Kings Of Christmas
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It was a crisp, cold day in January 1859, and the sun hung low over the eastern horizon. In the distance, far from the watchful eyes of anyone who might care to see them, two men hurried down the side of a snowy hill, taking pains to remain hidden in the deep shadows.
One of the men carried an old book bound in leather, its pages thickly covered with small drawings. The other man held a thick stick with a heavy iron tip that glinted in the last remaining rays of daylight. Together, the men moved cautiously through the darkness.
They paused every now and then as the wind whistled through the trees, alerting them to the approach of any wandering animal.
It was only a short time later when they found themselves at the base of a hill where the snow had been disturbed. It was at this point that one of the men—a tall, lean figure with long, greying hair—called out a warning. The man stopped in his tracks as he peered into the darkness ahead. There were figures there. Many of them. A large number of figures.
The first man made his way forward, drawing closer to the men. When he reached them, he stood straight, gazing upon the scene before him with eyes that seemed almost sad. He turned to the other man and said something that was caught in his throat of the other man.
He could not understand what was being said, nor could he hear it of all the rushing and bustling around him. Then he was suddenly pulled back by the arm. He fell to the ground as one of the men began to run off down the hill.
The other man started after him but a hand shot out, grasping the back of his coat. The second man cried out, struggling against the grip as the man dragged him backward. Before too long, he was brought to his knees.
One of the men held up the book, showing him the pages of its drawings. The other man pressed something into his palm and then thrust an iron rod at his head. With a cry, the second man tried to fight back, but the first man grabbed his arm.
He pulled his hands back, shoving the book into the second man’s chest, then threw the iron rod at his feet. He kicked the stick away and ran. The first man looked on, watching as the other man struggled to his feet and quickly disappeared into the darkness.
The first man sat down heavily on the ground, resting his head on his knees. He listened to the wind and watched the last glimmerings of light fade from the sky. Then he got slowly to his feet. His legs trembled, but he forced himself to move forward.
He had been right to warn them away from this place, for there were many dark secrets indeed. But perhaps the darkest of all would be revealed soon enough.
It was not long after that when he found himself in a small, dingy room with a heavy iron door set in its frame. It was late in the evening and the man stood alone in the shadows. The iron door rattled in the breeze, rasping against its hinges.
The man gazed upon the door, wondering what might lie beyond it, for he knew that there was nothing else. This was the only way in or out. There was no escape. The iron door did not move. It remained as it had always been, firmly locked, impenetrable by any man, beast, or enemy. The iron key was gone.
Then, suddenly, a sound came through the door, like a moan that made the man’s heart race and his fingers tighten over the handle of the weapon in his hand. The door shook under the force of whatever was coming through.
The man took a step backward, placing his back against the wall. His breath grew ragged, his eyes fixed upon the door as a figure began to appear before him. It was a woman—an old, withered woman. She was bent and bowed and her face was twisted by age. Her clothes were tattered and torn. She had no shoes on her feet.
The woman stepped forward, her legs trembling beneath her, and she sank to the ground. She lay there, curled up, hugging herself as if for warmth. It was a long time before the man moved. It was even longer before he spoke. When at last he spoke, his voice was hoarse and cracked.
“What are you?” he asked the old woman. “Why do you linger here, in this place, so far from any home? Why have you come?”
But the woman did not reply, and the man remained quiet, waiting. At last, after an eternity of silence, the woman spoke.
“I was a mother once,” she said.
The man nodded. He understood then, and he could see the truth behind those words. There was a pain in those words that was so deep it touched the soul. And yet, the pain was familiar, and the man knew who this woman was.
Her face was that of his own. He was certain now. This was the woman, and she had come here to speak of the child. The pain in her voice was real enough, but there was also something else. Something in the way she looked at him now, in the eyes of the other, something that was different.
And he knew what she was going to say next.
“I never meant to leave my daughter behind.”
He held out his hand, reaching out to her.
“Take my hand, dear woman,” he said. “Come with me. I shall bring you back to your home. You will be warm, safe, and cared for.”
The woman did not move, even when he reached down to her. Instead, she shook her head slowly, sadly. She wept. Her tears fell onto his hands as he pulled them away.
