 Family Theatre presents Otto Krueger and Jeff Chandler. From Hollywood, the mutual network in cooperation with Family Theatre Incorporated brings you Jeff Chandler in Henry Van Dyke's The Other Wise Men. To introduce the drama, your host and narrator, Otto Krueger. Thank you, Gene Baker. Friends, you all know the story of the three wise men of the East. Now, they traveled from far away to offer their gifts at the manger cradle in Bethlehem. But have you ever heard the story of the other wise man who also saw the star in its rising and set out to follow it? The story of the fourth pilgrim, whose great desire to pay tribute to the king of Israel was denied, yet accomplished in the denial. Allow me to tell it to you then, as Henry Van Dyke first told it in his beautiful and touching tale of the other wise man. The story that we first heard in the Hall of Dreams, in the Palace of the Hearts of Man. In the days when Augustus Caesar was master of many kings and Herod reigned in Jerusalem, there lived in the city of Persia a certain man named Artavan, the median. Tall he was and dark with brilliant eyes, his brow that of a dreamer, his mouth that of a man of war. And upon the night that we now tell of, he was seated in an upper chamber of his house speaking gravely to some visitors, men who like Artavan wore the long white robe and pointed cap of the fire worshipers, the garb and dress of the ancient priesthood of the Magi. Tonight, my father and friends, let us speak of the new light and truth that lie in the prophecies of the ancient wise men of Caldea. The prophecies of the Caldeans, Artavan, who is there among us able to unravel their mysteries, to read meaning into words dimly foretold and impossible of understanding? Is it difficult for Adaspis to understand the prophecy of Avesta, who said, one shall arise from the prophets of the East country, and around him will shine a mighty brightness, and he shall make life everlasting, incorruptible and immortal. This is a dark saying, Artavan, and one best forgotten, but it would presage the relinquishment of the powers of the Magi to some stranger from the East. Then, Tigranis, one must also forget the prophecy of Balam, who said, there shall come a star out of Jacob, and a scepter shall arise out of Israel. All these sayings are obscure and mystical. My son, none can interpret them or find the key to their meaning. I have been able to interpret them, Father. You, Artavan? Yes, Father. For I and my three companions among the Magi, Kaspar, Melchior and Baltaza, have searched the ancient tablets of Caldea, and are now convinced that this is the year in which the anointed one, the Prince of Princes, the King of Israel, shall be born. They looked at Artavan, his father and friends with mingled feelings, looked at him with doubt, with wonderment, with scorn and with disbelief, and the words he continued to utter fell upon ears that listened, but did not hear. It was this very spring that we saw two of the greatest stars draw near together in the sign of the fish, which is the house of the Hebrew. And we also saw a new star there, a star which shone for one night and then vanished. Now, once again, the two great planets are meeting. This very night is their conjunction. And if it is, Artavan, what of that? My three brothers are watching at the ancient temple of the seven spheres in Babylonia. I shall watch here. If the star shines again, they will wait ten days for me at the temple. And then we will set out together for Jerusalem to see and worship the promised one who shall be born king of Israel. You will but strain your eyes with wasteful watching, Artavan. Nay, Rodaspis. I believe the sign will come. So I have sold my house and possessions and have bought these three jewels, a sapphire, a ruby and a pearl, to carry with me as a tribute to the king. And I ask all of you to go with me on the pilgrimage that we may have joy together in finding the prince who is worthy to be served. As he finished speaking, Artavan placed three great gems upon a linen scroll before him. One blue as the fragment from a night sky, one redder than the ray of sunrise, one as pure as the peak of a snow mountain at twilight, his friends glanced at the jewels, then at each other with looks of wonder and of pity. This is a vain dream, Artavan. No king will ever rise from the broken race of Israel. My time will be wiser spent gathering money for the new fire temple at Kala. This is what comes of too much looking upon the stars. This quest is not for me. And so they left him one by one and went out of his house. Thus it was that Artavan left in solitude, gathered up his jewels, the sapphire, the ruby and the pearl, and placed them in his girdle. Then quietly left the room and went out upon the terrace on the roof. Far over the eastern plain, a white mist stretched like a lake. But where the distant peak of Sargros serrated the western horizon, the sky was