HSCC 2011.24: The Slave's Tale

For Christmas Eve and the 24th day of the Harbor Street Christmas Celebration 2011, we share our last tale from Bethlehem this year.

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Tales from Bethlehem:

The Slave's Tale

By Stephen B. Bagley

         My name is Gaulus, and I am a slave. But this story is not about slavery. Nor is its subject escape, although I did not wish to be a slave. I wanted to live my own life.

         I was not a common slave. I could write, and I knew my numbers. In fact, knowing my numbers was how I became a slave. When I was a young man, I was found guilty of embezzlement from my employer, a Roman senator. The court punished me by stripping me of my citizenship and selling me into slavery. My parents were not wealthy or powerful. They could only watch as my life was auctioned away. Woe unto me.

        That was twenty-five years ago. I had lived longer as a slave than I did as a citizen. Sometimes that other life and those other dreams seem to have belonged to a stranger. On bad nights, they burned within me and reminded me what I could have been. But this story is not about what I lost.

        My master was Lucius Aemilius Paullus. He was a good master as masters go, beating me rarely and seeing that I was fed at least once a day. He was also, according to himself, a handsome man, a statement to which I must agree since he had only a few pox scars, a blotchy complexion, the odor of a rotting carcass, and at least eight teeth. We lived in Rome, where he was a merchant in used furniture, but we were traveling back from his late wife’s friend’s cousin’s sister’s son’s wedding when we were forced to stop in a dirty little town in Judah.

        This town, this Bethlehem, overflowed with people then. The great Caesar Augustus had decreed that everyone should return to their place of birth so that they could be counted. And taxed since that was the true purpose of the census. (That was one advantage of being a slave; I paid no taxes. Rather I was property upon which Paullus had to pay taxes. I trust you will not think ill of me to learn tax time always afforded me a certain amount of satisfaction.)

        We were forced to stop because Paullus had eaten bad fish sauce from a stall on the road and became sick with much heaving from the stomach. Since he had an ample stomach, the heaving was ample, also. It was a simple illness, however, and one he would soon recover from. He had both the constitution — and grace — of an ox.

        Fortunately we were able to get a room at one of Bethlehem’s inns. Keloe’s Inn it was called. My master took the largest room available. His personal slave Audius attended to him. His bodyguards Spurius and Gnaeus drank themselves into a stupor and made clumsy advances on the serving girls who were adept in avoiding them. I wandered the inn and the town and attempted to stay out of everyone’s sight less I be forced to work.

        Jews were everywhere. Ordinarily, I contented myself with the thought that, although I was a slave, at least I wasn’t a Jew. The Jews held themselves apart and did not worship the approved  gods. They had their own god whom they did not share, and they were always revolting. I mean, they revolted against the government. They waited for a king who would lead them to victory against their oppressors. These so-called messiahs sprang up like weeds, but each one was cut down by the Roman army.

        People wondered why the Jews continued to resist. It would be easier if they worshipped Roman gods and followed Roman laws. Rome’s great strength lay in how it swallowed all it conquered. But the Jews refused to be a meal.

        That particular night, the sky had cleared and the wind had a sharp bite to it. I had my meal of a block of cheese, a small onion, and a slab of bread with a small cup of Keloe’s vile wine to wash it down with. I went outside and found a place to sit near a wall toward the back of the inn and near the stable.

        After I ate, I lingered there even though it was chilly. I was restless. Perhaps even excited. But I will not lie to you and say I knew what was coming. None of us knew.

        I huddled by the wall. When darkness was nearly complete, one of the inn’s servants, a boy named Gregor, led a man and a woman to the stable. The woman rode a small donkey. I smirked as I realized the innkeeper had sent them to bed in the stable. Then I saw the woman was with child. I felt somewhat ashamed of myself and wished I could help them.

        They entered the stable, and the boy hustled around helping them. A serving girl came out and spoke with the boy. It was obvious even to me that she had plans to marry him, but it did not seem to be obvious to him. I envied them for their youth and their freedom. Wretched was I and woe —

        I heard a baby cry. Even I, a wretched slave, smiled at that. New life. I hoped this babe would never suffer as I had. If only ...

        I heard them before I smelled them and smelled them before I saw them. Sheep. A flock of them. A large flock of them came around the corner of the inn. And kept coming. Several tall shepherds came forward and stood outside the stable, looking in. I wondered what habit this was. I thought about being a shepherd and how their lives were free. My life was truly horrible and —

        Suddenly I could see. No, not the sight of wisdom, but I could actually see. I stared at the heavens where a blaze of light dominated the night sky. A star made of golden light that flowed toward the earth. Toward this inn. Toward that stable.

        I stood. My first impulse was to flee. My second was to press forward toward the stable. No, it would be wiser to flee. But I passed by the stable boy and the serving girl who were talking to the shepherds. I should run now.

        I heard what the shepherds said. They were in the fields, watching their flocks. And an angel appeared and spoke to them. And it said, “Fear not: for behold, I bring you great tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you: Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.” And then the heavens were filled with angels. And the angels said, “Glory to God in highest and on earth peace, good will toward men.”

        But I kept walking. Light blazed from the star. I heard camels behind me as their hooves clopped up the street. I paused for a moment. The world turned around this place. I drew in a breath filled with the fragrance of hope and joy. Three men dressed in fine silk robes passed me and entered the stable. My legs trembled. I shivered. I tottered on the edge of a precipice. I took another step forward and walked into the stable and finally saw Him. In that moment — and for all time — I will be the most blessed of men.

        I told you what this story wasn’t about. Now I tell you what it is about. It’s about a babe in a manger who would be the king of my heart for the rest of my life. It’s about a slave who was given the gift of true freedom. It’s about hope.

Copyright 2011 by Stephen B. Bagley. All right reserved. Excerpted from Tales from Bethlehem. No copying in any form without express written permission from the author and publisher.

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See you tomorrow!

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