Chapter 2

‘Well—it is, isn’t it?’ mumbled Antipas.

Mark agreed that it was, and always had been, but it still contrived to carry on.

‘This new Tiberian dynasty,’ he continued, ‘is going to strip the city of everything that made her name famous. All that we hear about now is the importance of making the land more productive and the common people more contented.’

‘Sounds sensible,’ said Antipas.

‘That’s what ails it,’ muttered Mark. ‘How can there be any pleasure in a country that has resolved to be—sensible?’

‘Is Tiberius still thinking of a northern invasion?’

‘He probably never entertained such a thought,’ scoffed Mark. ‘I’m surprised your father was ever taken in by that rumour. The Emperor is working night and day to rebuild his Western Army.’

‘Indeed! I had supposed there was nothing left of it,’ remarked Antipas ineptly. To cover his unintentional rudeness he added quickly, ‘So—we no longer have anything to fear? That is good—if you’re sure you know.’

‘I’ve had it on the best of authority. You might have been spared that matrimonial alliance with Arabia. By the way’—Mark’s eyes twinkled mischievously—’how has that little treaty worked out? Is she pretty?’

Antipas frowned slightly, shrugged the impertinence away, up-ended his goblet, sat up, blinked thoughtfully, and began slowly counting his fingers.

Beckoning to the butler he said, ‘Tell the courier we will see him now.’ Presently he was thrusting his jewelled dagger through the wax sheath of a heavily gilded scroll. In silence and without betraying any sign of interest—for he was aware of Mark’s lively curiosity—he read the formal message from his mother. Signalling the courier, waiting at a little distance, he said casually, ‘After you have rested, you may return to Jerusalem. Convey our regards to Their Majesties and our good wishes to the Princess Arnon, for her health and happiness. And you may say,’ he added, as an afterthought, ‘that the child’s name is Esther.’

‘Why do you want her called Esther?’ asked Mark, with childish impudence, when the courier had bowed himself away.

‘Because she was born on the fifteenth of Adar, a feast-day in honour of Queen Esther.’

‘Never heard of her. What’s she queen of?’

‘Persia—a century and a half ago.’

‘Jewess?’

‘Of course.’

‘Why “of course”? Persia is not a Jewish country.’

Antipas dismissed this query with a negligent gesture, adding that he was not an authority on Persian history; but Esther, a very beautiful Jewess, had once been Queen of Persia, and did Mark want to bet anything on it?

‘Is your baby a Jewess?’ hectored Mark. ‘Half Arabian, isn’t she?’

‘That will not matter much,’ yawned Antipas. ‘She will be brought up as a Jewess.’

‘In my poor judgment,’ declared Mark, suddenly serious, ‘it’s going to be an awkward situation for her, all her life. A very unfortunate combination—half Arab, half Jew.’

‘Not so bad as you think,’ said Antipas reassuringly. ‘Both nations will want to claim her.’

‘You know better than that!’ said Mark. ‘Neither nation will accept her, much less claim her! My guess is that your Esther is going to be a very unhappy little girl.’

‘Well,’ muttered Antipas, ‘it’s too late to fret about that now.’ He held up his goblet for refilling. ‘Of course, you’ve no idea how beautiful this pool will be when the lining is in. I’ll show you the designs after dinner. They are absolutely incomparable!’

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