clear. And Jupiter and Saturn rolled together like drops of lambent flame about to blend into one. And as Artavan watched them, behold, an azure spark was born out of the darkness beneath, rounding itself with purple splendors to a crimson sphere, spiring upward through rays of saffron and orange into a point of pure white radiance. Tiny and infinitely remote, yet perfect in every part, it pulsated in the enormous vault as if the three jewels in the Magi's breast had mingled and been transformed into a living heart of light. And Artavan bowed his head and covered his brow with his hands. It is the sign. There is no longer any doubt the king is coming and I shall go to meet him. Before the birds had fully roused to their strong, joyful chant of morning song, the hooves of Vazda, the swift and faithful steed of Artavan were beating a spirited music upon the road and over the fertile fields of Kankabar and the rich gardens of Bagestan through the rocky passes of Zagros and the swirling floods of the river Tigris, those gallant hooves made their rhythmic song. And upon nightfall of the tenth day, they trod the lush earth by the waters flowing near the shattered walls of populous Babylon. Oh, courage, Vazda. It is yet three hours journey to the temple of the seven spheres. We must reach it by midnight if we are to find my companions of the Magi still waiting. We dare not stop for anything What is it, Vazda? What star is it? And then in the dim starlight he saw the form of a man lying still across the road. Swiftly Artavan dismounted and went over to the man. His face bore the marks of a deadly marshland fever and the chill of death was in the lean hand lying motionless on his breast. And Artavan's heart leaped into his throat as his mind whirled feverishly with the implications of the problem that now beset him. If I linger here but an hour ministering to this dying stranger, I cannot reach the temple in time. My companion shall leave without me. I would lose my quest. A man will surely die. O God of truth and purity, direct me in the way of wisdom which thou only knowest. And Artavan turned back to the sick man and carried him off the road to the foot of a palm tree. The Magi swiftly prepared a draught of potent remedy he carried in his belt. Then hour after hour labelled as only a skillful healer of disease can do. And at last the man's strength returned. He sat up, looked about him and spoke. Who art thou? Why hast thou sought me here to bring back my strength? I am Artavan, the Magian, hurrying to Jerusalem in search of one who is to be born king of the Jews. And despite your holy quest you still stop to aid one whose death would no more be noticed than if a grain of sand had disappeared from the desert. I could do no less, my friend. Then may the God of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob bless and prosper your journey. But before you depart again, you should know this. Our prophets have said that the Messiah will not be born in Jerusalem, but in Bethlehem of Judah. Bethlehem thou sayest? Now leave me and resume my journey. And may the Lord bring thee there in safety because thou hast had pity upon the sick. And so it was that when Artavan reached the temple of the seven spheres, the three wise men had gone, leaving behind them only a piece of parchment under a small can of broken bricks. If waited past the midnight and can delay no longer, cross the desert we go to find the king. How can I cross the desert with no food and a spent horse? I must return to Babylon and sell my sapphire. So I might buy camels and provisions for the journey. I may never overtake my friends. Now only God the merciful knows whether I shall not lose sight of the king because I tarried to show mercy. And so it was that Artavan the Magi, the otherwise man, with but two gems remaining now to distribute to the king of Israel, followed Kaspar, Melchior and Balthazar across the desert, as the other and weary but full of hope. Bearing his ruby and his pearl to offer to the king, he finally entered the streets of Bethlehem and inquired his way of a woman he heard singing within a stone cottage. May the blessings of the day be upon thee and thy childhood sister. And upon thee also, stranger. I seek three brethren of mine from Bethlehem a few days ago. Would you have knowledge of them? If it is of three Magi you speak, they did appear in this village three days ago. Yes, yes, that is they. What has happened to them? What did they do here? They told how they had come from the Far East and how a star had guided them to the place where Joseph of Nazareth was lodging with his wife and her newborn child. They paid reverence to the child and gave him many rich gifts. Oh, then the prophecy has been fulfilled. The king was born. Now may I offer my ruby and my pearl to him as tribute. Where may I find my friend's good woman? Where may I find this Joseph and his wife and the newborn son? My