Kris Kringle

There was no reason to suspect that the Silverbell Kingdom would become the scene for events that would change the world. It was a quiet and small kingdom. It had never known war, for indeed, it had hardly known other kingdoms or peoples. Its geography—with thick forests and large seas surrounded it to the south and a barren frozen wasteland to the north—made it a safe, almost secret location from the rest of the world. And for the people of Silverbell, such a quiet, secluded life was all they could ever want or aspire to. As its name suggests, the metals they mined were rarely used for weapons, but for trinkets and chimes. Its great farms did not feed large armies, but large families that lived in its quaint village.

So again, it is surprising indeed that this should be the place where the seeds of war and chaos would find root and home. And it is even more surprising that a humble farm boy—without experience, eloquence, or elevation in society—should be the one looked to for salvation from the darkness.

But if this tale teaches us anything, it is that man—regardless of royal position, wealthy status, or the lack of both—is each born with unlimited power. It is not earned or achieved. It is not given by another mortal or voted upon by an assembly. It is naturally bestowed upon by the Creator, with no respect to who they are or into what circumstance they are born. Each individual is given power, unlimited in its effect, but restricted in its use-- for it only can be manifested in two ways:

The power to do good, and the power to do evil.

Both can change the world. And as this tale will tell, both have.

It was midday. The sun was high over the marketplace of Silverbell, which rested just below the elevated castle and courtyard where the king and his royal family lived and governed. Today, the marketplace was—as always—a hub of activity, trade, laughter, entertainment, and general socialization among friends and fellow citizens. It was hard—perhaps impossible—to spend an hour in the marketplace and not feel a little more excited and jovial than you were before.

Except perhaps in the case of Kris Kringle, for he himself was always found to be excited and jovial. It was that kind of happiness that is found in a just few rare individuals throughout the entire world. It was a happiness brought about naturally from inside, instead of the kind more forcibly (perhaps artificially) impressed upon one by external influences. Kris Kringle never encountered a day he considered unpleasant enough to not give thanks at night for its existence. This is not to suggest that Kris did not know heartache—indeed, he knew more of it than perhaps anyone else in Silverbell. When a terrible plague had struck the kingdom many years ago, Kris found himself orphaned as a young boy, having witnessed the death of both his parents. Kris did not try to suppress feelings of sadness or despair either. He had wept a great deal for those whose suffering he had seen and whose pain he could feel himself. Kris was a man who was happiest when he was with people, and they generally seemed to be happiest when in his company as well. Kris could make the child laugh, the adult smile, and the women blush from the complimentary praise he regularly (but sincerely) bestowed upon them. Even the beasts of the field—with whom he interacted daily as a farmer—seemed inclined to come to him rather than another, sensing a kind of safety and compassion in his presence.

Kris was among the many citizens present in the marketplace that day. He had just emerged from the bakery with a freshly-baked loaf of bread and a bag of cookies of which he was particularly fond. Rarely did Kris ever visit the marketplace without leaving with a treat. And now, with his baked goods in hand, he made his way through the crowd, eager to return to the list of the day’s chores that still awaited him. As one of just a few farm hands who worked at the kingdom’s largest ranch, Kris enjoyed little free time, and was already running late due to a long conversation with the baker about the kingdom’s upcoming harvest festival. As Kris navigated his way through the mass of people who had gathered to see Cosmo, the local jester, perform an impressive juggling act, his eyes were temporarily blinded by a stream of sunlight reflected off the silver frames of the chapel’s stained-glass windows. The chapel was located right by the entrance into the marketplace. Though its windows were beautifully colored and its large bell on the top of its spire never seemed to rust or grow old, the rest of the chapel was made of gray brick, rather unattractive to the eye. On its wall was a small hole that served as an opening to a narrow chute leading to the priest’s quarters. It was in this hole that the faithful citizens of Silverbell would submit their tithes throughout the week, with the understanding that such money would be used to help the poor and downtrodden. Though he was in a hurry, Kris reached into his pocket and pulled out the coin given back to him by the baker. (“Heaven knows you buy enough of my cookies to keep me in business! This bag’s on me,” the baker had told Kris as he handed him back the money). Kris dropped the coin through the tithing hole, but as he turned to leave the marketplace, he also dropped his baked items on the ground. This was not purposeful of course. It was by sheer surprise that Kris involuntarily dropped his arms and his jaw. Before him, not ten steps away, leaning against the far corner of the chapel was Eva, the only daughter of the king. She had not noticed that Kris had dropped his things or that he was now staring at her. Indeed, she seemed to be intently surveying the crowd with her eyes for someone else. No one, in turn, had noticed her, for she wore not the royal clothing of a princess that afternoon. Her small, pale face, light blue eyes, thin frame, and curly blonde hair that dropped just below her shoulders were all hidden by the hood of the brown, unassuming cloak she wore. Kris was shocked to see her standing there all by herself. He had only seen her a few times before at large public gatherings where the royal family had addressed the people. But every time the princess or her family were among the people, there were always several royal guards nearby, ready to unsheathe their swords the moment any threat should be posed to the family’s safety. But here, now, Princess Eva was definitely alone, though she seemed anxious about that fact and kept nervously readjusting her cloak as she peered out among the crowd. She was waiting—impatiently—for someone. Kris quickly picked up his baked goods from off the ground and casually made his way toward the princess, whispering to himself that this experience he was now in had to be a dream.

