Christmas Eve

Keeping Watch — A Christmas Eve Story

for Lewis B

I can hear the men talking at the fire outside the door, sitting in their circle and making their words in their low, rough tones. The sound of men’s voices usually soothes me, pulls a soft blanket of comfort across me. But tonight the pain is too much within me, and my breathing is a great and difficult labor, and there is no comfort here for me. The old woman has done all for me that she can do.

She is sitting over there next to the lamp, where she always sits when her day’s work is done and she is resting. Her eyes are on me, and whenever I open mine for a moment, she speaks to me in that voice I know so well. Just now, she asks me if I’m all right, if there’s anything I need. My mouth and throat feel as baked as the desert and some water would be wonderful, but my eyes are quite heavy and I don’t think I can rouse myself. I close my eyes again and listen to the old woman’s voice as she speaks to me. After a while, she stops speaking and I listen again to the men outside, their words seeming to glow inside my head like the coals in the pit in the center of them.

This is probably my last night of life. I know it and the old woman seems to know it. I have been failing since the donkey kicked me a few days ago. We had always been friendly towards each other, the donkey and I, but she was in a foul mood after another day of ill treatment from the young man who owns her, and when I nipped playfully at her leg as I have done at least once a day in the months she’s been here in the village, I thought she would frolic a bit with me. But she lifted her black lips from her teeth and brayed a warning, and then without giving me time to retreat she lifted both hind feet and kicked me across the fenced yard. Both hooves slammed into my ribs and my midsection with terrible force, and I sailed through the air and hit the pile of flat rocks several yards away. I didn’t feel any pain for a few seconds, but when I tried to stand, I could tell that some things inside my body had come loose, and some had broken, and the pain bit me like a lion bites its prey, and I cried out and fell down in the dust.

The old woman ran out of the house and came to me, scolding the donkey as she opened the gate. But the donkey’s anger had melted away as soon as she turned and saw me sprawled across the pile of rocks, and she was standing over me, trying to nuzzle my head when the old woman reached us. The woman pushed her nose aside so that she could stoop – with pain of her own – to lift me into her arms. The young man who owns the donkey came around one of the other houses just then, and when he heard the old woman scolding the donkey, he took a slender rod and began to beat his beast on the side of her neck. The old woman cried out at him to stop, but he didn’t stop for several minutes, and I looked into the donkey’s eyes as the old woman carried me on unsteady legs into her little house. The donkey told me that she was sorry, and I told her that I was sorry that her master was beating her. I have not seen her since I was carried into the house, but I have heard her call a few times from outside.

Thinking of her takes my mind off of the pain in my body and distracts me from how difficult it is to draw each breath. And thinking of her reminds me of another donkey I once knew, perhaps forty seasons ago, a donkey who came into our village carrying a young woman. The woman was heavy with child and her mate’s face was lined and taut with concern over her. Back then I used to help herd the sheep, and sometimes the goats, but the goats never gave me much respect and I didn’t try as hard to manage them as I did the sheep. My master, the old woman’s mate, was a stern but kind man who had only one arm but the most piercing whistle I have ever heard. We worked the sheep together almost every day, and when lambing season would come, I got to rest a lot because most of the work was done in the stables and the other men pitched in to help my master.

I was stretched out next to the fire that evening when I met the donkey. My master and the other men were resting after their evening meal and talking. They kept pointing up at the great star in the sky that I had been watching all afternoon. It was almost directly overhead and it was difficult to crane my neck back so far and look up at it. But when I lay on my side, I could look up at it easily, and I was looking up just then, the light bleeding out of the air over the horizon and darkness coming on. I heard a snuffle and a snort, and I sat up and looked at the road over by the inn. From that direction was coming the donkey with the young woman sitting on her, the woman’s mate walking next to her with his staff bumping the ground. A large bundle was tied on to the donkey’s back behind the woman, and the man had another large parcel slung across his shoulders. The couple were talking in a low voice, and the woman was trying to smile. It was clear to me that she was in pain.

I stood up and walked slowly to the donkey as they drew near to the fire where the men were sitting. The man came over to where my master and the men were and spoke to them. As I approached the donkey, she nickered softly and the woman patted her on the side of her neck with a tiny hand. We touched noses, the donkey and I, and she told me that she was very tired from a long, dry journey and that she was thirsty. I looked towards the house and sure enough, the old woman was standing in the doorway, looking at the woman on the donkey and then at her mate as he talked to my master. She came outside and approached us. While the donkey and I spoke in our silent tongue, my old woman talked with the young woman on the donkey. After a few minutes, my master came over with the young woman’s mate and they all talked for a little while. My master called to one of the young men at the fire, and he went with my master and the young woman’s mate to the stable and went inside. My old woman took the reins of the donkey and led her, still carrying the young woman, to the water trough outside the stable. While the donkey took water, the old woman went to the house and returned with a water jar and gave the young woman a drink. The young woman smiled a sweet smile through her weariness, and the two women talked for a few more minutes.

Then my master and the young man and the young woman’s mate came out of the stable. They all stood talking for a while, and then the young woman’s mate helped her down from the donkey. As he led her into the stable, the young man led the donkey inside as well. I followed them and saw the young man tie the donkey loosely to a post near the hay stall. The other man was making a bed of straw in the corner and spreading blankets on it. The young woman’s face was covered with sweat, and her lips were set in a tense line. Finally, the bed was prepared and her mate helped the young woman to lie down and he covered her with another blanket. I went over to the donkey and smelled her forelegs and we touched noses again, and I barked once at her to welcome her and her people, and she showed me her teeth in a friendly way. My master whistled at me and I followed him outside. Then it was time for my evening meal, and I went to hunt for something before the darkness was complete. But the star above us kept the darkness from being too deep.

