With their servants, Anna and Cleophas set out for Bethlehem as soon as they learned of Jesus’ birth. Traveling during the short days of the month of Kislev, they had to make camp in the hills of Judea, a few miles distant from their destination. As darkness descended, they prepared their beds and ate a simple supper.
As they sat there, they heard the rumble of tramping hooves and strange voices. Into their camp stepped three enormous dromedaries. Each was elegantly caparisoned and bore a darkfaced rider seated between rolls of carpets. These men were followed by heavily-loaded camels and donkeys with panniers, guided by a retinue of servants and drivers.
For a few moments, neither Anna nor Cleophas could speak. They had never seen such rich and sumptuous clothing. The strangers’ velvet tunics, satin girdles, and unusual headgear must have come from kingdoms far removed from Palestine. And Israelites never rode dromedaries.
Cleophas rose to greet them. “Shalom, travelers! Where is your homeland?”
The fairest and oldest of the three answered, “Blessings on you! We’re from three regions—Persia, India, and Egypt. We’ve followed a wondrous star to Judea. For 500 years our great ancestors promised that a savior would be born in this part of the world. Having seen the newborn child in Bethlehem and recognized him as the fulfillment of this covenant, we are now returning home.”
Convinced that these were honorable men, Cleophas pointed to Anna. “This is my wife, who is the child’s grandmother. We’ve come from Galilee to take the holy family back with us.”
The three magi bowed deeply to Anna, then shook their heads. “No, no! Don’t risk doing that. Hear our experience first.”
The three men dismounted from their animals and joined them. “My name is Kaspar from Persia. This is Melchior, Indian magi of renown, and Balthazar, Egyptian diviner. Let them reveal our experience in Judea.”
Balthazar said in a strong foreign accent, “The guiding star disappeared from the heavens when we entered Jerusalem. We were lost, but a soldier directed us to Herod’s palace to learn where the newborn king could be seen. What shocked us was that no one in that holy city knew what we were talking about. We had expected there would be great rejoicing in the streets.”
Melchior cleared his throat and continued the story. “We made the mistake of telling Herod that we brought priceless gifts from distant lands to the infant, Jesus. We sensed Herod’s fear and jealousy, yet he tried to cover them by directing a company of ten cavalrymen and one of his legates to take us to Bethlehem. They located a grotto, used at times as a stable, where a male child had recently been born. But when they saw only a poor family there, they suggested we question the family carefully and report back to Herod in a day or two.”
Kaspar now took up the narration. “We thought this was an unusual request. So that night as we prayed to God, each of us became aware of Herod’s intention—have the newborn child killed if we confirmed the rumor that the long-awaited Messiah had come. Of course, we could not risk that.”
“You are fleeing tonight?” Cleophas asked.
“Yes, after an hour’s rest. We have lanterns to help us find our way, and shortly the moon will give us enough light. We are no match for Herod’s troops. We intend to split up into separate groups and travel along little-used roads.”
Balthazar then interrupted, saying, “Our presence with the holy family turned out to be unfortunate for them.”
“In what way?” Anna asked.
“The townspeople heard we had brought rare gifts to the poor family in the cavern. Beggars by the hundreds crowded the entrance constantly, demanding alms. One day, Joseph was forced to give them some of the gold we brought in order to keep them out of the cave. You see, our richly ornamented saddles and bridles, our retinue of servants, and our valuable oriental rugs produced only greed among them.”
Cleophas spoke in a confident tone. “Surely, the holy family can live securely in one of the northern provinces.”
“No! No!” Kaspar interrupted him. “Herod will look for them there. They are not safe anywhere in Palestine. They must flee to Egypt. If we had gone back to Herod, he would have tortured us to reveal all we astrologers know of the future of Jesus. This we could not risk.”
Balthazar spoke a final warning. “Do not admit to anyone that you are related to the Messiah or that he is anyone but a poor carpenter’s son. If necessary, you must lie to save him. Trust no one.”
Anna was deeply agitated by such stern warnings. Melchoir, seeing her concern, quickly brought her two small rugs of great beauty. “We give the grandmother of the holy child these Persian weavings to remember us by.” Then he took a stick and traced a crude map on the ground. “This is where you will find your daughter and family. Move with caution. Herod has stationed guards at all the exit gates. It will be extremely dangerous to get the holy family out of Bethlehem, but our prayers go with you.”
