Free Three Wise Cats by Harold Konstantelos

Surely when we reach our journey’s end we shall have all revealed to us!”
    With that hope voiced aloud, the human and feline members of the camp soon settled to sleep. Kaspar had thoughtfully brought along the big basket Gracus had originally provided them, and the three cats slept warmly each night within the folds of the rough wool cloak.
    Before dawn, however, Abishag woke and, resting her chin on the edge of the basket, watched the glorious star in the east. It seems to be traveling just ahead of us now, she thought, half asleep still. It is as if we are beckoned onward by it, to find the King of Kings and to present Him with our gifts . . . To think I am actually on the last leg of such a profound journey. We have had such generous help from all the humans now in our lives. I know Ira suffered with his poor broken leg, and Kezia’s ear was painful until it healed. Now it is crumpled and she isn’t as pretty as she was—but we are all alive and well, considering. I want to hurry and find the Messiah—and then hurry even faster to return home and tell Ptolemy all we have seen and done and heard. I hope he is well, too. And that he watches the same star, at least what he can see of it from so far away. Does he wonder about us and how we are doing? Does he—does he miss me? I miss him very much.
    A light breakfast and they were off once again, the strong camels traveling many more miles in a day than man or cat could have done on foot. That day seemed a longer one than most; the men shifted in their saddles and the cats were restless in their baskets as the hours wore on. Finally, at a tiny oasis, the call came to dismount and make camp for the night. Riders waited for the camels to lower themselves to the sandy soil; with much groaning and snorting, the great beasts settled themselves and their burdens on the ground.
    Ira hopped out of his basket as soon as he judged his crooked leg could bear the shock of his landing. After he stretched, he flung himself onto the bank of a sandy wash that wound through the oasis. On his back, he wriggled until he was covered with silt, thus completing a most satisfying back scratch despite his harness. Rolling to his feet, he went looking for Kezia and Abishag.
    Kezia began sneezing when Ira bounded up to her, shaking small puffs of silt from his fur as he jumped.

    â€œIra! You are as dirty as three human boys could be!” She sneezed again. “Please go shake off the dirt—somewhere else.”
    Ira laughed and twitched his ears rapidly. “I can make dust signals with my ears,” he bragged. “Who needs smoke?” The unseen paw that cuffed an ear belonged to Abishag, and Ira whirled, then pulled himself into a menacing crouch. “Watch out, foster sister! I’m in a fierce mood this evening.”
    Abishag laughed in turn. “You look as if you have brown fur instead of black. No Roman soldier would ever get that dirty.”
    â€œNo Roman soldier would ever stay this dirty,” Ira corrected her and shook himself thoroughly. Then he settled down next to one of the pack camels to bathe, while the girls went hunting. Suddenly his upper lip flehmened and he swore—softly, so his sisters wouldn’t overhear him.
    â€œBy Mars’s shield; Asmodeus, how is it you travel so many miles to plague us and yet never lose your stink?”
    â€œAh, my young soldier cat. You bear your grudges as you would bear your arms—if you could do so.” Asmodeus smirked at Ira from behind the bundles of provisions. “And how fare you and your delightful foster sisters?”
    â€œWe’re fine.”
    â€œGood. I am delighted for you. Now that you are a warrior and a world traveler, you should be doing very well indeed. Are you dining as pleasantly as you did aboard Alexos’s ship?”
    â€œWe don’t have fresh fish any longer, silly. This is the desert,” Ira answered, resuming his