth. A man who knows their ways can travel surely to his destination – so long as he travels by night. I love my nights of solitude on my high tower seeking out the ways of heaven, far from the bustling city below. Ctesiphon, the royal city of Arsaces the Glorious, the Benefactor, the Just, King of Kings, lord of the Parthians, with its palaces, palms and pleasure parks on the banks of the broad river Tigris.
The first time I saw the star I almost missed it, so familiar was I with the skies that my glance passed over it, then switched back as I saw this new light dimly winking at me, as if trying to draw my attention. My breath shortened with excitement, I steadied myself, trained my eye and looked again; yes, a star, a new star glittering down on me from a place where no star had ever been. I checked my charts, nothing marked, I looked again, it was still there. I sat down, took a drink from my glass of wine and looked a third time – a new star, in the constellation of Pisces.
I watched that star for months, over a year. It disturbed me, intrigued me, confused me. What did it mean? It threw out all my charts; me, Melchior, astrologer to the royal family, foremost in the lore of the heavens had no answer to this bewitching light. It would not let me alone, I could not ignore it so eventually I did what I knew I should have done from the start, I turned again to study and after a while I found in the scrolls of the ancients something that I hadn’t previously known, that Pisces was once known as the constellation of Israel. Israel, a nation that had not been in existence for 500 years after its petty kings had been crushed by the mighty armies of Nebuchadnezzar, King of Babylon and its people dragged off in exile. Yes, it had a king again now, Herod, who governed as a puppet of Rome, but the land and people were just a tiny province in that empire, of no great value or worth. To this day the Israelites were a scattered people, I myself knew some who lived among us, Jews, descendants of those people that Nebuchadnezzar had carried off to Babylon. It was to one of them that I first confided the star’s existence, maybe, I thought, if it is the star of Israel a Jew may know something about it that I did not. I spoke to my friend Balthasar and invited him to see the star for himself the following night, it was a surprise to me when the next evening he arrived at the tower not alone but with Caspar the Nubian, a Captain of the King’s Guard.
‘Am I in trouble?’ I asked, because that seemed the likeliest explanation of Caspar’s presence, such was his reputation in the Court.
‘No,’ he replied, ‘or not yet anyway.’ But then his smile broke into a broad grin, ‘I am just curious, I overheard your conversation and while I have no time for religion or horoscopes a new star I would like to see.’
The three of us climbed the steps and I showed them my discovery, I have to say that to my eyes it was brighter that night but Caspar was still unimpressed.
‘Is that it?’ he questioned, ‘I was hoping for something more than that.’
‘If it was something more you wouldn’t have needed to have me show it to you,’ I retorted, more than a little annoyed that my discovery was so easily dismissed.
Balthasar was more circumspect; ‘we’ll talk more about this,’ he said.
It was the very next day that Balthasar pulled me to one side, Caspar was with him.
‘I asked Caspar to join us because of his position, I do not want anything to be misunderstood or for rumour to spread. It is all in here,’ he said, gesturing to the scroll that lay on the table beside him.
‘What is?’
‘The answer to your questions.’
I looked quizzically at him.
‘My namesake,’ he explained, ‘Belteshazzar, Daniel to my people. He was one of the Jews taken to Babylon after Nebuchadnezzar’s conquest of Jerusalem, he foretold it all.’
Everyone knew of Belteshazzar, the captive who rose to be second in the land, ruling during the king’s madness, the interpreter of dreams and survivor of the lion’s den. His name was a legend among the wise.
‘He wrote,’ Balthasar continued, ‘that a new king would arise in Israel 483 years after the Jews returned to Jerusalem. The Jews were allowed to return under King Cyrus, the time for this new king is soon, your star is the sign of his birth.’
I looked at him, this was serious news, what might be the consequences?
‘There is more. It will be 1000 years since the time of the great King Solomon, Israel’s greatest king.’
‘The cycle of the ages is turning. Are you saying this new king will be a new Solomon?’ I questioned.
Balthasar nodded. ‘So we Jews believe.’
‘Where did this Solomon rule?’ asked Caspar.
Balthasar looked worried. It was difficult for Caspar to speak without sounding threatening.
‘From the Negev of Egypt to the Euphrates north of Damascus and all the lands west to the Great Sea.’
