The Christmas Mystery

by Jostein Gaarder

Elisabet nodded, and Impuriel continued, “But then a Samaritan came along, and Samaritans weren’t very popular in Judea. It was because they had a religion that was a little different from that of the Jews. But the Samaritan was compassionate and helped the unfortunate man, so that he survived. Yes indeed! For there’s no sense in believing what’s right unless it leads to helping people in distress.”

  Elisabet nodded again and hid the cherub’s words in her heart.

  At one point, where the pass forked, a man was standing with a large sign in his hand. He was wearing a long red tunic.

  On the sign was written TO BETHLEHEM in capital letters. An arrow had been drawn as well, to show which route they should follow.

  “A living road sign!” exclaimed Elisabet.

  Ephiriel nodded. “Verily I say unto you, that road sign must be one of us.”

  Impuriel was so excited that he flew right up to the man and shouted at him, “Fear not! Fear not! Fear not!”

  But the man with the sign was not the least bit afraid. He took a step toward Elisabet, offered her his hand, and said, “Congrat … no, no, that wasn’t quite correct. I mean, at your service, my friends! The very first thing I must remember is to say my name … because I, too, have been allowed to take part in this Advent calendar … My name is Quirinius, Governor of Syria … Attractive appearance, closer acquaintance desired … Well, well, the most important thing is, of course, to be good and kind. Dixi!”

  Elisabet couldn’t help laughing; he talked so oddly. It was as if there were two people talking at once, for he interrupted himself the whole time. He handed her the sign, which he had perhaps been standing and holding for an eternity, with the wind flapping his tunic. He said, “And this … if I may have your attention, my friends … for here I have the icing on the cake … and this prize is for you. Dixi!”

  “The sign is for me?” said Elisabet in astonishment.

  And Quirinius replied, “Only the one side … I mean, you have to turn it … around, you understand. Dixi!”

  Elisabet didn’t understand why he said “Dixi” all the time. It sounded like the name of a dog or cat and there were none in sight. But the angel Ephiriel whispered that “Dixi” was Latin and meant that Quirinius had finished speaking.

  Elisabet turned the sign around and saw to her great surprise that what she was holding in her hand was an Advent calendar with twenty-four doors. Covering all the doors was a picture of a young woman with fair hair. She was standing in front of a church with a large dome on top.

  “The first twelve,” said Quirinius. “I mean, you may open the first twelve doors … for we’ve come exactly that far … on our journey. Dixi!”

  She sat down on a rock and opened the first door. Behind it was a picture of a lamb. Behind the next door was an angel, and behind the third a sheep. Then there were pictures of a shepherd, another sheep, a King of the Orient, a sheep, a shepherd, a sheep, a cherub, and another King of the Orient. Elisabet saw that these were pictures of everyone who had joined the pilgrimage on its long way through Europe.

  But who was the woman?

  “Thank you very much!” she said.

  Quirinius shook his head. “On the contrary! You’re wrong about that … you don’t need to say thank you … I do. I thank you and the others here … for allowing an old Roman like myself … to join this godly group … which is on the right way to Bethlehem. After all, it was not I … in fact, it was you … who set off first after the delightful lamb. Dixi! Dixi! Dixi!”

  Elisabet looked up at Ephiriel and laughed.

  “But you haven’t opened the twelfth door,” said the angel.

  Elisabet opened the twelfth door, and now she was looking down at a tiny picture of the same calendar she was holding. And here, too, there was a picture of a fair-haired woman in front of the dome of a big church.

  Joshua struck his shepherd’s crook against a cairn. “To Bethlehem! To Bethlehem!”

  “How far is it to Bethlehem now?” asked Elisabet.

  “Not very far!” said Ephiriel.

  * * *

  THEY sat looking at each other.

  Then Joachim began to laugh. “I hope Quirinius is going all the way to Bethlehem with them,” he said.

  Mama and Papa examined the thin piece of paper. “He’s brought the young woman in front of St. Peter’s Square into the story of little Elisabet today,” said Papa.

