Unwise

Folding like carpet-bag origami, Melwah, the ever-thirsty, set her callused knees onto the roasting sand, impatient for the meatbag on her back to be gone so she could get to the water hole shimmering invitingly among the palms of the oasis. Her humps were giving her some serious gyp, and she needed water, food and some rest to bring them back to full plumpness.

Rolling something green and unpleasant around inside her mouth, she regarded the heavily bearded figure in the saddle like a dog might regard a biting flea. If he didn’t get off and fetch her some food soon, she would be giving him a sticky gob shampoo. To give him a hint, she released some gas from her rear end that could have cracked open a coconut.

Yelling, “God’s creature my arse,” Balthazar leapt from Melwah’s saddle and scurried away, cheeks puffed. So bad was the smell that Jafool, the easily scared, was forced to seek out a pocket of cleaner air once her own rider, Caspar, had dismounted.

Climbing from the back of Sharif, the old, fat and slow, Melchior exclaimed, “In the name of Ahura Mazda, what is that stink? Have you removed your sandals again, Bal?”

Wrinkling his nose, Balthazar pointed at Melwah and said, “No, Melchior. It’s that moth-eaten shit of the desert.”

“I think you mean ship of the desert,” said Caspar.

“I know what I mean,’ Balthazar replied. “Why we couldn’t use horses instead of camels, I’ll never know. We would have got to wherever it is we’re going by now, and been tucking into something hot ‘n tasty. I’m sick of sodding dates and figs.”

“Yeah,” Caspar agreed. “That stew we had back in Jerusalem was heavenly.”

“I could go sailing on what’s coming out of my backside,” Balthazar continued. “And don’t get me started on my piles.”

Watching their camels and the two pack animals head for the watering hole, Caspar said, “I could knock us up a nice camel stew if you find some horses to ride, Mel.”

“Oh, stop whining, you two, will you?’ Melchior said, settling into the shade of a palm tree. He was the oldest of the three, his sun-leathered face a canyonqsque mosaic of lines and wrinkles. “Horses wouldn’t last a day in this heat. And how would we carry enough water for them anyway? Come. Sit down.” He pulled a leather bag from beneath his robe. “I bought us some nuts to share while we were in Jerusalem.”

“But you know I come out in a rash if I eat nuts,” Balthazar whined.

Melchior produced a second bag and threw it to Balthazar. “Dates and figs it is for you, then,” he said, trying not to smile.

After they had eaten, Caspar asked, “So, Mel, what’s the big secret? Where are we going?”

“Well, after following the star to Jerusalem,” Melchior began, but was quickly cut short by Balthazar, who said, “Not forgetting that long detour you took us on to follow that disoriented flamingo.”

“Or,” Caspar chipped in, “that firefly you had us chasing after for hours on end.”

Melchior took a deep breath to compose himself before carrying on, “The prophecy said to follow a star, and that’s all I’ve tried to do. I admit there were a few mistakes along the way, but I got us to Jerusalem, didn’t I?”

“Eventually,” said Balthazar. “But tell us. Where are we headed now?”

Melchior answered while using the curved and frighteningly sharp blade of his dagger to dig some annoying nut fragments and sticky bits of date from between his teeth, “Well, while you two were stuffing your faces with stew, I was busy consulting with priests and scribes. I was even granted an audience with King Herod himself, though I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw an elephant. He was a little too keen on us finding the newborn king for my liking. He kept drooling and fingering his sword all the while I was speaking to him. Anyway, according to the scribes, the prophecies foretell that the star will reveal itself again soon, and lead us to Bethlehem, where we will find and give worship to the newborn king of the Jews. Did you both buy gifts in Jerusalem, as I asked? I am bringing him gold.”

“And I,” said Caspar, proudly, “am bringing him frankincense.”

Balthazar's eyes darted around like riverside midges.

“So, what did you get him, Balthazar?’ Melchior asked. ‘Something nice, I hope.”

“L-look,” Balthazar stuttered. “I’m not as well off as you two.”

“Come, tell us.” Melchior insisted. “Did you buy Jewels? Or silver perhaps?”

“A wooden rattle or spinning top, more likely,” said Caspar.

Balthazar bowed his head, drawing lines in the sand with his fingers. “Myrrh,” he said softly. “I bought myrrh.”

Melchor was incredulous. “Myrrh?” he said. “We’re supposed to worship the newborn king, not embalm him.”

“I suppose it could come in handy for when he’s older,” Casper said, choking back a laugh. “In the meantime, perhaps you could use it to ease those piles of yours, Bal.”

