On Gold: Epiphany

There are always three of them, bringing their gold past Herod: three in old masters, predellas, and presepios, with their peregrine cultures, evidence of a new world.

            How much gold? How much gold dust, how many gold bars? How many slaves and attendants to carry it; how did these men become kings?

            Kings travel with retinues. Courtiers like the Medici, kneeling in Renaissance Adorations, bankers to princes, handlers of gold. Patrons of the poor?

            Frankincense, myrrh, more valuable than gold: treasures of Arabia, or sometimes Africa.

            Herod has gold. He’s the richest ruler after the Emperor. He doesn’t need to imprison the slaves or war in distant places for gold alone. Like any ruler, he wants power. His spies are everywhere. Death is everywhere. Innocents dying while Herod tries to find something out. The merest infant could be a threat.

            We Three Kings have more sense than returning via Herod, empty of gold. Joseph packs up his household and flees. The gold is now travelling in a different direction.

            There are three wise kings, getting themselves out of the middle east, and one King, who is also three, on the road with gold, frankincense and myrrh. Somebody new to look after it.