A powerful new kingdom rising on our borders, perhaps even some of our own lands. This was important information – and foretold in the stars and ancient prophecy.
‘You have done well to tell me,’ Caspar said. ‘I will inform my superiors, the King will want to know of this.’
So it was that a few days later Balthasar and I found ourselves ushered into the presence of the King of kings himself. We prostrated ourselves before him, face down on the cold marbled floor before his throne. He permitted us to stand and then the Chamberlain spoke on His Majesty’s behalf.
‘His Majesty commends your diligence in your labours and, trusting in your demonstrable loyalty, commissions you to travel to Jerusalem, to give our brotherly regards to King Herod, learn what you can concerning this ‘new king’ and return to make full report as to any threat, opportunity or matter of concern you may discover. Have you anything to say?’
‘We understand and obey,’ we answered. It was the only possible answer to make.
‘Good,’ the Chamberlain continued as he handed us letters of safe passage and introduction to Herod.
‘Captain Caspar will accompany you with a detail of guards to ensure your safety.’
We backed out of the throne room and looked at each other, shocked by this new turn of events.
‘We are to be his spies,’ I said.
‘So we are,’ answered Balthasar, ‘and Caspar is to ensure we return. But I have long wanted to go to Jerusalem, to worship at the Temple and to see the homeland of my people; I never thought that God would grant this desire of my heart.’
Inside me, though worried by the King’s commission, I could not but feel a leap of joy. The quest to understand the star was to continue.
We met only the once after our audience with the king, to receive further instructions for our journey. The King of kings was sending some small gifts to Herod and we were warned that the situation in Judaea was unstable, with Herod becoming increasingly unpopular among his people. We decided then to take with us our own gifts for the child should we find him; Balthasar decided on gold as befitted a king, I chose frankincense for the heavenly sign. Caspar snorted,
‘I will bring myrrh,’ he said, ‘for there is nothing certain in this world save death – your boy may not yet be born but one day he will surely die.’
The journey from Ctesiphon to Jerusalem is a long one, 800 miles as the Romans measure it, but it is not a dangerous one. They have kept a healthy respect for the borders since the great general Surena massacred their army at Carrhae some fifty years ago, and have themselves have been at peace for 25 years since Augustus seized their throne and ended their ceaseless warring. Trade has flourished, robbers suppressed and the roads maintained; everywhere is prospering – nowadays a traders’ caravan takes little more than four weeks to cover the distance.
It was late in the year when we left but the weather was fine, though cold. We joined the caravan and paid our fees to the leader, the three of us on our camels with half a dozen guards and some mules for our provisions, amid a great crowd of 200 animals and their riders and owners. The grunts of the camels, brays of the mules and the shouts of hawkers and small children surrounded us as we set off about an hour after sunrise through the west gate toward Seleucia. It was exhilarating and beautiful with our shadows casting long before us, excitement and anticipation in our hearts; this was a pilgrimage we were taking like no other. No sooner had we started before we came upon our first obstacle, the river, but the ferries were expecting us and well-prepared at this busy crossing and delayed us little. After that we were in Mesopotamia, between the two rivers, the heart of the empire, the ancient heart of civilisation itself. The land was rich, well irrigated and cultivated all over, with every few miles a prosperous village from which sellers of water, sherbets and sweet pastries would come running as we passed by. The day was beautiful and to be out of the great city and back in the countryside beneath the pale blue sky was a joy. The days at that time of year are short and we had scarcely done 30 miles before we were led into the first of the great caravanserai where we were to spend the night. I must say I was glad when my camel knelt and I could unhook my leg and slide off onto my own two feet. The days of my youth had long since passed me and it was years since I had spent such time in the saddle, my legs, thighs and backside – indeed my whole body - ached in ways I did not know were possible.
I have been a fool, I thought, all these years I have spent searching the night sky to seek out what the future holds for others and I have neglected to live my own life.