“Just remember, Bal,” said Melchior, “to tell the newborn king’s mother to dilute the myrrh in oils first. If she uses it neat, the kid could have a heart attack. Now let us feed the camels, give thanks to Ahura Mazda and then rest while we await the night and the return of the star.”

*

But the night did not bring on a tapestry of stars. Instead, a scirocco blew up, carrying a billion tons of fine sand that blotted out the sky and attacked the nostrils and eyes of the three Zoroastrian travellers.

“This is gonna do wonders for my asthma,” Balthazar moaned, wrapping his robe around his head.

“Okay, Mel,” Caspar yelled, shielding his eyes against the persistent dry tide. “How do we get to Bethlehem now? Without the star to guide us, we’re royally screwed.”

“Fear not, Caspar,” said Melchior. “Bethlehem lies south of Jerusalem, and these winds always blow from a southerly direction. All we need do is aim the camels into the wind, and they will carry us to our destination before the dawn breaks. Get that idiot, Balthazar, off his arse. We must be away lest we miss the birth of the king.”

For the next six hours, the train of camels slowly blundered through the wind and the darkness, heading mainly south, or so Melchior believed. But as the wind relented and dawn broke the horizon in orange streaks, it was left to Balthazar to state the obvious flaw in his thinking.

“Er, Melchior,” he said, bringing Melwah alongside Sharif.

“Yes, Balthazar. What is it now? Do you need to borrow my shovel again?”

“We’re travelling south, right?”

“Yes, Balthazar. South towards Bethlehem.”

“So, shouldn’t we be there by now? And if we are going south, how come the sun is rising ahead of us?”

Melchior pulled his camel to a stop, squinting and spreading a freshly ploughed field of frown lines across his forehead. “Shit,” he cursed. “The wind must have changed direction during the night.”

Caspar came alongside on Jafool, pointing at something off to their left.

“There are sheep over there, Melchior,” he said. “And where there are sheep, there will be shepherds. Perhaps they can show us the way?”

Making their way towards the sheep that were dotted across a hillside like dandelions, they were surprised to see three men, shepherds if the crooks and staffs they carried were anything to go by, running towards them. As they drew nearer, Melchiot called out to them, “We are travelling to Bethlehem to praise and bring gifts to the newborn king of the Jews,” but the first two shepherds rushed by without stopping. Leaping from his saddle, setting his robes flapping like the sails of a storm-tossed ship, Melchior grabbed the older, slower, third shepherd before he could be gone.

“Please,” Melchior pleaded, “We are lost but have need to get to Bethlehem.”

“Well,” the shepherd said, gasping for breath. “Maybe you could give me a ride then, cos that’s where we’re going. The Messiah is born.”

“What?” said Melchior. “How do you know about that?”

“Listen,” said the shepherd. “We’ve had a hell of a night chasing after lost sheep, digging ‘em out of gullies and rescuing them from the river. God really should ‘ave given ‘em more brains. But just as we woz getting some shut-eye, this damn great angel of the lord appeared. Scared the crap out of us, he did. He told us that the Messiah was born and to get our arses to Bethlehem, spread the word and give praise. Trouble is, at my age I’m likely to keel over and die before I get there.”

Casper looked crestfallen. “We are too late, Melchior,” he said. “King Herod will not be best pleased.”

“No,” said the shepherd, pointing. “Bethlehem’s just over that hill. You can be there in no time. But please, can I ride with you?”

“My mount will not bear your weight,” said Melchior. “Be quick and climb up behind Balthazar. His camel is young and strong.”

As the camels and their riders struggled up the slope, Melwah, not impressed at having an extra meatbag on her back, regurgitated a portion of her last meal and began to chew, storing the digestive gases for a more opportune moment. At the top of the rise, they came to a halt, marvelling at the sight of Bethlehem spread out below, but not because of its beauty.

“Why would God allow his son to be born in such a crap hole?” said Caspar. “It’s just a mess of stone houses and caves. Surely the king deserves a splendid palace to rule from?”

“No, Caspar,” said Melchior. “Being born in such surroundings shows that God works through the poor and humble, not the wealthy and powerful.”

“That’s as maybe,” said the shepherd. “But the angel told us that the infant king had to be hidden from Herod’s troops. Herod fears an uprising and has ordered that all male infants under two be killed.”

“Then let us hurry,” said Caspar. “We must warn them so the infant can be taken to safety.” He turned to the shepherd. “Er, where exactly did the angel tell you to go?”

In line with his chosen profession, the shepherd looked a little sheepish. “I’m not too sure about that,” he said. “I’d just woken up and wasn’t really paying attention. I think he said something about the mother and child being stable, and that the infant had mange.”

“Are you suggesting that the newborn king is a dog?” Caspar exclaimed.

