The Astronomer, the Librarian, the Alchemist, and the Herbalist (AKA the three wise men)

The astronomer bent over his workbench and scribbled the notes from the night. The sun peeked over the horizon and illuminated the day as he lay in his bed ready to capture his sleep. The scent of wood shavings filled his nostrils as he slept and he dreamed of the stars he had seen.

Dreams filled his head. Dreams of the one who was to come, dreams of the one who already was.

He watched the sky night after night. He saw the signs there and interpreted them. Any day. It was coming. He looked up at the sky and saw the stars aligning. One year, one month and one day. In one year, one month and one day he would set out. The stars would align and he would travel the world. He would search the abodes of man and look for the one who was. He would travel across the earth until he found what he was looking for.

The days passed and he filled them with searching. He searched the sky for clues. He searched the city for gifts. Only the finest would do. He would bring gold, but not any gold. No, he would bring the finest gold of the east. But until he found the finest he would gather whatever he could find. He sold his possessions and bought the gold. He sold his pottery. He sold his paintings. He sold his notebooks, his workbench, his goats and chickens. He sold everything and bought gold for the King.

He walked through the city and found a goldsmith. He measured the gold, trading it for his sheep, and carried it to his home. He sat down with it and examined it in the light of the moon. He inspected the rays that reflected off the metal and captured them in a basin. He washed his hands in them. This gold was fit for a King.

He continued searching. He brought gold home from every smith and tested it in the light of the stars. He studied its behavior in the moonlight and mixed it with the evening dew. He tasted it. He melted it. He resolidified it. He packed it for the journey. He sold his woodworking tools. He sold his astronomy tools. He sold his chairs and tables.  

He walked into the last smith’s shop and saw a man there covered in thick robes patched from head to foot. He bent over the gold and asked questions. What were the properties of this gold that made it unique? What made it better than the gold of the smith across the street? Why should this gold be fit for a king instead of another kind of gold?

“Excuse me sir,” said the astronomer, “I have examined this gold already, I can explain to you all its attributes.”

The librarian looked up and saw the stars in the astronomer’s eyes. He gazed at the stars for one moment before placing the brick back on the shelf.

“And what can a man do with gold?” the librarian asked the astronomer.

“A man can do nothing, but a King requires all.”

“I will not take this gold,” he said as he bowed and turned to go out with the astronomer, “Thank you for your time.”

“I have searched the entire city for the finest gold,” said the astronomer when they were on the street. Vendors pushed their carts by and women danced in the street as children played flutes on the corners. “I am searching for the finest gifts for the King.”

The banners above them fluttered when he said it. The librarian took his arm and pulled him into an alley.

“I have been studying the poets and the prophets for some time and have shared my knowledge with those close to me, but they do not believe.” A cobra danced to the tune of a flute across the street. “The time is soon, is it not?”

“The time is upon us.” The astronomer leaned on his staff and fingered what had once been an ivory carving, “I have been studying the stars since I was young and my father first taught me to notice the signs there. We have been awaiting this day from the first rising of the sun and now it is here. In just half a year I will set out to see the King, but I cannot leave empty handed. As I have said, I have searched every smith in the city, and gathered all the gold He is worthy of. I have tested it all with moonlight and dew, and they produced the necessary effects. But come,” The astronomer stepped into the street once more, “I know of an alchemist. I forgot of him until now. He will make the finest gold for us though the price is very high.”

“No price is too high,” said the librarian.

The two friends made their way through the city and out the gates. The pearl arches reached up and embraced as they walked under them. Guards stood on either side and watched the friends begin their journey up the road. The desert was before them. Rocky mountains reached up in the distance and the path wound between the sagebrush and cacti.

“You know life began in the desert,” the librarian said it half-questioningly.

“My father found it written in a scroll, but he could not discover the story.”

“In the beginning, there were beasts in the land,” the librarian recited, “but they were unlike the ones we see today.”

The librarian recited the story of the beasts in the desert. He told of the lynx, of the owl, of the fox and the crows. As he neared the end, the astronomer asked about the creatures of the sea. The librarian explained the whales and the otters, the dolphins and the fish. He told of the beavers making their homes in the forests and filling the woods with fish. He told of the salmon who swim for miles only to return to the place where they hatched. The librarian told of the plants and the astronomer told of the stars.