reply will disappoint thee, Magi, for the three strangers disappeared as suddenly as they had come here. Disappeared. And the man of Nazareth took the babe and mother and fled secretly away that same night to the distant lands that are called Egypt. Egypt? And once again I have arrived too late. My quest is not over, but barely begun. It has not seemed good to the God of Wisdom to reward my search so soon and so easily. Now I must follow the king to Egypt. Bless thee and thy child, good woman, and may peace and... Those trumpets, they have within their throats the grave dune of my child. Wait here, woman. Wait, I shall look through the doorway for the meaning of this. What is transpiring here? Why the fearful cries of terror and alarm? The soldiers of Herod. The soldiers of Herod have come to the village. They're killing our children, slaughtering our babes. Fly to the hills with your children. Fly, fly. Herod, soldiers killing our children. Oh, no, no, no. Oh, wait. Take the child to the darkest corner of the road. Cover him with the folds of thy robe and quiet his cries. I shall speak to these soldiers of Herod when they arrive. Artavans stood there in the doorway of soldiers filling the portal from side to side as the armed men of Herod came hurrying down the street towards him with bloody hands and dripping swords. Out of our way, Matai. We seek the children who dwell within. And if I were to tell you that I am all alone in this place? We shall learn that for ourselves. Stand aside, lest we run our plades through your body, too. Oh, wait. I am all alone in this place. And I am willing to give this jewel to the proven captain of Herod's men who will leave me in peace. The captain looked down. Within the hollow of Artavans' hand lay a ruby glistening there like a great drop of blood. The soldier paused for a long moment then suddenly stretched out his eager hand and snatched up the ruby. My son, men, this house is still. There is no child here. And as the clanger of arms passed by and swept down the street, Artavans re-entered the humble little cottage. Looked down at the joyously weeping woman and the again-smiling happy infant clasped to her breast. Then he turned his face to the east and prayed. God of truth, forgive my sin. I have said the thing that is not to save the life of a child. And two of my gifts are gone. I have spent for man that which was meant for God. Shall I ever be worthy to see the face of the king? So Artaban the match-a, Artaban the otherwise man, began his weary travels once again. Seeking him who had been born in Bethlehem, seeking the anointed one, the king to lay before him his tribute, the solitary gem that now alone remained, the pearl. Among the throngs in populous Egypt did he seek the king. Through countries were famine lay heavy upon the land, and in plague-stricken cities he visited the oppressed and afflicted in the gloom of prisons, in the wretchedness of slave-marts and the weary toil of gallish ships. And in all this world of anguish he found none to worship. Though he did find many to help, for he fed the hungry and clothed the naked, he healed the sick and comforted the captive. Thus, three and thirty more years of the life of Artaban passed away, and he was still a pilgrim and a seeker of light. With the last of the jewels, his pearl, still held in his secret resting place in his bosom. And now, worn and weary, ready to die, but still looking for the king, he had come for the last time to Jerusalem. But there, the streets, Artaban found flowing movement of multitudes, a strong tide of people sweeping irresistibly along the ways, leading to the Damascus Gate. Your pardon, worthy friend. Could you tell me the cause for all this tumult, and whether all these people are going? Why, everyone is going to the place called Golgotha, Marjai, outside the city walls, where there is to be an execution. Aye, two famous robbers are to be crucified, and with them another, called Jesus of Nazareth. Jesus of Nazareth? Aye, a man who has done many wonderful works among the people, so that they love him greatly. But Pilate sent him to the cross because he said he was the son of God, because he said he was the king of the Jews. Can it be that I shall find the king at last in the hands of his enemies, and shall come in time to offer my pearl, my last remaining gem of tribute, to pay his ransom before he dies? Artaban's heart beat unsteadily with excitement, as slowly with tired and painful steps, he followed the multitude toward the Damascus Gate. But as he reached a point just beyond the entrance of the guardhouse, the Macedonian soldiers came down the street, dragging with them a young girl with torn dress and disheveled hair, and as Artaban paused in compassion, she broke from the hands of the tormentors and threw herself at the wise man's feet. Ah, pity on me, wise man, for the sake of the guard of purity. For I, too, am of the Marjai, seized