  “And then he’s made a little Advent calendar inside the big one,” said Mama.

  “Do you think there’s another calendar inside the little Advent calendar?” asked Joachim.

  “Who knows?” said Mama. “Who knows?”

  13

  DECEMBER 13

  … just as lightning sweeps across the sky, flooding the landscape with light for a second or two …

  WHEN Joachim woke up on December 13, Mama and Papa were in his room already.

  “You get to open it, Joachim,” said Papa.

  Joachim sat up and fished out the folded piece of paper. The picture in the calendar showed a rainbow.

  He sat in bed with Mama on one side and Papa on the other. They both leaned over to see. Mama began to read.

  THE SIXTH SHEEP

  A party of monks who were on their way up from Val d’Aosta one day in June in the year 998 saw a group of pilgrims for a short moment—just as lightning sweeps across the sky, flooding the landscape with light for a second or two.

  “Look!” exclaimed one of the monks.

  “What?” asked the other.

  “I thought I saw a strange procession on its way down through the valley. There were people and animals. Behind them all ran a little girl with an angel.”

  The third monk agreed. “I saw them, too. It was like a heavenly host.”

  The monk who had seen nothing shook his head in disbelief. “Are you sure you can stand the thin air up here?” he asked.

  He said that because he had looked down at an azalea at the instant when the pilgrimage had passed.

  Four years earlier, a party of merchants from Milan had seen the same thing as the two monks. That had been a little farther down the valley.

  The godly throng stopped for a little while to enjoy the view of the beautiful Val d’Aosta. Ephiriel pointed up at Mont Blanc, and the sharp peak of the Matterhorn. Elisabet was more interested in studying the Advent calendar she had been given by the Governor of Syria.

  She pointed at door number 12, on which there was a picture of an Advent calendar exactly like the one she had in her hand. She turned to Quirinius and asked, “Can I open the doors in the tiny calendar as well?”

  Quirinius shook his head. “Unfortunately not. That calendar is sealed with seven seals. Dixi!”

  Caspar cleared his throat, and so did Balthazar. “As Wise Men, we can reveal what is inside, all the same,” said the first Wise Man. “Something mysterious is written in tiny letters.”

  “Tell me, then!” said Elisabet.

  “Behind the first door is written ‘Elisabet,’” Caspar began. “Behind the second is written ‘Lisabet,’ and behind the third ‘Isabet.’ Then come Sabet, Abet, Bet, and Et. Those are the first seven doors.”

  Elisabet smiled a wide smile. “And what then?”

  The second Wise Man replied, “After that come Te, Teb, Teba, Tebas, Tebasi, Tebasil, and Tebasile. Then there are only ten doors left.”

  “What’s behind them?”

  “Elisabet, Lisabet, Isabet, Sabet, Abet, Bet, and Et.”

  Elisabet had been counting. “But there are still three doors left,” she said.

  Caspar nodded solemnly. “Behind door number 22 is written ‘Roma.’ Behind door number 23 is written ‘Amor,’ and behind door number 24 ‘Jesus’ is written in very beautiful, artistic lettering. One letter is red, the second is orange, the third is yellow, the fourth blue-green, and the fifth indigo-violet. That makes all the colors of the rainbow. For Jesus was like a rainbow.”

  “Why?”

  “When it has been pouring a
nd the sun breaks through the dark clouds, the rainbow appears in the sky. It’s just as if a little bit of Jesus is in the air. For Jesus was like a rainbow between heaven and earth.”

  Joshua lifted up his shepherd’s crook and struck a stone with such force that it echoed all around the mountains. “To Bethlehem!” he said. “To Bethlehem!”

  And it was as if the mountains replied, “… lehem, lehem, lehem…”

  It didn’t take long for them to reach the Po Valley. That is the fertile land formed by the great Po River, which flows from the Italian Alps in the west to the Adriatic Sea in the east. Ephiriel told them that they would be going the same way as the river.

