Salome (9 page)

“She’s an ancestor to be proud of, too,” said Joanna. “Queen Alexandra kept the peace in her lifetime, which I think was harder than winning great battles.”

I looked at Joanna with curiosity and respect. I hadn’t expected the steward’s wife to be so well informed or to have her own opinion about what was admirable in rulers.

“How knowledgeable the steward’s wife is about the past!” Herodias echoed my thought. “But to tell the truth, I’m more interested in the present. You know, Galilee may be very scenic in its way, but I didn’t expect so much—well,
unrest.
The bandits that attacked our caravan between Caesarea and Sepphoris…the religious fanatics roaming the countryside, agitating the peasants…”

A while later, as Herodias and I walked back to the palace, she gave a little laugh. “No, I don’t think there’s much wrong with the steward’s wife. I think she’s found a good way to get special attention. I’ll have to remember that ploy if I ever lose my looks.”

A few days later, Herodias and I tried the famous hot springs outside the city. While Herodias was having a massage, I went to soak in the warm pool. The steward’s wife was already there, chatting with another woman, the wife of a courtier. I slipped into the pool without disturbing them.

“Thank you for asking, Dorcas; the healing waters do me good,” Joanna was saying. The lines in her face seemed softened. “I believe I’ve taken a turn for the better.”

“I hope so,” said the other woman.

I, too, hoped that Joanna had taken a turn for the better, because there was something I liked very much about her. Clean and comfortable, I thought. That seemed like an odd way to describe a person’s spirit. But it
was
the feeling she gave off, the way the lemon tree in her garden gave off a fresh, sweet scent.

“Did the holy man grant you a healing?” Dorcas was asking Joanna.

“No…” Joanna sounded puzzled. “I know that’s why I went to see him. But when I was actually in his presence, my illness didn’t seem important.”

“I don’t understand,” said Dorcas. “You’ve been burdened with this mysterious malady for how long? Almost three years!”

I didn’t understand, either, but I was curious. I tried to look like I wasn’t listening. Leaning my elbows on the edge of the pool, I gazed up at the vaulted ceiling. A bird flew through the baths, its wing beats echoing.

“Yes, yes,” said Joanna, “but the hardest thing about being ill isn’t the pain or the weakness. It’s having to think about myself so much. When I listened to the holy man, suddenly I wasn’t thinking about myself at all. He opened a window on a new world.”

“And what did you see out that window?” asked her friend.

“I saw other people, struggling and suffering. I never noticed them before, but they’re all around us, people as real as you or me. Jews, Syrians, Greeks, Samaritans…I saw that by selling just one of my properties, I could make an enormous difference for them.”

“Selling your
property
?” exclaimed her friend. (I was startled, too.) “Oh, Joanna, what are you saying? Don’t do anything rash! You already give alms to beggars. You and Chuza give the required amount for the Jewish poor, don’t you? No one could expect any more than that.”

I sneaked a glance at Joanna, curious to see what she would answer.

“But I expect more now that my eyes are opened. Dorcas, if you could have heard the holy man! I’m so impatient to turn my life around. Then I could go south again to be cleansed in the—”

Dorcas interrupted, clearing her throat loudly.
“Joanna.”
She had noticed me. Now Joanna turned and recognized me, too.

“I’m sorry,” I said, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.” What a feeble lie! I started to pull myself out of the pool, then changed my mind and slid under the surface. I held my breath as long as I could.

When I came up again, Dorcas was out of the pool, wrapped in a towel, and leaving the warm room with her maid. But Joanna, still in the water, watched me thoughtfully with her head on one side. I gave her a sheepish smile.

“Salome,” said Joanna. She paused. “Can you imagine a window opening on a new world?”

I’d tried to put my dream in the Temple of Diana out of my mind, as if it were a childhood toy. But now, at Joanna’s words, the dream burst into my mind as vivid as the night I dreamed it. “Oh, yes!”

Joanna seemed surprised at my response, but her face broke into a smile. She looked at me, smiling without speaking, for a long moment.

I wanted to ask her if her “holy man” was the same person as John the Baptizer. I wanted to find out if the desert preacher gave Joanna the same feeling I’d had when Diana chose me.

But the moment was over. Joanna nodded goodbye to me and signaled her maid to help her out of the pool. I was left soaking in the warm water and my stew of thoughts. I wondered if I should tell Herodias about this conversation. For I was almost sure that the preacher who had inspired Joanna to “turn her life around”
was
the same man that Herodias wanted dead.

