Nicholas the Peddler: A Short Fiction in Honor of St. Nick’s Upcoming Feast Day on 12/6.

Nicholas the Peddler: A Short Fiction in Honor of St. Nick’s Upcoming Feast Day on 12/6.

Doctor Nicholas and his wife, Zoe, lived in a country named Patara. They were very much in love. On Sundays, they would go to Mass at the chapel uphill from the river. Often they would pack baskets with lunch and sweets and fruits for a picnic and games at the river. One summer day, they decided to swim and placed their shoes and clothes under the oak tree.

“Watch this, Zoe; I’ve been practicing all week.” Nicholas took his sock, loaded it with pebbles, tied a knot in the middle, angled it behind his back.

“There is no way that sock is going to land in those boots. If you miss, you have to get our towels from the shore,” said Zoe, splashing Nicholas with her feet.

“Deal,” he said, and threw the sock under-handed, tossing the sock toward their shoes, about twenty feet away. The pebble-laden sock arched high up the shoreline toward the oak. The sock easily cleared the tree’s overhanging branches but then was caught on an overhanging branch. It swung perilously, stretching the branch to its limits just above the boots.

“Ha! You lose. You have to get out of the water to get our towels.” Nicholas obeyed, laughing a belly laugh at his folly.

Sunday was God’s day: Mass at the little chapel and devotions and resting filled the day. Nicholas and Zoe prayed to God for the blessing of many children. They waited patiently for Him to answer. As a doctor, Nicholas was famous among the wealthy and powerful for his knowledge of medicines, herbs, and therapies. He cured many sicknesses with his knowledge. When ill, the lords and ladies of Patara sent for Nicholas. They paid him handsomely for his services with jewels and gold.

One autumn day, Zoe walked to their spot for a picnic near the river; Nicholas would join after looking in on a patient. Zoe added an extra blanket to the basket, as it was too cold to swim, and she liked to wrap herself and nap against the old oak. Zoe was waiting for Nicholas to join her when a boy in night clothes stumbled out of the woods.

“What is it, child? Are you alright?” Seeing her, the little boy collapsed near the basket as she reached for him. Zoe quickly wrapped up the child, sick with fever, and carried him to the Prefect’s castle to find Nicholas. “Nicholas will know what to do,” she reassured the boy. “It’s starting to rain; let’s cover you up well,” she said.

Arriving at the city gates, Zoe sought entry, but the guard would not let her in. “There’s a sickness in the land. No one may enter without Doctor Nicholas’s approval” called the guard. “I can ask for the messenger to find him, but you cannot come in until then.”

“But I am Doctor Nicholas’s wife, Zoe. You must let me in,” she cried.

“Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t. I cannot take that chance. Orders are orders,” replied the guard. And despite more pleas and begging, the guard denied Zoe entrance. “Nicholas!” she cried, “Help me!”

As the sunset, the temperature dropped, and the rain battered and splashed everything, soaking her through as she waited. Zoe tried to shelter the boy from the rain and took him under her mantle in a feeble effort to keep him dry.

Nicholas, message in hand, hurried out of the castle and saw the woman and child crumpled outside the city gates. Zoe lay on the soaked ground, she and the boy barely conscious. Zoe was pale but hot with fever, as was the boy.

The Prefect’s gardener had heard whispers about a village boy who had wandered off during the night and came out with Nicholas to investigate. With his help, the gardener and Nicholas took them back to the village. The gardener recognized the boy as Hans, the peddlers’ son. It was rumored that his whole family had died of the fever.

That night, Zoe’s fever raged. Nicholas tried to cool her by placing wet cloths on her forehead and keeping her body warm and dry. While this seemed to help the boy, it did no good for Zoe. She died the next morning. Nicholas cried and cried, grieving the loss of his precious love.

As winter came, each afternoon Nicholas visited Zoe’s grave and then roamed to their picnic spot to remember Zoe. One afternoon, as the snow and ice melted around him, Nicholas’s walked to the river as grief hung about him like the dirty melted snow. He sat at the foot of the oak tree and fell asleep while brooding on his lovely Zoe, their beautiful moments together, and dreamt of a future that his waking mind knew would never take place. Nicholas dreamed of him and Zoe, surrounded by children, laughing and playing and singing songs. He was full of joy and his dream was so real he reached out to hold Zoe’s hand in acknowledgment of his happiness when Zoe interrupted his dreaming, “Nicholas!, Why are you dreaming of these things which can no longer be. Are you still grieving?” She pointed to the chapel, “He has the answers. Go to the chapel.” Nicholas walked up the hill to the chapel in obedience.

The chapel was quiet and dark except for the candle that burned in front of the tabernacle. Nicholas knelt and prayed: “Thank you for that dream, Lord. It was so real.