  They traveled through the lush countryside until the Po River met another big river called the Ticino. That was near the trading city of Pavia. Ephiriel told them that the angel watch showed 904 and that Pavia already had a law school that was famous throughout Europe.

  Joshua was about to strike the ground with his shepherd’s crook. But Jacob the shepherd spoke first. He pointed down at a large raft lying by the riverbank, and said, “We’ll borrow that.”

  So the whole long procession of pilgrims jumped on board the raft.

  As they were about to push off from the bank, a man came running toward them with a sheep in his arms. “Accept my sincerest offering!” he said.

  So six sheep had to be crammed together on the narrow raft.

  When they were out on the river, Quirinius said that Elisabet could open door number 13 in the Advent calendar. Behind it was a picture of a man carrying a sheep.

  * * *

  WHEN Mama finished reading, they sat on the bed for a long while without saying anything.

  “Lehem, lehem, lehem!” said Mama at last, almost as if she were singing it.

  “Sabet … Tebas,” said Joachim.

  He surprised himself. There it was again! John had in fact mumbled half of Elisabet’s name. And he’d never thought of it before! Then he had said the same half of her name backward.

  But why had he done that?

  Papa had to say something, too. “If only I could find this flower seller, maybe we’d know how the Advent calendar was made. Or why, for that matter.”

  “I’m sure it’s so as to spread some of the glory of heaven,” said Joachim. “I believe the magic Advent calendar is a small part of the glory of heaven that has strayed down to earth. Up there, it’s so full of wonderful things that it’s very easy for them to spill over.”

  Mama and Papa laughed. It was only after they read through all the folded sheets of paper that they understood why Joachim had said so many strange things recently.

  “I’m thinking about the three monks in Val d’Aosta,” said Mama.

  Papa and Joachim looked at her. Then she said, “We’re sitting here almost like those monks.”

  Joachim could no longer keep his secret about meeting John. It was as if this last little secret was exploding inside his head. So it was good to let it out.

  “John was at the gate one day when I came home from school,” he said. “He got our address from the man in the bookstore.”

  Papa jumped up. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “I didn’t think it was important … He only wanted to know who I was.”

  “Yes, yes. But what did he tell you?” said Papa impatiently. “He must have said something about the magic Advent calendar.”

  “He said it wasn’t Christmas yet. Then he said he’d tell me more about Elisabet another time.”

  Papa nodded. “I’ll drop by the market again today. I intend to meet this John … even if I have to lasso him.”

  But when he got home, he just threw up his arms. “Gone!” he said. “As if the earth has swallowed him.”

  All afternoon, Joachim repeated two names inside himself: Elisabet … Tebasile … Elisabet.

  One name was a reflection of the other. But when Joachim looked in the mirror, he saw himself, though the picture in the mirror was reversed.

  Could it be a secret message that the two Elisabets were one and the same person? But Tebasile sounded like a proper name, too.

  Could there be someone called Tebasile as well?

  That evening, Joachim lay for a long time staring at the ceiling before he could relax. In the end, he had to get up and write something clever in his little notebook. It was something he had seen inside his head.

  He wrote:

  14

  DECEMBER 14

  … long before the child’s forefinger had time to unfold …

  ON December 14, Joachim woke up before Mama and Papa. He sat up in bed. Only ten days left till Christmas Eve.

  What was going to happen to Elisabet, the angel Ephiriel, and all the others who were going to Bethlehem?

  Before he had a chance to open the Advent calendar, Mama and Papa were in his room. Under his arm, Papa had two large atlases.

  Joachim opened door number 14. The folded paper fell on the bed, and in the calendar they saw a picture of a raft with people, animals, and angels on it.

  “The raft!” said Mama.

  They sat on the edge of the bed. That day Joachim read.

  ISAAC

  Toward the end of the ninth century, a strange raft was sailing on the Po River in the direction of the Adriatic Sea to the east. The country they were sailing through was called Lombardy. On the raft were a small flock of sheep, bleating crossly because they were not allowed to drink the river water. The smallest sheep was running back and forth, and the little bell hanging around its woolly neck tinkled.

