From Chapter One:
Andrew sat under his favorite olive tree that grew in the center of town. He could not believe his eyes—caravans of people had come from everywhere with their mules and camels packed with their belongings. Why they had come to his little town, he did not know, but eleven-year-old Andrew was happy. His father owned an inn on the outskirts of town, and with all these families coming into Bethlehem, some would surely find their way there when the other inn was full.

Yes. His father would be pleased.

But his father would not be pleased if Andrew did not get home to his morning chores. Andrew stepped from the cool shade of the two-hundred-year-old olive tree and brushed the dry earth off his knee-length white tunic. A gentle, humid breeze played with his curly black hair. Up and down the street were one- and two-story stone and brick shops, where merchants stood under canopies, trying to sell their goods to the newcomers. Chatter from the many people buying supplies and seeking shelter filled the air as Andrew started home. More…