Chapter 3

Curiously enough, there was better pasture on Arnon’s land than anywhere else for many miles. Her neighbours did not openly begrudge the Princess this bit of prosperity, but it did seem strange. One day a sheik remarked half-humorously that wherever you found a Jew located you might expect to see fat sheep.

‘A Jew?’ queried the friend who rode beside him. ‘What Jew?’

‘Had you not noticed Princess Arnon’s pasture?’

‘The Princess is not a Jew!’ retorted his friend.

‘No—but her child is.’

It was all but incredible, the speed with which this idle quip raced across the browned face of Arabia until it was repeated in the coldest tents of the hungry highlands.

But there were a few whose unswerving loyalty to the Princess made them all the more eager to show her friendly attentions as this unfavourable sentiment developed. Zendi and Rennah rode over every few days to make sure of Arnon’s welfare. Although she was now a Princess only by courtesy, Zendi endeavoured to keep her informed of movements in the kingdom, as if she still had a right to know. One day he talked of the unfortunate expedition to Jerusalem, and reported that Emperor Tiberius had decided not to appoint another Jew as a ruler of Judaea. Henceforth the chief executive would be a Roman. The new appointee was already located in Jerusalem. He had been elevated from the Prefecture of Crete. His name was Pontius Pilate. Doubtless he would get along with the Jews. He was said to be a tactful conciliator.

‘Will this affect the position of Antipas—in Galilee?’ Arnon wanted to know.

‘Probably not,’ surmised Zendi. ‘The tribute Rome receives from poor little Galilee isn’t worth what it costs to collect it. Antipas could afford to pay their taxes himself and doubtless would do so gladly enough, just to preserve the title of Tetrarch.’

Sometimes Zendi and Rennah gave Arnon an opportunity to speak of the growing aloofness toward her, but she appeared not to be aware of it, and the painful subject was not discussed.

Frequently Mishma’s pretty daughter-in-law Kitra came to spend the afternoon, bringing her four-year-old son Voldi, who had promptly taken a fancy to little Fara.

The warm friendship of Kitra and Arnon, begun in childhood, had ripened to a comforting intimacy, nourished perhaps by the fact that Princess Arnon was no longer of the King’s household, while Kitra had missed being in that position by the mere accident of a delayed appointment of her father-in-law Mishma as Chief of the Councillors and, as such, the immediate successor to Aretas. They spent long afternoons together, happily watching their children’s absorption in one another, for Fara had had no other playmates and Voldi had never taken such an interest in another child. Sometimes the two young mothers would wonder whether this tender little friendship might continue as their children grew up, though they admitted that it wasn’t customary.

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