Part 6 (1/2)

”Of course,” Salvi said.

While the thought was still clear in my heart, I slipped down to where the fire was still glowing and found a tablet so I could write to my wife.

Reta, I write to you by the light of the fire, under the stars from the oasis on the edge between my land and yours. My heart is restless, though I am well and we make good progress. You are never far from my thoughts. Tonight I am anxious to know-are you well? Is our child well?

But this concern for you is not the source of the storm within. It is my need to beg your forgiveness. I am deeply sorry for how we parted, and even more for how we have lived together. Reta, I have shut you out from the center of my life. After all these years, I see how little I have known you, how little I have shared with you. Again and again I have benefited from your strength, your peace, without seeking behind it, without savoring you.

Do you remember the night we were betrothed? In the midst of all the food, the flowers, the grief, the chaos, the mourners-there you were, an oasis, a place of repose, a pool of stillness and depth where I might be received and welcomed. This was what I knew that night and somehow forgot. At this oasis, tonight, I have met with Salvi on his way home, and we have spoken more truly than we have in years. Somehow the peace between us reminds me of the unspoken offer in your eyes that night. Reta, you have given me all I was willing to accept-you have managed our household so that I am the envy of many. On this trip, I have missed the flavor of your cooking-how my mouth waters for your lamb stew. Yet your offer was not to be my housekeeper as you were my father's-but my wife.

I hope your offer still extends to me. What I want, Reta, is to go to our roof together on a clear night such as this, with the stars as a beautiful canopy over us, and to allow all to be revealed and received. Can you trust me with this? I do not wish to forget you again.

I am hoping to return in time for our son's birth, but this journey through the barren wastelands has oriented me to the possibilities in our life together. For this reason, I have no regrets for this journey, and I hope that you will be able to forgive me in time.

Salvi tells me he will deliver this letter as soon as he can. We will be in Jerusalem in a few days, and once we have presented our gifts, I will return to you-but changed from who I was.

The stars are very clear tonight and low. Have I ever told you of my dream of grasping a star? If you were with me tonight, I would seek it with you-to see your eyes s.h.i.+ne as they used to when you looked at the stars with me.

I hold you in my heart.

I looked at what I had written and felt only vaguely satisfied. I realized how unaccustomed I was to knowing my heart myself, let alone sharing it. My heart was as stiff as Balzar's joints after a long day of being cramped in place while riding. Writing this letter felt a bit like Balzar staggering after climbing off his mount. I thought of Reta again and smiled. I trusted she would prefer the awkward stretches of my heart than my silence. Still, a one-sided conversation was unsettling-I sent out my words but would receive no reply. I wondered whether, if Reta had been there, I would have had either the clarity of vision or the courage to say anything of this. It would have to be different now, whatever Reta's response to my letter. I had begun to peel the pomegranate, and I would continue.

I was wide awake, though my own muscles were stiff with cold as I climbed back onto the caravan. I thought my brother would be asleep, but he, too, was awake and pondering in the starlight.

”Thank you, Melchi,” he said, ”for giving my wife to me.”

I handed him the letter, which he tucked into his robes with a promise of safe and swift delivery. ”I have another gift for you, Salvi,” I said. ”Or at least I did, though it seems to have disappeared.”

”What are you talking about?”

”A star, Salvi. I found you a new star. Do you remember when you asked me to name a star after you?”

Salvi shook his head.

”It was years ago, after our mother died.”

Salvi shrugged. ”And it's taken you all this time?”

I rolled my eyes. ”Stars don't just show up, Salvi! This one is special.”

”Why?”

”It announces the birth of a new king.”

”But we already have a king.”

”Not us. The Israelites. That's why I'm out here. We're on our way to deliver gifts to the new king of Israel.”

”Has someone finally killed the old scorpion? Last I heard he was killing everyone else.”

”Herod. I don't know if he's alive or not. Or maybe he's had a son. We're headed to Jerusalem.”

”And where is this new star?”

”It was right over there in the west. We're headed in the direction it used to be in.”

”You're following an empty place in the sky?” Salvi snorted.

I sighed. ”Sometimes it feels like it,” I admitted.

~ 14 ~.

Night I had dozed off when Salvi grabbed my arm. ”Someone's in the camp.”

I was wide awake. ”Marauders?”

”They saw the horses and figured you had money.”

Before I could think what should be done, a scuffle broke out in my tent. There were m.u.f.fled sounds and a yell. Salvi jumped to the ground and ran to the tent. I did not know what to do. I trailed him and was knocked down by a man running out of the tent. When my breath was back, I got up in time to see him ride off. Pursuit was pointless.

Inside the tent, a shocking sight met my eyes. A strange man lay on the floor with my brother and Caspar sitting astride him. Our bags had been torn open and were scattered around the tent. Balzar lay still in the center of it all.

”Are these friends of your family?” Shaz asked, breaking the silence.

My eyes grew wide. ”My brother has saved your life, and you question his honor?”

Shaz swallowed hard. I looked at Salvi, who shrugged. ”What do you want me to do with this Israelite?”

Caspar spoke. ”There's rope in my pack. We'll tie him up till morning.”

Balzar had still not moved. While Caspar and Salvi tied the thief up, I crouched next to Balzar. He was s.h.i.+vering, so I wrapped my cloak around him and kissed his cheek. I felt him breathe, rather than speak, words on me: ”Seek the star, Melchior.” I looked full into his eyes filled with fading light and nodded. Only then did I notice Balzar's son standing behind me. I left them together.

Shaz went to make sure our gifts were safe. Caspar, Salvi, and I went outside, stirred the fire's embers to life again, and sat quietly. We were too shaken to sleep or to speak, though Caspar's hand on my brother's shoulder spoke of grat.i.tude and solidarity.

Balzar's son came out of the tent in the shadows before day broke. His eyes were rimmed red with tears. He shook his head. ”He isn't hurt, but this shock has weakened his heart. I don't think he can be moved.”

With a heavy heart I looked at Caspar, knowing Shaz would be eager to continue and leave the wilderness. Caspar nodded, but no intervention would be necessary: Balzar died an hour later.

We buried Balzar at the oasis, employing our thief to dig a grave and to cover the body with heavy stones. Salvi and Taz stayed for the burial but had to resume their journey east. My brother and uncle gave me long, warm embraces.

”You are doing what you have always longed to do,” Taz said in my ear. ”I am so glad.” Tears slid from my tired, grieving eyes. I did not want to move.

Salvi punched my arm lightly, and I looked up. ”I will not forget,” Salvi promised, patting his bag. ”Reta will soon have your letter.”