The Great Star of 2 BCE,
A Fat Roman in A Red Breastplate, A Bunch a’Frickin’ Angels,
The Night “Jumping” Yehoshua ben Josephus Finally Sold Used Camels to the Bethlehem Police and the Roman Military,
and
The Bad-Ass Bunny of Bethlehem!
A Fractured Christmas Fantasy, Part 2
by
Pete “The Elfman” D’Alessio
Copyright © 2012
Amram fingered the coin the Roman had tossed him. He had walked halfway across town to fit the thankful couple into their new digs. Now he had to find the caravan. It was too much to turn your back on; the coin was solid Roman gold—a small fortune—and so he had to find the three rich guys. If Bethlehem had been a little more important and merited visits from the Emperor, he could just go to Caesar’s Palace. All the rich guys went there for cards, dice, and painted women! Or so he’d been told, never having been rich himself.
The first stop was the police garrison. The two-man ‘other’ night watch, Phinehas and Abishua, were up on the roof looking at the star. Before they had their dinner break, they’d parked the three merry men and their desert band and orchestra (who were becoming a pain with their questions) on the outskirts of town. As with other caravans, they dropped them off by the wells owned by Achibella the Harlot, which made sense. After a couple months trekking around in the wilderness, the first thing you wanted was a cup of water… and Achibella the Harlot would take care of the second thing you wanted. So there they were left and told to stay put until ben Moshe got back. Naturally, this parked them on the wrong side of town, in more ways than one.
Amram didn’t really feel like walking there and back, so he and his partner, Merioth the Silent, walked to the corners of Jericho Junction and Lot’s Wife’s Boulevard to Jumpin’ Josephus’ Used Camels. The gold coin would buy them an old camel or two and still leave enough to get blasted on. Old Yehoshua ben Josephus got out of bed to put the pitch on Amram, who had to stop him. “Look, Yehosh, we just need something that’ll live long enough to get us across town and back! And cheap!”
The old man could tell from the sound of Amram;s voice that he was in no mood for a sales pitch. “You cops are killing the business!” the old man mumbled under his breath as he handed the cop two very old camels. “Here! Take these, and don’t tell anyone you got these here. And there’s no warranty!” Amram handed the used camel salesman the gold coin. “Where the hell am I gonna get change for that at this time of night? Who do you think you’re dealing with, the King of Israel? Come back tomorrow.”
“I need the camels NOW, Yehosh. If I wait till tomorrow, both these sinkin’ ships of the desert’ll be dead of old age.”
The old man had been in the used camel business for thirty years, and knew the cop was probably right. At least now, if Amram didn’t pay up later, Yehoshua had the right to say, “You owe me!” And these two particular camels were so old, it’d cost him more to get rid of the corpses than the moving bodies would fetch for their meager price. “Here! Take two camels and see me in the morning. Now get the hell out of here and let me get back to sleep!”
So Amram and Merioth drove their animals as fast as they could go (about two miles an hour, with time out for breathing breaks) to the wells of Achibella the Harlot. They found her and her four ‘employees’ sitting in front of Achibella’s house, in full battle undress, just starring at the caravan on the other side of the wells.
When Achibella saw the two cops riding forth, she stood up with her hands on her hips. “This is all I need tonight…” she muttered, then, “Honest, we were just fetching water, officer!” she shouted at Amram. “We were bringing them matzos and dried fish to welcome them to the wells!” Achibella paused, then matter-of-factly said, “You know the drill, beat the harlots and drive them into the wasteland. And that other guy was already dead when he walked in!”
“Dead? Who’s dead? What are you talking about, Achibella?”
“You not here on a prostitution complaint from Holy Henry and his two twins over there?”
“Naw. We’re here to take them off your hands and take them somewhere else. They owe you anything for the water?”
“Just take ’em and go, sweetie! Oh! And there’s an old guy, looks like a shepherd, dead on the living room floor. Wandered in looking for some kid being brought up in a barn, if you can imagine that. Took one look at Carol… the one with all the bells on…”
The cop looked at the whores. “You got two Carols. You’re talking the Carol of the bells, right?”
The head harlot nodded. “Yup! Silver bells. One look at her, and the old boy dropped dead.”
The cop looked at her sternly. “Are you sure that’s what happened, Achibella?”
The harlot just shrugged. “Check his purse, he still has all his money! Typical shepherd. There isn’t enough in his purse to buy a warm handshake from any one of us.”
