The Innkeeper's Daughter

A dip into fiction

My feet ache by the end of the midday meal. Having spent most of the afternoon rushing back and forth with my arms laden with plates of broth, fish, and bread, I lean against the inn’s outside wall in utter exhaustion. We’ve been busy before, but never like this. The census has every man who hails from the line of David returning with their families, donkeys, noise, and unending appetites.

I look up as I hear the familiar clop of a donkey’s hooves. The dust rises around a donkey who has clearly been well cared for but is nearly as weary as the man leading it. The man gives me a weary, but kind, smile. “Greetings, do you know who we could speak with about a room at this inn?” he asks. I grimace, although I already know the answer to this question, I hate being the bearer of bad news. Though this man doesn’t seem the sort to yell, I hate to disappoint him as he appears so exhausted. Then my eyes settle on the woman riding the donkey. 

She’s dusty from the road, taking small sips from a canteen, and I can see the sweat beading on her brow. While not a cool day, it doesn’t seem warm enough to be sweating. Then I notice her swollen belly, and the way she tries to hide her wince of pain and as she places a hand on her abdomen. Even though she’s in pain, she looks my way and offers a brave grin. “We’d be so appreciative of a place to rest,” she adds.

My mind is made up. This woman will have a place to lie down, even if it’s not our finest room. I nod as I rush inside, weaving through the patrons to find my father. He’s pouring cups of watery wine as I skid to a halt beside him. “Papa, there’s a couple out front asking about a room.” I pause to catch my breath as he looks at me incredulously. “My girl, you know no rooms can be found for miles. Even outside the city. Did they give you trouble when you told them? Do you want me to go speak with them?” he asks, immediately protective. “No, no. They seem nice. And the lady, father, she’s going to have a baby. It looks like soon. Please can’t we offer them the stable?” My Papa is a fair man, he wouldn’t charge for lodgings as lowly as a stable, but I see him struggling to come to terms with placing an expecting woman there. “If they have family nearby, they’d be better off being cramped with them.” He states. My shoulders sink, telling this couple to keep traveling feels wrong. “But,” my heart jumps with that single word, “I’ll go speak with them and offer the stable. It’s not much, but it’s better than rough camping.”

I lead the way through the throngs of people in the dining room. We walk through the front door to find the couple looking at us anxiously as we approach. “Greetings, my name is Joseph, this is my wife Mary, we were hoping to find lodging with you tonight?” the man states, eyes burning with hope. “I’m sorry,” my father begins, “there are no rooms available.” Joseph and Mary exchange a worried look. “But,” their heads whip back towards us, “we do have a stable just a short walk from here. I’m sorry it’s not a proper room, and it does have some livestock residing in it, but it would give you a roof and some privacy. A place to lie down.” My father’s voice fades as he sees the look of pure relief and appreciation shining from Mary’s face. “Hmmph, and we will be sure to bring you each an evening meal and wine,” he adds while rubbing the back of his neck. Joseph clasps father’s hand, his face a reflection of Mary’s, “Thank you, thank you so much. We’ve searched all over the city, no rooms can be found. We’re so grateful.”

My father smiles back at Mary and Joseph, “I’m just sorry we can’t offer you more. But let’s get you all settled; you each look ready for a good rest. We freshened the hay yesterday so that should be clean. My daughter can show you the way while I have my wife rustle up some spare blankets and buckets for washing up. There’s a small well not far from there with fresh, cold water.” Mary and Joseph nod, still beaming. I skip forward, my exhaustion forgotten in the excitement of helping them. Something about them draws me in, as if they hold a secret, but one full of joy. As if their story was one I wanted to know. “Follow me, I’ll show you the way. It isn’t far, just a bit down this road towards the hillside. The stable faces outwards, the only folks you’d encounter that way would be the shepherds, and they’re still a good walk away. You’ll get to meet our goat, Figgy, and our cow, Ollie, oh and we have a sweet sheep recovering in the barn and I call her Pom Pom, short for Pomegranate.” I realize I’m rambling and quickly stop my chatter. “What wonderful names,” says Mary, “did you come up with all of them?” I smile at her, “well, I came up with Figgy when I was little. Then when we got our cow my little sister thought all our animals had to be named for food, so she chose Olive, or Ollie.”

