Kris Kringle

At the conclusion of their meeting, the Shepherds departed one-by-one as usual, Kris having given them a great deal to think about. After the parchment’s reveal, he had answered their questions about how the king had named him as his successor. He showed them the robe in his bag as well as the silver medallion in his pocket. Each of the Shepherds pledged their loyalty to Kris as the rightful king but at Kris’ pleading, they promised not to announce that support at the coronation.

“I will confront the prince publicly,” he had told them, “You must gain the support of the people privately. Send word throughout the village about what we know, what I have seen, and what must soon happen.”

Kris was last to leave the stable. He grabbed his bag and placed Percy’s Parchment back into his pocket. He had one more important stop to make before calling it a night. His best friend still did not know he was alive.

Kris knocked on Jack’s door, after walking the long trail back from the Green Pasture.

“Who is it?” Jack called out from inside the small house.

“Saint Nicholas,” Kris replied.

Jack opened the door hesitantly and peered out at Kris. “I’m sorry, but do I know—“

He stopped. It only took him a moment to recognize his friend, and when he did, he tried unsuccessfully to suppress a smile.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” Jack stated as if he was disappointed.

“But then you’d have no friends,” Kris shot back.

Jack shook his head, his smile widening. “Come inside, Saint Nick,” he offered, “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

Kris stepped inside the house, the warmth from the fireplace immediately bringing a relief from the sting of the cold weather outside.

“I know you’ve got a hundred questions,” Kris began, “But I only have time to answer a few.”

Jack sat down on his armchair and looked up at Kris.

“Ok, how about, ‘What were you thinking?’, ‘Where have you been?’, and ‘Why on earth are you masquerading as a priest?’”

Kris laughed. “Jack, there is a great deal that has happened since we last saw each other, and a great deal more on the horizon. I need to entrust you with a tremendous responsibility, if you are up to it.”

Jack, ever one to tease and question, could sense the seriousness in Kris’ voice. “I’m listening,” he replied.

Kris sat down on the opposite armchair in Jack’s small living room. He reached into his bag and pulled out King Wenceslas’ robe.

Jack raised his eyebrows in shock and opened his mouth to say something, but Kris cut him off.

“Like I said, I can’t answer all your questions. Long story short, I found Wenceslas in the forest, and he named me the new king of Silverbell. I am going to stand up to Renier tomorrow at the coronation.”

Jack gave him the same look many of the Shepherds had given when hearing Kris’ plan.

“Are you crazy?” Jack questioned, “He’ll kill you!”

“Not at first,” Kris corrected him, “He’ll have me arrested, almost certainly, but he will have too many questions to kill me outright. He will be too eager to know what I know.”

Jack looked at him confusedly. “And what exactly do you know?”

Kris reached into his pocket and pulled out Percy’s Parchment. “All the things I know,” he replied, holding up the parchment, “Are things you can know, too.”

The next morning, all of Silverbell had once again come together inside the church to witness and take part in the coronation of Lord Renier. The coronation was held soon after sunrise. Trumpets and drums were sounded to signal the beginning of the ceremony, and the public square within the marketplace had been decorated with colorful banners and flags to celebrate the event.

Kris had spent the night in a thicket of trees near the Pinetop Mountains north of the village. He did not want to arouse any suspicion by sleeping in his old house. When he awoke, he put on the king’s red-and-white robe, which fit perfectly thanks to the tailoring work that had been done on it by the elves. He had borrowed a pair of heavy black boots from Jack and put them over his feet before making the walk to the church. The ceremony had already begun when Kris approached the open doors of the church. Two guards stood on either side of the entrance, warning Kris that finding an empty seat inside would be impossible. Kris slowly entered the church, just in time to hear the words of Saint Martin:

“Surely God has determined that Prince Renier should take his father’s place as the King of Silverbell. But if there are any who feel this is not the will of Heaven and this people, let him speak now.”

Kris entered more fully into the chapel, making his way up the center aisle toward the rostrum where he had stood as Saint Nicholas the day before.

“I object to this coronation!” Kris declared in a strong voice. Whisperings and gasps now filled the church as every head turned to see who was making the unexpected objection.

Prince Renier, who was standing on the rostrum, looked out at Kris with great confusion displayed on his face.

“Saint Nicholas,” Renier replied aloud, “What are you doing here? And why are you wearing my father’s robe!”

The whisperings and gasps from the congregation grew more numerous as Kris stood his ground in the middle of the church’s aisle way, staring up at Renier on the rostrum.

“I object to this coronation,” Kris repeated, seemingly undeterred by the great excitement in the room, “This man is not fit to be king. He is a liar and a murderer.”

Princess Eva, who had been standing next to her brother, looked at Kris with fear-stricken eyes.

“King Wenceslas named another to take his place before his death,” Kris continued, turning to the congregation, “And it was not Prince Renier.”

“Who then?” Renier asked aloud with a stern face, the royal guards at the back and front of the chapel posing themselves to attack or arrest the objector when called upon.

“Here I am,” Kris answered.

The murmurings throughout the congregation grew louder as Renier now descended slowly from the rostrum to meet Kris in the aisle way.

“You say my father named you king?” Renier confirmed with an air of disgust, “Saint Nicholas—a lowly priest from a foreign kingdom?”

“No,” Kris replied, looking Renier right in the eyes as he approached, “It’s worse than that. I am nothing more than a farm boy. And my name is Kris Kringle.”

The crowd’s response at the reveal was so loud that the guards cried out for them to be silent.

“Kris Kringle,” Renier repeated as he recalled the name, “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“And your father? He was supposed to be dead too, wasn’t he?” Kris returned hotly.

Renier’s eyes flashed with rage. “How dare you,” he cried, “How dare you wear the robes of my father! A king!” He punched Kris in the mouth, sending him to the ground. The crowd gasped again, and Kris slowly picked himself off the ground, wiping the small trickle of blood oozing out of his lip.

“The robe wouldn’t fit you anyway,” Kris replied smartly, “It’s too big.”

Renier raised his hand as if to strike a second time, but was stopped by his adviser, Monty.

“Farm boy,” Monty addressed Kris coldly, “What witnesses do you have to what you claim? From where I stand, I see a man who murdered our beloved King Wenceslas and stole his emblems in order to steal the kingdom from his son, the rightful successor. Are there any that can attest to the authenticity of your story?”

Kris’ mouth hung open as he searched hopelessly for answer. He looked up at Eva on the rostrum, who stood there with great anxiety, not knowing what to do or say.

“There… there were elves…,” Kris began to stutter.

Renier laughed aloud, with many in the congregation joining him.

“Elves?” the prince repeated in a comedic tone, “Made-up creatures can confirm your made-up story?”

Kris stood there defeated. He could say nothing.

Renier stopped laughing and motioned for his guards.

“Arrest this man for treason and for the murder of Good King Wenceslas!”

There were a few cheers from the crowd as four guards immediately surrounded Kris and pulled him away from the prince. As he was dragged away, he could see Eva frantically trying in vain to persuade her brother to set the madman free.

From across the church in one of the alleyways of the marketplace, Jack watched as his best friend was carried out of the church and toward the castle to be imprisoned.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, friend,” Jack muttered softly to himself.

He removed the top hat from his head and looked inside it. The magical parchment that Kris had entrusted in his care was rolled up and securely fastened inside.