ELEVEN

JOHN ARRESTED

Antipas’s soldiers, a squad of them, appeared at John’s camp after midnight. Elias was on guard outside the cave, but he scarcely had time to shout a warning before a soldier knocked him down with the butt of his spear.

“Baptizer!” barked the officer. “Come out before we smoke you out like a jackal!”

John stepped out of the cave. “I am John, called the Baptizer.”

At a nod from the officer, two soldiers seized his arms. Ignoring the disciples scrambling out of the cave, they turned and hustled John uphill toward the road. They must be taking him to Macherus.

Not now, John protested silently. Not so soon.

He’d known this moment would come, and he thought he’d accepted that. But now John seemed to see Antipas’s grim fortress Macherus looming before him, and he had to restrain himself to keep from resisting. He must not fight; if he did, his disciples would fight for him, and they would be hurt.

But the people who were counting on him—what about them? The throngs would arrive at the riverbank as soon as it was light. Some of them would come to hear John’s message for the first time. Some, having spent weeks following a new way of life, were ready to be baptized. All those hopeful faces, with the hope draining out of them. What would become of those people now?

As the group reached the highway, John became aware of something odd about the way the guard on the left held his arm. Something hesitant. Turning sideways, John looked at the man’s face. The guard stared stubbornly ahead, but even in the flickering torchlight, John could see that he was miserable. And John recognized him—this was the same soldier who had come a few days ago with the warning.

TWELVE

A DANGEROUS MAN

One morning not long after meeting Joanna at the hot springs, I heard shouting outside the south gates. Not the Nabateans, come to bargain for me! I ran to the edge of the terrace.

The sun, just above the bluffs on the other side of the lake, shone on a troop of Antipas’s blue-caped soldiers. They escorted a man in rough clothing, with untrimmed hair and beard. His hands were chained in front of him.

“So you got the Baptizer,” called out a guard from the gate tower.

“We always get our man,” answered the captain. The gates clanged open, and the men tramped under the arch and disappeared.

I gasped. I could hardly believe Antipas had done this to Herodias. She thought the desert preacher was safely locked up far away in Macherus. What would she say when she found out? I was a little fearful of Herodias’s anger. At the same time, I hoped she’d now realize that Antipas couldn’t be trusted.

I hurried to Herodias’s suite, where her maid told me she was still asleep. Iris insisted on waking her mistress in a special way. Rubbing a feather with perfumed ointment, she waved it near Herodias’s nose. A dreamy smile appeared on her face, and her eyes fluttered open.

“Why, Salome,” she said, catching sight of me at the foot of her bed. She stretched and sighed. “Do you know, I like living in Tiberias. I thought I’d miss Rome, but this city is like a little Rome.” She gave a girlish giggle. “Except that I’m like a queen here—queen of Galilee and Perea and—later, who knows!”

She had no idea what Antipas had done. Or—had
she
persuaded Antipas to bring the Baptizer here, to execute him?

When I told her what I’d seen, her dreamy mood vanished. “What! Antipas promised—” Throwing off the blanket, she jumped out of bed. Iris nervously held out clothes for her to put on.

“How could he do this?” Herodias exclaimed. Flinging her arms around, she stuck herself on a brooch, screamed, and slapped her maid. Iris held out a comb, but Herodias stormed off toward the Tetrarch’s suite with her hair all wild.

She was soon back, though. The Tetrarch had left the palace early with his steward, she’d found out. It seemed that Antipas was inspecting the site for the new shrine to Diana. He’d return later this morning for his weekly public audience, and he’d ordered the Baptizer to be brought before him. “You can be sure I’ll be there, too,” added Herodias.

Herodias had me stay in her rooms to keep her company while her maid was arranging her hair and patting her face with powder. “So I was right! The preacher does have some kind of hold over Antipas. He wants to
talk
to the man!”

As Herodias went on and on, I began to feel as tense as a lyre string pulled too tight. To distract myself, I opened her jewelry chest and fiddled with the gold chains and bangles. The emerald ring caught my eye, and I slipped it on my finger.

Herodias had stopped talking. I glanced up at her. One of her eyes was lined with kohl, but the other was not yet made up, which gave her a slightly deranged look. In a low tone she said,
“Take off my engagement ring.”

Hastily I put Herodias’s ring back in the chest. Muttering something about getting ready for the audience myself, I slipped out of the room.

