All Things Christmas (21 page)

“I already know who it will be.”

She a
rched an eyebrow. “Do you
now
?”

“He is very handsome.”

“I am sure he is.”

“And he is strong and brave and brings me presents.”

She paused, trying to decide what to say next. “Rivkah, you and I both know the marriage arrangements are
made by the men in the family.”

“No matter.
Shemu’el will be the one.”

“And you know this how?” She switched Yeshua to her other arm and closed her cloak over him.

“Because I love him.
Better a meal of vegetables where there is love than a fatted calf with hatred.”

“Time will tell, my young friend. Time will tell.”

“But marriages are
b’shert
. If something is destined by the will of God, it must come to pass.”

“True enough.” Miryam hugged me tightly and kissed my forehead. “Keep in
mind,
God’s ways are not our ways. In addition to happiness, God’s plan sometimes brings heartache and sacrifice.”

~ 10 ~

“And being warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they departed to their own country by another way.”
―Matthew 2:12

I held Yeshua while Miryam settled herself on the donkey. He grinned up at me sleepy eyed. Putting my mouth close to his little ear, I whispered the
Birkat
Kohanim
. This priestly blessing was repeated many times each day in the Temple, “May the Lord bless and keep you. May the Lord cause his countenance to shine upon you and be gracious unto
you.
May the Lord
favor you and grant you peace.”

“May it be his
will.
Blessed be the Lord God, the God of Israel, from everlasting to everlasting,” Miryam responded for her young son.

I kissed him. “Good-bye Yeshua. Be safe while we are apart,
Yeki’ri
.”

When we first began playing together I called Yeshua my little king. After all, the angel told us he would be the
Mashiach
. Miryam heard me do this and asked me not to. She said Yeshua would find his destiny in his own way and time. From then on I called him
Yeki’ri
, my precious one.

I dug in my bag and offered her the
dreidel
I had carved. “
Here.
I made this for Yeshua. I
planned to give it to him the next time I visited.”

She thanked me and tucked it away in a saddlebag. Then she said something that sent a chill up my spine. “It will be good for him to have something that reminds him of home.”

“Home?
Where are you going? When
will we see each other again?”

Some questions, it seems, get no answer. Miryam adjusted the slumbering babe on her back and nodded her readiness to Yosef. As the donkey plodded away, she waved.
“All in God’s good time, Rivkah.
Kol
Tuv
, my little friend.”

I returned her wish to Be Well with a heavy heart. They grew smaller and smaller until they became a speck on the horizon. I leaned into Abba and he rest
ed his hands upon my shoulders.

“Where are they going?”

“For
Yeshua’s
sake, i
t is better that you not know.”

“I do not understand.”

He dropped to one knee and held me by my arms. “Yosef has been warned. The child i
s no longer safe in Bethlehem.”

I looke
d at him with questioning eyes.

He shook his head. “I can tell you no more, my little dove. In time, perhaps things will become clear. For now, know this, you must forget you ever saw them. Say nothing of this night to anyone.”

Though it made no sense at the time, as a good daughter I
would do what my father asked.

He took my hand. “Come, time to check the ewes.”

* * *

Hours later the sound of many hooves roused me. I snapped awake in an instant, my heart pounding. It was dark and cold, the bone-chilling cold which came just before dawn. My
cloak was damp, heavy with dew.

“Listen, Abba. Horses,” I whispered.
“
Many horses, coming toward us.”

He grabbed his rod from where it rested against the tower’s low wall. “Stay here. I will see who it is.”

“No. I want to go with you.” I jerked my little rod out of my sash and rose, ready to fight.

He opened his mouth to speak, but shook his head a
nd gave an angry grunt instead.

I followed one step behind. By the time we reached the roadway an entire cavalry had dr
awn into a line in front of us.

Never had I seen such finery. They looked like a royal escort. The war horses, one indistinguishable from the next, were black as night, sleek, broad-
chested
and muscular. Their harnesses, bridles and saddles gleamed with silver buckles and trim. Even their saddle blankets
matched,
deep blue with a white star at one corner. These massive stallions tossed their heads and pawed the ground, blowing and snorting.

Each of the riders wore a plumed helmet and a blue cape drawn around pure white tunics. Their heavy leather breeches extended to their ankles and an armored coat of silver scales protected their upper body. They carried a sword on their right side, holstered in a heavy scabbard, and a javelin slung along the horse’s flank. A hammered shield, emblazoned with gold lions and eagles, hung fro
m the left side of each saddle.

Farther down the road a group of pack camels plodded toward us. Three riders pushed
through the formation of horses and reined their mounts to a stop. A uniformed man leaped off his horse and gathered the leads as the three men dismounted.

Instead of a soldier’s uniform and armor, all three wore rich brocades and silks. Their tunics were long and loose, with gold tassels around the hem. Their purple cloaks were as beautiful as those worn by the High Priest. Elaborate turbans, each secured with a jewel, encircled their heads.

Our shepherd’s rods were of no use against such an overwhelming force. Abba sank to his knees and bowed low. I dropped down beside him, quaking.

“Arise. You have nothing to fear from us,” their leader said in heavily accented Aramaic. “We are on a mission of peace and diplomacy.”

The man was tall and thin with bushy white eyebrows above his welcoming eyes. He towered above his two companions. I stared up at his gaunt, deeply-lined face a
s I rose and smoothed my tunic.