That day set the pattern for all that were to follow, rising with the dawn, setting off within the hour and trekking slowly westward through the day to reach a caravanserai as dusk was setting. Every morning the first task I set myself was to seek out the star, always in the east at the dawning of the day. We settled into the routine, my body grew accustomed to the exercise and the rhythm of my mount, and we passed pleasant days talking to each other, conversing with our fellow travellers, admiring new horizons and haggling with the vendors trying to sell us their wares. Through Seleucia, across Mesopotamia to the river Euphrates and once we had crossed that mighty waterway the hard miles through the stony desert to the city of Palmyra. As we did so we left the boundaries of the realm of the King of Kings and entered the lands controlled by Palmyra itself, a small buffer between ourselves and the Romans. The city was visible from many miles away, magnificent walls and buildings emerging slowly from the desert, dominated by the Temple of Bel, surrounded by the green fields watered from the oasis and shaded by the palm trees from which it takes its name. We were glad to arrive there, roughly the half way point of our journey and so we rested for a couple of days, buying fresh provisions, before joining ourselves to a new caravan to complete the journey to Jerusalem.
When we left Palmyra we passed quickly into Roman territory, paying the border toll as due. A couple of days and we passed into Judaea proper, the territory governed by King Herod for the Romans. Coming down from the high plateau we crossed north of the lake of Galilee and then travelled south along its western edge and into the valley of the Jordan river as it flowed south out of the lake. We followed the Jordan valley down as far as Jericho, just north of the Sea of Arabah, that poisoned lake where nothing lives. Surely that is an ill-omened place, under the curse of heaven. Many of the traders were stopping there for the salt, asphalt and balsam that the region produces but we were eager to press on, so eager that we decided to travel through the night. Leaving the others behind we took the road west into the hills and so it was that we approached the final rise to Jerusalem just as the day was dawning. The sun was rising behind us, the star fading with the morning light, the city walls shone white and above it all towered the Temple. We stopped to look as the rays of the dawn reflected and dazzled off the marble with its coronet of gold lustrous and gleaming; even as we watched we saw the plume of smoke rising from the Temple as the first sacrifices of the day were consumed upon the altar’s fire. Beside me I was surprised to hear a stifled sobbing, turning I saw Balthasar weeping, tears quietly streaming from his eyes into his beard. I understood; though generations had passed he was a Jew who had lived his life in exile and now he was seeing for the first time the ancient city of his people; the longing for home is never quelled in the human heart. We waited a moment or two for him to recover himself before pressing on.
We entered the city gates an hour later to find the streets were teeming with people; after the quiet and the far horizons of the journey it was oppressive and disorienting, the sounds and smells and cramped spaces attacking all our senses at once. The Roman Emperor Augustus had ordered a census and a poll tax and the city was full of people being registered and paying their dues. That would be useful information for the King of kings when we get home I thought – but what was Augustus planning with all this money? Pay off debts, build new cities, or wage new wars? Caspar I could tell was seeing everything, the height and thickness of the walls, the number and position of towers and gates, the equipment and discipline of the soldiers; nothing was escaping his attention. Eventually, we found a place to stay, though it took some hard bargaining, and after a few hours rest made our way to Herod’s Palace to present our letters of introduction. We were not left waiting long, as emissaries of the King of kings it would have been unseemly for us to be kept waiting. After no more than an hour we were taken through to Herod’s throne room, though truth be told to our eyes it seemed little more than a fine hall of a minor prince. King Herod was seated upon this throne with his servants attending him, he may once have been a fine-looking man but now he was looking aged and ill, overweight, over-indulgent of wine and rich foods and burdened by stresses and fears. Herod greeted us warmly, enquiring of our health, the rigours of the journey and the suitability of our lodgings but was obviously keen to find out why we had been sent. We left our responses to Balthasar, he was the most linguistically gifted among us knowing not just Persian and Hebrew but also Aramaic, Greek and even a little Latin.
‘Great King,’ he said, for there was never a King who did not enjoy flattery, ‘our Master has sent us to express his great admiration for you, for the peace and prosperity of your rule – long may it continue – with not just words but with these small tokens of his brotherly affection and esteem.’
That, I thought, was laying it on thick, but these things can never be hurried.
We presented the gifts the King of kings had sent us with, small enough things to our eyes but as fine as anything that Herod would see from one year to the next in this provincial backwater. I watched his eyes shine with delight, avarice and a little suspicion as we passed over the bundles of silk, the jewelled figurine of a peacock and the clear glass jars and bottles that our finest glaziers have just begun to create. When these had been given over, inspected, admired and due gratitude expressed; after wine had been proffered and drunk and sweets offered and eaten, only then did Balthasar come to the point of our journey.
