Chapter 2

A thousand Roman legionaries stood guard, but had received no order to obstruct the mounted Arabians. Perhaps the Legate was stunned out of his wits by the sheer impudence of these grim horsemen who had dared to ride up to the very doors of the Insula.

It struck Aretas strangely that so large a force guarded the King’s palace. Surely he had had no word that the Arabians were making an invasion; or, if he had ordered out his troops to repel an attack, why were they standing there motionless?

Aretas shouted to the Legate, who approached respectfully.

‘Take me to Herod!’ he demanded.

‘King Herod is dead, sire.’

‘Have a care,’ shouted Zendi. ‘It is dangerous to lie to the King of Arabia!’

‘I have told you the truth, sire,’ reiterated the Legate calmly. ‘King Herod died of a shock early this morning.’ He gestured toward his troops. ‘This is a Guard of Honour.’

‘Open those doors!’ commanded Aretas. ‘I came to see Herod and I mean to see him—alive or dead!’

After a brief parley, Legate Julian gave the order. The great bronze doors slowly swung open. The mounted detachment moved forward.

‘But, sire,’ protested the Legate, ‘I hope you are not going to ride your horses into the Insula! Surely you would show more respect for the King of the Jews!’

‘Stand aside!’ growled Aretas. ‘I am not here to show respect!’

They rode into the marble-lined palace, down the broad corridor, inquired of a frightened sentry where Herod’s body was to be found; and, upon learning that it was in the Council Chamber, proceeded to ride into the high-domed, beautifully appointed room. In the centre, on a bier, reposed the King of the Jews. The military guard, numbering a score, stood their ground. Forming a circle about the corpse, the Arabians sat for a long moment in silence. Aretas pointed his riding-whip toward the waxen face.

‘It is clear we cannot take revenge on that!’ he said calmly. ‘And we have no cause to hew the Roman legion to pieces. And there is no Jewish army to fight.’ Aretas dismounted and the Councillors followed his example. With bridle-reins in hand, they stood in a circle around the bier and held a conference. All were agreed that there was nothing further to do in Jerusalem. Dumah, dissatisfied, suggested that they hang Herod’s body to a tree in the courtyard. Mishma—who was expected to be appointed Chief of the Councillors—objected to this on the ground that it wouldn’t be dignified.

‘It would be as dignified,’ said Dumah, ‘as what we are doing now!’ For Mishma’s bay mare had taken a step forward and was inquisitively sniffing the grey feet of the late king. Everybody chuckled. Even Aretas grinned. They mounted their horses, rode out of the Council Chamber and down the corridor and out into the warm sunshine. A report was made to the cavalrymen. They were instructed to be at ease and do what they liked until sunset.