We all had the same dream. Perhaps that’s why we were so convinced. I looked at Melchior and he looked at me. Balthasar stirred, sat up and studied both of us, clearly something on his mind. None of us wanted to speak it out first. Melchior is cooler than I, and Balthasar more reasonable. I’m just generally affably. Don’t like rocking boats or rattling cages. A little reserved and hopefully good-natured with it. So we all had our reasons. But the images were still there in our mind. Couldn’t just dismiss them as night-time imaginings. Vibrant, vital. In the end we blurted it out at the same time. The message. From an angel. Not of tidings of great joy, but a warning. Take the long way home. Go another road. Bypass that other king now you’ve seen this one. That other king, the obvious one with the servants and the regal outfit and the powerful attitude, it seems he wasn’t much of a king after all. Nothing like the one crying in the other room of this humble house. That other king, seems his power was a sham, a front, an insecure temple of his own making, a house on sand, soon to crumble. But not before he sent a storm on the rest of us. That other king was a murderous trickster. And his idea of worshipping this tiny child came with swords and bloodletting. So we packed quietly, made our plans and tore up the intended route home. We had to adjust. Had to change now. That thought continued rattling around in my head as we lolloped along in the early morning light. I’d come to honour a child, bring him a gift and a smile. He’d come to offer far more. Changed lives, changed plans. I wanted to think of this journey as just another adventure. But I was beginning to see… this wasn’t just a pleasant distraction. This was everything. This was the start of the rest of our lives. Three wise travellers, yet this child wasn’t the end of our journey, this was only the beginning. We’d only just begun and could not be the same again.