“I know Zoe is with You, Lord. I am glad for her, but I still miss her. All my wealth is nothing without Zoe or children to share my bounty. That is why I grieve.”

“Lord,’ added Nicholas. As I said, I am grieving because I miss my beloved Zoe; but not only that, Lord. We prayed and prayed for children, but none came to us before my dear was taken to heaven. Why?”

“Nicholas, my son, you shall be granted what you pray for from Me.

“I hereby make you the guardian of the children of Patara and Lycia. You will minister to them in My Name. You will cure them of their ills. You will comfort them in their pain. You will feed them from your bounty. I own the cattle on a thousand hills, and you will be my Shepherd. You will be My Bishop!

“After all, I feed the birds and give them homes. Isn’t it written that you and the children are worth much more to Me than birds?

Nicholas heard hearty laughter coming from the tabernacle. Belly laughter, just like he did that day tossing the pebble-weighted socks at his boots. He began to laugh at God’s joke.

“Go now! Wake up! Sell your house and fine things! Use your wealth to do good for your new family! My Family!”

The dream ended. Nicholas woke refreshed and in good spirits. He hadn’t actually been to the chapel, only dreamt it. As he washed his face in the icy river, he thought he saw Zoe’s face in the ripples. He ventured up the hill to the chapel and prayed in front of the tabernacle. “Thank You, God, for answering my prayers and for taking away my grief. Tomorrow, I’m selling all my things to the lords and ladies of the province. I don’t know anything about being a Bishop, but I am happy to use my wealth to build Your Kingdom.”

The next day Nicholas buried sacks of gold near the oak tree by the river. He dressed in his doctor’s clothes and began to minister to the children of Patara. Leaving the Prefect’s court, Nicholas set up a shop in the village outside the city gates. He visited each cottage telling the people to bring their sick children to him. Immediately, girls and boys of all shapes and sizes appeared at his door. Nicholas set broken arms, cured coughs, sewed cuts, and applied lotions to their rashes. Nicholas kept a journal of each patient, and each night he prayed by name for each child. For the very sick, he comforted them with special herbs and tender words and prayed especially for their comfort, “Lord, be with those in fear of death.”

Nicholas was happy in his new life. His old friends wondered what had happened to him. The lords and ladies sent for him to come and heal them. But he did not come. The Prefect of Patara was again sick with a cold. He was so miserable he thought he would die. Not finding Nicholas at home, his charges called in the Sheriff:  “Bring Nicholas to the castle.” Nicholas obeyed and came. Nicholas cured the Prefect’s symptoms without complaint.

While in the presence of the Prefect, he told the Prefect about helping the children: “If the Patarans and Lycians had more food, most of the children’s illnesses would go away.” The selfish Prefect did not hear Nicholas’s words. In fact, the Prefect decided that Nicholas should stay around just in case his cold returned. The Prefect locked Nicholas in the castle dungeon.

“This a silly way to thank someone,” Nicholas thought. “No one can frustrate God’s plan. Lord, please share Your vision with the Prefect.”

He was making the best of the cold, damp dungeon, and  Nicholas’ thoughts turned to Zoe. Soon he was warm and dry, imagining a picnic with Zoe at the river. In the morning, he found the gate to his cell mysteriously opened. Nicholas snuck past the sleeping guard, shimmied over the fence, and then ran back to his village shop. The villagers were glad to see him. Changing into fresh doctor clothes, he opened his shop to those awaiting his care, among whom was the Bishop of Lycia.

“We need a Bishop here in Patara, Nicholas. Will you choose to serve the Lord?”

“I am His,” said Nicholas. The Bishop of Lycia laid hands-on Nicholas and prayed over him. He took his own shepherd’s staff and gave it to Nicholas. The old Bishop then placed his own stole on the Nicholas’ shoulders. “Do as God leads you, my son. Preach, teach and heal.”

 

The Prefect soon discovered that Nicholas had escaped and sent the Sheriff to capture Nicholas.

Hans, the peddler’s son, saw the Sheriff coming.

“Nicholas, gather your things. Come and hide in the root the cellar at my father’s old storage shed in the woods.”

While in the cellar, Nicholas fell asleep and had another dream.

“Nicholas,” a voice boomed in his dream,” Why are you worrying? Why are you unhappy. You have all you could ever want. You are My Bishop: Preach, Teach and Heal.”

“Here I am, Lord,” returned Nicholas. “I am worrying because I am running away from the Prefect. He wants me to use my medicine for himself. He cares nothing for these children or Your people. I thought that was why I was here. These children need Your help, Lord. There is a sickness in the land. The harvest is poor. I thought that when You opened the gate for me, that You had spoken to the Prefect.”

