Three Wise Cats (16 page)

She ran to tell the other two cats.

“Wonderful news, foster sister,” Ira congratulated her. “I will pray to return to Gracus.”

“And I shall pray to return home,” Abishag said happily.

At dawn the next day, the three wise men left the courtyard with heavy hearts, for they knew something of the terrible tribulations that would beset the Messiah in His future life. “Since He is the One God's Son, perhaps He will somehow be safe from the evil of men,” Kaspar murmured as they rode slowly into the dusty street.

Asmodeus watched them leave. He had gathered rich, fatty mutton bones discarded the night before from camps and kitchens and fed Goliath well, thinking the vicious dog would then sleep through the caravan's departure.

As her camel turned to go around the gatepost and leave the courtyard, Abishag looked out of her basket and saw Asmodeus. “What, are you staying?” she called to him.

“Yes. I wish to serve Him now. So I must follow Him to wherever His life leads,” the rat called in return. He nodded to the black cat. The very last camel, bearing the terrified slave boy, left the courtyard.

A large shadow fell across him from behind, and Asmodeus caught his breath.

“It's the third day, and the cats are gone. Not killed,” Goliath growled.

“Yes. They are on their way, safe from your jaws,” Asmodeus replied and suddenly dashed into the stable, inches ahead of Goliath's teeth. He ran to the manger and jumped up into the hay at the babe's feet. He was awake and looked at the rat with interest.

“I ask Your pardon,” the rat said softly. “I am not worthy to be here, not even at Your small feet. But I would thank You again, for restoring me to robust health. And—and surely there is some small way in which I may serve You? Perhaps I might keep spiders or beetles from disturbing You?” He clasped his paws together.

The babe laughed, and tears of joy stood in Asmodeus's eyes. “Soon Your parents must return to Nazareth, for I have heard them speak of this. Please, let me accompany You. For my heart tells me that even a rat may serve the King of Kings.”

16

H
OMEWARD BOUND! THE three wise men rode silently, their hearts yet too full for speaking, while the cats dozed in their baskets. They had plotted a course that would take them far out into the desert and away from Jerusalem, for they had no wish to bring Herod's notice upon them again. The slave boy continued to struggle with his stubborn young camel.

They slipped past the last turning toward the city and rode another hour. Then they spoke to the slave boy.

“We think you would be unhappy in our homelands, for they are far from here,” Melchior began.

“And the only means of transport is of course by camel,” Balthazar added. The slave boy shuddered and nearly fell from his saddle.

“If you ride straight toward the sun, you will return to your former master,” Kaspar added. “You should be at his palace gates before two days have passed.” And he slapped the camel upon its rump, causing the beast to leap suddenly and almost seem to fly over the desert floor.

Balthazar shaded his eyes. “I vow we never attained such speed before upon that particular animal's back.”

“At least he is traveling in the correct direction,” Melchior said. “Imagine his surprise when he rides into Jerusalem before nightfall!”

The caravan itself did not stop that night, nor did it stop the next day for long. Feeding and watering the camels, with but quick breaks for themselves and the cats, the three wise men made haste toward the west and safety from Herod's wrath.

THE SLAVE BOY managed to stay in the saddle and return to the outskirts of Jerusalem. The moment his uncontrollable camel was spotted galloping across the desert, Roman soldiers rode out to meet the boy. Sentries had been watching each day for any sign of the returning caravan, for Herod craved news of the three wise men and their search for the Messiah—or so he said.

Quickly subduing the camel, soldiers pulled the slave from his saddle and marched the boy to Herod's palace.

Once the slave was inside the walls, he was astonished, for the king actually strode from his overheated rooms to demand of him, “Well? And did they find this new King of the Jews?”

“They did,” he gasped, still breathing hard from his forced march through the streets of Jerusalem.

“And you can show my soldiers the palace in Bethlehem where he sits upon his throne?”

“There is no palace in Bethlehem! It is but a small, humble, lowly town, with buildings of the meanest materials. And He sits upon no throne, but lies in a manger filled with hay for His crib.”

Herod stared at the boy until he ceased gasping and began to tremble. “Do you mock me, boy?”

“No, I would not, King Herod. I would never mock you in any fashion!”

The king stood deep in thought until his legs began to weaken from the unaccustomed exertion, and he sat down in a litter chair, summoned to him by a mere snap of his fingers.

“Then you shall take soldiers with you and direct them to the place where this babe lies in a certain stable. And they will carry out my orders. You have done well, boy. What is your name?”

“Thomas.”

“Go and sleep with the soldiers tonight then, Thomas. Soon you depart, to lead them to the—Messiah.” Laughing, Herod raised his hand and his chair was lifted up and bore him away to his overheated rooms once more.

On his way to the soldiers' barracks, Thomas's heart jumped in his chest and he staggered as a premonition grew in his mind.
King Herod means to kill the babe! He doesn't want a king who might replace him—did he not murder his own sons to save his throne? Herod will have his soldiers kill the babe and parents, too. I can't lead the soldiers to that stable. The wise men said the babe is truly the newborn Messiah. I do not know that for myself. But I—I must somehow return to the wise men. They will know what to do.

Thomas turned to the soldiers as they saw the barracks doors ahead of them. “May I have my camel again?”

“Why would you, a foolish slave boy, have need of a camel in Jerusalem?” one of the soldiers answered.

“I want to sell him, so I may have money.”

“Money for what?” another soldier asked.

“To gamble. I am very lucky at games of chance.”

The first soldier's eyes gleamed beneath his helmet.

“Are you? Then go, and sell your camel! Hasten back here, and I myself will play a friendly game or two with you. Be sure you get a good price for the camel.”

“Oh, I will. His saddle will bring a good price, too.”

FOUR DAYS OUT into the desert, the three wise men began to feel a little easier in their minds. On the fourth night, they stopped and made camp, easing the packs and saddles from the tired and grumbling camels at last. The cats, too, were so tired they could barely crawl from their baskets.

“I think I have bruises under my fur from rattling around in that basket all this time,” Kezia grumbled. “Alexos had better have some especially tasty treat for me when I return to his ship.”

“I only hope I may somehow find Gracus.” Ira sighed as he finished scratching his back. Then he shook the loose dirt from his fur, setting his foster sisters sneezing.

“Ira! Must you always do that!” Kezia began to scold him. Then she stopped and looked at the black cat beside her. “Oh! I just realized—this is the last journey we will all have together.”

Abishag nodded, sinking down upon a pack, too tired even to wash her small face. “Yes, for you will go to sea as soon as we find Alexos. And I am sure Ira will somehow be reunited with Gracus. I will miss you two very much when I am at home; that is, if the Messiah will help me to return.” She licked a sore spot upon her paw.

The weary caravan rested the next day and night also, for when the servants tried to load the camels' packs upon their backs again, the great beasts snorted and showed their teeth, refusing to stand.