Excerpts from
The Journey to Bethlehem
By Kirsten Holst
Marcus is
traveling with a caravan from Damascus to Alexandria in Egypt,
where his father is head of the Roman garrison. Caspar, Balthasar and Melchior
are with the same caravan. One day, Marcus sees a suspicious-looking man talking to
one of the camel drivers and thinks he must be intending to steal the travelers’
horses, and so he stays awake at night to keep watch...
Marcus
placed a stone in his sling and looked over towards the tents again, and the next moment
he realized that the shadow that he had taken to be a bush had moved. It wasn’t a
bush - it was a man! And now he caught sight of another one stealthily creeping
over in the direction of another of the tents. He had seen
them, but had they also seen him? And how
many were there? Two? And
then the driver, who was probably in league with them. What should
he do? Shout for
help? One of the
shadows glided towards the entrance to Melchior’s tent and began silently to pull the
entrance flap aside. Marcus saw something gleam in the moonlight. A knife! The
robber was intending to stab Melchior to death before he could manage to raise the
alarm. The other
robber was approaching Tobias’ tent. Or was it Caspar’s? Marcus couldn’t see in the
dark, and neither did he give himself time to think about it. He acted so quickly
that he simply didn’t manage to be afraid. He raised
his sling, aimed at the man with the knife and flung his stone. It flew through the
air like an arrow and struck the robber on the back of the head with an unpleasant
cracking sound, and the next moment the man had fallen to the ground with a
half-stifled grunt. Marcus was
sorry about the grunt. If the man had fallen without a sound, he might perhaps
have been able to get the other one as well, but it was too late now. The robber
making for the other tent straightened up quickly, realized they had been discovered
and made off between the trees. Marcus already had a new stone in the sling. It
whizzed into the forest, and he heard the robber give a loud cry as he vanished
into the darkness. So he had hit him - but not hard enough.
But the cry
had also awakened the rest of the caravan. The camel drivers grabbed their
sticks and came to their feet, the merchants’ slaves arrived with torches, and Caspar and
Balthasar came out of their tents with drawn swords. The driver who was in league
with the robbers stood for a moment hesitating. He hadn’t quite realized what was
going on, and perhaps he thought that no one knew of the part he had played. But
then he obviously realized that the other two guards could betray him when they
finally woke up, for he glanced furtively around and began to sidle away from the
circle of men.
“Catch
him,” shouted Marcus, pointing. “He’s in league with the robbers.”
The man
began to run, but was quickly caught and taken prisoner while the others pursued the
other fugitive into the forest. They soon returned empty-handed. The robber had
disappeared into the darkness. They had heard him crashing through the forest and
scrub in front of them, but then there was the sound of a horse neighing, and soon
afterwards they had heard galloping hoofs, and then all was soon quiet again.
Everything suggested that he had had a horse waiting nearby. Marcus went
across to the man stretched out on the ground. He was still unconscious. The blood
was pouring from a gash in his head. Caspar and
Balthasar stood over him with drawn swords; their servants grouped around them
and shone their torches down on the wounded robber.
Translated by W. Glyn Jones
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