Amram sent his partner to handle the details, and walked into the caravan camp. It was pretty much your average camel caravan—a few odd oriental potentates, a bunch of slaves and servants, and several very large guards with several very large scimitars to dissuade thieves. In the center of the camp were three very well-dressed men. One was looking through a hollow tube on a tripod pointed at that damned, annoying star. The other two men were writing things down and checking things off what seemed to be a map. They all stopped when the cop stepped forward.
With one eye still in the tube and the other on the cop, the oldest of the three offered the greeting. “Good evening officer, can we help you?” A chubby black potentate clapped his hand and ordered a servant to bring a cup of wine for their guest.
In his best ‘cop’ voice, Amram asked, “Who are you, where you from, and what ya doing in Bethlehem?”
“Well, we three kings of orient are…. ahh…” the older one began, finally taking his face from the tube. “He’s from Persia, I’m from Arabia, and the gent with the heavy tan is from India. We were following the star to find the King of the Jews. King Herrod pointed us here to Bethlehem near Jerusalem, as opposed to the Bethlehem by Galilee, when we told him that.”
“Yeah, gave us a map and everything!” a second potentate chimed in. “Told us to see him on the way back if we found Him.”
“We’re Melichior, Gaspar, and Balthasar. Oriental Wisdoms and Wise Men, Incorporated. We bring gold, frankincense, and myrrh as gifts for the child, the King of Peace.”
The cop looked up from the clay tablet he was writing on. “That’s pretty rich for these here parts!”
“Ahh, shoot, officer this ain’t nothing.”
“Yeah,” another potentate agreed. “There was a fourth Wise Man with us for most of the trip, an old guy, really loaded, Sheki of Alexandria. He had his private caravan with him. Big!”
“We think Sheki made a wrong turn at the River Jordan,” the first potentate clarified. “What a bribe he had for the new king!”
“Oh yeah? What was he bringing to the party?”
The elder Wise Man looked at the cop and thought for a moment. “Let me think. Okay. Twelve drummers drumming, eleven pipers piping, ten lords a-leaping, nine ladies dancing, eight maids a-milking, seven swans a-swimming, six geese a-laying, five golden rings. Ahhh…oh, yeah! Four calling birds, three French hens, two turtledoves… and a partridge in a pear tree.”
“The whole friggin’ tree?”
“Didn’t we tell you he was loaded?”
The cop just shook his head and looked up at that damned star. This wasn’t the way he’d planned to spend his Sunday night. Bethdula the Syrian dancing girl had been making eyes at him all week. “Alright, pilgrims, saddle up and come with me. I think I found what you’re looking for. ”
* * * * *
“Hilarius. HILARIUS!!!” The orderly for Radolphius Ananus, Ananus the Red, was sleeping semi-soundly—all occupying forces only sleep semi-soundly—on the floor in front of the Commander’s rooms, and jumped sky-high at the sound of his master’s bellow. With sword drawn, he rushed into Ananus’ sleeping quarters. He found the chunky Commander sitting on the edge of the bed struggling to tie his sandals to his chubby feet.
Ananus looked up. “Well, fool? Help me!” He lifted his foot with the half-attached scandal and wiggled his toes. “There’s something happening out there. I hear camels running back and forth, people talking… and the light from that damned star is right in my face. We need to get out there! It could be the start of an uprising!”
Hilarius dutifully nodded and knelt down to tie on his Commander’s footwear. It was a scene that had repeated itself three times a day, almost every day, for the last twenty years. Ananus couldn’t sleep, so they’d wind up sitting in a tavern for a few hours waging the war of the wines. It was really a little demeaning, but Hilarius was used to being demeaned. It didn’t bother him. As he saw it, changing Ananus’ dirty diapers was miles ahead of grabbing a sword and shield and hacking his way through a forest of kill-crazed Germanic or Celtic warriors not ready to give Rome their homelands. Another few years, and Rome would give Hilarius a mule, a mile, and a pension in a remote corner, and he and the Mrs. would retire to raising wheat, chickens, and children. Of course, they’d have to make the children first—and gods willing, he’d still be young enough and retain all the working parts needed. Hilarious strapped on his master’s sandals and red breastplate, and they were ready.
They left the room and went out into the empty street. It was unusually cold. To their surprise, it seemed to be starting to snow. One of Hiltonius’ daughters, Palestine, was walking around trying to catch snowflakes. “Oh look, general red! It’s snowing.”
The Commander had just returned from three years in Germany, where snow fell three feet deep on a regular basis. “Young lady, this is rain!”
The girl looked at him in a total state of confusion over the issue. Hilarius leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Believe him. Radolphius the Red knows rain, dear!”
