Oh, all hail those fabled kings, those wonderful wise men whose delusions led them, coincidentally, to Jesus’s birthplace. Sarcasm, of course, for it truly is I, Sir Cameron, who should have been granted all the glory of this falsely written tale. How dare they forget about me! They had tales of the fourth wise man (which is an absolutely fictional story, by the way) and yet none were written about me, the royal knight who did all the work while the tyrannical trio did their nightly star-gazing. With this, of course, I shall attempt to do justice to my own self, and perhaps bring forth a few insights as to the personalities of the three royal pains in the you know where.
It was a splendid night when it all started, in the warm Oriental atmosphere. King Bruce and King Jackie had been looking upon the heavens, as usual, when King Wayne arrived with a barrel of wine. Well, actually, King Wayne just arrived, it was I who carried the barrel of wine up to the observation tower where they did their nightly observing, obviously! What a splendid day it was to be gazing at the horizon, I must add! The sun had just set, the darkness was falling, and the skies were cloudless, allowing the breath-taking spectacle of starlight to whisk one away into the realm of imagination. Of course, with King Wayne’s plentiful supply of fizz-water, the realm of delirium was quite near at hand as well!
It did not even take long for this guzzle-fest to begin, for as soon as I put the barrel down, I was asked to fetch three goblets, so that these three very vain kings may enjoy the fine fermentation of the trampled grapes. And so I returned, with three silver goblets to bring out the hypnotic red color of the wine. Quickly, this was refused by the three, King Bruce objecting that they only use gold and that silver was not satisfactory. Oh damn their paranoia of serfs! Why must a knight serve his king while servants beg to do his bidding? Enough bickering for now, I must continue this story. With gold goblets this time, thanks to yours truly, they drank merrily upon that tower, with me serving the drinks. Quite a rowdy crew they turned out to be! Perhaps I may have done something about the whole situation but who was I to argue when King Jackie demanded more wine?
Yes, and it was the same King Jackie that first saw the angels. The other two, who had gone into delirium as well, argued the vision. One exclaimed that it was a giant albino sparrow, and the other argued that it was simply another keg of wine that had sprouted wings! My God, what a lost group of rulers these men were! It was all fine and amusing until all three heard the angel/sparrow/wine keg speak. That strange phenomenon was the one solitary reason for the journey we were to embark on.
Perhaps it was a peasant down below, who was giving directions to the village whom we heard, but the Kings were all determined to believe that this was a divine sign! Why, everyone knows that west from the Star Tavern was the village square!!! Yet the three insisted otherwise. King Bruce suggested that they immediately prepare for travel, and looked at King Wayne. With this, I was sent to pack their garments, their bags, and whatever luxuries that may be useful when trading for food or drink.
Each night, I tended the camels while the kings gazed at the stars again. I begged them not to drink while on the trip but they chided me as if I were a child. Each night, the wine had the same effect — angels followed by visions of a star. This, by the way, led to the modern use of “seeing stars” when referring to dizzy persons. In those days, this was not widely known, and thus we continued our progress to the west, to follow this illusion of a star. What is that song they have now — “star of wonder star of light…westward leading, hair receding” or something of that nature? Quite factual, since all three of them were getting quite old and well, the hair goes along the way. Yes, and this will have to be written in their histories from now on, as my revenge for their cruelty to me.
The rest of the story is for the most part true, so I shall just move onto my own personal tale on my brief time apart from the tyrannical three. On the day King Harry called them, they stayed in his guest room while I was forced to stay with the camels. Harry, of course is short for Harold, which, in turn, was mistaken for Herod in the history books. But I digress. My two nights at the stables were nights of shivering and weeping, not to mention damning and cursing, for while the kings slept in comfort, I was left cold, hungry, and lonely beneath the winter sky. I had contemplated running away from their service but it was a matter of pride, thus I braved the winds and the personal famine. Damn those ungrateful idiots!
A few nights later, when there was no more wine, nor were there goods to trade for wine, the star finally stopped moving. We were stranded in this town called Bethlehem at the time, and there were no vacancies anywhere. While they continued onwards, looking for lodging fit for kings, I strayed away, finding myself yet another stable to sleep in. To my surprise, this stable was occupied by a friendly couple, and a newborn baby they named Jesus. I played with the baby for a while and then took my place in a corner somewhere, so that I may rest.
I awoke to the familiar ranting of those whom I served. Their loud mutterings had awakened the baby as well, and this was such an abomination to me. They realized their blunder and humbly (for a change) offered the last of the goods they had, which no one accepted to trade for wine. Thus the historic gifts — gold, frankincense, and myrrh. The gold being the three goblets which they had no use for since there was no wine!
Oh how the tales made them all heroes, and yet I, Sir Cameron, was left forgotten in all this. In my frustration, I ran away, never hearing from the three ever again. Over the ages, I have heard tales of them, and of a fourth wise man, which I was hoping, was the characterization of me. But I was let down. Now centuries later, after religions have come and gone in worship of that adorable little baby I saw that day, I decided to write my tale.
So there it was, the story of the Three Kings of the Orient: King Bruce, King Jackie, and King Wayne. Three star-gazing lunatics who achieved fame in myth and lore due to the unmentioned acts of valiance and loyalty that I had done. Spread the word far and wide, I beg of you, that I may finally gain the recognition that I truly deserve.
As for what has kept me alive throughout the ages, well, my friends, that is a different story, one that I shall not divulge at this time.
— Sir Cameron