The two friends exchanged stories. Each one shared everything he knew and discovered the answers to the riddles he had only just begun to imagine. They walked through the desert and into the rocks. They walked up the mountain and through the crevices. They followed the stars above them and the astronomer explained their path.

“The alchemist lives where the raven hair touches the earth. Her constellation touches the earth at his door. It is where the people of the village lost her.”

The librarian looked up into the sky and the astronomer showed him how the hair flowed off the girl’s head and came to the earth.

“That is the path messengers from the other world still use to reach the earth. There was once a man who fell asleep at the threshold of the alchemist’s cave and while he slept he saw angels ascending and descending on a ladder.”

“Who travels to my home as the stars erase the light of the sun?” The voice came to them as the breeze swept through the rocks. The librarian looked around, trying to find the source of the sound.

“It is I, the astronomer,” the stars flickered for a moment and the sky darkened, only to explode the next moment. “I come with a friend. We have come to pay the price for your gold. We have come to collect your gold so that we may take it to the King.”

“And what can a man do with gold?”

“A man can do nothing, but a King requires all.”

“Well spoken friend.” The alchemist stepped out from behind a rock and bowed before the astronomer and the librarian. “Please enter.”

The two friends bowed before entering the cave.

The librarian looked at the walls. They were empty. A fire glowed in the back of the cave and the alchemist went to the far side and sat on a stool. He looked into the pot and stirred it with the wooden spoon.

“We are aware of the price for your gold,” the astronomer began.

“There is no price if the gold is for the King. Nothing is required of you. When is the King to be born?”

“I have been studying the stars these fifty years and they are beginning to align. They will be in position within half the cycle of the sun.”

“And I will go with you. What will be the sign of his coming?” The astronomer spooned some from the cauldron into a smaller bowl. “I know the changing of the elements but I do not know the dance of the stars.”

“There will rise a star in the west. You will not be able to mistake it. It will shine brighter than any other star. It will be visible while the sun is highest.” The alchemist handed the bowl to the astronomer. “What is this?”

“If I am to make gold for the King, I ask that those accompanying me on the journey share this meal with me.” He handed another bowl to the librarian.

“Have you considered the frankincense?” the librarian asked.

The astronomer and the alchemist looked at each other.

“I only had a part of the prophesy. The scrolls I have were burned and the rest was lost,” the astronomer said.

The librarian began in a singsong voice,

“Gold to crown him King again,

King forever, ceasing never,

Over us to reign.

Frankincense to offer up,

Incense for the King.

Prayer comes from all men raising,

They worship Him, the God most High.

Myrrh, the spice that smells of death

breathes a life of gathering doom;

Sorrow, sighing, bleeding dying,

Sealed in the stone cold tomb.

But life will come when all is lost

and burst the cords that sealed Him.”

The words echoed off the walls of the cave, hovering for a moment before vanishing in the night. The friends sat and watched the words go. They dissolved into the walls and evaporated into the sky where the stars caught them and distilled them into the objects they spoke of. Gold shimmered in the cauldron that had boiled the stew and somewhere a tear seeped out of a tree as it heard the words. Tears ran down her face and a man collected it. He carried it into his home and purified it, readying it for the day. But the day he knew not.

*

“We have found the herbalist.” The alchemist announced as he threw open the astronomer’s door. “He lives just on the other side of the mountain.”

The alchemist threw the covers off the sleeping astronomer. “Come, we must go at once.”

*

The three friends walked the mountain paths looking for the rumored herbalist. They followed the rumors of the town. They followed the thoughts of skeptical citizens and the beliefs of those who had been cured.

He cured me of my cough. He cured me of my fatal wound. He cured me from the death I clung to. He cured me from my sleeping sickness. He cured me from my laziness.

They had heard it all. Half the townspeople thought he was a crazy man who wandered in the desert. The other half believed he was descended from the gods. Only a few could testify that he had been in the city, that they had seen him disappear through the haze of the desert.

The three friends followed the rumors. They wandered through the forsaken land and inspected the ground around every tree.

