The Fourth Magi

Four sharp raps on the door startled Bartholomew. The hour was late - weirder still, the knocking came from the side door.

Bartholomew opened the door only slightly, to see who could be calling at this late hour. The figure stood back from the door wearing strange attire. He looked tired and weary; the whites of his eyes stood out against his very dark skin, but they were yellowed and outlined red. His clothing looked unfamiliar too - the dulled red colouring of what looked like a blanket wrapped around the stranger was once clearly more vibrant. It appeared he had torn a section from the checked garment to fashion a headdress of sorts. Probably a traveller unused to crossing the desert, thought Bartholomew, noting sand gathering at some of the seams. The visitor spoke briefly in a language Bartholomew couldn’t understand or recognise.

“I don’t understand.” Bartholomew spoke in his own native tongue.

The stranger spoke again, this time in a dialect that Bartholomew knew, albeit in broken sentences. In broad terms, the stranger said, “Please help.”

“How?" asked Bartholomew, matching the dialect, hoping for understanding.

“Shelter,” came the reply, “maybe food?" The voice was raspy and parched.

Bartholomew studied the newcomer - he glanced out in both directions and saw no form of transport (surely he hadn’t travelled the desert on foot?). He also spied something rolled up and tucked inside the stranger’s elbow, a close nap fabric, maybe bedding? Is that animal skin?, thought Bartholomew.

“This is wageni...taverna?” The broken dialect again.

Deciding it was safe enough, Bartholomew pulled the door open a little further, inviting his guest forward.

“That’s right, friend.” Bartholomew attempted a smile - he hadn’t expected a customer tonight.

“Have room?” The stranger was endeavouring to get his message across in as few words as possible.

“I’m sure we can accommodate.” Bartholomew gestured the visitor forward, “You are in luck.”

He heard a shuffling noise, followed by a snort, coming from a low adjacent wooden structure. His smile quickly disappeared and he turned on his guest, his eyes briefly flashing anger.

“What’s going on there?” Bartholomew just about kept his voice level as he spoke.

“Companion.” The visitor was not shaken by Bartholomew’s sudden change of mood and gave a low whistle.

The rear end of an animal appeared briefly, stamping its hooves.

“What is that?" asked Bartholomew, taken aback. “It looks like a horse, but its hair is the wrong colour.”

The visitor said something Bartholomew couldn’t understand - it sounded like ‘pundamilia’, but Bartholomew had no idea what that meant.

“I have seen many horses in these parts,” started Bartholomew, “some with black and white colouring.” He hesitated before continuing, “But never striped.”

Satisfied that nothing was awry, Bartholomew returned to showing his guest into the inn, which doubled as his house.

“What brings you here, stranger?” Bartholomew was curious about his new patron.

“Travelled far, seeking miracle.” The visitor was economical with his words. “I am Reth.”

“Welcome Reth,” Bartholomew started to warm to the man. “We all search for miracles. How long have you travelled?”

Reth thought momentarily before answering, “Following bright light in sky, disappeared. Walked towards the jua as it rose in East, tracked through day. Came to great body of water, walked alongside for many days. Desert is cruel mistress, travelled by night beside bahari, a sea, stay warm, rest in day under shade.”

Bartholomew scratched his chin thoughtfully, “Sounds like quite the journey. How much time has passed since you set off?”

“Three cycles of the moon pass.” Reth brushed aside the admission, like it was nothing when there’s a pilgrimage to complete.

Bartholomew was stunned. He recalled the bright light that had hung over their corner of the city - it had drawn many travellers, from strange lands - but it had been gone for some time now...thinking back, Bartholomew believed it could have been three cycles of the moon since then.

“This bright light,” Bartholomew started, “has been gone for some time. How did you know where to head once it disappeared?”

“Travelled far beside bahari,” Reth spoke with a confidence, the nature of which his journey did not support, “land closed in. Heard others speak of the miracle. Led me here.” Reth took a sip of water to slake his thirst and shrank slightly, tiring. “My people want to hear of miracle.”

“Your people?” Bartholomew enquired.

“Leader to my people,” Reth’s posture had remained straight despite his exhaustion, “as my ancestors.”

“And where are you from?” Bartholomew persisted.

“My people call the land ‘Kirinyaga’.” Reth spoke with an unforced pride, “after white-topped mlima.” Reth brought his hands up and together, creating an inverted v-shape.

“Har?” Bartholomew queried, before re-thinking and emulating the gesture, “Mountain?”

Reth nodded and brought his hands back down.

“Many have sought miracles,” Bartholomew explained, “just recently, we were completely full, had to put people up in the stable and even then they had to share.” Bartholomew smiled at the recollection and pointed to where the striped horse stood beyond the wall.

Reth’s eyes lit up, as if that was what he had travelled so far to see.

“Yes, many people were here,” Bartholomew continued, “proclaiming great things about a child, born in my stable.” Now it was Bartholomew’s turn to feel pride, “Some even claimed he was born of a deity. Locally, we do not believe this, but a number of royal visitors were adamant. Why, three other men of royal lineage brought gifts!”

Reth nodded in agreement, “I too bring gift for child. Bolt of cloth from my people,” he gestured at his own garment, “so he may be adorned like royalty.”

Bartholomew shuffled awkwardly on his stool. “You come to see the child?”

“I have travelled far,” Reth’s tone became commanding suddenly, “and I am sure my sacrifice, leaving my people for so long, travelling so far, will be rewarded.”

Bartholomew paled as Reth stood and gestured to the door.

“Please - take me to my Messiah.”