As Anna and Cleophas approached the cave of the nativity the next morning, two women ran to meet them. One said, “We are Essenes who watch over the holy family. Mary told us you were near. It’s no longer safe for them to leave the stable. Continue past the donkeys to the rear cavern, where you’ll find the family.”
The women remained at the entrance while Anna and Cleophas made their way slowly into the dim cave. Mary called to them, and they could see her seated with Jesus on her lap. The infant was barely visible beneath the sheer white veil covering him.
Anna was so overcome with joy that she couldn’t speak. Mary held out the child to her, and, with trembling hands, Anna took him to her heart. For several minutes, she rocked him and wept silently. She knew this would be the only time for years to come that she could hold her grandchild. By touching him now, she felt her own spiritual shadow grow.
She returned him to Mary, saying, “I had dreamt of teaching him many things as a child.”
“No, dearest Mother, this Son of Man will learn all he needs to know from his Heavenly Father. It is I who will learn from him.” She rose and placed Jesus in a wicker basket behind her. Then she turned to Anna asking, “Do you bring us good news?”
Anna shook her head. “We met the three magi last evening after they had seen you. Herod had told them to report back to him what they learned by their visit here. Being men of spiritual perception, they were warned during a meditation to flee from Judea, else they would be forced to reveal the true identity of your infant.”
Cleophas added, “Herod has plans to have Jesus killed, so fearful is he of his kingship in this province. Now, we must think of a way to get you out of Bethlehem.”
Joseph came to Mary. “I did not want to tell you this, dearest wife, but I, too, was warned last night in a dream to take flight. But where can we go so Jesus will be safe?”
Mary looked at Cleophas, asking, “Will we be out of Herod’s reach if we can escape with you to Galilee?’
“No, little mother, you must head for Alexandria, Egypt. Judea will be a giant trap for you as soon as the Maccabean Dedication Festival is ended in Jerusalem.”
With a look of surprise, Joseph said, “So that’s why the beggars left us to work the more affluent crowds there.” He paused, and shook his head. “Tomorrow is the Sabbath Day. God does not permit us to travel on this sacred day. However, we can make all necessary preparations for leaving the following day.” His voice trembled with uncertainty.
Cleophas suddenly raised his hand for them to be quiet. He whispered, “Roman soldiers just passed. They prowl the streets, searching for someone who knows the birthplace of Jesus. Let’s go farther back in the cave to make plans for your escape.”
They gathered around a simply made altar of cedar. Joseph lit the seven candles of the menorah set in the wall. “I must take this candelabrum with me on our flight,” he said, as if reminding himself. “Let us pray.”
When Anna opened her eyes, she saw a globe of brilliant light blotting out the figures of Mary and Jesus. It spread like a moving cloud, until it encompassed the entire grotto. No one dared speak. Gradually it faded away.
Joseph made no mention of the phenomenon and rose from his stool saying, “I must feed the donkeys.”
At the entrance, he heard someone clear his throat. He turned around to face a Roman. He froze with a look of great fear on his face when he saw the stranger’s white wool toga embroidered with the unmistakable royal eagle on the shoulder. This emblem carried with it the authority of Augustus Caesar.
The official asked in a brusque voice, “Your name and size of family?”
“Joseph, I have a wife and child, named Mary and Yeshua.”
“Is there anyone here who will verify this or must I enter this miserable stable?”
“Anna and Cleophas from Galilee are here. I will bring them to you.”
Julian’s face flushed at the mention of Anna. “I need speak only to the woman.” Could this be the Anna who haunted his dreams? What was she doing in a grotto in Bethlehem? She had a daughter, he remembered. Was it possible that Anna’s daughter had born the child whispered to be the King of Judea? Was this the reason something indefinable, a power outside of himself, had drawn him back to Bethlehem? He thought it was simply curiosity. Had Anna, with her unfathomable powers, called to him through the ethers, pleading for his help in saving her grandson?
There she was, walking toward him with that grace that set her apart from other women. Her lovely face wore a frightened look that pained him, since he knew he was the reason for it.
She spoke first. “Why did you come here, hireling of Herod?”
“Anna, Anna, don’t fear for your grandchild. Because of my love for you, I’ll plan a way of smuggling him through the guarded gates. Remember, I’m a servant of Augustus, not working for an Arab Jew.” He paused, then added, “I’ve never lied to you, Anna.”
