Kris Kringle

“Right there is fine,” Paul said to the two men carrying the last barrel of beans into the kitchen of the castle. Paul was the head chef for the royal family, and his duty was to see that the kitchen was always in order.

“I tell ya, that last barrel of beans feels like it’s full of rocks!” one of the men complained after setting it down against the west wall of the kitchen.

Paul thanked the men for bringing in the new produce and began to set aside the ingredients and utensils that would be needed for the next meal of the day. He had already dismissed the rest of the kitchen crew for their break and was about to exit the kitchen when he thought about what one of the delivery men had just said. Though it had never happened to him before, he had been warned early on in his career that there would be those that would seek to use the kitchen as a means of harming the royal family. He was told to inspect everything that came into the kitchen to ensure it had not been tampered with or poisoned, or that it was not being used as a means of transport for an enemy looking to sneak past the gate and guards. Paul grabbed the lid of the barrel the man had said was particularly heavy and threw it open, as if he expected something dangerous to leap out. He was not disappointed, though, when his eyes fell upon nothing but dried beans from the royal farm. Paul smiled and shook his head as he laid the lid back on the barrel and exited the kitchen.

However, if Paul had only dug his hand into the beans, his fingers would have struck a circular piece of wood that rested tightly inside the upper third of the barrel. Beneath that wood— curled up and sore from the bumps and jolts of the wagon ride from the farm to the castle—was Kris. With the help of Ian very early that morning, Kris had been forced inside the bottom of the barrel. Knowing that his throwing off the weight of the barrel was sure to arouse suspicion, he had Ian secure a layer of beans in the top portion of it. By doing this, Kris hoped that if any were to inspect the barrel, they would have their fears dismissed as soon as they opened it. And indeed, that is exactly what happened—first, when the two delivery men had lifted it onto the wagon and were concerned by its heaviness, and again just now when Paul had verified its contents. So far Kris’ plan was working, but he already found himself needing to change it. It was initially his thought to stay inside the barrel until nighttime, so that he could be sure no one was present in the kitchen when he broke out. But he had underestimated how intensely uncomfortable—even painful—his being cooped up in that barrel would be. He was a broad, muscular man after all, and even though the barrel was very large, it had still forced him to sit with his knees squeezed against his chest. Kris felt his bones would burst if he did not soon relieve the pressure he was putting his body under for almost two hours now.

Kris could see nothing. The barrel only had the thinnest of slits between the wood slats that made up its body. He had heard Paul open the lid of the barrel, and Kris was in fact grateful for that. He knew getting out of the barrel was going to be hard enough, so having the lid opened for him already would be a significant help. Kris did not know exactly where the barrel he was sitting in had been placed, but he had heard Paul’s voice, so he assumed he was somewhere in the kitchen. But was he the only one in the kitchen? That was the question pressing Kris at that moment. He had to get out of that barrel, but if some kitchen crew member was sitting quietly in the corner or some servant happened to be walking into the kitchen at the moment he burst out, his whole plan would be ruined. And likely, his whole life would be over. Sneaking into the castle was a criminal offense, and by what the Shepherds had told him about Prince Renier, prisoners were already being executed for much less.

Kris sat there for several minutes, debating on what he should do. He could not take the pain any longer, but if he were to burst out of that barrel in the clear view of someone else, he would curse himself for having not been stronger for just a little longer.

He decided to test the situation. He let out a whisper, loud enough to be heard, but soft enough to make anyone in hearing distance question whether they had actually heard it. If Kris were to hear a reply or movement of any kind, he would know he was not alone.

There was no reply. No movement.

“Psst! Hey!” he whispered loudly again. Still, no reply.

Kris decided to delay no longer. As hard as he could from his restricted position, he pushed his arms above him, setting free the piece of circular wood and all the dried beans that rested upon it. The beans scattered in a hundred different directions upon the floor of the kitchen, and the lid and wooden circle landed on the floor with a loud clatter. To Kris in his paranoid state, the commotion he had caused by breaking free of the barrel might as well have been a cannon being fired through the wall of the kitchen. He was certain someone must have heard him, and so when he stood up out of the barrel, he immediately looked for someplace to hide. He saw the doors to a closet on the north end of the kitchen and ran inside it, closing the doors quickly behind him. There was no one in the kitchen, but he had certainly made a mess of beans that would alert anyone who walked in that something was amiss. He had not thought about that when he had ran through the plan in his head. In fact, he had not really thought through the plan at all. His actions that morning were based on rare opportunity and sheer impulse. As he sat breathlessly in the kitchen closet of the castle, he feared he had placed himself and the Shepherds in severe danger. What would they do to Ian and the other farmers when it was discovered that someone had been hiding in their shipment of produce? Kris felt he now had no choice. If he was going to go through with his plan to find and talk with the princess, he had to cover all his tracks. Failure that ended in his capture and death did not seem nearly as horrifying as a failure that ended in his friends being endangered. He hated the idea of going back out into the kitchen—where any one could walk in at any time—to begin the time-consuming task of putting all the beans back in the barrel. But after a deep breath, Kris emerged from the closet and quickly began collecting all the beans he could find. He found several large sacks of flour lying against the wall and placed them inside the barrel where he had hid. This would provide an explanation for the unusual weight of the barrel if ever it was called into question in the future. Granted, it would still be something Ian and the other farmers would have to answer for, but it would not be nearly as bad a situation as the accusation that someone had used the barrel to sneak into the castle. Kris placed the circular piece of wood back inside the barrel and poured in all the beans he had collected on top. The whole process had not taken him as long as he feared, even though he was sweating nervously the entire time. As he replaced the lid on top of the barrel, Kris let out a sigh of relief.

But he could not get comfortable now. He was still in as much danger as he was before. How was he going to locate Princess Eva? Ian had asked him this same question when Kris presented his idea to him after the Shepherds’ meeting the night before. “I’ll figure it out as I go along” was the unsatisfactory reply he had given. It was said somewhat in jest then. Nothing about this ill-conceived plan seemed very funny to Kris now. Somehow he needed to locate the princess’ quarters. If she was not there that morning, he knew that is where she would eventually retire to. He also knew that would likely be the only place in the castle where he could speak to her in private.

But how would he get there? How would he avoid being spotted by any number of guards or servants throughout the castle? What if the princess did not remember him or did not believe him when he claimed he was now a Shepherd?

All of these questions swirled around in his head, haunting and tormenting him. But suddenly, they all fled from his mind. Every thought fled from his mind. All of his focus was turned to the door of the kitchen that had just been opened. Kris’ heart stood still, for he knew it was too late to try to conceal himself again. Before him now was the one man he was hoping he would not encounter during his intrusion into the castle:

Prince Renier.