Kris leaned against the wall of the church next to Eva, looking out at the crowd with her. “Forgive me, Your Majesty,” Kris said quietly with a smile, “But if you think that old cloak can disguise you, then you truly underestimate the power of your beauty.”

Eva was startled by Kris’ voice and presence. In her intense surveying of the crowd, she had not noticed his approaching her. His countenance also added to her being startled. It was not that he had a frightful appearance—indeed, the opposite was true. His large face was tan, evidence of the time he spent in the sun on a daily basis doing farm work. His hazel eyes rested above his high cheek bones. Despite his being only 23 years of age, his face was somewhat wrinkled. This too, was an effect of the hard labor to which he was always engaged, but also a result of his tendency to smile in almost every interaction with others. His shoulders and chest were large and broad, his arm and leg muscles well-formed from years of farm work. He was clean-shaven, and kept his brown hair short atop his head. He was an attractive man, and one with whom a lady could feel safe.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, Your Majesty,” Kris whispered as he turned from looking out at the crowd to face the princess. As he opened his mouth to question her being alone in the marketplace, Eva interrupted his thought with a hurried, panicked reply.

“Rudy sent you, I trust,” she said, reaching inside her cloak and pulling out a folded piece of paper, “I’ve been kept here too long already. You must get this to Rudy at once. If the Shepherds can figure out its meaning…” She paused, shaking her head. “They must figure out its meaning.”

Kris looked at her with intense bewilderment, and did not take the piece of paper being handed to him. “Your Majesty, I must confess, I am not the person you were looking for, nor has anyone sent me here on their behalf.”

Eva looked at him with a face that seemed almost angry about the news she was hearing. “I see,” she said, looking down at the ground as her hand holding the folded piece of paper fell to her side hopelessly.

Kris bit his lip in thought. “It almost assuredly is none of my business,” he proposed slowly, “But I am more than willing to help you in any way.” He motioned with his head to the paper in her hand. “Would you like me to deliver that message for you?”

She looked at him, tears of stress and worry beginning to form in her eyes. “Would you please?” she implored, holding up the paper again. “Do you know who Rudy Chesterson is?”

He gently took the paper from her hand. “I do,” he replied, “He owns a ranch not far from the one where I am employed. I’ve done some extra work for Mr. Chesterson on occasion.”

The princess seemed relieved at his answer. “Good,” she said simply, “See that he gets that at once. And please, for both your sake and mine, let that paper be for his eyes only. Promise me you will not read it.”

Kris nodded, his eyebrows slightly furrowed to reflect his seriousness. “I promise you I shall not read it, Your Majesty. I will bring it to him right away.”

Eva nodded her appreciation. “I must be going,” she said quickly, “Thank you sir for your help.” She walked past the stranger she had just met on her way toward the castle.

“My pleasure. By the way, my name is Kr--,” Kris began to say before he was interrupted by the princess.

“Please sir,” she stopped him, “It is best for you that I do not know your name or remember your face. I know that is horribly cryptic and rude of me, seeing as you are doing me a great service. But please, let us move on as if this meeting never happened. Please see that Rudy gets that message today.”

And with that, the princess turned and walked quickly away into the crowd, pulling the hood of her cloak more fully over her head as she did so.

Kris stood by the church for a moment, still in awe at his surprise and hasty interaction with a member of the royal family. He continued to picture her gentle face in his mind. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and he found himself wishing he had done or said something to make her stay at least a minute longer.

And so—despite Princess Eva’s pleading—Kris knew he could never forget that their chance meeting in the marketplace that day had actually happened.