The Foolish and the Weak

The moon hangs heavy in the west as we prepare to enter the city of the Pretender king. He will think us spies, or instigators, or perhaps an open threat to his throne. Danger walks beside us with every step we take. Our slaves keep their scimitars near at hand, and I know that none of our company will sleep tonight. There is fear in the air as we pass these ancient walls stuffed with prayers. I can feel it, hanging like a sticky fog over the sleeping city. It is fear of the change we bring, and of the man we hope to find.

The scent of foreign spices that lingers in our wake is the smell of revolution, of power and of uprising. The Roman Usurper will give us welcome because he must, but he will not like it, for we have come to seek the one that will take his place.

I am Belthasar, Chief of the Magi, and we are the Wise.

~o~

The great Star has led us onward for many months. It is a sign of the gods' favor, and we rejoice in the sight of it. Some of our company have abandoned this pilgrimage and returned to Persia, for their hearts were weak and their faith hollow. They will have no part in the reign of the new king, for they did not seek him out when the gods revealed him to the world. The scrolls I keep will tell not of their deeds done in the service of the great monarch, for they had none.

But my companions and I press on. We have the blessing of the gods and the glorious sign of their will to guide us to the new power. The desert and the wilderness will not sap our strength.

I am Melchior, Scribe of the Magi, and we are the Mighty.

~o~

The girl is not yet a woman. Her husband gazes on her with awe, for she dares to hold the Child in her arms, to press her lips to His forehead, to look into His eyes.

We did not know. We did not dream of this.

He watches us with artless wonder, this Boy. The Boy on whom we had placed all our hopes, all our plans of conquest and deliverance. This Boy who cannot even speak. This Boy who, with one glance, has unmade all our schemes and plots and intrigues.

With all our wisdom and all our strength, even we did not understand. We thought Him a king to honor, to lead to victory and set upon His throne by our power. We thought Him a lord, whom we would serve with good counsel. We thought Him chosen of the gods.

We did not realize He would be God Himself.

I am Caspar, Least of the Magi, and we are truly the foolish and the weak.