The Innkeeper’s Boy
By Beth M. Stephenson
Grandfather sat in in his chair in the corner of the inn, letting the noise and bustle swirl harmlessly around him. Levi felt the old man’s eyes silently reminding him to finish his chores. Levi turned away guiltily. Grandfather had waited several hours for his supper already because he refused to partake until the guests had all been served. Levi would bring him his supper only when the work was done.
But Bethlehem had never been so crowded! The census drew people from everywhere, bearing tales of camping along the roadside, robbers and swindlers. Over and over he found himself standing still with his hands full of dishes as though captured by the net of visitors’ stories.
Nothing ever happened in Bethlehem. It was too close to Jerusalem and too small to get any notice. Yet through this last week, people poured into the inn until the beams bulged. Every corner and crevasse was rented. The company ate two dozen loaves and half a sheep each night!
Grandfather seemed to enjoy himself from his rickety chair. He watched the company, searching their faces and figures for signs.
An embarrassed smile passed through Levi’s eyes. The old man watched for the Messiah. He said he would be born in Bethlehem. Bethlehem? Where nothing ever happened?
“The Messiah will be of the house of David, of the tribe of Judah.” Levi had heard the words from the time he was old enough to pull himself up by the old man’s clothing and cling to his knees for balance.
“He could be someone who lives in our town or he could be a traveler, but he will be born of a virgin.”
Virgins were the girls that attended the path of a bride to her wedding night. How could a virgin bear a child?
All the guests had eaten and began to settle their families. Levi seized the plate of cold mutton and bread and carried it to his grandfather. The old man’s eyes twinkled as he gazed over the unappetizing platter. “It’s a good thing that I am very hungry,” he chuckled. “Or I could not swallow the greasy leftovers.”
“I’m sorry, Grandfather. I have been slow today. But I will tell you some of the stories I have heard today, once the guests are all settled. You’ll forgive me quickly when you hear what I have to tell you.”
“I’m sure I shall. But I don’t remember seeing you tend to the animals tonight. Could you have forgotten to bring them to their beds and see to their water?”
“I will as soon as you take your food.”
“I will wait. If I wait to eat my dinner, my hunger will not allow me to forget that the cattle may be waiting for their thirst to be quenched and their stalls to be strawed,” he commented softly. Levi could not eat himself until the old man had been served. That would be disrespectful.
Levi left the platter on the floor beside the old man’s chair. His rebukes never stung so much as when spoken so low.
Levi shivered as he came from the heat and noise of Bethlehem’s only inn. He rested his cheek on the warmth of the clay water bottle bottle on his shoulder.
The well in the center of town was almost deserted. A man stood beside it, looking around in bewilderment. He strode toward Levi as soon as he saw him approach.
“Boy, may we drink from your bottle when you have drawn water?”
“Yessir.” Levi filled the bottle and poured half into a limestone manger that stood near the well. The donkey that carried the woman smelled the water and sank his nose gratefully to drink.
The man poured for the woman and for himself. As Levi refilled the bottle, he noticed that the woman was very beautiful. She was only a few years older than him, he guessed.
“Is there any lodging left in town?” the man asked.
“No sir. Not for several days. My father owns the inn and it is near bursting.”
“My wife is about to have a child. It may be born tonight.”
“Well, the inn is the last place you would want to go. There’s no privacy there for anyone. Many of the travelers are camped outside of town.” He pointed to a flock of tents embroidering the hem of Bethlehem.
“I hesitate to take her so far from town. We’ll want a midwife and she might not want to go that far.”
Levi thought of the rheumy-eyed midwife who complained constantly of her aching bones. She would refuse to walk so far. And her young apprentice was busy with a baby of her own.
The woman of the back of the donkey groaned softly.
Levi was sorry for the young woman. “There’s a stable behind the inn. I’m on my way to clean it out and straw the stalls. It’s better than the open air and convenient.”
“We would be so grateful.”
“Follow me then. Levi hurried down the steep path to the cave where the animals waited. He raked out the soiled straw and piled clean straw high in the corner stall. The husband spread a blanket and eased his wife into the rough bed. She lay back gratefully. She murmured to her husband and the man turned back toward Levi. “Will you help me bring one of those mangers into the stable? My wife thinks one will serve well for a cradle.”
Levi lifted one end of the limestone trough. The man rubbed out the green water stain with a handful of sand.
“My name is Joseph. We come from Nazareth of Galilee but are of the house of David, of course.
“And your wife’s name is Mary, I suppose?” He said it as a joke. Grandfather lectured him that the name of the virgin who would be the mother of the Messiah would be ‘Mary.’ Joseph’s mention of the ‘House of David” had reminded him.
“Yes, her name is Mary.” Joseph didn’t seem to have understood the question as a joke. Perhaps he did not know the prophecy.
“Well, I’ll be watching the heavens tonight,” Levi chuckled. “We never know when a new star will appear.”
Joseph studied him in the gathering gloom for a moment. Levi grinned. Joseph turned into the stable. “I think it will be tonight. Will you fetch the midwife, boy?”
The midwife’s house was near the inn. He knocked the door and gave the message through the door. The midwife would be in her nightcap already, he thought. “The travelers are in the stable behind the inn.”
“What are the people’s names, boy?”
“The man is Joseph,” he answered the old woman. “And the woman is Mary. They come from Nazareth in Galilee. They have come for the census, but the inn is full.”
“Of course. It was kind of you to offer them the stable. It would be unfortunate to give birth in the noisy camp or the crowded inn.” She stepped from the house, already fully dressed. “Carry my bag for me, will you?”
Levi complied, thinking of his own dinner and wondering if his mother would know he had not eaten.
At the door to the stable, Levi heard the woman Mary whimper in pain. “Get along, boy!” the midwife commanded. “A birthing is no place for a boy! Tell your grandfather that I will send word if it is a boy.”
