We Three Kings

By John Pontius

When the signs of the Savior’s birth appear, Nephi witnesses another miracle—the Liahona starts working again after 600 years of being idle! Determined to find and worship the King of kings, Nephi takes his brother Timothy and skeptic Cephus on a journey across the ocean that ultimately changes their lives—and the course of history—as they become the legendary Three Wise Men.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cedar Fort Publishing & Media
• Release date: Feb 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9781462109616

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

THIS book has been written with an abiding love for the child who was born in Bethlehem and later gave his life to redeem us. The Wise Men, whoever they were and from wherever they came, set an everlasting prototype of righteousness.

The story in We Three Kings is a work of fiction. For details on which people, places, and events are based on reality and which are solely fictitious, please refer to the Author’s Note.

THE QUEST

THIS is a bad idea, my brother! Timothy muttered under his breath. I know you are the prophet of God, and I’m willing to go to the ends of the earth if you say we must—but I’m getting a rash sitting amid all this wealth. He smiled and patted his hip. I feel it coming on right here near my purse. Then he added ironically, I think it’s because I’ve never had any gold to put there."

Nephi smiled at his younger brother. You make me laugh, Timothy. We’re not here in Cephus’s house because of his wealth. We’re here because the Lord directs it.

Timothy opened his mouth to reply, but Nephi shook his head, motioning him to be silent. Footsteps were approaching with a hollow, distant sound.

Cephus stormed into the room, his face buried in an official scroll, a gaggle of scribes and servants in his wake. The ceremonial robes of his office bore a large embroidered Star of Zarahemla overlaid by a chariot wheel, proudly signifying his presidency of the trade ministry. His deep-blue vestments hung flawlessly from the large shoulders of what used to be a warrior’s body, giving the impression that little beneath them remained of his youth.

Cephus was forty-seven going on ninety. What remained of his hair was long, almost black, and liberally dusted with gray. His eyes were sun-baked brown, his face lined and leathery. Thin lips covered a set of stained and missing teeth. In times of peace such as these, Cephus was a very old man.

The servants scurrying after him bore additional scrolls. Several others took notes on clay tablets as he dictated orders in a rapid-fire staccato that seemed to fill the room with liquid authority.

All around him, trappings of wealth and power stood like monuments to the gods of excess. The palace floor was an intricate mosaic of jade and turquoise, with a wide border of inlaid gold outlining the room. Gold and silver vases graced tables of black polished wood cradled upon mammoth tusks. Golden lamps hung every few paces around the room, while a domed skylight high overhead filtered sunlight into the opulent chamber. A mounted fang-tooth tiger stood on hind legs beside the great stone fireplace, as if poised to attack with a flick of Cephus’s finger.

Cephus’s home was one of the largest in Zarahemla, a brisk few minutes’ walk from all the power centers of the great city. But even more important, the back wall of his home was attached to the fortress-like Great Hall, the Nephite nation’s center of politics. This attachment was both physical and symbolic, linking Cephus to the wellspring of political power. Cephus was a barrister, a member of the Sanhedrin, and president of the Ministry of Trade.

Powerful and obscenely wealthy, Cephus was a fierce enemy of religion. He was also a one-time, dear family friend of a prophet of God, and in name only, the godfather of Nephi and Timothy, who both rose as he swept into the room.

They waited until the powerful little man stopped before them. Cephus brusquely shoved his scroll into a manservant’s arms and motioned the servants away as if they were insects. When they were finally alone, Cephus turned to his guests, a wry smile spreading across his face. Nephi! Although I fought alongside that giant who was your father, it still unnerves me to stand next to someone two feet taller than myself.

Nephi smiled modestly. I shall attempt to be smaller in your presence, Cephus.

Cephus laughed. Well met, my old friend’s son. Even after our chance meeting a few nights ago, I did not expect to have you in my home so soon after an absence of so many years! What fortuitous errand brings you to my door?

Just as Nephi opened his mouth to reply, Timothy jumped in earnestly. We come on the Lord’s errand, Cephus.

Cephus turned slowly toward Timothy as if it were hardly worth his effort. He measured Timothy with disapproving eyes, his voice patronizing. From you, I would have expected nothing less. Turning back to Nephi, he added more sociably, Nephi, please sit. Shall I bring wine? Are you hungry?

Timothy lifted a finger as if accepting the offer, his eyebrows raised in expectation. Cephus stepped between them to reach for Nephi’s arm, turning his back to Timothy, who grimaced and slowly lowered his hand.

Nephi took a step closer and clasped arms with Cephus. Perhaps later, Cephus. Is there some place where we can speak in complete confidence?

Cephus stepped back, his eyes dark with suspicion. I do have such a place. Do you have such a message?