“No,” she said. “I am lost.”
She stood and turned away from the man, and he heard the sound of the door closing behind her. Then she was gone and there was only darkness.
***
As the years went by, the man never forgot the words he had spoken to the old woman or the image that had lingered behind her eyes. But he never did understand why the child had been left behind. Perhaps it was a mistake.
The woman might have made it in time, but there could be no denying that it had been some time since she had seen her daughter. Her mind might not have remembered what she had lost. He wondered how long it had been before she’d been able to look at another child and know that the child was hers.
He wondered whether the loss of one child could ever be compared to the love of another. Or was it just a lie, something that the world told itself to make sense of such things? And then, if he really thought about it, what did he believe?
If he had lost his own child, would he still think of himself as a good father? Could he see the child who was now his wife and not be reminded of the child that had been taken from him? And did the woman have other children—other children she could not see because they were taken from her?
And if that was true, what of her other children? Where were they? What had happened to them?
There was a strange feeling in his heart, one that he could not quite name. A sensation that came from somewhere far away and deep within himself, where the world was a place of wonder and beauty, a place of laughter and hope, and yet, even as he sat there on the porch, even as he watched the people go by, there was an emptiness deep inside.
He thought of the girl he’d met, the one whose face had haunted him for so long. He thought of her again and realized how much he’d come to care for her, though he couldn’t say why. For all their talk of the past, all their stories of the people they’d once been and the things they’d done, he’d never asked her about her family.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to know, he simply hadn’t known what to say. She seemed to have given up on her past, and the questions he’d wanted to ask were too heavy, too hard to bear. They might have destroyed something there between them.
He knew this much: the only way he could begin to understand her was to walk beside her, and if she refused that invitation, he would walk alone. There was a part of him that ached to be with her, that yearned for it, and yet there was another, a stronger voice inside him.
A voice that said he must walk alone. That he must follow his path. That if he walked with her, the years would pass quickly, and he would lose the chance to find himself.
But it was not just her he cared for. There were others, many others. He had children scattered across the land who called him “father.” But he did not know them all, and in the time he’d been away, things had changed, as things always change.
There was war, for a start. He’d fought against it but had not been able to stop it. It had taken root like a weed and now the world was burning, and there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t bring back the dead. He could only carry the memory of them, and try to keep their names alive.
There were people—shepherds, traders, even a few merchants—who lived by the old ways, who believed they were living in the heart of the world. But that was not true. The world was dying.
He remembered the boy he’d once seen. It had been a long time since then, almost half a lifetime, but the memories of that day still lingered like a song. His heart still ached when he thought of the boy, though he didn’t know why. In the beginning, he had asked questions, but the boy had grown up so fast, and he hadn’t been able to answer them. Now there were children everywhere, and there was no time.
***
It was very quiet, very peaceful here. There were few trees, and the ground was soft and spongy underfoot. A slow river ran through the valley, its waters sparkling in the morning light. They had passed a village on their way in, and the houses were small, simple, and brightly colored.
It seemed to be a place where people made a living from the earth. There were fields everywhere, and the land was flat, dotted with copses of trees, the only hills being the outcroppings of rock at either side of the river. The air was clean and clear, and the sun shone warmly.
They’d met two other travelers, two young men heading in the same direction, one ahead of them, one behind. The older one, the one who’d spoken to him, was the first he’d ever seen in these lands. They’d talked for a while, about the weather, and the road, and what was on each side of it.
He’d told the boy, who was called Tim, about the places he had known. He spoke of the wide open plains, where the wind blew hard, and the grass grew long, and the sky stretched far and high. He spoke of the mountains that stood proud against the sky, the snow-covered peaks, the mighty forests where the animals ran free.
But it was a poor substitute for the real thing. He’d told Tim that they must look east, that they needed to go as far as they could before winter. That was what he had always done, and no one had ever questioned him. It was not unusual to see someone on the road during winter.
Travelers like this often had nowhere else to go. The boy’s eyes had been bright as he listened, but when he looked up and saw that the man had nothing more to say, he had turned away and walked on, leaving him with nothing more than a passing curiosity.
