This story was performed as a dramatic reading by my friend Chris Bidder at a special Christmas service a couple of years ago.
So we travelled for miles.
Balthazar had got it into his head that the strange sign in the sky meant that a great king was going to be born and everything was packed up and we set off in a long baggage train to some foreign place.
I dunno. We ended up in this dirt-poor country that wasn’t a patch on Persia. Their capital city – well don’t make me laugh – it wasn’t up to much. And then all their holy men told us we’d come to the wrong place.
Balthazar decided that we had better move on and we went to somewhere even smaller. We hunted high and low. Man, you wouldn’t believe how many babies we squinted at. But Balthazar said no to each one and we went on to the next house or pub or shack.
Some of the guys started complaining but I knew Balthazar had never led us astray before. I must admit though, even I gave up hope of ever finding this child.
On the outskirts we discovered this barn and then we all saw the thing in the sky again so we knew we had at last found the right place.
There wasn’t much room in there but we all crammed in. I had to squat between a donkey and a goat and that donkey had travelled a few miles if you get my drift. Still, there we were, handing over these gifts to some kid who was going to be the king of nations or something. Who knows?
We went home a different way so I never got to laugh at their capital again. But I’ll always remember that trip. There was something special about that night and when I think of it, I’m proud that we went all that way.
I consider myself very lucky to have been Balthazar’s camel.