“This one has been opened recently!” the librarian called to his friends. They ran over and inspected the marks.

They followed the rumors of their hearts until they arrived at a wooden door placed over the entrance of a cave.

The astronomer knocked on the door.

The three friends heard someone muttering on the other side. Something crashed and shattered. More murmuring followed and there was a pause before a scraping of locks from the top to the bottom of the door.

The door creaked open and a man peered at them around the door. His white hair stuck out from the sides of his head.

“Yes?”

The three bowed as the astronomer spoke, “We have come to pay the price for your frankincense and myrrh. We have come with gold.”

“And what can a man do with gold?”

“A man can do nothing, but a King requires all.”

The herbalist stepped back and opened the door.

“Come in.”

The three friends entered the house and sat on the stools the herbalist pulled from the shadows. A single candle burned on the workbench. Clumps of herbs hung from the ceiling.

“You must know why we have come,” the librarian said.

“Yes,” the herbalist’s eyes shifted from one to another and then to his jars of herbs and back. “Yes, the prophesy. The King will be born in the west. And we will go to him. We will bring him our gifts. Yes, yes.”

The herbalist stood up and busied himself with his herbs. He took a knife and chopped them before shoveling them into a jar. He stopped occasionally and sniffed the contents of another jar. He held the lid in one hand as he looked at his visitors.

“My trees are dying. They have given their best. And now it is time. They will go the way of all things. They will wither and bury themselves in the soil the wind brings them. They have given me their best.”

The herbalist shuffled to the corner and brought a sack to the visitors. He reached in and held out a handful of pebbles that barely reflected the light of the candle.

“The finest frankincense you will ever see. It came from my oldest tree. None other will bear the like. It grew just there on the top of the hill.” The herbalist indicated a hill they couldn't see. “Don’t know how it managed to grow there. Not a drop of soil in sight. The rain ran straight off. No. No rain, no soil. Only the scorching heat. The sun burning it up day after day. The moon chilled her at night.” The herbalist took the bag back to the corner. “No, but then the trees receiving the worst treatment make the best frankincense.”

The herbalist puttered around with his herbs.

“What will the price be for your frankincense and your myrrh?” The alchemist asked. “We are willing to pay a fine price. Whatever you ask we will give it.”

“No. No. No price,” the herbalist turned back to his visitors. “No price for the King. I will be accompanying you.”

The herbalist turned to his herbs for a moment before facing his visitors again.

“You do have plenty of camels to bring? The frankincense and myrrh I have harvested for the King will require a large caravan. And I assume you made large quantities of gold for the King?” He peered at the alchemist.

“I have sold all my camels except one,” said the astronomer. “We will pack the camel and walk. We can buy another and sell it when we arrive.”

*

The four friends set out from the city. The camels plodded through the gate and the people came out to see. They watched the four friends setting out and whispered.

“They go to find the King of the myths,” they said, “They trusted in fairy tales. See where it will get them.”

“They were once wise men, but their foolish ways have caught up with them. They have sold everything and bought gifts for their imaginary king. And now they go to him”

Others came and gave to the wise men. They brought out their life savings. They gave everything they had. They brought out their last pieces of gold. They brought out the single tear of frankincense they were given as a gift. They brought out the spices they had saved for their own family members. They brought out everything. They laid their gifts in the wise men’s bags and the wise men started through the gates.

The astronomer looked to the stars and led the caravan through the wilderness. They wandered through paths untraveled. They saw the rumored lands. They exchanged what was left of their goods for the gold of foreign lands. They collected the gold wherever they found it and brought it. The alchemist purified the gold and refined it in his fire. He melted it and watched the King’s face as the gold liquefied. The librarian recited the poems of the past. He brought out the memories of those gone before. He remembered and recalled the future life of the King. The herbalist studied the plants they came across. He inspected the soil around them and knew when they were close. They entered the land of the King and the herbalist saw it in the soil. He could see the fingerprints of God.

And they came to the palace. They entered and asked the king. He knew not where to find the King. They traveled to the outskirts of the city. They traveled to the forgotten towns. They traveled to the obscure places and found Him.