After that, he and Tim had spent some time together, talking about the past and the things that were still on their minds, but the longer they stayed, the quieter things became. Tim’s companion had spoken to him several times, and he was curious about the old man.
He had an air of confidence about him that was almost unsettling. His clothes were fine, his skin was dark, and though he was very young, there was wisdom in his face. There was something about him, something about the way he looked at people as if he could see right into their hearts.
And yet, the boy felt no fear. It was as if the stranger had cast a spell over him. He did not understand it, but he found himself unable to stop thinking about him. The strange thing was that he hadn’t heard him speak once. All the other travelers he’d seen had always talked, even the women, but not this man.
He was quiet, and yet he seemed to command all the attention, and whenever they met, the others seemed to give him space, as if they were afraid.
Then, the first signs of winter started to appear on the horizon. A light mist had begun to fall, the temperature had dropped, and it had started to rain. They decided that they would not be able to go much further.
When the two other travelers had stopped, they were sitting by the fire, looking cold and wet, but at least they were dry. The boy had made them both cups of hot tea, which seemed to warm them. It was an ordinary campfire, not nearly so big as some of the ones he’d built before, and his hands were red from the friction of the wood.
He was glad that there was someone to talk to now, and he told his companions about all the places he had known. He spoke of the plains, the forest, the mountains, the forests. He spoke of the grasslands where the wind blew hard, and the earth grew long.
He spoke of the creatures that lived there, the great herds of bison that stretched across the plain, the wolves that roamed the forests, the bears that swam in the lakes. The strangers listened quietly. Tim was silent for a time, and then he asked, “Have you ever been to the Great Northern Forest?”
The man had laughed. “Only children dream about that.” His voice was strong and deep. The boy liked the sound of it.
“It is very cold there,” he continued. “They say there are monsters there. Frost giants who live deep in the woods. They will kill anyone who enters their land.”
The man laughed again, this time with real humor. “You would have to be stupid to go into a place like that!” There was something about him that made the boy feel safe.
He thought the other travelers might make fun of him, but they were silent. After a while, the older man spoke up. “Are you traveling alone, young traveler? Is there no one who travels with you?”
The boy was startled. It wasn’t often that someone asked about him, or even looked at him.
“No,” he answered, hesitantly. “No, I am traveling alone. My family lives in the country. We own a little farm there. It is not much, but it is warm. And we grow vegetables there, and chickens, and goats.”
“And where is your mother?” The voice was deep and melodious.
“My mother died when I was small.” He stopped. “I am an orphan now. But my father… he has been gone a long time. We are poor, but we do our best.”
“Then you should be proud to have such a fine home.”
After a few more questions, the men sat by the fire and ate their supper. It was plain food, but it was tasty, and they shared everything together. The boy was still full from the morning meal, but the men seemed hungry.
The younger man, whom the boy thought of as the leader, said something in the old tongue. At first, he didn’t understand, but after several attempts, he heard the word thank you. He had never spoken to another person in that language before, and it was strange to hear it. The man repeated it several times, and finally, the boy understood.
“Thank you,” he said. His heart was beating hard and fast.
“That is good,” the man answered. “It means much to me when someone shows respect. It is important, especially in places like this.”
The boy nodded. There were people who did not show him any respect, and that was why he was afraid. But the two strangers had been kind to him, and he wanted them to know that he was grateful.
“Well, I must be on my way again,” the older man said. “I hope to see you here again soon. You must tell us your name.”
Tim couldn’t help but smile. When he spoke, he said his name was Tim. It was what his family called him, and he knew that it was strange. “My mother was always calling me by my full name,” he said.
“And where does that name come from?” asked the other man. “Does it have some meaning?”
“Yes, it does. My father named me, and it means strong and powerful in the old tongue.”
“Is it a long name?”
Tim thought for a moment. “It is hard to say. Sometimes I forget how long it is. I remember that it starts with an A, but there are four of them in a row.”
“What do they mean?” The men looked at him curiously.
“I think they all mean ‘strong.’ A, B, C, D.”
“That’s interesting,” said the younger man.