‘Great King, we have come to congratulate you upon the birth of your son. We have seen his star rise in the East, the heavens foretell a great and glorious reign, a new Solomon who will arise…’
Balthasar’s voice tailed off in the uproar. Never perhaps have such ill spoken words been uttered in a royal court. Herod had three sons, all adults and two of them were in the room with us, their mother he had executed years before. There was even a fourth, older, son, from his first wife who he had divorced before he became king. News of another son, a new son who would reign, did not go down well. Before the sons had finished shouting and Herod decrying us as idiots we were ushered out of the room as swiftly as if we had some deadly disease. We were left waiting in a small ante-chamber, listening as the shouts slowly died away as Herod convinced his sons that he had no other children or pregnant mistress. After that all we could hear was low murmurings as counsellors gathered round him. Finally, after what seemed like hours we received a message,
‘Come back tomorrow, the King desires to hear more about this.’
We left the palace entrance in silence, feeling like fools, Balthasar particularly downcast and perplexed, trying to find our way through the crowd back to our lodge-house. We had not gone more than two hundred yards when Caspar announced,
‘We are being followed.’
Herod it seemed was taking no chances.
The remainder of that day we did little. We ate and rested and talked among ourselves and all the while the man who had followed us stood in the shadow of a door opposite the house where we were staying. Caspar posted two of our guards at the door with orders to stare straight at him but he was undeterred in his duty.
We rose early the next morning, Balthasar was determined to go to the Temple to pray and make sacrifice and we went with him. Flanked by our guards we pushed upward through the crowded streets climbing the hill towards Temple Mount. The whole area was a giant building plot as Herod spent vast amounts of money expanding and rebuilding the sacred site.
‘He’s not a Jew you know,’ Balthasar said of Herod, ‘his father was an Idumean who converted for advancement. Herod is doing this to ingratiate himself with the people but he’s taxing them to the hilt to pay for it all.’
‘He’s not popular?’ asked Caspar.
Balthasar laughed, the glare of his eyes was all the answer necessary.
The crowds got thicker as we approached the temple gate but our guards forced their way through until suddenly we were through the gates and ejected into a large outer courtyard, the Court of the Gentiles. The courtyard was large but still crowded, along with all the visitors there were sellers of pigeons, doves and lambs for sacrifice, money changers and stalls selling of all kinds of food and tourist trinkets. This was as far as Caspar and I and the guards were allowed to go, the other side of the courtyard was a large wall with ten doors, above each door was a sign in Greek and Aramaic warning that entrance was forbidden to all non-Jews on pain of death. From beyond the wall we could hear the sound of singing and dancing and from even further in we could see the smoke of the sacrifice ascending. Balthasar spoke briefly to one of the turbaned priests who were on hand to help pilgrims and purchased a fine lamb. Turning to us he explained,
‘I will enter through the gates ahead and then through that into the Court of the Israelites. There I will sacrifice the lamb and it will be offered on the altar as a burnt offering, after that I will be cleansed and able to pray with a clean heart to the God of Israel - that we find this child and have safety in our travels home. I for one do not trust Herod one jot. You must stay here and wait, to go further will be your death. You won’t be alone, I see our little follower has found us. If Herod calls for us send a message that we will attend as soon as I return from the sacrifice.’
He smiled and waved to the man that Herod had assigned to us but got no response, then turned and led his lamb through the forbidden gate.
We waited for two hours for his return, watching the building work being carried out. Apart from a few overseers who seemed to be Greek, Roman or Egyptian all the work was carried out by priests. They strained away on pulleys and leavers, lifting impossibly large blocks of stone into position. I tried to imagine what the buildings would like when they were finished but my imagination failed me, far more spectacular than the Fire Temples of Zoroaster at home was all I could conclude. When we were bored with that we bought drinks and snacks to eat, little tourist trinkets as souvenirs and tried to keep out of the way of the worshippers who thronged the place. Caspar, whose Aramaic was surprisingly good, tried to engage some stallholders in conversation but the presence of Herod’s man was very obvious and nobody would respond to his questions. Eventually Balthasar returned, even before he could speak to us our attendant marched right up to the three of us,
‘follow me,’ he said, and without waiting for a reply turned and lead us out of Temple courts.