for her father's debts and about to be sold into slavery. Save me, wise man, save me. Artaban trembled. It was the old conflict in his soul, that which had come to him in the palm grove of Babylon and in the cottage at Bethlehem, the conflict between the expectation of faith and the impulse of love. Twice the gift which he had consecrated to the worship of God had been drawn from his hand to the service of humanity. This was the third trial, the ultimate probation, the final and irrevocable choice. Artaban slowly removed the pearl from his bosom. Never had it been so luminous, so radiant, so full of tender, living lustre. And he laid it in the hand of the slave girl. Here, this is thy ransom, my daughter. The last of my treasures which I kept for the king. With a mighty unbelievable shock, a shuddering tremor ran through the earth, heaving compulsively like the breast of one who struggled for the mighty grief. The walls of the houses rocked to and fro. Stones were loosened and crashed into the street, and Artaban and the girl fell helplessly to the ground. The man lay there, unanswering, his grey beard resting on the young girl's shoulder. Blood trickling from a wound in his temple were a falling tile that struck him. Now there was nothing more to live for. He had given away the last remnant of his tribute for the king. He had parted with the last hope of finding him. The long weary quest was over, and it had failed. Then, as the alarmed girl bent over him, there came through the twilight a sound like a voice very small and still, like music sounding from a distance in which the notes are clear, but the words are lost. And the girl turned to see if someone had spoken to them, but there was no one there. And then the sound was gone, but the lips of the magi of Artaban, the otherwise man, trembled, moved, and then spoke as though in answer to that voice. Not so, my lord, for when saw I thee hungered and fed thee, or thirsty and gave thee drink, when saw I thee a stranger and took thee in, or naked and clothed thee, when saw I thee sick or in prison and came unto thee, three and thirty years have I looked for thee, but I have never seen thy face, nor ministered to thee, my king. And the sweet voice came again, and again the maid heard it, very faintly and far away. But now it seemed as though she understood the words and repeated them to Artaban. Verily I say unto thee, inasmuch as thou hast done it unto the least of these, my brethren, thou hast done it unto me. The calm radiance of wonder and joy suddenly lighted the pale face of Artaban, like the first ray of dawn on a snowy mountain peak. One last long breath of relief exhaled from his lips and his journey was ended. His treasures had been accepted. The otherwise man had found the king. This is Otto Kruger again. This week, with Christmas coming closer and all of us busy with preparations for that most joyous day of the year, we of Family Theatre have a suggestion for you. Now, not a suggestion about what to buy, where to buy it. We'd only like to remind you that while Christmas is a time for giving and receiving, it is above all a time for faith and prayer. Christmas will be empty, just another holiday, unless our hearts are in harmony with him who can bring peace to men of good will. So during this Christmas season, will you remember? No greater gift can come to you and to your home than that deep and lasting peace which prayer alone can bring. The family that prays together stays together. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of. From Hollywood Family Theatre has brought you Jeff Chandler in The Otherwise Man, with Otto Kruger as your host and narrator. This adaptation of Henry Van Dyke's great classic was written by Sidney Marshall, by special arrangement with the copyright owners, Harper and Brothers, and Tertius Van Dyke. Music was composed and conducted by Harry Zimmerman, and the production was directed for Family Theatre by Jaime Del Valle. Others in our cast were Norman Field, John Dana, Robert Griffin, Harold Deer and Forth, Gloria Hunter, Mary Lansing, and Virginia Island. This series of Family Theatre broadcasts is made possible by the thousands of you who felt the need for this type of program, by the mutual network which has responded to this need, and by the hundreds of stars of stage, screen and radio who have so unselfishly given of their time and talent to appear on our Family Theatre stage. To them and to you, our humble thanks. This is Gene Baker inviting you to join us next week at this time when your Family Theatre will present Miss Loretta Young in Charles Tazwell's beautiful story of the littlest angel. Join us, won't you? Family Theatre is heard in Canada through the facilities of the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation and is broadcast to our troops overseas by the Armed Forces Radio Service. World's largest network, the Mutual Broadcasting System.