How Mrs. Claus Saved Christmas by Jeff Guinn Read Free Book Online Page A

nearly gasped, because I realized this was the man from my dreams. As a sensible person I knew this had to be impossible, yet here he was! I wanted to say something, I meant to reach out and pull at his arm and speak to him, but the shock I was feeling left me too confused to move, and by the time I recovered myself he and his companion had been swallowed up in the marketplace crowd.
    Still stunned, I slowly made my way back to the inn, trying to make sense of what had happened. Surely I’d just been granted a sign—but of what? Should I now do nothing else but search every street in Constantinople until I found this man again? And, if I did, what should I say to him? He might be repulsed by a strange woman saying to him that she knew him from many years of dreams. But beyond the dreams, I had the sense that I had seen him somewhere else, too.
    As night fell, my only instinct was to go ahead and bring my gifts out to the nomad camp. After all, because I had spent the last of my money, this would be one of my last moments of gift-giving, too. I would take most of the provisions I had just purchased. The few things remaining I would bring to others in need, and when the final loaf and dried fig and bit of cheese were distributed, the next part of my life would begin. I wondered, perhaps even allowed myself to hope, that the man with the white beard and wonderful smile might be involved.

    â€œAt least let me see who you are,” he said, gently tugging my hood away from my face. My long hair tumbled out, and as the light coming through the windows of the inn fell upon my face, I knew it was clear I was certainly not a man.

CHAPTER Three
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    T here were four tents in the nomad camp, with two small fires burning nearby. I always found it easier to leave gifts when tents were involved rather than proper huts or houses, which usually had doors. Though door locks weren’t yet in use, sometimes families would block their doors from the inside by placing heavy objects against them, since, particularly in cities, there were thieves who might try to sneak in. I, of course, was also sneaking in, but to leave things rather than take them. Tents only had entryway flaps, and these were easily pushed aside.
    I approached the camp carefully, as I always did, trying to be certain no one else was around. On this night, I couldn’t escape the feeling that someone was lurking nearby, but after an extra half hour of waiting and watching I decided to get on with my task. The camp was about a half mile outside Constantinople, but it was beside a good-sized road, and someone might ride or walk by at any time. At least there were hills all around. Even if that made it easier for others to hide from my sight, this meant in case of emergency I, too, would have a good chance of getting away.
    I quietly walked toward the nearest tent. I knew from my scouting earlier in the day that a mother and father and their two children would be sleeping there. Just before I eased aside the flap to go inside, I reached into the deep pocket of my cloak and put my hand on a long, thick loaf of bread. In those days, a loaf might be the entire dinner for a family of four or six or even ten, so they were quite substantial. Think of how long a modern-day baseball bat usually is, and that was about the length of a loaf in 412, only the loaf was easily twice as thick as the bat. Years of practice made what I would do next completely automatic. The pockets inside my cloak were quite long, from my waist all the way down to the hem around my ankles. I could put several loaves into them at once, along with other smaller items of food or clothing. On this particular night, I would begin by entering this first tent, pulling out one loaf, and placing it gently by the side of one of the sleeping mats. Then I would take out smaller things, in this case some dried fruit and cheese, and put these items by the other mats, so that each sleeper