Nephi’s eyes narrowed in reply.

Cephus nodded, his voice doubtful. For the sake of your father, I will offer you a private audience. For your sake, I warn you to not waste my time.

Your time will not be wasted, Nephi replied with conviction.

Cephus grunted. Very well. Follow me.

Their host led them out of the great room and across a vibrant open-air arboretum, through a smaller door, down a dark hallway past a sleepy-looking guard, then left through a heavy wooden door. Cephus paused to light several candles before inviting his guests into the room. As Nephi passed through the heavy door, he noted that the walls of this little room were easily six feet thick and undoubtedly soundproof. Cephus closed the massive outer door, then a lighter inner door between them and the world.

Nephi found himself in a windowless chamber that more closely resembled a tomb than a study. The white stucco walls gleamed with a bright-red wave pattern of small ceramic tiles near the ceiling. The only table was empty except for a large candle, which sputtered as if annoyed at having been so abruptly awakened. Against the far wall, a single bookshelf held piles of scrolls and several bound books of wood and paper, as well as one made of gold.

Nephi immediately gravitated to the curious gold volume and lifted it. Though barely large enough to fill both palms, it was heavy. The title was written in an ancient script Nephi could not read.

I see you have an eye for rare manuscripts, Cephus commented as he stepped beside his larger guest. It is an exact copy of the original brass plates that Lehi brought with him from Jerusalem—though this one is on gold plates, obviously. It is one of few, and very valuable, he added with unmistakable pride. Most are made of brass, like the original.

Do you read the old language? Nephi asked with interest.

All barristers must, though I’m at a loss to know why. None of our modern documents are written in the old tongue. But we occasionally reference the old works. Did you know that the brass plates contained books on how the Sanhedrin works, how laws are passed, and how to maintain order in society? Almost every part of our law is derived from this one book.

I had heard as much, Nephi replied, setting the precious volume back on the shelf. Dust outlined the exact spot where it had sat untouched for decades. Nephi wiped off his large hands and turned to face Cephus. But I had been taught that its most important books were the first books of Moses, the writings of the prophets up to Jeremiah, and the genealogy of Lehi’s family.

True, Cephus replied hesitantly. Truer for believers like yourself, I’m sure. But what you may not know is that all Nephite law is based upon the pattern written in the brass plates. To avoid a misinterpretation or possible misapplication of the law, we all learn the old tongue—at least to read it. Nobody living has heard the old tongue spoken, at least not authentically. There are a few who pride themselves in babbling a few lines here and there. Nobody really knows how it was pronounced. He waved his hand dismissively. But that is academic. Why are we here in this musty chamber?

Nephi found a chair and sat. The sturdy chair groaned under his weight. Cephus took the only other chair, leaving Timothy standing. Nephi cleared his throat. Cephus, you know that my father was a great man, a visionary man.

Cephus nodded stiffly. This I do believe. He was great in the eyes of our people, and in my eyes, though I am not able to pass judgment upon the virtue of his visions. You know that I was not then, and am not now, what you would call a believer.

I’m sorry for that, but it is undeniable that the signs of the Christ’s birth were given, as my father and Samuel the Lamanite foretold five years ago.

Cephus smiled thinly. It’s true they foretold signs that seem to have appeared. Still, there is much debate about what the signs mean. It is one thing to predict an event, and quite another to correctly say what it means. I personally choose to keep an open mind. Cephus’s eyes narrowed. But there are many who think that Samuel and your father were just lucky.

Nephi drew an impatient breath and released it slowly. I know some think that, Cephus. That is why we have decided to undertake one of the grandest journeys in Nephite history, Nephi said intensely. He held his breath, unsure of how Cephus would respond to his proclamation.

A quest. How interesting, Cephus replied without enthusiasm.

"More than a quest—a holy quest, Cephus," Timothy added earnestly.

Cephus did not even glance in Timothy’s direction. What sort of quest, Nephi?

Nephi pushed the candle from the middle of the table and leaned across, his face grave. Cephus, I must ask you to swear yourself to absolute secrecy on your friendship with my father and anything else you hold sacred.

Unseen by Cephus, Timothy rolled his eyes as if to say there was very little Cephus held sacred. Nephi ignored him.

Cephus stood slowly. In Nephite society, to give one’s word was binding, so much so that to be proven to have gone against one’s word could be grounds for capital punishment. Is this so important that you require an oath?

Nephi stood also and nodded.

Very well, Cephus replied carefully. I give you my oath of secrecy. And you know my word is my greatest possession. I have built my life in the law and in the government upon it. I admit I am slippery as an eel about everything else, but all the world knows my word is my law when I formally give it.