Mary smiled and began to say something in return, but she suddenly bent low towards the donkey’s head with a groan and wince. “Breathe, breathe, we’re almost there,” Joseph said gently. “It’s right here,” I hastened to say, motioning towards our stable. As Joseph led the donkey around and helped Mary down, I tried to arrange the hay as best I could to create a pallet for Mary. “Oh, thank you, sweet girl,” Mary said, “your thoughtfulness is so appreciated.” She seemed a little better, not in as much pain though she looked uncomfortable and stiff from the ride. “I was going to tell you that this is Thistle,” she said, motioning to the donkey from whom Joseph was removing their bags. “He may be a bit prickly, but he’s a dear and really quite helpful.” She added with warmth and affection in her voice.

I smiled at Thistle as I showed Joseph where the well was. “I’ll be right back with blankets and buckets,” I assured them. They waved their thanks as I hustled back up the winding road. My mind went back to Mary’s pain, the way she bent and grimaced. How long had passed between those pains? I had watched my Mama deliver my three younger siblings, those big pains would come faster and faster the closer it came for the baby to arrive. My mind whirred, remembering my friend training to be a midwife who lived down the street. They would need clean cloths and warm water. I had a busy day ahead of me.

After delivering the blankets, buckets, and food that my father sent back to Mary and Joseph, I sped back to our home. Situated just beside the inn, our kitchen connected to the inn’s for ease of food preparation. This doubly large kitchen was where I found my Mama. “We need to help the couple in the stable. The woman is pregnant and I think the baby will come soon.” My mother’s thick brows rose in alarm at these words, “My brave one, your heart is so big. I want to help but the inn is overflowing. The city is full to the brim! I’m sure they have their family close by to help.” I shook my head, “I don’t think so, Mama. They’re alone and you know men can’t help with the birth. We need to do something.” My mother, as kind a woman as you could find, thought as she kneaded dough. “Yes, you’re right. If they don’t know the area they may not know where to look for a midwife. Run down the street to Salome, she isn’t fully trained yet but see if she can find Martha. If Martha cannot come, Salome is helpful and knowledgeable.” I bobbed my head and took off in search of Salome.

Salome was more than happy to help, eagerly relaying the story of a birth she had assisted Martha with just days beforehand. “Twins!” she squealed, “can you imagine anything more exciting?” I listened in equal parts horror and awe, “well, this may not be as exciting but giving birth in a stable should make for a good story too,” I add. She laughs and assures me that she’ll find Martha and bring her by our stable to check on Mary.

After leaving Salome’s I feel better about the plan but unsure what to do next. I don’t usually check on guests, Father shows them their room and then I only see them again at mealtimes when I help serve. But something draws me to Mary and Joseph, something more than just concern over their baby. They are kind, yes, but they feel important to me. As if I knew them before today, as if they were members of my family, or people whom I love. This makes no sense as we’ve only exchanged a handful to words, but the sense lingers and draws me back to the stable.

I gently knock on the outside wall, as if it was a door, “Mary? Joseph? I wanted to check in and see that you all got settled.” I hear some rustling of the hay and Joseph walks around to where I stand. “Hello again, we are very comfortable. Thank you for offering your stable. Mary is sleeping but will probably wake up again soon when the birthing pains come. I wondered if you knew a local midwife I could contact? And if it wouldn’t be too much to ask you to stay with Mary while I spoke with them?” I smiled, pleased at my forethought. “I already asked my friend Salome, a midwife’s apprentice, if she and Martha, the midwife, could stop by the stable. I noticed Mary’s pain and thought that might be helpful. I hope I didn’t overstep.” I add, my actions seeming a little presumptuous as I say them aloud. Joseph’s face splits into a wide smile, “you have been a blessing since we first met you. I cannot thank you enough. That is exactly what I planned to do, but I feel better staying here with Mary.”