Less than half an hour later and we were presented again to King Herod in his throne room. This time, in addition to the usual courtiers, there were half a dozen grey-beards present. From the way they looked at each other, stood in two clusters of three and were differently robed I guessed that they were representatives of the groups known as the Pharisees and the Sadducees, different sects of the Jewish religion. I looked more closely at the king, he looked unwell and irritable, his forehead sweaty and his black hair sticking to his head.
Herod did not greet us, seat us or introduce us to the others present but spoke immediately and directly to Balthasar as our spokesman.
‘Tell me your story again and leave out no details.’
Balthasar spoke quietly, clearly, humbly, carefully selecting each phrase; describing my expertise in the knowledge of the stars, my position at the court of the King of kings, my bafflement as to what the new star might mean. Then he spoke of how I had involved him in my search for understanding and how he had himself made the connection with the prophecies of Daniel. Next, he spoke of the commission we had received from the King of kings to come to Jerusalem to seek out the answer to this riddle of the new star and the ancient wisdom. And when the tale of our coming had been told he made one request,
‘if you know anything of this boy who is born to be king, tell us, that we can fulfil our commission and return to our own lands and king.’
Herod said nothing but turned to the six religious scholars standing to our left.
‘Well, what do you think?’ he demanded, continuing it seemed some conversation that had started before our arrival.
‘If this is not nonsense, where will the Messiah be born?’
The oldest of the six, tall but not stooped and of imposing demeanour spoke up; I deemed him to be of the Pharisees.
‘The prophet Micah is clear, he will be born in Bethlehem, not here in Jerusalem.’
I looked at Balthasar, he shrugged his shoulders, this was clearly something new to him.
Herod was looking at the other group of three, the Sadducee scholars. Their leader nodded in concurrence.
‘Your Majesty knows that we do not place the same authority on these newer prophets as we do upon the books of Moses, but yes, Micah does state the Messiah will be born in Bethlehem, if he is to be believed.’
Satisfied, Herod turned to us, a crafty look upon his face.
‘You have your answer, seek for the child in Bethlehem. If you find him bring back word to me so that I too can go and pay homage.’
He waved his hand as if to dismiss us but checked himself as if one more thought had entered his mind.
‘How long since you first saw that star?’
‘Almost two years,’ I answered directly.
Herod grunted and waved us away.
‘I am a fool,’ Balthasar said as we left Herod’s presence and hurried across the courtyard to the palace gate. His face looked like thunder as he spoke, his black eyebrows arrowing down towards his hawk-like nose, ‘Micah I had not heard of but the new Solomon must be of the royal house of David, he will be no son of Herod, that I should have known. Did you see the King’s eyes? He seeks to trick us, we must find this baby quickly – and make sure we are not followed. He will not harm us for fear of the King of kings but he means the child no good, of that I am sure.’
‘We will leave straight away, we can be there by nightfall, it is just a few miles to Bethlehem,’ I agreed.
We went straight to our lodgings, collected our camels and slipped out of Jerusalem by the eastern gate, which we hoped would not be watched by any of Herod’s men assigned to follow us. Our guards we left behind as a decoy, hoping that their presence would make it seem that we had not ourselves left. Circling around the city we joined the road to Bethlehem a mile along the way; less than an hour later as twilight was gathering we entered the outskirts of Bethlehem. It was a small town, chiefly known as the place where the sheep for the temple sacrifices were bred and raised. Above us, directly above us, so that we had to lean back and stare straight into the sky, the star shone. Not winking or twinkling now but a strong, bright light that shone down upon the town. This was the place, I was sure, but where? We stopped at a lodging house to try and arrange somewhere to base ourselves while we searched the town but when we spoke to the landlord we got a terse answer.
‘You need rooms? Some chance, the whole town’s full with this census. I’ve even got a new mum with her baby in the stable…’
So that was the first place we looked.