When I came back from my hunt, the air was chilly and I wanted to lay by the fire, and I did for a while. There were several men at the fire, there being many travelers staying overnight at the little inn. They called to me with friendly voices, and one of them tossed me a piece of bread, which I enjoyed. I wriggled up close to the fire and tried to drowse a bit. But there was an unease in the air. I could hear cries of pain coming from the stable, and my master and his mate kept coming and going between the house and the stable. I was nervous and wanted to stay away from the sound of pain. I wondered if the donkey was nervous, too. The fire warmed me, and one of the boys sitting with the men stroked my head, and I slipped into a light sleep.

When I awakened, all of the men were gone and I was alone at the bed of coals that had been a lively fire a few hours ago. The air was cold and bright, bright with the starlight above me, and all was as still as a pond in winter. I lifted my head and listened. There were no more cries of pain. I looked over at my master’s house. The door was shut and there was a faint light from the lamp showing beneath the door. I arose and went to the door and listened. I could hear the deep, steady breaths of my master and his mate, the old woman, and knew they were asleep.

I looked back at the stable, and saw that at least one lamp was lit there. I listened and could hear the sound of some of the animals in there. The travelers had boarded a few ponies and two other donkeys there, along with a half-dozen sheep. My master had two oxen who often spent the nights inside the stable. I could hear the chickens clucking, and the indignant screech of the rooster, who did not like me at all. That’s what helped me make my decision. If that hateful old rooster could be in the warm stable tonight with the young couple, then I could, too. I trotted over to the side entrance and looked inside.

The young woman was no longer lying on her bed of straw. She was sitting next to the rough manger, her legs crossed beneath her robes. And she was looking down into the manger and smiling a smile more beautiful than sunrise in springtime. She was talking softly, and her mate was standing behind her, smiling down into the manger as well. With all my stealth, I moved as silent as oil to where I could see the manger. I saw that there was a tiny little person lying there on the straw, wrapped in one of the blankets my master used to wipe the foam from the oxen when they were hot and sweaty. It was a little boy, and he was looking straight up into the face of his mother as she talked to him.

I moved around to where the donkey was standing. She was watching the baby with great interest, and when she sensed me at her side, she turned and looked at me with her calm, black gaze. She was trembling slightly, and I realized that I was trembling, too. Something about the little baby boy was affecting us. The other creatures in the stable noticed it, too. And then I realized that I could hear a type of music. Someone singing. No, not someone. Not singing. It was…bees. There was a small hive of honeybees in the mud joists of the stable roof, and they were all buzzing together, their tiny clear wings lifting a song together into the still stable air. It sounded like the songs humans sing when they gather together. And the young woman looked up at the bees and smiled. Then she looked directly at me.

My heart jumped in my chest. The young woman smiled at me, and she said something to her mate. He looked over at me with eyes so kind they made me whimper. Then he looked down again at the little baby boy. The flicker of the oil lamp made the lines in his face look as deep as a desert canyon.
The donkey turned her face to me again and told me something that I didn’t understand for many months. And as she said this to me, she went down on her knees and knelt. I didn’t understand what was happening, but I felt moved to kneel myself. I bowed with my front legs and then tucked my back legs beneath me. The chickens all sat down on the straw or on their roosting poles. The oxen knelt, and so did the sheep, and the other donkeys, and finally the ponies. When we were all kneeling before the little baby boy, the donkey next to me said something quietly in a voice that sounded like a human. One of the chickens said something as well, followed by one of the sheep and both of the oxen. I felt the urge to bark, but when I opened my teeth, an odd noise came forth, and it frightened me. The young couple never looked up at us; they kept smiling down at their little son.

The day the young family left our stable, the donkey touched my nose with hers and gave me her friendship for life. I barked at her, then barked at the young family, the mother carrying her babe in a sling across her breast and her mate walking beside her, one hand on my friend, the donkey. I stood at the roadside and watched them until they disappeared around a bend in the road where a clump of thorny bushes stood. I almost ran after them, but decided to stay with my people, and so I did.

And now, tonight, all these seasons later, my suffering is full and the desire to stay here with my people is fading like my breath. But I can still see the face of my friend, the donkey, and I can still see the faces of the young woman and her mate. And her little baby boy. How I would like to see him now, with all these seasons past. I am certain that he is tall and strong, Is my donkey friend still alive? Not likely. Beasts of burden like her have a very hard life. The donkey here who kicked me into death’s chamber has had a difficult life, and I bear her no ill feelings at all. In fact, I wish I could talk to her again, but I cannot draw a deep enough breath to bark and summon her.

I open my eyes again and the old woman is still sitting there, peeling a vegetable into a bowl. She senses me looking at her and she looks at me and speaks some words. I am grateful the room feels warm. My pain is starting to leave me quickly now, and I feel warmer and softer than I have since I was knotted up with my litter mates next to my mother in the little cave on the east hill. The old woman is keeping watch over me, and I will let her. I am so very tired, so I close my eyes again and take the deepest breath I can manage.

~ by S.K. Orr