Star Birth. A baby is born in an inn… continued
“Well, nothin’ is finer nor more interesting and full of hope than creation out of despair and the late drinkers at the inn wanted to see the child but I kept ‘em away, shooing ‘em off like chickens, again. But I couldn’t hold back two old shepherds who’d come from the fields. they came with a right old tale about seeing a star hoverin’ over our barn an’ hearin’ voices, angels they said, who told ‘em about a new messiah… here in our inn.
‘Oh yes!’ I said, not believin’ a word of it. ‘And is this him, this wrinkled babe?’
‘Yes,’ they said. ‘Yes.’
I thought at first it might be a tale to get into the warmth… the old ones coming because it's cold up in the fields and they wanted a warmin’ tipple, leavin’ the young tougher lads to get what warmth they could from a thin fire. It’s understandable, I suppose. And these shepherds were a bit… you know… timeworn. But yet, birthin' is the shepherd’s trade. To lose a lamb for whatever reason is hard for them. We midwives feel a comradeship with ‘em. Anyway, feelin’ compassionate after my success with a difficult birth, I let ‘em peer in from the barn door. Then would you believe it? The new mother invited ‘em in! I was a bit annoyed…again! I was tryin’ to clear up… by myself I might add, as Rachel had taken herself into the inn for a strong ale; typical! Well, the shepherds came in and stood around gapin’ at the mother and baby. They had tears in their eyes. Eee, for hardy men some shepherds are soft. They fussed about the effect of the cold night air on the baby, such clear nights are very cold I admit, and I felt my pride change to guilt when I thought how little soft covering I had for the child. One shepherd gave me his cloak to cover the manger. It was coarse and thick and stank with the soil of the sheep lands.
After a while they went back up to the fields. I was relieved and started to clear up the mess but then two young shepherds arrived. This birth was taking on a very unusual nature.
‘Oh hang on, lads,’ I said, ‘let the mother rest. The poor soul’s exhausted.’ But she roused herself again and said they could go in. The old man meanwhile, snored loudly in the corner. I kept giving him a kick so he’d change his tune!
The young lads looked frozen to the marrow. Wearin’ short jerkins! I ask you! Youth’s bravado keepin’ ‘em fashionable rather than warm! I let ‘em into the barn and to tell you the truth, I felt that with the cold, the strange star and the new born babe, they looked a bit overwhelmed, fearful, even. They stood huddled together, caps in their hands, tremblin’. Then one stepped forward, with a gift. It seems back in the hills, one of the old shepherds had sheared two sheep and the young lad held these fleeces out to the new mum who smiled and nodded her thanks. I watched as the other young lad removed the dirty cloak from the manger and gently lifted the child from the straw while his mate placed the fleece in the manger. The child was lowered back in and covered with more fleece. Such gentleness! A lamb or a child – what is the difference to them, I wondered?
One young shepherd told me to look up at the hole in the roof over the manger where the child was. I knew it needed mendin’ and felt guilty again, thinking the young lad was drawing my attention to it in case it rained; I cursed my husband for being lazy and not getting it repaired. I made to move the manger but then I looked up and saw a huge star shinin’ through. The brightest I’d ever seen. I didn't blame the shepherds for thinkin’ that something wondrous had happened. I started to tremble a little myself and left the manger where it was. There was no danger of rain.
Well now… that was a while ago. The couple are still stayin’ until the census is over. They’ll need a calm journey home to Nazareth, not one with travellers pushin’ and shovin’, and opportunist bandits. At least the babe’ll be warm in his soft fleece. I moved ‘em upstairs a little while ago; just one room had come vacant. That’ll be better for me than running backwards and forwards to the barn. It’s all so strange, the effect the little family has had on me. Hard to say why. I’m amazed at their robust faith that all will be well… but I don’t feel so sure. I keep thinkin’ of the husband’s cold hands. They’ve troubles to come… I know it.
Talkin’ of strange… in the market ale house, my husband heard tell of strangers on the desert road comin’ from the east, on great camels loaded up as if they’d travelled far. Dolled up they were, so richly dressed I’m thinkin’ they’re headed for Herod. A rum one he is. Rumour has it they’re following a star and looking for a child. A special one. Well, our night with the star is now common knowledge; you don’t keep an inn and have secrets! And that star is still hovering over the hole in our barn roof. So… I’m suspicious of those men. If there’s trouble, I reckon my husband an’ his mates’ll see ‘em off. We’ve had bandits aplenty here, not posh ones though. You don’t bring up a family way out here on the travel roads without learnin’ how to protect yourselves.
Anyway, I’ll just pop upstairs and see the little family for a while. I can’t help but like ‘em. The young lass and the babe feel almost like my own. The little lad’s a proper charmer; I can’t help but smile when I look at him. Yes, I’ll give the dad a break from watchin’ over ‘em; he needs it. I’ll send him into the inn to have a beaker of hot ale with my old man. On the house, of course. He can warm his hands on it.”
Andrea Sarginson