Fiction

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THE THIEF


By Maggie Cavanaugh © 2006


Shadows created by the bright light above made it hard to see what was really going on, so the band of dirty, ragged children slowly moved closer to the shallow cave. They could hear the bleating of a sheep and the lowing of a milk-cow. The smell of hay and straw, as well as the smoke of a small fire permeated the air. As the meager smoke arose, it dissipated and made the scene hazy, unreal.

Matthias, somewhat larger than the other children—stood slowly to see above them. As his eyes adjusted to the bright light that flowed from the star overhead, he wondered what would bring shepards to this spot. At this time of night they should be guarding their flocks against marauding lions and wolves. As if held back by a fence or a gate, all the children stopped at the same time.

Still in the shadows, they watched open-mouthed as a bright light descended from above. With the haze of smoke blurring their vision, they weren’t sure what they saw could be real, but it seemed so.
A large man with huge wings that moved slowly to and fro, looked down on them, and the scene in the manger. The mans face, hair and wings became suffused with a more intense light as he spoke. Words that were familiar to the children, musical and joyful in their intensity. Matthias’ attention became riveted on a young woman who held a small bundle.

The mother looked up at the angel, then down at her baby. A smile passed her lips as the baby’s father bent over her protectively. The father looked up in wonder; then he smiled too. He sat next to the mother listening raptly as the angel spoke.

As the angel finished speaking, the tinkling of harness bells could be heard. The sound broke the spell and the children became afraid that they would be discovered. Whatever was going on was not their business, and they could find themselves in trouble if they stayed. One by one they withdrew, shushing each other and slipping quietly into the night. Except for Matthias.

He continued to watch as three men on camels approached. The camels kneeled and one by one the men, richly dressed, dismounted. They came forward and bent low to the ground, speaking in hushed, low tones to the mother and father.
They offered several boxes of what looked to be expensive perfumes, incenses—and a peculiar, flat box. From what Matthias could hear, these were offerings and gifts for the baby! For a baby that small!

Matthias could hardly believe it. He was now eight years old, and no one had ever offered his parents a gift like that—if they had, his parents had never mentioned it! He tried to remember what his mother and father looked like, but only vague outlines of faces came to him.

It had been so long since he had seen them. Rare tears, unusual for a boy his age, fell from the corners of his eyes. He never cried anymore. Rubbing them away, he frowned. The others would have made fun of him if they had seen this display of emotion. Instead he tried to concentrate on the present.

The baby slept peacefully while the adults talked and the angel hovered. Soon there were other angels singing in the most beautiful voices Matthias had ever heard. Their light shed over the scene and brought it to life. Other shepards joined the group and bowed low before the babe.

Time stood still as Matthias watched and only after a long while did he realize the shepards were departing. As the richly dressed men got to their feet, the woman looked into the shadows and saw Matthias.
His heart stopped as he realized he was about to be found out. What would she do? Call for the guards at the inn? There were plenty of them around! Roman soldiers were in no short supply here during the census. Matthias’ heart beat fast as he poised himself for flight.
But—the woman smiled at him and beckoned him nearer. Should he go? But the thought of seeing what the others had not seen; to be able to repeat this to the rest of the children made his heart swell. He inched closer to the three people; the mother, the father, and the sleeping baby.
Moving slowly closer and closer, he was momentarily startled when the baby opened his eyes. They were a starry dark blue like the night sky; no—they were the misty blue of morning as the moon slowly fades; yet again they looked like the moving sea! While he puzzled this anomaly, the baby smiled at him. Matthias felt himself sinking into a deep pond of peace.
A voice not unlike that of the angel sounded, reverberated in his head.
‘Know Me’, it said. Then, that was all.
Matthias came back to reality with a start and he stared at the baby, who had now fallen back asleep. He looked quickly up at the mother, and the father who stood now, beaming back at Matthias. He held out his hand and passed a piece of fish and bread to the youngster.
The boy took the food and quickly backed out of range of this family.
As he did, he heard the tinkling of harness bells. The rich men were moving out to the road. Matthias chewed slowly on the bread and followed them, pondering what had just happened. His toe brushed something in the dirt and he saw the tiniest of glints. Bending over, he flicked dirt away from a coin—a gold coin lying in the dust.
It had to have come from the men ahead. But they moved too fast, he wasn’t sure he could catch them. Still, he thought, he should try…so he began a slow trot.
When he reached the last camel, he tugged on the reins, and a kind face looked down at him. He held out the coin expecting the man would take it, but he didn’t. Instead, a rough voice said, ‘Don’t bother him—get along with you, we have many miles to go!’ A servant who was walking on the other side of the camel had stopped to see the exchange and was glowering at Matthias. The man on the camel just shrugged and looked away, a smile tugging at his lips.
Matthias glowered right back at the servant and slowed his pace until he stopped walking. He looked at the coin in his hand and at the lightening sky. They would never believe this. He slipped the coin into the recesses of his clothing where no one would see it. Shaking his head slowly, he turned back toward town.
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Thirty-three years later a Roman soldier is gambling for the clothing of the zealot, who now hangs on the cross above him. He hears the weakened voice say, ‘Today you will be with me in Paradise’. He looks up and sees the robber on one side of the zealot looking into the eyes of the Jewish King.
The robber, Matthias, looks deeply into the starry midnight-blue eyes that change into the misty blue of morning sky; that reflect the restless sea. Recognition fills him and he smiles—‘Abba’, he says, ‘Abba’. Tremors shake his gaunt frame again and again. Something falls from the deep recesses of his bare rags. Gold glints; tumbles and glitters, finally rolling to the soldiers feet. Shading his eyes against the afternoon sun, the Centurion picks up the coin. The other soldiers are busy taunting the zealot.
He looks around to see if anyone noticed the coin, perhaps the owner—but all eyes are on the scene above. He tucks the coin into his pouch and bends down to scatter the bones again.
~THE END~
Note: Matthias was the name of the apostle chosen during the Pentecost dinner to replace Judas, Acts 1:26. The Holy Spirit led me to this name~

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