The midwife and grandfather were friends. Grandfather carried her fresh loaves and tender bits of meat in exchange for her promise that if the Messiah were born in his lifetime, he would know of it. She didn’t bother to notify him when a girl was born.
Levi ran up the hill toward the inn. The lamps were lit inside now, but Grandfather waited on the front step. “What has kept you, boy? I’m little more than a rack of bones as it is, without you cheating me out of my dinner!”
“I’m sorry Grandfather. I met some people. They are travelers from Nazareth in Galilee. The woman is about to have a baby and I helped them get settled in the stable.”
“From Nazareth? I don’t remember hearing of it. But they are here for the census?”
“Yes, the midwife said she’d let you know if it was a boy.”
Grandfather laughed. “It is an old agreement between Miriam and me. But I think she would not need to bother tonight. Will the Son of God, the Messiah be born in a stable? I doubt it!” The old man turned into the building for his supper. Levi found a covered plate in the kitchen and carried it to sit beside his Grandfather.
“The man’s name is Joseph. The woman’s name is Mary.”
The old fellow chuckled. “I’m sure it is! Half the women of Judah are named ‘Mary’. Each mother hopes her daughter will be the virgin of prophecy. You did well to lodge them in the stable, boy. It will be better than in the camp or in a crowded, hot inn.”
“That’s what old Miriam said.”
“Yes, and she is glad to be spared walking to the camp on the outskirts in the dark.”
Levi ate the cold food, scraping the grease from his palate with his bread and swallowing it.
The old man broke his bread with his fingers and soaked them in water before chewing them. When he finished his dinner he tipped back his chair.
“Why not, Grandfather?”
“Why not what?”
“Why couldn’t the Messiah be born in a stable? You have always said that he might be a traveler or a member of our town. If there’s nowhere else for them to stay, why not a stable?”
Grandfather combed his beard with his fingers. “You’re wise for your age, boy. Just because I’ve never pictured a stable as a fitting place for a king, doesn’t mean that it couldn’t happen.”
“That’s what I thought!” He felt the small triumph of thinking of it before his grandfather.
Grandfather studied Levi with his eyes, but the boy knew he was searching his memory for a detail he might have missed. “No form or comeliness that man might desire him,” he murmured.
“What did you say?” Levi preferred that his thesis not be disproven.
“He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not.” Those are the words of Isaiah. Perhaps I have been unwise to expect him to be heralded with fanfare.” He stood up and stretched. But instead of climbing into the loft where he shared a bed with his grandson, he turned toward the door.
“I’m going to sit outside and watch the stars for a little while. It’s very hot indoors.”
“I’ll sit with you,” Levi pulled a blanket down from the loft for each of them. “Yes, it is very hot.” He had heard the undercurrent of the old man’s voice.
When they had settled themselves under their blankets with their backs to the inn and a good view of the stable door, Levi asked, “What if the sign is given tonight?”
“I have never thought beyond seeing the sign. How many generations have passed since David was king here? How many generations since the royal line was lost in obscurity? But I’m sure that the people in those lines know it. They would know to document it. Otherwise, what good is a prophecy? Boaz was a farmer and yet a descendant of the Great King.”
“What would you do?” Levi persisted.
He heard his grandfather’s breathing become heavy with emotion. “I’d drop down on my feeble knees and I’d raise my weak hands up to the heavens and give thanks!” I’d want to dance and sing and shout and waken the city to the Joy of the Centuries, but I must leave that to you who are young. What would you do, young Levi?”
Suddenly, it was not a casual question. He could not bring himself to joke then.
“I’d follow Him. All my life, I’d want to be where he was. I’d want to watch him grow up and hear his voice and make him a friend. Can you imagine that? I’d know the Messiah and I’d be able to say, ‘He’s a friend of mine.’”
“Aye.” The old man leaned his head against the cold plastered wall. “That would be the ultimate boast. But even those in other generations might claim it. Isn’t to follow him to be his friend? Wouldn’t it just be a matter of accepting Him as your friend? I’ve always thought so. In case he wasn’t born in my lifetime.”
It was well after midnight that the midwife found them dozing. “It’s a boy, Ezekiel. I knew it would be. The woman told me it was a boy before he was born. They are naming him Jesus.
Grandfather nodded slowly. “Thank you Miriam. Have a good night.”
But the midwife did not turn away. She leaned against the wall beside them and Grandfather rose to stand beside her.
“It was very strange,” she murmured.
“What was?”
“The prophecies say that a virgin will conceive. How can that be? Yet it seemed. . .”
Levi felt Grandfather’s hand tremble on his shoulder. “Can it be that the prophecies are fulfilled in such unexpected ways? All of Israel is expecting Him to come so differently!”
“She wrapped him in his swaddling bands and laid him in the dry manger. Her husband had cut some palm fronds to cushion it.”
“Could you see what was embroidered on the swaddling bands?”
“I saw the stem of Jesse embroidered, identical on each side.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes, Ezekiel. I asked the mother…Mary. She told me.”
The sound rose softly at first, music, as though from a distance. The three turned their eyes to the heavens.
Joyful voices shouting. Songs of choirs blending their mighty voices rose on the night breeze. “Wonderful, Councilor, The Mighty God, The Everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace!” The sound was piercing and joyful and reverent all at once.
A new star burst forth from the celestial tumult, bathing the stable in soft, blue light. A newborn baby fussed and was comforted.
“For unto us a child a born. Unto us a son is given.” Levi whispered.
“Emmanual!” Grandfather murmured as he dropped to his knees.
“Messiah. The Christ.” Levi placed his steady palm under his Grandfather’s elbow and raised him up. “Come! Let us adore Him!”
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