Dear and Glorious Physician by Taylor Caldwell

ran, whirled and scintillated. Its voice was like the mingling of flute and drum, though there was no wind.
     
    And now Keptah, on the bank, his garments and his inscrutable face flooded with radiance, looked up at the open sky. The Star stood in the heavens, almost as brilliant as the sun, its sharp rays beaming out steadfastly in the silent blackness around it. It had been foretold that it would move, and would point the way. It was still fixed. Then, thought Keptah, They have not as yet chosen those who are to follow.
     
    As he watched the Star, which was so huge, so coldly burning, he began to pray humbly, falling upon his knees. “Oh, Thou for Whom the world has waited so long, blessed am I that it was given to me to see Thy Sign! Blessed is the earth that has received Thee. Blessed is she who has borne Thee in a place I do not know. Blessed is man because Thou hast redeemed man. For the dark places shall now be opened, and the secret places revealed, and the gates of the House of the Lord shall stand ajar to the end of time, and death shall be no more.”
     
    A sudden sense of incredible sweetness came to him, an intense ecstasy, as if one deeply adored had smiled upon him, had recognized him, and had sent him a message of love. Tears ran down his swarthy face; he lifted his hands to the sky in a gesture of worship and rapturous humility.
     
    He murmured aloud, “I have been cleansed. I have been saved. Whatever there was of evil or mockery or doubt in me has been destroyed. I have been bathed in the waters of life. From this hour hence I have been born. Blessed be the Name of the Lord!”
     
    A great quiet and stillness came to him, like a benediction. A great peace enveloped him. It did not matter that he had not been chosen to see with his own eyes Who had been born on this night. For He who had been born was with all men, in every place on the earth, at this hour, and would never depart again.
     
    The Star was too bright for too long a gaze, and Keptah’s eyes dropped. He remained kneeling, in utter quietude, watching the quickening and illuminated stream that ran before him. And then his eye was caught by the smallest movement, and there was a brighter gleam not far from him, down the bank of the estuary. He directed all his attention to it, and he saw that it was a small fair head made almost incandescent by the light of the Star. ¹ Now he could see the delicate profile of the child who was sitting on the bank of the estuary, a profile lifted to the sky. The fine long nose, the exquisite curve of cheek and chin, the falling of the golden hair were fully outlined as if with an inner light shining through alabaster. It is the boy, Lucanus, thought Keptah, with wonder.
     
    ¹ This Star was seen all over the known world.
     
    He rose and moved silently down the bank and stood beside the unaware boy, who was watching the Star. His blue eyes reflected its radiance; he was smiling, his hands clasped on his knees. He sat very still, as if entranced, not blinking, his white throat as clear and smooth as marble.
     
    Then Keptah spoke softly, so as not to startle the child: “Lucanus, why are you out of your home so late?”
     
    Lucanus turned his head slowly, and smiled. “It is you, Keptah. I could not sleep, and so I crept from my bedroom, for I had seen the Star through my window. It was as if it had called me, and I could not disobey.”
     
    His voice was serene and unafraid, and he looked upon Keptah with his usual respect, though Keptah was still a slave. “Certainly you could not disobey, child,” said Keptah, and sat clown beside Lucanus. Together they contemplated the Star. It is not possible that he knows, Keptah told himself. He asked in himself, Shall I tell him the meaning? He waited for the answer. It came quietly and firmly: No. But there was also a command, and a knowledge, following on the word. Curiously, Keptah scrutinized the boy. He remembered how Lucanus had a way of dogging his