After helping Joseph fetch some water to bathe Mary’s brow, I noticed two figures approaching in the distance. I recognized the skipping walk of Salome and told Joseph of their approach. “Good timing,” he said as he watched Mary twist and turn in pain. After Salome and Martha arrived, things moved swiftly. The baby was coming, and the pains were increasing in discomfort and time. “I’m afraid there’s no more rest between aches,” Martha stated. “But I’m glad you slept while you could, this next part takes strength.” Mary looked at Martha with eyes wide with anxiety, then she took a deep breath, closed her eyes and when she opened them again, she had a look of firm determination. “I’m ready to meet my son,” she said. None of us mentioned the possibility of a daughter, her statement was so certain. 

The next few hours passed in a blur, the running back and forth for hot water, the dabbing at Mary’s brow, my hands clenched by Mary when Joseph needed a short break from having his hands wrung raw. Salome and Martha worked tirelessly, a fluid dance of encouragement and advice. Finally, when the babe arrived, his cry sounded, and I felt my eyes fill with tears. While Joseph hugged his wife and new babe, I reached into my bag and pulled out a soft, worn blanket. I hesitantly offered it to Mary, “to swaddle him, it belonged to my siblings and I.” Mary took the swaddling clothes with care, gently wrapped her son in them, and placed him in the manger.

She stroked his cheek. “Thank you for this gift, and for all that you’ve done today.” She said, still gazing at her boy. As her eyes turned to mine, she spoke with a smile, “he thanks you too.” I reached out my hand to tuck the cloth under his chin, when his little hand wiggled free and grabbed my finger. I froze, staring at Mary in wonder, she laughed “He knows you. And I need to apologize, because I realized earlier that I never asked your name. I’ve been a little distracted today.” I shook my head, not at all offended that a woman giving birth wouldn’t think of asking my name. But she added “I heard everyone calling you Miriam, is that right?” I nodded and Mary looked at me as she said, “Like your namesake, you ushered this baby into safety and love. When I ponder this night in my heart, I’ll remember how you cared for us.” My eyes welled with tears again. “What’s his name?” I asked. “Jesus,” Mary replied, “his name is Jesus.”

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If you’ve read this far - thank you! This piece was crafted late one night when I couldn’t sleep and imagined a different angle of the nativity. There are many different beliefs around Christ’s birth and how that fateful night occurred. Some traditions question whether Mary felt pain with childbirth, others note that the wording in Luke could indicate that Mary and Joseph were in Bethlehem for some time before the birth. Like so many aspects of scripture, the fact that details of the narrative are wrapped in mystery shouldn’t dissuade us from encountering the miraculous with openness and wonder.

Recently, I’ve been interested in the ideas around a midwife at Christ’s birth. With Joseph being a traditional Jewish man, it would have been considered inappropriate for him to be Mary’s assistant in labor and delivery - and the poor man would not have had any knowledge on what to do or how to help. It stands to reason that a midwife would have been called. The Protoevangelium of James, which is not in the Bible but is considered an important historical book in the Catholic Church, states that there was a midwife at Christ’s birth and gives her account of the virgin birth. Though the midwife’s name is not given, the name of her assistant in the birth is Salome. The inspiration for this story’s Salome came from that account.

If you’re interested in a quick read on this angle of the story, Aletia has a good article here which includes the link to the passages in the Protoevangelium of James.

I was also attached to the idea of a young girl desiring to help an expecting Mary. After watching my own two little ladies fawn over babies and anxiously await the arrival of their friends’ younger siblings, I felt that a young girl in Bethlehem who saw Mary’s need would find a way to help. I can imagine the adults being caught up in the bustle of the registry, but something tells me the heart of a child would be drawn to Mary. I have no Biblical account or reason for imagining Miriam into this story; but I enjoyed considering her perspective of the nativity.

I hope each of your Advents are filled with hope and light! Blessings to you each and Merry Christmas!

With love, Alli