Chapter 2

Next morning the unavoidable interview between Antipas and Arnon terminated their unhappy alliance. To his considerable relief, the Prince’s scandalous behaviour was not discussed. Arnon simply stated that Rome was no place for an Arabian Princess to hope for happiness, and Antipas cheerfully agreed that her return to her own people was the only solution to their problem. He would arrange for it without delay.

A well-appointed pleasure barge was chartered, stocked with everything that might make the long voyage comfortable. A score of trusted men, experienced in handling caravans, were engaged to safeguard the overland journey from the port at Gaza.

On the day before the sailing, Antipas tried to turn the conversation toward the probable attitude of King Aretas. Reassuring Arnon on the wisdom of her decision to return home, he added pleasantly, ‘And how pleased your father will be to have you come back to him! I am sure he has been lonely without you.’

Arnon frowned, pursed her lips, and stared squarely into his uneasy eyes. He shifted his position and made a pretence of casualness. Slowly lowering her head, she continued to search his face from under her long lashes. She gave him a slow, enigmatic smile.

‘My father will welcome his daughter’s return to his tent,’ she said, measuring her words. ‘But Aretas, the King of Arabia, may not be pleased when he learns that the Princess of Arabia has been put to shame by an alien enemy.’

‘Meaning that he will seek revenge?’ Antipas was serious now and his voice was unsteady.

‘Prince Antipas is not well versed in Arabian history,’ replied Arnon, ‘if he thinks that this indignity might be easily overlooked.’

The implied warning disposed of the Prince’s suavity and self-assurance. He paced the floor, flushed and angry.

‘Let the King of Arabia do what he will!’ he shouted. ‘Doubtless the Princess will put the worst possible construction on her difficulties. She will not tell the King that she made no effort to fulfil her obligations to her husband.’ He paused in his march and regarded her sternly. ‘I have not injured you! On the contrary, you are abandoning me! And I may as well tell you now that when your ship has sailed tomorrow I shall execute a bill of divorcement—on the grounds of desertion!’

Arnon suddenly sat erect. Her eyes lighted.

‘Do you really mean that?’ she exclaimed. ‘Accept my thanks, Antipas, for this gracious favour!’

Stunned by this unexpected blow to his vanity, he studied her eyes soberly. No—she was not ironical. She meant it sincerely. He had hesitated to hand her this crushing news—and now it was evident that she was delighted to receive it. He bowed stiffly and walked toward the door, where he turned for a final word.