“Will you visit my home someday, young Tim?” The older man smiled as he spoke. “Perhaps you can teach your friend here the language, too.”
“Maybe I will,” Tim answered. “But maybe we should be on our way now.” He rose to his feet and stretched, feeling the stiffness in his legs.
“I don’t want you to leave, Tim,” said the man. “Why don’t you stay here tonight? We can sleep together near the fire, so no one else has to get cold. After that, you can go on your way.”
Tim didn’t know what to do. He wanted to go on his way, but he liked the men, and they had been kind to him. And they had given him food and drink. “My father always told me that we shouldn’t give our food to strangers.”
“You don’t have any family here, do you?” asked the older man.
“No,” answered the boy.
“Well then, I think you should take this food to share with your father,” the man said. “That is what it was meant for.”
“I don’t think…” Tim began, but the man stopped him.
“If you are hungry, and someone gives you something to eat, you should be grateful and share with your family.” The man laughed again. “That is a silly thing to say, I think. When you were traveling through the woods by yourself, did you ever think you would have to share your food with a stranger?”
Tim wasn’t sure what to do. There was no way to return to his home without passing this way. If he took the food from the men, it would mean more work for himself. But if he didn’t take the food, and they saw that he was hungry, then they might turn on him and take what was his.
The younger man spoke up. “Perhaps we could help each other out,” he said. “I could carry some of your food while you carry some of mine.”
Tim hesitated for a moment, thinking hard. If they let him go ahead, he would be safe, but then he would have no food. If he stayed with them, he would have more food, and there would be no danger, but then the men might try to harm him or take what he had. But what was best for himself? How was he supposed to know?
He looked into the eyes of the man who had asked him to stay, and he felt as if his father’s face looked back at him. He took a deep breath, trying to remember all the words his father had spoken. “Yes,” he said, finally. “I will take you up on your kind offer.”
The two men smiled and nodded their approval. “Then let us get moving,” said the older one.
Tim followed the men back towards the fire. The ground was still wet from the snow, and it made walking difficult. They kept Tim between themselves and the campfire so that he could see nothing else in the dark forest. The night was cold, and Tim shivered in his heavy coat and woolen leggings.
After a while, they reached the edge of the camp and began to pick up small stones. In a little while, they were able to light several torches. Tim felt warm and safe. And though he still couldn’t see clearly, the men seemed friendly enough.
They picked up their things and then started off down the road again. It was much easier now that they had the light of the torches to guide them. When they had gone another mile or so, Tim asked, “Where are we going?”
The men looked at each other, and then the younger man spoke up. “We will be going to my home. I have just built a new house there, and I don’t want anyone else to find it.”
“Why not?” Tim wondered.
“Because I live alone,” answered the man. “And because people like you make me nervous.”
“But what am I supposed to do?” asked Tim. “You gave me food, and now I can’t go back without giving something in return.”
The men laughed softly. “You could give us some of your food,” the older one suggested. “That would be a good idea.”
Tim thought about this for a moment. He really was hungry. But if he gave his food away, then he wouldn’t have any more food at all. And then there was no point in going on. He would probably freeze to death before he found another town, let alone his family. And yet…
“I am afraid I won’t be able to get any more food after tonight,” he said finally.
“What do you mean?” asked the younger man.
“There is only enough food for me and my father.”
“Well then, we might be able to help you with that,” answered the elder man.
“How can you help?” asked Tim.
“When we have been traveling through the woods and we run into danger, such as monsters or robbers, we always share our food.”
“That sounds reasonable,” said Tim. “What do you think?”
“I agree with you,” answered the younger man. “Let’s share.”
Tim looked around nervously. There was still some light left, but soon it would be too dark for the torches to see by. If they went on now, he would lose their trail and be unable to find them again. On the other hand, if he went on, he might never see home again.
He felt his father’s face looking at him from the shadows, and he could feel the strength of his father’s spirit within him. He knew that his father would want him to take this chance. So he agreed.
“Very well,” he said. “We will share our food.”
The men were surprised. “Are you sure?” they asked.