“I think,” said Melchior, “that what our friend here means is that we need to seek out a stable where we likely will find the king safe and sound in a manger.”

“How do you work that out?” Caspar asked.

“Number one, I use my brains, but more importantly, number two, because the star is back and is shining down on that stable there in the distance.”

“Oh, yeah,” Balthazar exclaimed. “That’s handy. We'd better get down there pronto, then.”

Outside the stable, the shepherd rejoined his two companions, and they went off to spread the joyous news to the local population, though leaving out the bit about their own children about to be slaughtered.

Leaving their camels to feed outside the stable, the three travellers entered inside, gifts in hand. Balthazar’s eyes widened as he saw the exhausted woman lying on a pile of straw. ‘What,’ he said, pointing and trying not to retch, ‘is that bloody awful mess?’

‘It’s only the afterbirth, Bal,’ Caspar answered. ‘Very nice, cooked up with a few onions.’

‘You’d eat your own shit if there was nothing else,’ Balthazar suggested.

‘Needs must in a storm, Bal.’

‘Stop squabbling, you two,’ Melchior ordered. ‘Let us present our gifts and praise the child. Then we must get him to safety.’

A man marched over to them from the shadows. ‘Who are you lot, then?’ he said. ‘Those shepherds were bad enough, but you all stink like a camel's toilet.’

‘We are travellers from the east,’ said Melchior. ‘I am Melchior, and these two are Caspar and Balthazar. We have been guided here by God to give praise and bring gifts for the king.’

Seeing the gold ingot Melchior was carrying, the man said, ‘Oh, please, come on in then. I’m Joseph, and this is my wife, Mary. The babe is in the manger over there. I’ll, er, look after those gifts if you like.’

Handing the gifts to Joseph, Balthazar doing so with a mumbled apology, the three travellers moved to the manger where the infant was lying swaddled in cloth.

‘We’re thinking of calling him Kevin,’ said Joseph. ‘What do you think?’

‘Not much of a name for the king of the jews, is it?’ replied Melchior.

‘Jesus,’ Balthazar exclaimed. ‘He’s an ugly so and so for the Son of God, isn’t he?’

‘He’s just been born, Bal,’ said Caspar.

‘Yes,’ Melchior agreed. ‘A little reverence, if you please, Bal.’

‘Jesus,’ said Joseph. ‘I like that. Starts with a J, like my name.’

Joseph wandered off to show Mary the gifts he was holding. ‘Look, Mary,’ he said. ‘These kind travellers have brought gold and frankincense. If we flog ‘em, we could set ourselves up in a nice little crib somewhere.’

Mary was struggling to speak after the exertion of childbirth. ‘What’s the other one?’ she whispered.

Joseph read the jar’s label, ‘Myrrh, apparently. Not much use to us. Maybe we can offload it on your cousin, Elizabeth. Her father-in-law’s on his last legs.’

‘We must leave soon, Joseph,’ Mary wheezed. ‘Before Herod’s soldiers come.’

Joseph nodded and went to speak to Melchior, ‘The shepherds warned us that Herod’s soldiers are coming. We must get the infant to safety.’

‘Yes, we know,’ said Melchior. ‘I will lead you to the Egyptian border. Herod will not dare follow you there.’

‘But it’s a seven-day walk to the nearest settlement,’ Joseph said. ‘Mary is exhausted and cannot travel on foot.’

‘We have camels,’ said Melchior.

‘I hate camels,’ said Joseph. ‘Dirty, ugly beasts.’

‘It’s that or walk, I’m afraid. Come, we must be away.’

After struggling to get Mary and the infant onto the back of Melwah, Melchior spoke to his two companions, ‘I will lead them to Egypt and then return. You two must stay here and keep news of the king's whereabouts from Herod’s men.’

‘What if they torture us?’ Balthazar asked. ‘And what about all those other babies? Seems a bit off letting them die, so just one can escape.’

‘That one, as you call him,’ said Melchior, ‘is the king of the jews, Balthazar. He is the Messiah, the son of God, whose coming has been foretold.’

‘So why couldn’t the Messiah have been born in Egypt?’ asked Caspar. ‘Then no babies would have to die.’

Melchior sighed and reverted to his stock reply, ‘God moves in a mysterious way, his wonders to perform. You two just stay here and . . . oh, just stay here.’

With Joseph on Jafool’s back, the camels disappeared into the night, the sound of a baby’s crying slowly dwindling until silence reigned once more.

‘What do we do now, Bal?’ Caspar asked.

‘Well, you said you could knock up a camel stew, right?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Well, I couldn’t help but notice that donkey tied up outside the stable just now . . .’