Cinjah and the Wise Men

The illusive moon darted behind a bank of fast moving clouds, but the rare display of celestial light remained constant, illuminating earth and sky and the houses nestled among the gently rolling Persian hills. Rigel, The Most Honored Wise One in all of Persia, gazed in rapt wonder at the heavenly light fixed low on the horizon.

"Ah, my Beauty, you shine for all to see, neither do you forsake me like the fickle moon." Drawing his cloak against the chill of the early morning hour, Rigel rested his arms upon the stone balustrade and let his eyes fall upon the sleeping city in the valley below. The wonder of the moment was wrapped in silence, for no man stirred at this hour, or kept the vigil, save Rigel. "Pity," he said, shaking his head, "none stir from their sleep, nor can they seize upon your meaning."

Far in the distance came the tinkling of a bell, a lost lamb’s bleating and a mother’s anxious reply. A pall of thin gray mist slowly rolled over the valley, marching up the hillside enveloping the squat mud-brick houses and the stacked stone fences – creeping in and among the olive trees, the vineyards, and the almond orchards.

Turning from the balustrade, Rigel walked to his worktable and began sorting through charts and maps of the constellations. Positioning the lamp so that its small circle of light shown upon the selected chart, he thoughtfully stroked his black beard, as his finger traced a path upon the chart. His dark eyes narrowed and furrows creased his brow as he studied the calculations once again.

Glancing over his shoulder, he noted the tall rod set into the balustrade and the iron filigree basket that sought to capture the shining within its bounds. The shadow cast by the rod fell upon calibrated lines cut into the circular floor. The deeply etched groves measured the progress of the sun, the moon, and the stars as they followed in their ordained courses.

"Yes, none can dispute now," said Rigel, nodding in confirmation. "Never in my years of charting the heavens has there been a Light such as this! It can be none other than His Sign."

Clapping his hands, Rigel called for the serving boy, "Cinjah, come, it is time to summon Father." Spying the boy sitting upon his pallet and stretching, he said, "Ah, you wake – that is good."

Yawning, Cinjah sighed and rubbed sleep-laden eyes and brushed back long dark hair from his face. "Have I been in sleep too long, Master?" he mumbled, head drooping forward, chin resting on his chest.

"Not so long as to miss our Shining but you will see nothing but the toes of your sandals if you do not look up." Rigel walked to where the boy sat upon his sheepskin pallet. "Come, it is time to clear your head of dreams." Rigel lifted the boy and stood him on thin, wobbly legs. Grasping Cinjah’s chin, he raised the boy’s head and brushed the hair out of his eyes. "Here now," he said, looking into the small brown face, "it is past time we do something about that head of hair – perhaps a top-knot or bind it up in a turban – what say you?" Rigel dropped his hand and Cinjah’s head fell forward on his chest. "Boy," he said, clicking his tongue, "you need stick and string to prop your head upon your shoulders – and what is this? You cast your eyes downward like a brooding child. Look up – look up, for what we seek is written in the heavens."

Master Rigel, The Most Honored Wise One in all the lands of Persia, raised his arm and swept the sky in a giant arc. Just at the moment Cinjah lifted his eyes heavenward it was as if a thousand sparkling stars sifted through his Master’s fingers and fell to earth. "You must remember, the same hand that inscribed the stars in the heavens wrote the scriptures – God wrote His plans for man first in the skies – it is our duty to translate His words to earth."

"Yes, Master," mumbled Cinjah, covering his mouth to stifle yet another yawn. Again he tells me, thought Cinjah, as if I have not heard this before while I have been upon this roof with Father Benniu and Master all these many months – watching and waiting.

* * *

"See," said Cinjah, pointing a small crooked finger, "see the big clay jars. They are filled with sweet water from the stream that flows from the mountain yonder. The other jars are filled with oil for the lamps and sweet honey from the Master’s hives. And yonder under the portico the baskets are filled with dried dates and nuts and all manner of dried fruit from the storehouse."

"It is a wonder to me, Cinjah, how you know all these things," said Jal, one of the boys that gathered wood and stoked the fire for the cooking house.

"It is because I see with my eyes that I know all these things. If you look with your eyes and listen with your ears, you will know these things also," said Cinjah, puffing out his chest like a proud cock.

Cinjah and Jal sat astride a fat branch of a tree high above the fevered activity in the courtyard. Sounds of laughter and an occasional shout of instruction echoed around the high walled area. Bare feet slapped the hard packed clay as men and women scurried back and forth like busy ants placing the heavy clay jars onto a cart. Nathan, the overseer of Master Rigel’s estate, directed the placement of the jars and supervised the packing of straw around the clay containers to prevent rubbing together. He thumped the skin atop each jar, making sure the new skin stretched across the opening was shrinking properly, affording a tight seal.

"Tell me again," said Jal, "tell me about the great journey. Tell me so that I may know where it is you go so I can tell the others."

"I will tell you, but you must listen for I cannot waste breath again," said Cinjah, laying back against the great trunk of the tree and stretching out his legs along the limb. "We leave in five days – that is this night and the next night and three more. Father Benniu has prayed to his God and consulted his charts and all the signs are favorable. When the dawn comes on that day and the cock crows, we will begin our great journey."

"And you go to seek the king," said Jal, excitedly, "the king of a land far away."

"Jal, it is I that is doing the telling. Do you wish me to go on, or not?"

"I will be silent, Cinjah. You indeed must have the gods on your side. I would be filled with fear. I have not been farther along the road than to the red gate – that way." Jal nodded to the right. "And I have only been up to the house where the lame man sits and begs."

"I have been with Master Rigel to the palace of Prince Farrah, and I soon will be allowed to go with Master to the Palace of the Governors," Cinjah bragged. "I say to you that there is nothing to fear. Master Rigel rides a swift and powerful horse and carries a terrible sharp sword and he will protect us."