Chapter 15

During his many winter seasons in Rome, Antipas, when queried about his official duties as Tetrarch of Galilee, candidly admitted that his executive responsibilities while in residence at Tiberias were not onerous. There was, of course, the month he spent annually at the Embassy. That, he implied, was quite another matter. When pressed for details he always closed his eyes, shook his head, and waggled his hand, as if to say that it was too serious to be talked about. And he had foolishly allowed the growth of a legend to the effect that his court in Jerusalem dealt out horrible punishments to all manner of desperate criminals, seditionists and traitors.

Now the silly secret was out. There was no blood-letting to be had at the Embassy. The Romans had attended court, one morning, and had filed out presently, their shameless laughter echoing in the high-domed, mosaic-lined foyer. The Tetrarch’s court, they said truthfully, was a poor show.

Antipas now had had three weeks of these insufferable people. He hated them all. There was nothing in Jerusalem that they wanted to do, nothing they wanted to see. Most of them had visited Greece, all of them had been in Egypt. As for architectural splendours and hoary antiquities, the Holy City had little to offer to anybody who had seen the Acropolis or the ruins at Karnak.

The Tetrarch was at his wits’ end to find entertainment for his jaded guests. He had wangled an invitation for them to luncheon at The Insula, but it was a painful event, Pontius and Calpurnia Pilate making it plain that their hospitality was an official duty, and no pleasure. Besides, the very air was drugged with the long-festering animosity of Pilate and Fronto; and Calpurnia had no use for Herodias, whom she had publicly snubbed on numerous occasions. The Procurator, brusque enough when on his best behaviour, went to no bother to brighten the hour. The most interest he showed in any of them was when, after blinking solemnly into Fadilla’s baggy eyes for a long moment, he muttered, ‘Tullius, you’re getting paunchy; probably drinking too much. You’ll have a stroke, one of these days.’

And now the Passover was at hand. These pagans couldn’t be expected to take much interest in that. Obviously the most prudent course now was to get them all out of Jerusalem before they disgraced him with their flippant comments concerning an ancient rite which—in the opinion of all Jewry—was no joke. True, it would be an appalling display of indifference, on his own part, to leave at this moment; but he would risk it. He tried the idea out on Herodias, who approved it with the not very reassuring comment, ‘You may as well do it: you have nothing to lose.’

Customarily, at the end of Passover Week, the Tetrarch’s family and retainers were escorted back to Tiberias by the Legion from Capernaum. It would have been foolhardy to attempt this journey through the bandit-infested mountains of Samaria without protection. Seeing that the gala week in Jerusalem was in the nature of a vacation for Julian’s legionaries, it was doubtful whether the Legate would consent to leave the city on the very eve of the festival, even if Procurator Pilate had permitted the withdrawal for no better reason than to accommodate a whim of the Tetrarch’s.

However, it was worth trying. Antipas stated his case to Julian, who, as was to be expected, flatly refused. In desperation the Tetrarch told the Legate that if he would release one company for this service every man of them should be paid thirty shekels per day. This was tempting bait. Julian said he would see. That afternoon he reported that a company of one hundred legionaries, under the command of a trusted Centurion, would be on hand early the next morning. And it was with a deep sigh of relief that Antipas saw his long caravan through the Damascus Gate and out into the open country. Now his malcontents, instead of fretting in the tiresome confinement of the Embassy, could amuse themselves as they liked. They could ride, bathe in the beautiful pool, tan their hides in the gardens; and, incidentally, relieve him of the responsibility to find entertainment for them.