Kris Kringle

At nightfall, Kris began the long walk to the Green Pasture, this time by himself. It was not that Jack did not desire to join him, but he did not want to wear out his welcome with the Shepherds. Jack had never technically been invited to join them in the first place, and furthermore he had told Rudy that he was not interested in being an official part of the group. Kris promised to share whatever was discussed at the meeting, and Jack in turn promised to spend his evening scouring more books for any information on Percy’s Parchment.

When Kris arrived at the Pasture, he hopped the fence and made his way to the stable. Rudy and most of the Shepherds were already seated in a circle inside, the lanterns all lit. As Kris looked around, he noticed that he and Paul were the only ones missing.

“Have a seat, Kris,” Rudy welcomed him with a friendly voice, “Any luck deciphering that note?”

Kris sat down on an empty block of wood his back toward the entrance of the stable. “No luck at all, I’m afraid,” he replied, “Jack has been reading day and night since our last meeting, but he hasn’t been able to find anything. The phrasing of the note—‘The knowledge of Percy’s Parchment dies with the king’—suggests to me that the king is the only one who knows about the parchment and its whereabouts, and that information will die with him…”

“In that case, the information may be lost forever,” came a voice from the stable entrance. Kris turned around to see a somber Paul standing behind him.

“What do you mean?” Rudy asked with concern clearly shown on his face.

“I’m the one who called the meeting,” Paul explained, sitting down in the last open spot of the circle, “Word has spread throughout the castle that the king was attacked on his way to the South Kingdom earlier this week. There has been no sign of him or any of his men since. Only one guardsman has returned to the castle, telling some tale of a frightening beast in the forest that ripped apart the royal caravan.”

The entire circle was completely silent at hearing the news. No one knew what to say. The idea that the king had been killed was too much for them to fathom, even though it was this very scenario—and the turmoil it could bring to the kingdom— that the Shepherds had been preparing for.

“This may be incredibly bold,” Kris finally offered, breaking the silence, “But do you think the prince may have been responsible for this.”

No one answered Kris’ query immediately. The circle was again wrapped in a blanket of thoughtful, mournful silence.

“I think we have to assume Lord Renier is behind this somehow,” Rudy announced, “Given the concerns Princess Eva has shared with us, I have to think that even if the prince is innocent in this matter, he will take advantage of the situation at the earliest moment possible. Brethren, if the king does not return, we are now facing the very situation we have been organized to prevent…”

Rudy paused as if to catch his breath before speaking again.

“The rule of a tyrant,” he concluded.

Paul stared at a lantern in the center of the circle. “The princess has not yet spoken to me about it,” he informed them, “The few times I have seen her, she appears to be very distraught and very preoccupied in her thoughts. I don’t know how to comfort her. I don’t know what is to be done next.”

“I think you or someone needs to speak to the princess,” said one of the men who Kris had not yet been introduced to. He was a young man like Kris, slightly overweight with blonde hair and big blue eyes.

“I agree,” said Kris, “I know I am new here so perhaps I ought to hold my opinion, but I think we are perhaps exercising too much caution. It is time for action. Our collaboration with the princess can no longer be restricted to handwritten notes with cryptic messages. We need clear, consistent communication with the individual who is best able to help us combat a Renier dictatorship.”

The blonde-haired man looked over at Kris and nodded his agreement.

Rudy rubbed his chin, a deep frown on his face. “I appreciate your energy and bravery, boys,” he stated, “But we cannot become hasty or rash. The princess’ well-being is at stake here as well, lest we forget. We do not even know for certain that the king is dead. Is that fair, Paul?”

Paul nodded. “What little news I have heard is not encouraging, and with each passing day, his return seems more unlikely. But I agree with you, Rudy. We should not do anything drastic until the king’s death is confirmed.”

Kris wanted to offer a rebuttal but thought better of it. He knew he had been issued a great trust by the Shepherds by being welcomed into their circle so readily, and he did not want to give them any reason to doubt that decision. Still, in his heart, he felt strongly that real action was needed. The Shepherds needed to speak to Princess Eva immediately.

“Given this new information,” Rudy started, “I suggest we meet here every night going forward. Paul, do what you can to find out as much as you can about any updates on the king. We will convene here each night to hear what you have learned and to further chart our course of action going forward. In the meantime, everyone else keep your ears and eyes open. Dark days are ahead for Silverbell, I fear.”

The meeting was adjourned, and each of the Shepherds waited their turn to sneak off back onto the road and travel separately to their respective homes. By design, Kris had stayed behind to speak to the blonde-haired man after all the other Shepherds had left.

“I never caught your name,” Kris admitted, sticking out his hand for a handshake.

“Ian Holly,” the man replied, shaking the hand extended to him.

“Kris Kringle.”

“Well, Kris, it’s nice to see someone agrees with me on taking action. I love these brethren and have great respect for them. Because I am the youngest of them, I generally try to listen more than I speak. But I don’t mind admitting to you that I find their lack of courage frustrating.”

Ian winced at himself over what he had just said aloud.

“I don’t mean it like that,” he corrected himself, “These men are plenty courageous, it’s just—“

“They are overly cautious too, even when there is no time for such caution,” Kris finished.

Ian smiled. “Just so.”

“What do you do here in Silverbell, Ian?” Kris asked.

“I’m a farmer. I work on the Royal Farm actually. We supply the castle with all their produce.”

A thought came to Kris in that moment.

“Do you deliver the crops to the castle then?”

Ian shook his head. “They send a couple of guys every two weeks to pick up what they need. Why?”

“When is the next pick-up scheduled?” Kris asked, ignoring Ian’s question.

“Tomorrow morning,” Ian replied.

Kris smiled, for he was overjoyed by that answer. “Do you know specifically what kind of produce they will be collecting?”

“A couple bags of corn and squash and two barrels of beans,” Ian answered, confused at his new friend’s sudden interest in the details of his work. “Where are you going with this, Kris?”

Kris’ smile grew a little wider. “Well, with any luck, I’m going straight to the castle.”

The next morning, Jack awoke and began his normal morning routine. After getting dressed and eating a modest breakfast of warm bread and hot eggs, he started preparing his wagon for a trip to the Polar River where he collected his ice for delivery. He lived in the middle of the village, which did not exactly match his hermit-like personality. He enjoyed his trips to the river—located at the base of the Pinetop Mountains—because that is when he was the most alone. He was singing a familiar jingle to himself that morning when he heard an unfamiliar voice call out his name.

Jack looked up from where he was hitching his horses to his wagon and saw a man he recognized from the Shepherds’ meeting earlier that week.

“You’re Jack, aren’t you?” the man asked as he approached Jack’s wagon.

“I am,” Jack replied simply.

“My name is Ian,” the man began, “You may have recognized me from…” He paused for secrecy’s sake, and Jack nodded to show him he did not need to finish the sentence.

“Our mutual friend Kris Kringle asked me to deliver a message to you,” Ian explained, “He told me he had kept a secret from you once before and you didn’t like it, so he wanted me to tell you what he is currently up to.”

Jack gave Ian a stern stare. “Why doesn’t he just tell me himself?”

Ian smiled. “He would if he could,” was the reply, “But if you look to your left, you will see a wagon taking some goods from the Royal Farm back to the castle.”

Jack did as directed. On a hillside road that overlooked several homes in the village, Jack could indeed see a royal wagon carting a full load of bags and barrels.

“What does this have to do with Kris?” Jack asked, still confused.

Ian scratched his head nervously, afraid of what Jack’s reaction might be when the answer was given.

“Let’s just say one of those barrels doesn’t have very many beans in it!”