The star was lighting the street up with a lovely silver-golden glow. The sky was full of heavenly bodies tonight, all shinning against a black velvet background. There was not a chirp from a night bird or owl. The small animals, rabbits, mice, and foxes were nowhere to be found. Not a breeze blew to disturb the silence of the night. So naturally, as Roman soldiers, Hilarius and his Commander were immediately on guard, the world order of murder, mayhem, and greed being at least temporarily suspended. As they were just ‘passing through,’ they didn’t realize that this was Bethlehem on most nights! They were on their own to find a jug or anything else, including a fight. The key industry of the city was sheep, not rebellion, and Jewish sheep had never been known for their viciousness or ferocity in battle.
A Commander isn’t a Commander unless he has an army to command, so the first place they went to was the fields the troops were camping on. When they arrived, Ananus could see many of the fires still burning brightly. They went to the tent of the field commander, Agricola, and Ananus demanded to know why the men’s fires were burning instead of them sleeping.
“We're under attack, sir. And the sheep are putting up a more impressive fight than the last army we faced!”
Sure enough, as Hilarius gazed out into the night, lit well by the great star, he could see his comrades slowly being trampled by hundreds of sheep wandering aimlessly through the field.
“Nobody seems to know where all the shepherds went!” the field commander stated as he patted Gogaluk, a conscripted Norse warrior, on the shoulder. The man was sitting on a rock, crying quietly but hysterically.
“What’s the matter with him?” asked Ananus.
The field commander pointed to a scroll Gogaluk was holding. “He just got a letter from home. His grandmother died. Seems like grandma got run over by a reindeer.”
Hilarius looked confused. “What’s a reindeer?”
Agricola just blinked. He didn’t know either.
Hilarius returned to the matter at hand. “Sir, I think we’d serve our forces best by locating the sheep herders.”
Ananus knew a cue when he was thrown one. He didn’t need an entire legion on his back about sleeping arrangements for a Roman army that involved sheep! “Right you are, orderly. Let’s go.”
As retrieving the Commander’s horse would require actually walking through the semi-sleeping throng, they departed on foot. Within a few blocks the portly Roman Commander was gasping for breath, so at the corner of Jericho Junction and Lot’s Wife’s Boulevard they woke up an old used camel salesman and purchased a camel so old that Yehoshua ben Josephus was willing to let it go for only three gold coins. “You see, Hilarius, if you can haggle, they’ll drop the price. Hades, man, I saved myself two gold coins!”
As Ananus struggled to mount, Hilarius looked back at Josephus standing with his hands folded, trying to appear innocent… and honest. “Yes, Commander. I see, indeed. You’re leaving old Josephus destitute and starving.” He gave the old man a knowing nod and Ananus a boost, much to the objections of the camel. Taking the lead rope, he led the camel into the heart of Bethlehem.
At the end of Jericho they came across Quirinius Atesties and Ya’akov ben Moshe, followed by some strange-looking boys. Quirinius put on his most professional phony smile and Ya’akov bowed his head as submissively as possible. Both kept their hands behind their backs and offered the sky the old one-fingered bird in Ananus’ honor.
“Quo vadis, amigos! Any rebellions underway I should be putting down, Quirinius?”
“Uh, no. No rebellions right now, sir.”
“We’re on our way to Hiltonius’ place, there’s—”
“Nothing going on at the Hiltonius, Mayor, we just left there.”
“… As I was saying… There’s a stable of his on the other side of town.”
“Yeah. We just had to send some pilgrims there who were in town for the census. Mamma was ready to give birth…”
It was a pretty non-military discussion, which was kept friendly by offering Ananus the remains of the skins with the wine. Before he finished off the second skin, Amram and an entire caravan joined them. The great star, shinning more brightly than ever, was illuminating the crowd and lent to a growing party-like atmosphere.
Now Quirinius and Ya’akov had a pretty good-sized mob (for Bethlehem) on their hands. “This looks like everybody is home for the holidays, Quirinius.”
Quirinius looked at the mob. “Your home maybe, Ya’akov. In my home, at least half of this crew would be naked by now. Most of our holidays center around an orgy.” Quirinius clapped his hands loudly. “People? PEOPLE!!! Quiet down, folk are sleeping! Let’s keep this organized. Everybody will get to see the Christ child, but we’ll do it two and three at a time. We don’t want to scare him. Stay in line, no more than three across… this is Israel, not Rome.”
Relatively quickly, the Roman Under-Assistant Governor of the District of Judea had the mob shaped up into a neat little parade; first in line, Amram and the Wisemen, their caravan followed by the still-bickering Angels, and of course, following up the rear, Ananus! Walking at the head and serving as guides were Ya’akov and Quirinius… and they had no idea what they’d find or what the mob would do when they got there!
