I slept on the roof of the small house. No permanent stairway led to the top, only a ladder leaning against the wall provided access. Most of the roof was taken up by Joseph's workshop. He fashioned items from wood and sold them to provide for his family. He had decided to use the roof because he had no room to build a real workshop. Their lone donkey took up most of the space in the hovel that served as shed. This arrangement also kept his tools out of reach of a curious toddler, although since he had been mobile, Mary had to watch Jesus closely. As most exploring youngsters, he liked to climb.

I retired to the roof, rolling out a pallet that could be folded in the morning and secreted in a corner out of Joseph's way. I lay looking at the heavens. The royal star, as the Magi called it, sent a beam of light that seemed to lead straight to the house. I lay in a puddle of luminosity that encompassed the house and yard. I marveled that the neighbors did not come to seek an explanation of why the brilliant star had singled out the humble dwelling. Perhaps they were too preoccupied to look up.

As I waited for the couple to sleep, I pondered the story my host family had told the Magi. From years of listening for the feelings behind words, I perceived that Joseph chose his words carefully when he told of the shepherds' visit. I wondered what he had left out; what had he hesitated to tell the men who came bearing gifts? But my musing brought only questions without answers.

When I was certain that the couple below slept, I slipped down the ladder, making my way through the silent streets where only the scrabble of rats disturbed the stillness. I had to warn the Magi that they should not return to Herod and expose the young child to his terrible wrath. As I approached their encampment, a shaft of light blazed from the heavens.

I quickly hid in the shadow of a nearby tent and looked up, expecting to find that the star had moved as I slipped through the quiet lanes. No heavenly luminary beamed overhead. Looking back, towards where the Magi slept under the stars that guided their journey, I saw a shining man bending over Balthazar. My senses heightened as I strained to see and hear what was going on. The apparition did not touch the sleeping man. He simply spoke as though he knew the Magus would hear and heed his message.

"Adonai commands you to go home without passing through Jerusalem," the man said. "The guise of worship veils King Herod's evil plans. He does not want to pay homage to the child, but to destroy him. You must not aid him. Go home another way."

Suddenly a ray of light streaked from where Balthazar slept back into the night sky. Trying to follow its path, I wondered if one of the stars was the throne of this god, Adonai. Even as the thought came, I rejected it. Would the god-who-created-all-that-is settle for a mere star as his throne? Surely this Adonai would have a glorious throne room much brighter than all of the luminaries in the heavens. If he could send such a brilliant star to mark the birth of an infant king, he would not be bound to a lesser star.

I stood in the shadow of the tent debating my next step. Evidently this Adonai did not need me to warn the easterners. He had already done that with this brilliant messenger. Still, since Balthazar had not stirred, I was not certain that the message had gotten through to him. Finally, I stealthily made my way to where the wise man slept. I squatted beside his head and spoke his name in a quiet voice. As his eyes came open, his hand went to the side of his leg, where a knife was sheathed.

"You do not need a weapon," I whispered hastily. "I have come to make certain you heard the warning of the god Adonai."

"Who are you?" demanded the man, following my lead and keeping his voice low, as he propped his head on his right hand, his left still resting on the hilt of the knife. "Are you a seer that you are privy to my dream?"

"I am only a humble mortal," I responded. "I do not have the second sight."

"Wait," the man said. "I have seen you before. You are the young king's nanny."

Sliding my headpiece to my shoulders, I responded. "You have seen me twice. Yesterday at the home of Jesus, before that in the court of Herod." I pointed to the now visible tattoo on my neck.

"You were the serving girl," he whispered, recognition finally dawning. "If you came to tell me to heed my dream, then you must have been a spy in Herod's court."

"Of a sort," I responded. "My mother, Ramla, has the second sight. She has told me from birth that I was destined to aid an infant king. I was sent to King Herod's court from Memphis and told to watch and wait. When you came, I knew that you sought the king I was to aid. I thought my purpose was to warn you not to return to Herod's court, but as I arrived tonight, I saw the shimmering messenger deliver his warning to your sleeping form before blazing his way back into the heavens."

"You saw and heard my dream?" Balthazar questioned.

"For you it was a dream," I said. "For me it was reality."

"I have wondered about the cryptic message given to me by an oracle," he said. "The oracle spoke thus, 'Beware the king. Heed the dark angel.' Since I sought a newborn king, I assumed he warned me to beware of that king. The oracle left me thinking perhaps he was an imposter, someone that Herod had reason to expose. When I met the young child, though, my whole being told me the infant king was worthy of worship, as I originally believed when I discovered the heavenly luminary. Now I understand. The oracle spoke of King Herod, and you are the dark angel."

"Unlikely. I am no angel," I said. "Perhaps he should have warned you to heed the iridescent angel."

"If he had told me that, I might have questioned whether he truly spoke of the apparition in my dream. Perhaps I would have searched for a more tangible interpretation of the prophecy. You are quite tangible and your message is unmistakable. An angel is a messenger of the gods," Balthazar reasoned. "You have told me to heed the warning from Adonai. He is a god; you are his messenger. Your skin is as dark as mine. That means, unlikely or not, you are a dark angel." His white teeth flashed as he stated his conclusion.

Shrugging, I noted, "Whatever you choose to believe, I will not quibble. As long as you assure me you will not return to Herod, I am satisfied. I have seen his wrath. If he got his hands on this child, he would break every bone in his body and then feed him to the crocodiles, or whatever animal the King in Jerusalem uses to devour his enemies."

"You need not worry," Balthazar said. Then grasping his medallion, he finished, "I swear on all that is sacred to Ahura Mazda."

Nodding, I rose to my feet, "Safe journey," I whispered as I silently slipped away from the camp and returned to my rooftop bed.

Although the Magus had assured me that he and his friends would not return to Herod's court, I was still uneasy. I had lived for three years in Herod's palace. I had heard his ranting as he questioned his wise men about the birthplace of an infant king. I knew he would not shrug and turn his attention away from the possible usurper. I did not know what he would do, but I knew in my bones that he would do something. The child would not be safe as long as he remained in Bethlehem.

Knowing it would take a few days for Herod to realize he had been thwarted, I followed the message of PEEP. I waited and watched. I still needed to act, but I did not yet know what course I should follow.

I tried praying to Thoth, but he seemed so distant, and in the past he had never whispered in my ear, only in mother's. I searched the night sky for some further sign, but I saw nothing. The royal star had moved on, its purpose evidently finished when the Magi found the child. Finally, I decided to question Mary about the god Adonai. Perhaps he would provide direction if I knew how to talk to him.

When I asked about the god, Mary was more than willing to extol his greatness. She told me of his activity in creation. She told me how he had guided her people over the years. When she told me the stories of their escape from Egypt, I remembered the whispered accounts, debunked by the political leaders as legends, which told of a time when Pharaoh had let a group of slaves go after severe plagues concluded with the death of the first born. 

Was it possible, I wondered? Had this Adonai acted in my nation's history and those in power buried the historical truth because it would undermine the power of Pharaoh and disprove his claim to divinity?