Somehow, she didn’t seem surprised to see us, three foreigners seeking out a new born baby, but then her story was exceptional already. When we knocked tentatively on the stable door the husband opened it and spoke to us, it was fully dark now and we could see little inside, a couple of oil lamps revealed a young woman holding her baby and at the end a couple of cows and a donkey lying down on the straw. We explained who we were and he let us in, sensing no threat from us. We approached the young mother, who had hastily covered her head before we entered and told them both our story; the star, the prophecy, our command from the King of kings to search for the boy. Then she, in turn told us her story, the angel’s visitation and finding herself pregnant without ever having slept with a man, her fear that she would be cast out and the relief when Joseph, that was his name we learnt, accepted her. At this we looked sharply at the husband and he nodded in agreement.
‘The angel visited me too,’ he said, ‘he said the boy is conceived by the Holy Spirit and to call him Jesus, for he will save Israel from her sins.’
‘You were...are…a virgin?’ stuttered Balthasar.
Caspar I thought was going to choke on the news, this was all far too strange for his soldier’s soul.
Mary, for so the young mother was called, nodded.
‘The prophecy of Isaiah,’ Balthasar continued, ‘the virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel.” God with us – that is what Immanuel means. This child is the son of God.’
He bowed his head and wept.
We all looked at each other, stunned. I could not grasp what Balthasar had just said.
‘Who is this boy, this lamb of Bethlehem?’ I asked, ‘Son of David, Son of Heaven? A heaven given king? And why are we here?’
It was Caspar who gave us the answer.
‘We are here as witnesses – the Jew, the Parthian and the African. A new king, a new empire, a new loyalty.’
‘Kiss the son, lest he be angry,’ Balthasar quoted, ‘King David wrote it for his son Solomon but the teachers have always said its true meaning was for the future King.’
With that he reached inside his robe and pulled out the embroidered pouch filled with gold coins that was his gift. Kneeling he leant forward to kiss the baby’s hand and proffered him the gold.
‘For Israel, my King,’ he said and passed the gold to the young mother.
I followed suit, taking from my bag the pot of frankincense I knelt and offered it to the boy.
‘For Parthia and the men of the east,’ I said, kissing the baby’s hand before passing the pot to his mother.
We looked at Caspar. He hesitated a moment and then said,
‘I am a fool, if the King hears of this he will have my head.’
Then he too knelt and a remarkable thing happened as he held out the jar of myrrh, the babe lifted up his hands and grasped it. Caspar released the jar and the child pulled it back to his chest and held it tight. I looked at Mary, she was watching it all, taking it all in, trying to understand. Caspar kissed the child’s head.
‘For Africa, the lands of the south and all strangers and exiles,’ he said.
That night our sleep was brief and our dreams were troubled, I woke before dawn with an anxious heart; Caspar was already up and about. Seeing me awake he roused Balthasar as well.
‘We are leaving now,’ he said, ‘we will not go back to Jerusalem, I can take us across country and hopefully we will be out of Herod’s lands before he knows we’re gone.’
‘Yes,’ Balthasar agreed, ‘we must avoid Herod’s men, he will stop at nothing in his fear.’
Within minutes we were ready. At the other end of the stable Joseph and Mary were waking, we told them our fears and urged them also to leave. Joseph nodded in agreement, I could tell that he too was troubled, wondering how he could keep his young family safe. For a moment I thought of suggesting they should come with us but I held the thoughts back. Heaven, I thought, had arranged things thus far, it was not for me to tell them what to do. We said our farewells and mounted our camels. Taking one last look at the extraordinary child we turned our mounts towards the rising sun to travel home. Day and night, fast and with scarcely a stop we rode until we were confident we were out of Roman lands. It was not until the second night that I had the time to search the stars, somehow it was as I thought it would be, however hard I looked I could not see the star, it was gone beyond my gaze. I felt a sorrow but with it a sense of completion, the quest was over.
It is twelve years since we met him, the lad will be growing fast, soon coming into his manhood. Long have I meditated on that journey, that child and his mother, the star and the prophecy. A new light has come into the world, that is what the star was saying and the day of his shining is coming closer. Far-sighted they called me and so I was, but no longer, now I am old and my eyes have grown dim in the passing years; when I look up at the night sky all I can see is a milky blur, all my old lovers are faceless to me now. But the hope that settled in my heart that night in Bethlehem has not diminished but grown stronger with every year that has passed. I am old, my eyes are dim and the darkness ever deepens before me but this one thing I know, in him I have still a star to guide me.