Nephi studied Cephus’s face for a moment. Very good, then, Cephus. He glanced at Timothy and solemnly continued. I have been commissioned of God to put together an expedition to return to the land of the Jews and seek out the Christ.

Cephus was stunned. His mouth opened and closed several times before he spoke. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, he finally said. That is quite literally the most fantastically insane idea I’ve ever heard!

Nephi was unaffected by this bleak analysis. It is also what must be done, Cephus, and you know it.

Why do you say that? I know no such thing! Cephus asserted defiantly.

For six hundred years we have been living and dying because of our faith in someone that none of us has seen. Now that the Christ is living on this earth, it is madness not to go and seek him.

Cephus stroked his graying beard with narrowed eyes. I will give you this point. If—and for me it is an if—the Christ was born, we would be foolish not to send someone to prove or disprove his existence. That much is logic.

And who do you think should go? Nephi replied, obviously baiting him.

Cephus drew back with a smirk. I sense a trap. But I’ll spring in with both feet. Why not send the one who believes in this supposed god-child the most? Wait, I’ve got it! Let’s send Nephi, the supposed prophet of the supposed God! he replied with mock enthusiasm.

Yes, you’re right. I should be one of those who go. As you said, that much is logic, Nephi rejoined calmly.

Cephus smiled at Nephi’s refusal to be baited. Of course I expected you’d agree with me on that, Cephus admitted. But who else?

When Nephi did not reply but continued to gaze at him intently, Cephus suddenly laughed sardonically. Surely you’re not suggesting I go. I’d spoil the whole affair with my doubts and complaining.

Nephi nodded and began drumming his large fingers on the table, making the flame of the candle dance in rhythm. You probably would complain the whole way. But consider who would believe my words if I set off to sea for a month or two and returned with a glowing report of my visit to the Christ child. Who would believe me? They would expect me to say as much, had I found him or not.

Cephus was intrigued. True—this much is true. So, you need a skeptic on this quest.

Nephi nodded. A true skeptic, someone whose word cannot be impeached and whose opinion cannot be swayed by anything other than a genuine miracle, someone who will not succumb to the emotion of the moment but will see all that transpires in a truly objective light.

Cephus stroked his chin thoughtfully. Someone with a reputation for logical thinking, someone with a reputation of not being influenced by emotion or prior convictions. Such a reputation would reflect years of diligently proving his unimpeachable word when given. He paused, then continued with a wry expression, And far better it be someone who is not a believer.

Nephi glanced at Timothy, who rolled his eyes. Cephus pondered his own words for a moment, then rose to pace the floor before holding up a cautionary finger. Such a man would demand a high price to accompany you on your voyage. Men who have made their word unimpeachable do not come cheaply. Nephi, you couldn’t afford my fee for such an undertaking! It takes a lifetime to establish such a reputation. Anyone who knows me knows that I may lie like the devil himself until I formally give my word, but then I am perfectly upright and faithful to my oath. Otherwise, I could have never obtained the high offices I now enjoy. Cephus chuckled to himself at the irony of what he had just said, then grew sober.

Nephi did not respond but waited for Cephus to absorb his own words.

Cephus seated himself ungracefully and shook his head. I wish I were younger, Nephi. A few dozen years ago, I might have relished such a voyage and charge to be your resident skeptic—but I am content to stay at home among my friends and possessions. But I’m sure one of my fellow nonbelievers would jump at the chance to debunk the Christ-myth. I’ll ask among them and—

You cannot, Nephi interrupted. You have taken an oath.

Cephus narrowed his eyes, then spoke slowly. True enough, but surely you will let me assist you in finding someone suitable. When it comes to religion, there is no shortage of skeptics in Zarahemla these days. Cephus leaned forward, his eyebrows raised. Of course finding one willing to risk his life to debunk this Christ-myth might prove impossible.

He leaned back and gazed at the ceiling for a moment, then sat forward abruptly. Speaking only for myself, it seems to be a true gift that you offer. Yes, we need to correct the course of Nephite history once and for all! We must settle this Christ-myth for all time. If this voyage successfully returns, you will have rightly steadied the ark, and eliminated doubt or squashed the fables for all time. It must be done! he barked, slapping his hand on the table. Then he added, It seems so obvious now that you propose it. I’m amazed that I or my colleagues had not thought of it ourselves.

Nephi nodded seriously. Cephus, I came to you because it is you who must go.

Cephus dismissed the idea with a laugh. I am an old man with many duties. I may not survive a sea voyage of such length. Besides, nobody knows how to return to Jerusalem. Many have tried. Many have died. Only a few have returned to tell their tale of tragedy. Nobody knows the way or we would have gone a thousand times by now.

Nephi seated himself as well, his knees nearly touching his father’s friend’s. Cephus, I know the way.

Cephus stared at Nephi for a few moments, then burst out laughing.

