Chapter 1

‘It would be an interesting novelty,’ reflected Herod, in a tone of childish wistfulness. ‘Many of our people will be surprised to know that we have catapults.’

‘Our people will be surprised too!’ exclaimed Julian. ‘And if a large display is made of such heavy weapons, Your Excellency may soon have a more serious use for them.’

Herod smiled enigmatically, patted a yawn, and drummed absently on the table with his knuckles. Julian dourly accepted his dismissal and rose to go.

‘In any case,’ pursued Herod, ‘they are good catapults, and they are ours, and they are here! It would be no easy matter to bring as large ones, or as many, from Rome.’

Slightly stunned by this unexpected impudence, Julian stammered, ‘I am aware of that, sire.’

‘And so is Tiberius,’ added Herod recklessly.

‘Meaning that Your Excellency would like me to inform the Emperor?’

‘As you please, Julian. You will anyway, you know.’

This raw arrogance was something new to the Legate, whom Herod had always treated with a suave, if insincere deference. It was evident that the crafty Jew intended to gamble this time for very high stakes.

‘The Emperor may suspect that this wedding is primarily a display of defensive armour!’

‘How quick you are, Julian,’ drawled Herod, now candidly contemptuous. ‘You are wasted as a mere peace officer. You should be a Consul, at the very least.’ He rose and bowed ceremoniously. ‘Forgive us if we have to let you go now. We have another appointment; and you, doubtless, have business of your own.’

As the troubled young Legate made his inglorious exit from the spacious gold and blue audience chamber, Prince Antipas lounged in through the King’s private entrance. Herod glanced up, nodded amiably, and resumed his writing. His face expressed satisfaction with his favourite son, something of pride too; for Antipas—not always so docile—was showing himself surprisingly co-operative in this affair of the Arabian nuptials. Not meaning that he was enthusiastic—which would have been too much to expect—but quietly acquiescent.

Of Herod’s three sons by his much loved Mariamne, Antipas was his pet. Antipas was respectful, courteous, good to look upon, of better than average height, with a handsome face, an athletic figure, and the confident carriage of a soldier. The firm discipline of the Roman Military Academy was stamped on him. At twenty-five, his slow, agnostic smile gave more than a hint of the fashionable cynicism which characterized the indolent crew of rich men’s sons who gambled all day at the baths and banqueted all night in the best possible places. Antipas was already an experienced man of the world.