Nicholas turned up a side street and found a thick vine clinging to the side of the house. He tucked in his cloak and scurried up the vine to the roof. The sun was still high, so he took care to place himself with the sun at his front to avoid casting a shadow below. The short man entered the atrium where three young ladies waited. They looked to range in age from 15 to 20. The oldest said, “Father?”
He replied, “I am sorry. I am very sorry. The debt will be paid, but we are left with nothing.” He drifted on to one of the rooms, leaving the sisters alone. The youngest of the three covered her face and shuddered.
The oldest said, “Do not cry.”
The youngest sobbed, “But none of us will ever marry. We will all be forced to... sell ourselves.”
“No,” said the oldest. “There is still hope for you.”
“What do you mean?” asked the middle sister.
“We do not all have to sell ourselves. Just one. Given time, I might earn enough to pay for your dowries.”
“No,” gasped the middle sister. “We cannot make you do that!”
The oldest said, “You are younger. You two will have a better chance at finding good husbands.”
“Please. No,” said the youngest. “I couldn’t bear to see you make that sacrifice.”
The middle sister said, “Perhaps one of the gods will take pity on us and offer some way out.”
The oldest gave a great sigh. “I wish this were like some play where one of the gods comes down at the end and makes all things well, but that only happens in plays.”
“But we do not have to find husbands today,” said the middle sister. “And who is to say you should be the one?”
The oldest said, “You know it should be me... But you are right, it can wait another day.”
That night in his tomb, Nicholas counted out three bags of twenty gold coins each. Each would be a respectable dowry. Returning home, he waited until late to be sure the man and his daughters were all asleep. Then he donned his hooded cloak and returned to the roof of their house. One by one, he tossed the bags into the atrium, then slipped away.
In the morning, the oldest sister rose first from the floor where they had spent the night. She wanted to at least prepare one last breakfast to share with her family before giving up her life with them. She crossed the atrium to the kitchen and her foot kicked something that jingled. She looked down and found a plain leather bag. She picked it up and found it heavy. The strap tying it shut read, “In the name of Christus.” Two other bags lay nearby. She untied the first bag and gasped to find it filled with gold. “Father!” she cried out. “We are saved!”
He replied, “I am sorry. I am very sorry. The debt will be paid, but we are left with nothing.” He drifted on to one of the rooms, leaving the sisters alone. The youngest of the three covered her face and shuddered.
The oldest said, “Do not cry.”
The youngest sobbed, “But none of us will ever marry. We will all be forced to... sell ourselves.”
“No,” said the oldest. “There is still hope for you.”
“What do you mean?” asked the middle sister.
“We do not all have to sell ourselves. Just one. Given time, I might earn enough to pay for your dowries.”
“No,” gasped the middle sister. “We cannot make you do that!”
The oldest said, “You are younger. You two will have a better chance at finding good husbands.”
“Please. No,” said the youngest. “I couldn’t bear to see you make that sacrifice.”
The middle sister said, “Perhaps one of the gods will take pity on us and offer some way out.”
The oldest gave a great sigh. “I wish this were like some play where one of the gods comes down at the end and makes all things well, but that only happens in plays.”
“But we do not have to find husbands today,” said the middle sister. “And who is to say you should be the one?”
The oldest said, “You know it should be me... But you are right, it can wait another day.”
That night in his tomb, Nicholas counted out three bags of twenty gold coins each. Each would be a respectable dowry. Returning home, he waited until late to be sure the man and his daughters were all asleep. Then he donned his hooded cloak and returned to the roof of their house. One by one, he tossed the bags into the atrium, then slipped away.
In the morning, the oldest sister rose first from the floor where they had spent the night. She wanted to at least prepare one last breakfast to share with her family before giving up her life with them. She crossed the atrium to the kitchen and her foot kicked something that jingled. She looked down and found a plain leather bag. She picked it up and found it heavy. The strap tying it shut read, “In the name of Christus.” Two other bags lay nearby. She untied the first bag and gasped to find it filled with gold. “Father!” she cried out. “We are saved!”
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