Foolishness! You can’t know the way. You’ve never even been on a ship, I’ll wager. Don’t try to tell me you’re going to try to follow that new star either. It passes across the sky every night too quickly to follow, and besides, it has nothing to do with the Christ. Don’t try to deceive me, young man!

Nephi was unaffected. I speak the truth, Cephus, and it has nothing to do with the star, which you know as well as I that it is the sign of Christ’s birth. Nevertheless, not only do I know the way, but when I tell you how I know, you will have complete faith in my ability to find old Jerusalem.

Cephus sniffed. I am agog with anticipation.

Nephi leaned closer. You are about to become agog with something far more life-altering than anticipation.

Spare me the melodrama, Nephi. There is nothing in this world that could give you the certainty you pretend. What are you going to tell me, that you have a secret map to Jerusalem? I’m not a fool, young man.

Nephi’s voice dropped to a whisper.

No, not a map, Cephus. The finger of God.

NEPHI

THREE days earlier, after many days of preaching, Nephi was eager to return home from Zarahemla. These were exciting times; barely two weeks had passed since the signs had been given of the birth of Christ. The night with no darkness had penetrated the stony hearts of all men, causing a detonation of fear and wonder. Some listened to Nephi’s preaching to find fuel for their desire to doubt. Some listened to try to find an explanation—any explanation. Whatever their motives, the people clamored to hear Nephi’s message. Some debated and argued, but the people stopped and listened as never before. Even though many chose to believe, they were still only a small part of the many. So Nephi preached night and day, which both exhilarated and exhausted him. He knew their fear and curiosity would be short-lived.

Nephi paused to listen to the sounds around him. It was much more than a stop to rest or to enjoy the splendor of late afternoon; it was a survival skill his life as a warrior had taught him. For the first time that he could remember in a dozen years, he heard only the sounds of evening insects, monkeys chattering, and parrots squawking. Absent were the cries of triumph and terror, the screams of hatred and horror that had poisoned most of the evenings of his life. Tonight there were only songbirds—and footsteps coming toward him.

It was prudence, not fear, which caused Nephi to draw his sword and quietly step from the path to conceal himself within the dense undergrowth along the road leading away from Zarahemla.

A moment later the footsteps stopped. Nephi! Come out of the bushes. You’re too big to hide. I can hear you breathing. It’s your father’s old friend—Cephus. I’m not going to attack you! a pleasant voice teased.

Nephi sheathed his sword and pushed his way through the dense growth until he was back on the road. Cephus was about the last person Nephi would have expected to meet on the road home.

Cephus? I haven’t seen you for nearly ten years. I thought you never left Zarahemla! Nephi laughed as he stepped back onto the cobblestone road and locked arms with Cephus for a long moment. Cephus seemed genuinely pleased to meet him, which puzzled Nephi a great deal.

I rarely do these days, Nephi, he said, laughing, and then spoke more soberly. I heard you preach today. I have to confess you are a powerful preacher, though you failed to make a believer of me. I’ve made it a priority in my life to stay clear of extremists, he quipped.

Nephi placed a hand on the hilt of his sword and pushed it back into position. He smiled, crinkling his eyes that were dusty blue, almost green. His face was large, proportionate with the unusual size of the rest of his person. At nearly seven feet tall, well muscled and exceptionally lithe, Nephi moved like a giant cat. He shrugged his large shoulders. I preach the words the Lord gives me.

Cephus frowned. Yes, and you do it with no sense of humor, I see. I suppose you get that from your father. He took himself far too seriously as well.

A large, jet-black goaway bird chose that moment to settle into a nearby tree. Its wailing cry pierced their senses.

Go away! Cephus shouted irritably and bent to pick up a stone. The goaway bird actually got its name from the fact that the almost universal response to hearing one’s chilling cry was to scream go away. The bird screeched louder as Cephus’s stone flew wild. Cephus groaned and bent to pick up another stone as he pulled a sling from his pocket.

Let’s just move on, Nephi urged, frowning at the ebony bird above them.

I hate those birds, Cephus growled as he laid the stone in his sling. They are battlefield scavengers and have devoured more than a few of my comrades. Now that there are no corpses to desecrate, they follow the living. Their cry chills my blood.

Nephi looked at the bird earnestly. Go away, or Cephus will harm you, he said gently. The bird instantly rose into the air with a piercing cry.

Cephus looked at him warily. Don’t even pretend that idiot bird understood you, he grumbled.

Nephi shrugged and smiled innocently.

Cephus dropped the rock and pointed toward Nephi’s destination with raised eyebrows.

Nephi nodded and they turned to continue down the road. It was not wise to be on this road after dusk. Peace had produced desperados who had, until recently, thrived on the