Gundi thought that Prince Antipas would hold his audience in the main hall, but I’d gotten the impression, from something Herodias had said, that the audience would take place in the great formal courtyard. With Gundi grumbling along behind me (mainly in her Germanic tongue, but with enough Greek words thrown in for me to catch her meaning), I hurried to the public end of the palace and down a flight of broad steps to the courtyard.

But the grand dais at the far end of the courtyard was empty. The only people in sight were a man at the outer gate, the younger man with him, and two guards blocking their way. “Get out of here,” said one of the guards to the men. “The Tetrarch doesn’t want to be bothered with your stories of figs and olives.”

“Justice is justice,” said the older man. He was dressed in a coarse but decent robe, and he leaned on a walking staff. “That’s what the Tetrarch’s public audience is for. I have a right to stand before my prince in public court and appeal for justice.”

“It’s Prince Antipas’s client who seized our orchards!” added the younger man. “Who else should my father appeal to if not the Tetrarch?”

The guards burst out laughing. “You old fool!” said the second guard to the father. “If
Antipas’s
client took your orchards and you appeal to
Antipas,
how do you think he’ll decide the case?” He turned to the first guard, dropping his jaw and rubbing his chin in mock stupidity. They both guffawed again.

“Anyway,” the first guard added, “the Tetrarch is holding court in the main hall, not here.” (Gundi raised her eyebrows at me in a silent I-told-you-so.) “No, commoners can’t walk through the palace to the hall. Go around outside if you’re dead set on trying to get a hearing.”

“But be ready to get a kick in the backside instead,” remarked the second guard.

The old farmer’s shoulders sagged, and he turned to go. But his son noticed me. “Lady—gracious lady! You must have some influence at court.”

I shook my head, backing away.

“If only you would help us get a hearing!” pleaded the young man. “That’s all we ask for, a—”

One of the guards took a threatening step toward the young farmer, and he broke off. I turned and scurried out of the courtyard.

As Gundi and I made our way through the palace to the hall, I brooded over the young farmer’s words. I didn’t think of myself as a lady, though I supposed I was one. But why had the man appealed to
me
? Why would he think I had any influence?

Come to think of it, the idea of influence had crossed my own mind when I was talking to Antipas in the library. I blushed. But that was quite different, because I’d thought of getting a personal favor.

I entered the main hall, where the rest of the court was already in attendance. Many other people, including the ones I’d seen at the Jewish prayer meeting, crowded the majestic room. As an official seated me on a bench near the dais, Joanna was carried to a place near the front. If her “holy man”
was
John the Baptizer, I thought, she must be as upset as Herodias that he was here. Upset for a different reason, of course.

Leander stood to one side of the dais, note tablet and stylus ready. Herodias sat beside Antipas, both her eyes now made up and the emerald ring firmly on her finger. She wore her “Queen Herodias” expression, but a tense muscle twitched in her jaw.

Antipas didn’t seem aware of his wife, although she was right next to him. Intent and eager, his gaze returned again and again to the back of the hall. For just an instant, his eyes rested on me, and his expression changed. He was still intent, but more like a hunting dog pointing at a pheasant. I looked away.

Then a courtier bent down to whisper to Antipas. The Tetrarch nodded, and the man called to the back of the hall, “Bring the prisoner in!” The crowd parted down the middle to let two guards through, pulling the Baptizer along by his elbows toward Antipas’s throne.

I glanced at Herodias, wondering if she now felt foolish for being afraid of this man. His wrists were still chained. Next to the brawny guards, he looked underfed and not very tall. With his coarse camel-hair tunic and weathered face, the famous prophet might be mistaken for a shepherd.

Herodias looked puzzled, but not reassured. As the Baptizer came closer to Antipas’s throne, I thought, He’s not acting like a humble commoner seeing the inside of a palace for the first time. He didn’t seem to notice the splendid scarlet columns to either side of him, or the intricate mosaic floor under his rough sandals, or the well-dressed crowd staring at him. John kept his eyes straight ahead, on the Tetrarch. Stopping before the dais, he didn’t bow to Antipas, but looked up at him through matted hair.

“Well, John Baptizer?” said the Tetrarch. “I hear you have a message for me.”

“Yes. I have a message for you, Antipas, and for all the Lord’s people.” John’s voice was much stronger than I expected from this scrawny man. He hadn’t addressed my stepfather as “Prince Antipas,” I noted, or “Tetrarch,” or even “my lord.” Was he so unmannered, or did he dare to address the ruler of Galilee and Perea as an equal?