“Are you kings?” I asked.

He stroked his white beard and gave me a benevolent smile. “No, my child, we are not kings.” He turned to Abba. “Pardon my rudeness. I am Melchior.” He swept his arm in the direction of the others.
“My companions…Gaspar and Baltha
z
ar.
In our country they call us
Magoi
, the Great Ones of the Upper House of the
Megistanes
. We are advisors to
Phraates
, ruler of the Parthian Dynasty.”

The man called Gaspar studied us for a moment. “You are Jews, yes?”

Abba seemed to stand taller as he replied, “We are shepherds, children of
Avraham
who worship the one and only God of th
e universe.”

“We came to your king bearing gifts,” Baltha
z
ar said.

“You have seen Herod?”

“Indeed. We paid a courtesy call to Herod, the
Idumean
pretender.” Melchior spat on the ground. “With his army away on maneuvers, he tolerated our presence and feigned hospitality. We expected little more. After all, forty years ago it was the Parthians who killed his brother,
Phasaelus
, drove Herod from this land, and restored
Hasmonean
rule. The only thing Herod hates more than Parthians is the thought of a rival to his throne. We found the king we sought, the true King of the Jews, in Bethlehem, not Jerusalem.”

“Did angels tell you where to find him?”

“Angels?” Melchior chuckled and shook his head.
“No, my child.
Not angels, prophets.”

“Prophets?”

“Your prophet
Daniy’yel
, the man Nebuchadnezzar re-named,
Belteshazzar
. He once held a position in the court of Babylon and is still revered by my people. His scrolls and others like it have a place of honor in the Royal Library. They foretell the birth of a King who will be your
Mashiach
, the Rock not cut by human hands. Our mathematicians calculated the dates and predicted his birth. Our astrologers studied the night skies.” He pointed into the dark, pre-dawn sky. “We followed a star that led us to the babe.”

I danced with excitement. He meant Yeshua. They had been to see my little ki
ng.
“Abba!
Abba,
does he know―”

My father clampe
d his large hand over my mouth.

Melchior gave him a reassuring smile. “Do not worry about her unwittingly betraying
confidences, my friend. We, too, have been warned.”

My father’s eyes sent the old man
a message and he said no more.

All these
secrets were getting worrisome.

Melchior dropped to one knee and took my hand. “You wonder why we have come, and I will tell you. There are still many of your people in our Empire, descendants of Jews who, many hundreds of years ago, chose to remain in Babylon rather than return to Jerusalem.”

He lifted his eyes and gazed far off. “We are on a diplomatic mission. Someday this King, this
Mas
h
iach
of yours, will crush all the kingdoms of this world. He will conquer not with war, but with peace and love. When he does, he will find allies among the Parthians.”

“How may we serve you?” Abba asked.

“We planned to take on water and provisions at Jerusalem before heading east from whence we came. Our plans have changed. We will not be going to your holy city. Still, we must replenish our
waterskins
and allow ou
r animals to drink their fill.”

“My daughte
r will lead your men to water.”

Melchior stepped aside and conferred with one of his chiefs for a moment. The man turned, barked a command in a strange language and the
soldiers dismounted as a group.

As they formed into a line, Melchior said, “The Parthians and the Romans maintain an uneasy peace sustained by mutual distrust and our cavalry’s consistent ability to outflank their legions. We wish to draw as little attention to ourselves as possible. Despite our worthy mission, Caesar would not appreciate so deep an incursion into his territory.”

The chief of the guard snapped to attention in front of me. “We await
your
  command
,” he said with a bow.

Turning,
I pointed the way.

A long line of men, horses and camels stretched out behind me as I led them down the trail to the lake where we watered our sheep. Leaving them there, I traipsed back up the hill. The first rays of daylight were breaking over the
peaks of the Judean Mountains.

Abba knelt beside the road with a soldier at his side. Melchior, Gaspar and Baltha
z
ar bent over with hands resting on their knees and looked over his shoulder while Ab
ba scratched a map in the dirt.

He pointed in the direction of the rising sun. “Due east of here, on the other side of those mountains, is Lake
Asphaltitis
.” His stick skipped over the long row of upturned points representing the Judean mountains and came down in the
center of a large oblong shape.

“Do not go there. Its waters are dead. Neither man nor beast can drink of them.
Pillars of pure salt rise from its depths.”
He raised his eyes to the man at his side.

T
he man nodded in understanding.

“To the south of us is
Herodium
, one of Herod’s retreats.
Here.
” The point of his stick poked into the dust, marking it. “It has a small garrison of troops.” He moved the stick closer to Jerusalem and poked again, this time into one of his peaks.
“
Hyrcania
, a Jewish city in the mountains.
Best to thread your way between them.
Here is the pass,” he said, tracing a s
quiggly line between the peaks.

“Can a camel train make it through?”

“Some of the defiles are narrow, but they can advance single file. It is safe; there are no troops anywhere near there. This route will bring you out near the top of Lake
Asphaltitis
.
Follow the shoreline north past
Secacah
, a peaceful community of the
Essenes
― devout Jews who spend their days in prayer and meditation. Beyond
Secacah
you will encounter the sweet water of the Jordan River.
Perea
lies east of the river,
Nabatea
to the south and The Decapolis to the north.”