Chapter 1

As for his other sons by Mariamne, Herod had had but little occasion for pride in them. Archelaus, the eldest, was a contentious fellow, for ever getting himself into embarrassing brawls. Philip, the youngest, whom the family invariably referred to as ‘Poor Philip,’ was so listless and impractical that he even had much difficulty in holding the government job his eminent father had found for him in Rome at the cost of much coaxing—and a bit of bribery. And, as if poor Philip were not sufficiently weighted with handicaps, he had allowed himself to be led into an unhappy marriage by Herodias—a cousin twice removed—who was his senior by ten years and a century older in experience. A widow, Herodias had brought along a pert young daughter, Salome, whose adventures were common talk. Herod could not be proud of poor Philip. But Antipas—here was a son worthy of all the costly investments that had been made in him!

Noting that his father was occupied or pretended to be, the well-favoured Prince strolled across to the high bank of cases which lined the eastern wall, drew out a new, heavily gilded scroll, read the title, and chuckled audibly. Herod regarded him with interest.

‘Did the old man give you this?’ inquired Antipas, amused.

‘If you are referring to the aged Emperor Augustus,’ reproved Herod, ‘he did.’

‘Gave it to you—personally?’ nagged Antipas.

Herod hitched uneasily in his chair, as if to admit that the ostentatious scroll was one of a large number presented to Consuls, Prefects, Governors, Provincial Kings—and Senators too, perhaps.

‘I’ll wager a hundred shekels that Your Majesty hasn’t read a line of it!’ taunted Antipas; and, when his father had shrugged, added, ‘You’d better, sire. This is Virgil’s new eulogy to Augustus, extolling his brave deeds. He calls it The Aeneid.’

‘We shall have to peruse it,’ consented Herod absently.

‘Indeed you will, sire!’ Antipas made pretence of seriousness. ‘You may have to take an examination on it some time.’ He flipped the gaudy scroll back into the case, sauntered to the King’s dais, flung himself into a chair—and yawned. Herod put down his stylus and smiled benevolently.

‘And how are you amusing yourself, my son? We hope the time does not hang too heavily on your hands while you wait for your marriage.’

‘Not heavily at all, sire. Your Majesty will recall that Salome, who is very good company, returned with us on our ship, for a visit.’

‘Specifically—she came to represent poor Philip’s family at the wedding,’ amended Herod. ‘Otherwise she would not have been tolerated—much less invited: you may be sure of that!’ He lowered his voice, discarded his kingship, and impulsively became a father. ‘If I were in your place, Antipas, I should arrange not to be seen in public with the little trollop.’

‘My niece, sire!’ Antipas feigned indignation, but his ironical smirk showed through.

‘Niece? Nonsense!’ growled Herod. ‘Since when did poor Philip’s notorious step-daughter become your niece?’

‘Technically she is my niece, sire; and Your Majesty’s grand-daughter. Does that not entitle her to some courteous consideration?’

‘Not from you! The women of the court can attend to Salome’s wants. The Queen will arrange for her entertainment.’

‘But mother does not care for her,’ said Antipas sadly.

‘Not much wonder!’ muttered Herod. ‘But—however that may be—you are to have nothing further to do with her. The fact that your half-witted brother married her mother does not obligate you in the least. Your association with this Salome will do you no good, especially now that your heart is in Arabia.’

‘Is it?’ Instantly Antipas realized that he had overtaxed his royal parent’s patience. He had been sweetly wheedled into returning to wed the Arabian princess. It had required a deal of coaxing. At first he had loudly protested, and his father had promised him an immediate cash payment of his patrimony. He had shaken his head sorrowfully, and his father had conferred on him the Tetrarchy of Galilee. Finally he had yielded to the King’s importunate pressure. It had placed him in an advantageous position, and he had been trading on it sharply, with all the inconsiderate tyranny of a spoiled invalid. His father’s dark frown warned him now that his impudence had reached a limit.

‘It had better be!’ rasped Herod hotly. ‘This is a serious business! And you are a fool not to realize it!’ He rose and paced to and fro, with mounting rage. ‘You should be in Arabia at this moment—as I counselled you—making friends with these aliens. I tell you they are no more eager for this wedding than you are! And if you treat it too lightly you may get a dagger between your ribs—blood-letting is a mere pastime with these Arabians! They never forget an injury or an insult.’ The King was breathing heavily as he strode toward the door. ‘Don’t say I did not warn you!’ he shouted.

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