  Two Wise Men were making wise observations about the beautiful countryside they were sailing through. One of them was black, the other was white. After a long discussion about the blessings of oranges and dates, they agreed that God could not have created a better world—at least, not in six days.

  At the back of the raft stood a man in Roman clothes steering with a long pole. Such clothes had only been out of fashion for a short time. He was talking to a small girl who was holding a piece of cardboard in her hands. On one side was written “TO BETHLEHEM”; on the other was a picture of a young woman with long, fair hair.

  Most conspicuous were two angels on the front of the raft, beating their wings to keep the raft from drifting toward the riverbank. This was long before boats were equipped with propellers.

  Now and again, the cherub Impuriel turned to the others and praised the beauty of the landscape they were passing.

  “Wonderful!” he called out. “Nothing but glory and joy. It’s just as on the fifth day, when God saw everything that He had made. And behold—it was good!”

  Once or twice, somebody on the shore noticed them. But the raft was seen only for a brief second. That’s because it wasn’t just sailing down the Po River. It was sailing through history, too. It was crossing the tidal wave of time. When a little child stood on the bank of the river and pointed at the strange raft so that his Mama or Papa would see it, too, it disappeared long before the child’s forefinger had time to unfold.

  So perhaps it was only a mirage.

  They passed old Roman bridges and buildings, theaters, temples, and aqueducts. Ephiriel pointed at all the churches.

  “I was often in this area as a young man,” Quirinius told them, staring down at the long pole in the water. “But that was a very long time ago … or the opposite, of course … I mean, it’s still a good while before we get there. Dixi!”

  Elisabet realized that he was talking about Roman times, when there were Roman soldiers nearly everywhere in the world.

  “What did it look like here then?” she asked.

  “The Roman theaters are still standing. The orange trees as well—and the red poppies along the riverbank. But nobody had heard about Jesus. What’s new are all the churches and monasteries, priests and monks. Dixi! Dixi!”

  Before long, Joshua pointed at the riverbank. “We’ll land over there.”

  Quirinius steered the raft toward land, helped by the two angels, who beat their wi
ngs energetically. While Joshua the shepherd latched on to a tree with his crook and drew the raft to shore, the angel Ephiriel said a few warning words to the cherub Impuriel.

  “If we meet any people, you must be sure to remember to say ‘Fear not’ in a gentle angel voice, so they will not be afraid. We’re only visiting, so it’s important that we behave properly.”

  The pilgrims alighted from the raft. They passed a country church and turned uphill through the countryside.

  The towns were not very large at this time, but soon they were approaching one of the largest. Ephiriel told them it was called Padua.

  Just before they sped through the town gate, they saw a man in a blue tunic. He was sitting on a stone, with his head in his hands. It looked as if he had been sitting there for a very long time.

  Impuriel flew toward him, hovered in the air right in front of him, fluttering his wings, and said, “Fear not and be in no wise afraid. I, Impuriel, am one of God’s angels who is out on a godly errand.”

  It looked as if the cherub’s words had an effect, for the man did not throw himself to the ground and hide his head. He said neither “Hallelujah” nor “Gloria Dei.” He simply got to his feet and walked toward them.

  “Then he is one of us,” said Ephiriel.

  The man offered his hand to Elisabet. “I am Isaac the shepherd and I am going the same way as you.”

  That made it much easier to guide the six sheep through Padua. They were followed by three shepherds, two Kings of the Orient, two angels, one governor, and a little girl from Norway. Altogether, there were fifteen of them.

  They were going so fast that the few people who were out in the streets didn’t have time to look at them before they vanished. The pilgrims only just managed to see the inhabitants of the town, too. When they glimpsed an early riser, the man or woman disappeared in the next instant—and was perhaps replaced by a different man or woman.

  Elisabet thought they were in the town for only half a minute, but in fact the strange pilgrimage haunted the streets of Padua for seven or eight long years; for that half minute consisted of thirty brief seconds, and those thirty brief seconds were divided among all those seven or eight years.