She nodded. “If you have a workable plan, let Joseph and Cleophas hear it with me.” She called to them, and the men approached Julian warily.
Without greeting them, he stated his plan. “I talked with a tribe of nomads outside of town. Day after tomorrow, they plan on moving their flocks south for better pastures. I’ll try to bargain with them to let a family of three escape in their midst as they go through the south gate. In that direction lies your only chance to avoid capture. What do you say?”
Joseph and Cleophas were stunned by the clever proposal. Joseph turned to Anna, asking, “Can we trust this Roman who works with a deranged tyrant?”
“I believe he wants to help you. I know he hates Herod.”
Joseph sighed deeply. “How many denarii will this cost me?”
“None, even though you are in no position to bargain. I’m saving your lives because of Anna. Now listen. I’ll try to arrange your departure with the nomads before the cockcrow watch and change of the guards. Semidarkness will be your ally. The sentries won’t be suspicious of this tribe, with their goats and sheep. They pass this way frequently. There’ll be a lot of confusion, with the wayward animals bleating and the women and children yelling to the men. It’s an ideal way to escape. The problem for me is to persuade the old chieftain to agree to it.”
Anna’s look of gratitude and relief made Julian soften his irritable attitude. His mind was in a whirl, thinking about this sudden change in his plans. He had come here out of curiosity. To discover that Anna was the grandmother of the hunted infant came as a great shock. Of course, he didn’t believe all that nonsense about a newborn king of the Jews. Every year or two, someone claimed he was the Messiah, although this was the first time it was a baby. He wanted to impress Anna more than anything else in the world. Now he had a dangerous opportunity to do so and outwit Herod at the same time. His thoughts were interrupted by a question from Joseph.
“Tell me, after we go south from here, what route do we take to Egypt?”
“You mustn’t stop before reaching Hebron. That’s where you’ll turn west to Beth Gibelin. Go past Eglon, and follow the road leading to Gaza. You’ll be in Philistia, birthplace of Herod. Then travel south along the seacoast, and you’ll be in Egypt soon enough.”
“When will we know for certain if the chieftain accepts your plan?”
“I’ll be back to advise you. You and your wife must look like nomads. Your beard hides most of your face, but I assume your wife is fair. Later, I’ll bring some stibium, which Roman women use to blacken their eyebrows and lashes. She can darken her face with it.”
Then Anna, her eyes warm with gratitude, asked Julian, “Will you be with my children when they go through the south gate?”
“Of course—to relieve you of worry.” He smiled with more confidence than he felt. He would be risking his life, but it didn’t seem to matter. He was full of joy and a sense of purpose, if only for a few hours.
* * *
Julian rode immediately to the tribe of nomads camped outside the north gate. He quickly spotted the chieftain and approached him with an air of great authority.
“You are the leader of these people?” Julian asked.
“I am Caleb, patriarch of my tribe. We have disturbed no one here. We stopped earlier because two of our women gave birth—unfortunately, the infants were girls—and could not travel. But the day after the Sabbath, we seek better pastures.”
“Would you like to earn, for doing nothing, fifty shekels? Listen carefully, Caleb. There is a husband, wife, and newborn child who must get through the south exit gate that same morning, early. If you will allow them to travel, unnoticed, in your group, until you have all cleared the sentries there, I will give you that reward.”
“First, tell me what these people have done to be hunted?”
“The young woman married the man she loved, not the one chosen by the parents. You know how it is with you—children must do as the fathers decide.”
“That is bad,” Caleb said, shaking his gray head. His wizened eyes, narrowed by the hot sun over a long lifetime, studied Julian carefully. Finally he said, “Not enough.”
“Well, then how much?”
“It’s up to you.”
Julian knew how these men liked to haggle. It was an insult to agree to the first figure given.
“Sixty shekels. That’s a good sum for doing nothing, Caleb.”
“The sentries won’t let my large tribe and animals go through the town. We have always, before, had to go around it.”
Julian doubted this statement. “I’ll speak to the sentry at the north gate and tell him you need to enter to make sales of some of your animals to the merchants. But, of course, you won’t stop, but will go at once to the market square. There, I’ll join you with the family. They’ll mingle with your people. Now, will you do this for sixty shekels?”
“Not enough.”
“How much, Caleb?”
“It’s up to you,” he repeated with a shrug.
Irritated, Julian said, “My final offer is seventy-five shekels. Will you shake hands on that?’
With a crafty smile, Caleb held out his hand.