“I did speak to the Prefect, Nicholas,” God said. “And for a moment, he listened. But then he sneezed and changed his mind. He hardened his heart toward the children and against you. But you need not worry about the children. I have a plan.

“Go now! Wake up! Use your buried gold to do all good for your new family! For it is written that I have numbered the hairs on every head. I will open for you more than gates to a jail!”

The dream ended. Nicholas woke refreshed and smiling. The Sheriff left the village empty-handed, and Nicholas gathered his goods in the peddler’s bag and marched to the river. From that point, he stored his supplies in the forest and dug up the gold as needed.

Hans became Nicholas’ apprentice. Hans told Nicholas which children were the sickest and which families needed food.

But the Prefect soon heard of Nicholas’ work. “Sheriff, send guards to stop the men in the doctor’s clothes. Bring that doctor here for me and my court.”

Because of this command, for a while, Nicholas ventured out only at night. The Prefect sent more guards, so Nicholas again retreated to the shed in the forest. He thought about the hungry children and those who were sick. He thought about the new church he and Father Hans had started in a nearby village. Nicholas prayed.

One night, Father Hans came to Nicholas in the forest. “My little niece is feverish. You must come at once, or she will die. But the guards are everywhere.”

“What can we do? In the Prefect’s dungeon, I am of little use to God or the children. Visiting more often meant I will eventually get caught.”

 

“I have an idea,” offered Hans, “Dress as a peddler in my clothes, put a sack together of medicine and food. I will distract the guards while you minister to my niece and the others.”

Nicholas and Hans switched garments. They loaded supplies into a gunny sack. Nicholas donned a chimney sweep’s hat, and the two whisked away to the village.

Seeing Hans in the doctor’s clothes, the guards chased him. Nicholas slipped into Hans’ cottage arriving just in time.

Like a peddler selling his wares, Nicholas then worked from cottage to cottage, checking on all the children. Hans gave the guards the slip, returning to the shed in the woods, where he found an exhausted Nicholas.

“Hans, I noticed something while making my rounds: Outside of each cottage, the families’ shoes are lined up in neat rows.”

“So what? We peasants are taught as children to set our muddy shoes outside before coming into the house.”

“Don’t you see, Hans? God has provided an answer!” With that, Nicholas took off his shoes and socks. He loaded his sock with pebbles about a quarter full, tied a knot in the sock, and expertly tossed the sock into the mouth of the boot. “And I can do that from twenty feet away, maybe more!”

“It’s worth a try, Bishop.” And Nicholas blushed at being called this name of honor. “You are our spiritual leader. You bring God’s healing and bounty to the people.”

Nicholas laughed a belly laugh, dismissing the compliment. Nicholas pulled at his beard. “Meet me at the river the next evening, by the big oak tree down the hill from the chapel, we will practice.”

When Hans arrived, Nicholas demonstrated the shoes’ curious miracle again, tossing several coin bags full of pebbles, uphill, without a miss, into the boots in sequence.

“Each day, I will go out disguised as a peddler. I can purchase food and medicine throughout the region. Then you and your deacons can meet me to divide the goods. Our trained apprentices then sneak into the villages and target each cottage’s shoes with the prescribed medicine and food.

The plan worked. Some villagers put out big shoes if they needed extra help. Nicholas and his troop of peddlers carried their good works to other villages in Patara and Lycia. Dressing as peddlers and making the deposits in the children’s shoes at night hid them from the Prefect and his guards.

The years rolled by, and the Prefect, who was always sick, eventually died. The next Prefect knew nothing about Nicholas. The search for the Doctor stopped altogether.

Nicholas worked freely again. While he still administered healing, these days he preached the Gospel, administered the Sacraments, and ordained priests, like Father Hans, to help him spread God’s Word in the region. By then was known throughout Patara and Lycia as the Peddler Bishop.

He trained his apprentices to use herbs and medicines, to set broken arms, and sew stitches. Nicholas traveled from village to village, visiting his helpers and seeing God’s children. And he laughed a big belly laugh at every child’s wish, fancy, and dream.

Each year, on Zoe’s birthday, December the 6^th, Nicholas and his helpers did something special. They put sweets and fruit in the children’s shoes to remind them of the miracles of God and the goodness of His creatures.

Some years later, now an old man, on December 6^th, Bishop Nicholas returned to the oak tree by the river. He walked up the hill to the Chapel where he celebrated Holy Mass and laid down to be with his Lord God and be reunited with Zoe forever.

Thank you for reading along with me. I hope you enjoyed this fictional narrative of Nicholas the Peddler, a.k.a., Saint Nicholas.

Copyright 12.6.2020. All Rights Reserved by Timothy E. Moore.

Tunic Patch Press.