The Twelfth Night Mystery

Written by William Shepard, Published on 12/31/2008

It all started when my parents went back to the old country, Poland, for a summer visit. They enjoyed themselves and came back somewhat enlightened, with all sorts of ideas. One of these ideas was to celebrate the story of the Three Wise Men, sometimes called the Three Kings. Now, I’ll have you know, I wasn’t very enthusiastic about all of this. What I really wanted was the kitten I’d asked Santa for. The kitten that Santa, unfortunately, forgot to bring to me on Christmas.

My parents, though, didn’t think I was responsible enough for a pet of my own. Or so they said on Christmas day. My father relented just a bit: “Sarah, if you can solve the mystery of the Three Kings, you’ll get your kitten. It all happens on Twelfth Night, the 6th of January. That’s when they arrived at Bethlehem after the birth of Jesus. In Poland and some other countries, they remember Twelfth Night, and celebrate it just as much as they do Christmas.”

Well, if that meant a second chance to get my Christmas present right, I was all for it! Mother relayed that we would have a special dinner that night, a traditional Polish dinner, with the biggest broiled fish I ever saw. “Eat your dinner, and maybe you’ll grow bigger than your parents did!” she said. Dinner was delicious. There was a cake for dessert, and just before it was served, we had visitors -- three of them, in ancient costumes.

“We are the Three Kings, come to bless your house, just as we visited in Bethlehem so long ago. We have come from far, far away.” I looked with astonishment at the apparitions in the doorway. First there was Caspar of Tarsus, a young man with a full beard. “I bring gold,” he said, “for the new king.” He was huge, vigorous and athletic looking, despite the costume.

“I am Melchoir of Persia,” said the second man. He was closer to my father’s age, and he looked like one of Dad’s bowling cronies, behind the turban that he wore. “I bring myrrh, the bitter herb.” He had funny looking slippers on, close fitting, with a tassel on the end by the toes. They were still a bit wet from the snow.

And the third man seemed older yet. He said that he was Balthasar, an elderly man from Saba in Ethiopia, and his was the gift of a rare perfume, frankincense -- it was so fragrant that it seemed to flood all over his hands.

After the introductions, Mother served the special cake. It was festive, and full of almonds, with a rich frosting and ornate decorations. “The person who gets the king token hidden in the cake, wears a special hat and is the king for tonight,” Mother said. “It’s the way that people in the old country remember the visit of the Three Kings to Bethlehem.”

Well, the cake was sliced and I nearly broke a tooth on the token. “You get the hat,” Dad said, and everyone clapped toward to me. It was interesting, I’ll admit, but still, I wasn’t very happy. I almost spoiled everything by my sniffling. The nearest of the Three Kings looked at me. “It’s my kitten, Melchoir. I really wanted a little kitten. I even saw her at the Humane Society. Where is she now!”

Mother gave a sigh. “King Melchoir,” she said, “Laurie’s been asking for a kitten for weeks. We went to the Humane Society the last day they were open before Christmas. We all saw the kitten. It’s so pretty and playful.”

When we got up from the table, Mother mentioned something about caroling, and my playing the piano. Then, just in the nick of time, I was rescued from that embarrassment when I heard a muffled meow coming from another room. Yes, I did! Dad smiled, “Well, Sarah, a promise is a promise. If you can figure out who brought the cat, and where she is, you can keep her!”

We looked around the house. We went upstairs and downstairs, and into the recreation room. Then we heard the kitten crying again, very faintly. There was an open window, and it sounded like the kitten was outside. It made a lot of noise for such a little creature. Clearly it wanted to be at home, with me!

Dad, Mother and I, Caspar and Balthasar put on boots and overcoats and went outside, while Melchoir kept on the covered porch. “I see some tracks,” I shouted. And I did. There was one set of huge overshoe tracks, and they led from our parking circle up to the outside garage door, just on the other side of the kitchen. “Funny,” said Dad. “There weren’t any tracks when I came home an hour ago! Guess I forgot to lock that outside door!”

“How will you know it’s your cat?” Balthasar asked.

“It’s a beautiful kitten. White with orange paws and rich thick fur. When we saw her at the Humane Society, Dad said she must be a Maine Coon Cat, at least partly.”

Dad suddenly gasped for breath, and took out an inhaler. “It’s my asthma,” he said. “When I spend more than a few seconds in cold weather my asthma acts up, and really puts me out of commission. These inhalers are a lifesaver.” Then, Mother helped him back inside.

We opened the garage door and there, in a new animal carrying case, we heard the kitten again. Dad kept the garage fairly warm, but the air was still crisp. Pumpkin, my new kitten, was just as beautiful as I remembered.

“And I know who put her here, too,” I said. “So I get to keep my kitten after all. This is the nicest Christmas season I’ve ever had!”