* * * * *
“Do you really think this kid is the son of a god?” Quirinius whispered to his friend. The noise had subsided and the crowd was more in control of themselves as they wended their way across town.
Ben Moshe shook his head. “Damned if I know. I can think of a hundred better places for a king to be born than here in Bethlehem.”
The Roman nodded. “Or in a stable, for that matter.”
“Please, a stable was a step up from my first thought,” Ya’akov said. “And by the way Amram was talking, these two crazy kids may not be married yet! Ever hear of the queen’s house?” The Roman just looked puzzled. “Thought not. It’s named after one of Herod’s queens. It’s a place where unmarried pregnant women give birth to and then nurse their bastard children. It’s a little south of the Qumran plateau, out by the Dead Sea.” He sighed. “I just couldn’t do it. That’s the type of thing that stays with a kid. The little guy’s gonna have a tough enough time in this mean old world without being labeled with something he had no say about.”
Quirinius put his arm around ben Moshe’s shoulder. “I knew I liked you for a reason. You’re a good man, ben Moshe… for a politician, I mean.”
The Mayor just chuckled, then grew serious. “I don’t know how much of a favor I did the kid. Remember! We just condemned this joint for slum clearance on behalf of city expansion.”
“I forgot we did that. Where actually is this place? I took your word for it and never went there to see for myself. Is this barn that run down?”
“Well, it’s not really a barn. It’s a few feet outside the city limits, a half-cave cut in the side of a hill with a wooden outer structure, like an awning. The manger the kid is in is nothing more than a channel, cut and squared, into a rock. It’s generally used like a cistern for watering or feeding caravan animals left in the pens there. To use it like a cradle, they’d have cleaned it out and lined it with clean straw.”
The Under-Assistant Governor of the District of Judea let out a deep sigh. Giving birth to babies was hard enough, and to do it in a place like that was damned near impossible. “And this is the kid the Angels are telling everybody is the king of peace?”
The Mayor stopped walking and just looked at the Roman. “Modern times, ya know? There it is, second rock to the left.”
Quirinius looked at the crowd. “Okay, people, line up, were here. And for god's sake… behave!”
* * * * *
Atesties and ben Moshe settled back down on the spot they had selected when they first walked up the mountain to view the star. It was still quite dark, but you could tell the sky was thinking of lightening. They sat in silence, something they both enjoyed. The Angels had disappeared, and the Wise Men had left their gifts and were hotfooting it back to the Orient. Even old Ananus had peeked in at the kid, and it took an edge off the old man.
For whatever reason, when nobody (but Quirinius) was looking, Ananus placed the two gold coins he had saved haggling for his camel in the freshly-washed wool stockings the child’s father had hung over the fire pit to dry. Then he and Amram, being moved by an unknown spirit, got all friendly like and handed the lead ropes to their old camels to the new daddy.
When he asked why they were doing this, the chubby, red-breastplated old man, who was getting into a downright jolly mood, simply said, “You never know when you might need to see the pyramids! These will help you get there!”\
His orderly had walked right up to mother and asked if he could hold the baby. For a hardened Roman soldier (nobody needed to know Hilarius was basically just a nurse for Ananus), it was somewhat moving, and even the Angels were touched. With the baby cooing and giggling in his arms, for the first time in twenty years, Ananus saw his Orderly smile.
Quirinius was surprised to see the Bad-ass Bunny and his two fox friends resting quietly in the corner, just watching the doings. To make the party complete, the two officials sent out for loaves and dried fish. When it arrived, it didn’t look like there was enough to go around, but surprisingly, they even had leftovers!
“So? Do you think we spent the night with the Son of a God, Mayor?”
Ya’akov smiled at his friend. “Quirinius… do you really think it matters? People who didn’t even like each other put their differences aside to play with an infant. Amram and Ananus were all buddy-buddy. A stranger would have thought they were us! Romans, Jews, Orientals… for a few brief moments, we all got along. That ain’t bad. We should do this every year!”
Atesties grinned. “Yeah. But let’s do it in December. It’d go great with the festival in Rome, the Saturnalia!”
“What’s that?”
“Are you serious? The Feast of Saturn! We decorate fir trees and light a Yule log. You’d love it! I think that’d be a great background for celebrating the birth of the Son of a God!”
“Okay. But no orgy!” Ben Moshe reflected on it for a moment. “And I don’t know about December. It gets kind of cold then.”
As the sun rose, the two men pondered the night’s events. They dusted themselves off and began the walk back down the mountain. They agreed that a holiday to celebrate little children would be a great thing… but they knew it was less likely to happen than Rome and Israel having a Gay Rights day!
THE END
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