Turning from one side of the court to the other, the desert preacher let his voice ring out even louder, filling the hall. “Repent! Turn from evil. Prepare for the coming of the Lord’s anointed.” He seemed aware, for the first time, of all the embroidered robes and gold necklaces in the crowd. “If you have two coats, share with the person who has none.” As his eagle’s gaze neared me, I felt uncomfortable, and I pulled my silk
palla
closer around my shoulders.

This man was looking at me, and Herodias, and Antipas—at all the men and women of high position here—as if we were ordinary people! Antipas, the Baptizer seemed to say by his manner, did not deserve respect for being ruler of Galilee and Perea. The one really important question about the Tetrarch was whether he was
righteous.

Antipas made an impatient gesture. “Evil—yes, yes. What I meant was, I want to hear you prophesy.” Herodias clenched and unclenched her hands on the carved arms of her seat, but Antipas didn’t seem to notice. “Baptizer, you call yourself a prophet—what prophecies do you have for me?” The Tetrarch leaned forward from his throne.

“I have never called myself a prophet,” answered John. “But anyone who reads Scripture will find a prophecy meant for the rulers of the Jews today. Hear the words of the prophet Amos: ‘Because you trample on the poor and take from them levies of grain, you have built houses of hewn stone, but you shall not live in them; you have planted pleasant vineyards, but you shall not drink their wine.’”

I could hardly believe my ears. This underfed, ragged man was standing up to Herod Antipas, ruler of Galilee and Perea, shoving the truth into his face like a torch at a wild boar. I felt a frightening but thrilling vertigo, as if I were back on board the ship, poised at the top of a huge wave. Glancing toward Joanna, I saw her sit up in her litter. Her face shone. As for Leander, he stared at John as if he saw a demigod.

A silence followed John’s words, broken by Herodias’s voice. “My lord Antipas, is this dignified—holding an audience with a homeless preacher? Why should the Tetrarch of Galilee and Perea care what this flea-bitten, dried-up fellow thinks?”

Waving at his wife as if she were a horsefly, Antipas leaned forward to speak again to the Baptizer. But John spoke first. “If you would rule the Jews—”

A courtier broke in. “
If
Prince Antipas would rule. Perhaps we’re mistaken—is it you who rule, Baptizer? That must be why you’re in chains and Prince Antipas sits upon the throne.” Laughter ran around the hall, but the Tetrarch frowned and held up a hand for silence.

“Antipas”—John’s voice cut through the noise—“don’t deceive yourself. You presume to rule the Jews, the people of the Lord. Yet you live by the law of Rome rather than the Law of Moses. The Law of Moses says, ‘You shall not covet your neighbor’s wife. You shall not commit adultery.’ If you truly wish to repent, put aside this woman, your brother Herod’s wife.”

I heard gasps, including my own, around the hall. The preacher had said it to Antipas’s face, in the presence of Herodias and all the court. “This woman,” he dared to call my mother. To the Baptizer, there was no difference between the poor farmer I’d seen at the palace gate and Herodias, descendant of Herod the Great and the proud Hasmonean dynasty.

Herodias had been sputtering, struggling to speak, and now she found her tongue. “Shut his mouth!”

The guards looked from Herodias to Antipas with raised eyebrows, waiting for his order. Why did Antipas hesitate? What was going through his mind? Stroking his beard, he gave a sigh. Finally he told the guards, “That’s enough. Put him in the dungeon until he can show some respect.”

As the guards marched the Baptizer away down the rows of scarlet pillars, the preacher’s voice boomed around the audience hall. “I respect only the word of the Lord and those who obey it.”

After the audience, I was glad that Herodias shut herself up in her suite with a fierce headache. I didn’t want to eat lunch with her while she ranted on about John.

The person I was itching to talk to was Leander. Hadn’t the Baptizer acted out this morning what Leander had said?
I do not admire power unless it is used in a good way.

But surely the Baptizer couldn’t be allowed to speak that way about the ruler of the land. If common people could criticize the Tetrarch, who would obey his laws? What did Leander think? I thought I would soon find out, because we were to meet for a lesson today. But after lunch, as I was about to leave for the lower terrace, a slave delivered a note from Leander: Antipas wanted his secretary’s services this afternoon after all.

If I couldn’t talk to Leander, I decided, I’d go see Joanna. Maybe I could find out why her face had lit up as she listened to the desert preacher. She wouldn’t talk freely to me, Herodias’s daughter, about John, but still I was curious to see what she would say. I sent Gundi to the steward’s house to ask if Joanna would receive a visitor.