Tim nodded his head. “I am certain,” he answered. “My father always taught me to do what is best for myself, even if others don’t understand. I know what is right and what is wrong. And this is right. You are kind people, and I think I can trust you.”
“Thank you,” said the younger man. “If that is your decision, then we must trust in our good luck.”
They picked up more stones and kept moving down the road. Soon it was too dark to walk, and they sat down by the side of the road and lit another torch. The sky was filled with stars. Tim wondered about his parents.
They would have gone to bed long ago, and there would be no one to look out for him. He felt sad that he hadn’t been able to go with them. He had promised to be home on time for dinner. But he knew it wouldn’t have made a difference if he had. His mother would not have allowed him to leave. She didn’t want to lose him. He loved her very much, even though he couldn’t see her clearly.
“Tim?” called a voice from the shadows.
He jumped. “Yes, Mother?” he answered nervously.
“What are you doing out so late?” she asked. “Come on inside now. You are going to miss your bedtime story!”
“I know,” said Tim. “But there were three men on the road tonight. I had to find out what they wanted. I couldn’t let them pass without speaking with them, but it frightened me, so I ran away.”
“They were probably just hungry,” said his mother. “You did the right thing by going after them.”
“Well, yes, I suppose I did,” agreed on Tim. “I just hope I haven’t done something bad.”
“It’s all right,” answered his mother. “We don’t need any more food, anyway. If you would just eat all of that food you’ve been saving, we would be set.”
Tim hung his head. It seemed so stupid to him. How could he have saved up so much food for nothing? But now he understood why he hadn’t been able to keep his promise. He would never have made it back before dinner.
He was always in such a hurry to get things done! Why hadn’t he just taken the time to listen to his mother? But he knew the answer to that. He didn’t want to do the right thing. He wanted to be the king.
Tim sat down on a nearby log. The moon had risen high above the trees now, and he could see well enough to walk. His parents had gone into the forest earlier than usual. They must have been waiting for him to come home before they went to bed.
They wanted to tell him something. But he wasn’t going to make it back in time now. It seemed as if someone had turned the clock backward, and he was going to be late for everything! He felt very alone. It was strange.
When his father was around, he usually felt comfortable. But when he was gone, he didn’t feel comfortable at all. He missed his father. It seemed like they were always apart. That was why he had been so eager to go to the castle. Maybe he could get some answers about his father there.
When Tim got back to their hut, he found that the three men had already eaten the food that he had saved for dinner. His mother was sitting by the fire with her eyes closed.
“Are you okay, Mother?” asked Tim.
“I’m fine,” she answered. “I think I’ve just had too much to think about.”
Tim stood by the fire and watched the flames for a while. Then he laid out his blankets and climbed into them. He closed his eyes and listened to the wind blowing through the trees outside the door. There was only one way to solve this problem.
He needed to find the king’s sword, and he needed to bring it back to the king. He would never be able to keep his promise to his mother if he did not return the sword to King Garon. But he had no idea how he was going to do it. He couldn’t even walk out of the forest. It seemed hopeless.
Then he heard his father’s voice. “Timmy, Timmy. Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, Father,” he answered. “How long have you been there?”
“Not long, but I’m here now, so don’t worry about it,” said his father.
“I was trying to sleep,” answered Tim.
“You need to get up, boy. We have much to discuss.”
“But I am so tired.”
His father sat down beside him. “That’s okay,” he said. “If you can just keep your eyes open, you will see why I had to come to you in person. It’s very important. I don’t want to wait.”
Tim nodded and tried to sit up. “Okay, Father. I’m awake now. What did you come for?”
“I came because I have something important to tell you.” His father paused. “You’re going to be a king!” he announced.
Tim gasped. “What?”
“The king has summoned you to the castle. You are going to become a king. And you are going to be crowned next week.”
Tim’s mouth dropped open. He had never expected this. He hadn’t even been sure that his father was going to return from the castle. But now he had no idea how to answer. His father smiled and patted Tim on the head. “Don’t worry about it now.
Just remember this day, son. Today is the beginning of the rest of your life. You will have many things to think about in the coming days but know this: You will always be a king in my eyes. Always.”
The End