How Far to Bethlehem? by Norah Lofts

Author:Norah Lofts [Lofts, Norah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Biblical Studies, Fiction - Historical, Middle East, Christianity
ISBN: 9780552088336
Publisher: Corgi
Published: 1971-02-14T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

ON THE ROAD TO JERUSALEM FROM JERICHO: 11 MILES

After Balthazar had joined them, Melchior and Gaspar travelled more comfortably and cheaply. He did all their shopping, took on the menial jobs of camel-tending, fire-making and cooking when they camped in the open, negotiated all the arrangements if they slept at inns. He could also have made the journey much more interesting and instructive, had Melchior not been so impatient. Gaspar was eager to exploit his ability to ask questions and explain things, but Melchior often acted as a buffer, saying: “We have no time now. That can wait.”

The company of a third person brought the inevitable discord. Two men, however different in character, can, unless they are unreasonable, come to terms between themselves; with two there can be no taking of sides, and in an argument it is one voice against one voice. With three it is different.

Usually, as they pressed onward, Balthazar, in any argument, tended to side with Melchior who had befriended him, who followed the star, who was a man of education, the man to whom he could speak directly, the man who, except when preoccupied or bothered about time, was friendly.

But when, as they came nearer to Jerusalem their arguments were no longer concerned with such trivial things as to when to stop and where to spend the night, but devolved upon their point of destination, then Balthazar found himself siding with Gaspar.

“I know now,” Melchior said, coming back from a session with his chart and his tools, “that Jerusalem cannot be the place. It is too far north. If we come to a road which branches off we should do well to take it. This road is crowded and leads to the city. We have no reason to enter the city at all.”

There followed one of their awkward, three-cornered arguments. Balthazar could recall, with complete clarity, the maps that had hung upon the walls of the counting house in Tyre. On them all the caravan routes were marked, and every city with which the Greek did business was ringed in red.

“There is no large city directly south of Jerusalem,” he said with what, for him, was assurance.

“South of Jerusalem there are a few villages, sheep country, then desert and nothing else until you come to Egypt. In my dream, or my vision—call it what you will—I saw the three of us, riding into the gateway of a city, a walled city with many towers. There is no such place south of Jerusalem.”

“I’m inclined to discount what you saw,” Melchior said, politely, but firmly, “as I told you, clairvoyance is an inexact science. The star has guided me, unfailingly, for thousands of miles. Am I now to disregard it because of something you saw in a dream or a trance? With no moment to waste, mark you.”

“What is it now?” Gaspar asked, sensing contention. Melchior informed him, briefly. And with almost equal brevity Gaspar said: “I wish to see Herod, and Jerusalem. I do not like huckster’s talk, but it is a fact that you have come so far at my expense.

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