Christmas Light Part 7

"Aye, aye," responded shepherd Eli, slowly wagging his head and drawing his sheepskin cloak about him. "Thou art always welcome, lad. As for sleep, never at c.o.c.kcrow was I more wakeful than at this moment to-night. For there is something strange in the air, lad. The very dogs feel it. They lie quiet and still; they neither twist nor turn. Whether it be that friend or foe approaches, I know not. Something beyond our ken is a-wing to-night."

"But, Eli," said Ezra, "if it were wolves or jackals, the dogs would be barking. And where are the other shepherds? Wilt thou battle alone if the wild beasts come?"

"Nay, child, nay," said Eli patiently. "I look not for wild beasts to-night, nor do the dogs expect their ancient enemy. Thou sayest truly, like a wise little shepherd, that they behave not thus when wolf or jackal is abroad. The other shepherds read not the signs as do I.

Thieves lurk near at hand, say they, and with the dogs they go to rout them out."

"What dost thou expect, Eli?" asked Ezra timidly. He was thrilled and frightened and thrilled in turn at this talk.

The old man sat with his face turned to the brilliant Oriental sky powdered thick with stars.

"'He numbereth the stars, He calleth them all by name,'" said Eli softly. "Expect? Child, I know not what I expect except that He who hath promised us salvation from our enemies and remission of our sins shall keep His holy word. And there are signs that the time draws near. Surely thou hast heard of the priest Zacharias, who was smitten dumb as he served in the Temple, and of the birth of his son John who, it is promised, is to go before the face of the Lord to make ready His ways.

Who made the promise? Who but the Angel of the Lord, Gabriel, who stands in the presence of G.o.d. Think you his word shall fail? Nay, I tell thee the times are ripe."

"But Eli--" Ezra began in his shrill little voice, when the old shepherd cut him short with a sudden gesture.

"The men return," muttered Eli. "Once already to-night they have heard what they term 'an old man's babbling.' Let us listen to their story now."

"How many thieves caught ye, friends?" he called out. "Did ye surprise the enemy in his lair?"

The shepherds filed in through the narrow opening and threw themselves heavily on the ground beside Eli and the lad. The dogs crouched low, with nose between paws, and closed their eyes.

"Thieves? Nay," said one of the shepherds brusquely. "We saw naught amiss, and had but the walk for our pains."

The shepherds wrapped their heavy woolen mantles about them and talked together in low voices. No one seemed disposed to sleep, though the day's work had been hard and all needed a night's rest. Ezra sat silent, thinking of old Eli's words and scarce hearing the conversation that went on about him.

Suddenly the old shepherd grasped Ezra's arm. One of the younger men was speaking.

"The night has grown so still," said he. "Note ye that the wind dies down and that a hush falls o'er all?"

His voice ended on a trembling note. He covered his face with his mantle and fell forward among his prostrate companions. Only old Eli, with his arm about shaking little Ezra, held his white head erect--joyous, confident, trustful.

For an angel of the Lord stood by them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.

And the angel said unto them:

"Be not afraid; for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which shall be to all the people: for there is born to you this day in the city of David a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord. And this is the sign unto you: Ye shall find a babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, and lying in a manger."

And suddenly there was with the angel a mult.i.tude of the heavenly host praising G.o.d, and saying:

"Glory to G.o.d in the highest, On earth peace, good will toward men."

Ezra, strengthened by Eli's arm which did not waver, ventured to open his eyes.

He saw a brilliant whiteness, clear as crystal, that seemed to light the world from end to end. High above, the sky was filled with clouds of rose and amber and amethyst. All the glories of sunrise and of sunset were mingled there.

Did he catch a flutter of white pinions? Did he glimpse a Leader, majestic, terrible, yet radiant with gracious love?

Even as he stared, unable to move, the song grew fainter, the colors faded and vanished.

The echo of the angels' song rang in his ears. To his dying day it would haunt his memory.

The m.u.f.fled figures on the ground stirred and stood erect.

Overhead burned the stars in the frosty sky.

The silence was broken by old Eli.

"Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing that is come to pa.s.s, which the Lord hath made known unto us."

Over the rough, uneven ground hastened the shepherds. Their flocks for once were left uncared for, save by the dogs. They pressed on across the familiar pasture land, up and over the cornfields, and then took the sharp rise that would lead them past the Bethlehem inn.

Clinging to the hillside and facing the cornfields was the stable of the inn, a rough cave in the limestone rock. On a rope stretched across the wide entrance swung a lantern, whose dim light twinkled and flickered before the eyes of the shepherds as they came up the hill.

Old Eli quickened his pace, Ezra at his heels.

"And this is the sign unto you: Ye shall find a babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, and lying in a manger."

The boy knew that the inn was crowded to overflowing, as was his own and every house in Bethlehem that night. Was it possible that this familiar manger was the resting-place to-night of a Heavenly Guest? Were strangers lodged in the stable? Was this the only shelter that could be offered the latest arrivals of the Nazareth caravan because there was no room at the inn?

At the stable entrance Ezra hung back. He saw a man come forward out of the shadows and talk with Eli. With a single gesture the old shepherd motioned his companions to join him. Lost for a moment in the gloom, Ezra saw them again speaking, bending forward, then falling upon their knees.

The stars had faded and an early morning wind was blowing chill when at last the shepherds made their way out of the stable. The lamp, still swinging, burned pale in the dawn, but its faint light fell across the white face of a little boy who lurked in the doorway and whose cold hand clutched old Eli as he came exulting forth.

"Praise G.o.d! Praise G.o.d for His mercy, justice, and truth! Praise--"

Old Eli started at the cold touch, and looked down with eyes that glowed with an inward light.

"Child, what doest thou here? Hinder me not. I go now to spread the good tidings--to praise and to glorify G.o.d."

Ezra opened his dry lips.

"Hast found Him?" he asked. "Is it the Messiah? Is it the Christ?"

"Aye, child, 'tis as the angel said," answered Eli happily; "a babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. Come to bring peace on earth, our Saviour who is Christ the Lord, our long-looked-for Messiah!

Glory to G.o.d in the highest! Glory!"

Ezra heard no more. He had turned, and with the speed of an arrow from its bow was running up the steep road toward home.

CHAPTER VII

IN A MANGER

The rising sun pushed through a bank of purple cloud and touched with long rosy beams the roof of Samuel the weaver's house. On the narrow parapet that bordered the roof walked a number of snowy pigeons, stepping delicately with heads raised and thrown back as if to enjoy the splendor and freshness of the early morning.

In one corner of the roof lay a dark heap, heedless of sunlight, morning breeze, or bird, conscious only of the blackest misery, the deepest hopelessness that an eight-year-old heart can know.