Chapter 3

After much deliberation, the Councillors drew up a formal vow, impressively lettered in colours, stating that the undersigned hereby pledged himself to avenge the Princess Arnon by destroying Antipas, the Tetrarch of Galilee and Peraea. The avenger was to choose his own time and manner of fulfilling his vow. It was his responsibility to decide whether he would perform it clandestinely and alone or with the voluntary assistance of others. But once he had pledged to do it, the task was in his hands and Arabia would expect him to keep his promise, whatever the cost.

The heavy sheet of papyrus was ceremoniously placed upon the table and the word went forth that it was there—with a stylus and inkhorn beside it—for any man to sign who felt urged to do so. But the blazing sun continued to scorch the grass, and every man was fully occupied with the desperate search for pasture to save what remained of his decimated flocks. Everybody agreed that the contemptible Antipas must be put to death, but he would have to wait for it until Arabia saw better times.

To Arnon, this tardiness to wreak vengeance upon Antipas was of small concern. It would be a dangerous business and whoever attempted it would almost certainly lose his life, for the stronghold in Galilee would be well guarded by the man who doubtless lived in fear of a reprisal. Quite enough unhappiness had already resulted from Arabia’s pact with the Jews. She said that to Zendi, upon learning of the vow that the Councillors had prepared. ‘I do not want to be responsible for any more trouble,’ protested Arnon. ‘Why not let the matter rest?’ And Zendi had agreed that her suggestion was sensible enough, but added that all Arabia would sleep more comfortably when Antipas slept without prospect of waking.

There were some encouraging rains that autumn, much too late to benefit the burned pasture-lands, but giving promise of better fare next season. The winter, however, was bitterly cold and the snow alarmingly scanty.

The Arabian shepherd was not without his superstitions, nor was this fascination for the supernatural limited to the custody of lonely men who guarded their flocks in outlying regions, where fears and dreads were personalized. Almost everybody felt that an unusual epidemic of misfortunes hinted at retribution. And while the more intelligent disclaimed any interest in such witcheries, even the best of them might be heard to remark—though pretending not to mean it—that Someone or Something must have laid a curse upon Arabia.

For the following summer was the worst season that the oldest could remember, and in the fall there were but few caravans carrying hides and wool to the Port of Gaza. The young camels they would have brought to market in Petra, Jericho, and Joppa were too lean and shabby for profitable sale. There was very little surplus of grain to see the livestock through the approaching winter.

The air was tense with complaint and constraint. Somebody was to blame. The trouble all seemed to stem from Arabia’s alliance with the Jews. Everyone was able to recall now how he himself had predicted, at the time, that no good could come of it. Of course no one held it against Arnon, for clearly she had suffered from it far more than anybody. And it would be cruel foolishness to frown upon the hapless child who symbolized that unfortunate union. But—even so—the visits of Arnon’s friends became less and less frequent. She did not fret about it at first, realizing that everyone was weighted with worries at home, and in no mood for sociability.