THE INNKEEPERS
By Russ Durbin



Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2011 by Russ Durbin

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The Innkeepers


“Who is it, Simon?”
“A couple of travelers. Young man and his wife. They’ve come for the census.”
“I supposed they want a place to stay the night?” It was a statement more than a question.
“Yes.”
“Well, don’t just stand there. Tell them we are full up. They’ll have to go somewhere else.”
“Abigail….”
“Yes?”
“Couldn’t we put them in the loft room tonight? The woman is with child.”
“What?” Abigail fairly screamed. “Don’t you realize Aaron, son of Azariah, of Antioch and his servants will be here shortly? He rented every cubit of space we had days ago. It’s a great honor to our humble inn to have such a famous merchant stay here. Would you turn him away?” she said sarcastically.
“And don’t you forget,” she scolded. “He is paying us quite handsomely. No, it’s quite impossible to put those travelers up. Tell them to go away.” She concluded firmly.
“Abigail….”
“I don’t want to hear more, Simon.” 
“But…”
She cut him off. “No!”
“I think we should do something for them. They have come from Nazareth and are very tired. The woman’s time is quite near,” Simon persisted. “Somehow, I feel it’s important that we give them a place to stay.”
“Of course you do,” Abigail retorted. “You are too soft. And tomorrow you’ll think some aromatic beggar is important, and that we should help him, too.”
“This is different, Abigail. These people are somehow different,” Simon insisted.
“Humph! Who are they? Nobody! Tell them to go away. We have no room for them.”
Abigail turned, wagging a finger in Simon’s face. “Simon, you are a fool. If it hadn’t been for me, we would have been out on the highway ourselves. Alone, you wouldn’t have made the inn pay. “She added, “You have to admit, we’ve done pretty well for our little village.”
Simon nodded tiredly.
“Still….”
“That’s enough!” she said sharply. “Get rid of them.”
“Abigail, don’t you feel any sympathy for them?”
“Why should I? I don’t know them. They’re strangers. We have enough to do to keep bread on our table and a roof over our heads, you sentimental fool.”
Simon bore her scathing remarks with stoicism born of habit.
 “If you’re too soft to tell them to be gone, I’ll do it.”
“No,” Simon said abruptly. “I’ll do it.”
As he placed his hand on the latch and pulled the door part way open, he could see the couple in the yard outside, their donkey tied to a post nearby. The young mother-to-be rested her head on her husband’s shoulder.
Simon paused with the door half open. Then turning to his wife, he said, “Abigail, what about the stable?”
His wife was busy trimming the lamps as darkness grew deeper.
“What about the stables?” she asked absently.
“We could let them stay there. At least, they would be out of the chill night air.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake…” 
Without waiting for her to finish, Simon disappeared through the doorway. He returned shortly, looking sheepish but pleased.
Abigail set the oil lamp on the wooden table and placed her hands on her hips, regarding her husband quizzically.
“What’s gotten into you, Simon? Who are these people? What hold do they have on you?”
“I don’t know,” he replied. “They are just ordinary people, Abby. He is a carpenter. She is just a scared young girl, I think. They’ve come a long way and they need a place to stay, so she can have her baby. That’s all. I just feel it’s important that we help them.”
“You are impossible!” snorted Abigail. “It takes more than being kind to ‘ordinary’ people to put bread on the table.”
“Yes, Abigail,” Simon agreed. “It takes money to buy bread and it takes bread to fill our stomachs.”
Despite his wife’s baleful looks, he went on stubbornly, “But it takes more than bread to fill our souls. Our lives are richer for our kindnesses to others.”
“Well, well,” sneered Abigail. “Maybe you’ll become the prophet from Bethlehem and found a new religion based on love and kindness—all sweetness and light—and live on the charities of others.”
“No-o-o,” Simon said slowly. “That won’t be me. But someday someone may do just that. And when he does, he’ll be greater than all the kings of this world.”
“Greater than Aaron of Antioch?” she interrupted rudely.
“Our wealthy guest is hardly more than a shadow in the sunlight of one day in eternity,” said Simon thoughtfully.
“Well, he may be a shadow, as you call it, but his gold is real enough!” Abigail snapped, throwing up her hands and disappearing into the other room.
Simon stood staring at the place where she had been, but without really thinking about her. His mind was on the young couple in the cave where the animals were stabled.
He opened the door and glanced up at the hillside where the stable was. He could see the glow of a small fire. The night was clear and cold. The stars seemed brighter than usual.
For the first time in a long while, Simon felt at peace.


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