Chapter 17

‘Not often, sire, in the history of this unhappy world, has it been given into the hand of one man to bring about the peace of two great nations, long at enmity. This task was entrusted to Your Majesty; the healing of the hatred between Ishmael and Israel.’

The Tetrarch frowned darkly and drummed on the table with his finger-tips. Hispo whispered to Paula Fronto, ‘The man is crazy!’

‘It is not for Your Majesty’s prisoner,’ continued John, ‘to conjecture why our God, in His wisdom, should have called to this important task a man so vain and selfish as Your Majesty; but His ways are mysterious and past finding out. Who shall say when again—if ever—it may be one man’s privilege and duty to heal the breach between the Arab and the Jew!’

‘That will do, mad dog!’ spluttered Antipas, lurching to his feet. ‘Get you back to your kennel!’

Seizing him, the guards pushed the prisoner roughly toward the door. Throughout the room indignant murmurs rose, implying an attempt to reassure the Tetrarch that no attention need be paid to the hermit’s ravings; but the damage had been done, and almost everyone present—certainly the older ones—knew that the truth had been spoken. Antipas unwittingly sought David’s eyes to learn their view of the awkward situation, but the old Sadducee soberly stroked his beard and did not look up.

It was Salome who, quite unaware of what had been going on in the banquet-hall, now came to the temporary rescue of the stunned and embarrassed Tetrarch. Trailed by the score of well-rehearsed harpists, she sailed gracefully into the room, made a deep curtsey to her stepfather, and, snapping her castanets, pirouetted into a reckless gambado. She was light as a feather and almost completely unencumbered by clothing of any sort. Except for a braided chaplet of rubies, an elaborate design of pearl necklaces, and a fringe of sapphire-strands across her loins, Salome was nude.

Antipas, suddenly tugged out of his helpless anger by the girl’s beauty and grace, was beside himself with admiration and delight; and when she had finished, with a flashing smile for him alone, he shouted that she might ask what she would—and it should be hers! There was much applause. Salome had saved the day for the Tetrarch, and they were all glad for him.

Herodias had slipped out into the corridor and was awaiting her daughter when she emerged from the banquet-hall, beaming over her plaudits.

‘You heard what he said?’ queried Salome, still breathing rapidly from her exertions. ‘What shall I ask? A coronet of emeralds?’ She had a better thought. ‘I know, I shall ask him for a beautiful pleasure barge on the lake!’