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The Innkeeper
By Carol Ann Roivzie Shivering half with cold and half with delightful satisfaction, the proprietor rubbed his hands and bolted the heaVy inn doors. His last vacant room had been rented to several wealthy merchants (they would pay well) and the courtyard was a iabyrinth of donkeys, horses and exhausted people bedded down for the night. A full house. Yes, this night’s guests would fill his pockets. He certainly could use a bit of money now with the season of Roman tax assessments at hand. Of course he was not the only inn keeper or for that matter the only businessman who had prospered today. The small city Bethlehem was teeming (as was every other city) with people returning to the place of their birth to be counted for the tax estimation. The envation of so many people returning had been profitable to nearly every business of the town. The innkeeper, then, having f>ut up his “No Rooms” sign nd locked the heavy door, strode towards his own room. The rooms had been occupied early so the night was young. However, the day had been demanding and he was completely fatigued. Even prosperous innkeepers must have their rest.
Not bothering to stifle his yawns, he pulled a heavy blanket o\er himself. The heat of the day had subsided with the setting sun as winds whistled down from the hills. Relaxing, he felt very contented. The Lord had been good to him. He felt very thankful. Later that night towards morning, he had much more on which to ponder.
()nly a few seconds after he had closed his eyelids, he found himself stumbling towards the knocks and bangs at the inn door. Who could be knocking? Surely it was early, but couldn’t they see the sign? Couldn’t whoever it was just sense that the inn was crowded ?
He unbarred the door rapidly, clutching his robe closer as the sting of air nipped his face. A couple stood in the moonlight. A young woman, her face concealed bv the shadow of her cloak sat on a donkey, and beside her stood a
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