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I stood at attention, remaining as still and quiet as a statue. Herod demanded that his servants attend to any need that might arise at any moment but otherwise to remain silent and invisible. The beatings my dad gave me when I was a boy seemed like nothing compared to what I’d seen Herod inflict on servants that angered him.
A Roman army officer was here making demands. Antipas, ever the clever fox, poured on diplomatic charm without committing himself to much more than pleasantries. But the officer, whose name was Pancratius, would have none of it.
“Do not bandy words with me, Tetrarch,” the man said, using the Roman title that Antipas hated. He was a Herod — song of the hero! — and considered himself a king. But the Romans called him a subordinate prince, ruler of only one-fourth of a kingdom, and it seemed that they would rub salt in the wound at every opportunity.
“My good captain, you may move your troops through my territories at your will. All I ask is that you not disrupt the flow of merchants on the roads. It brings money to Rome, and it brings money to my treasury as well.”
Pancratius smacked the palm of his hand down on the armrest on his chair. “I would not have to move my troops at all if it were not for you and this marriage. If my men have to fight a war, I might just put you on a horse and make you lead the charge against the Nabateans’ cavalry.”
I saw my master stiffen ever so slightly at the thought of riding into battle, but he quickly covered it over with a gesture of obeisance. “Captain, we here in the palace have been discussing the idea of postponing the wedding until next year anyway. Not because of the threat of war, of course, but because many of the people who want to attend cannot travel during this season. So your concerns may come to nothing after all.”
The soldier grunted noncommittally. He noisily bit off a large chunk of bread and chewed it before washing it down with a big gulp of wine. He held Antipas’ eyes in his gaze as he wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand.
“There’s one more thing,” he said slowly. “My men tell me there’s an army of rebels out wreaking havoc in the hills of your territory. If I catch them and find out you’re behind it, you will pay.”
Antipas turned his head from one side to the other in confusion. “I know of no rebels. What is it that you think they are doing?”
“They’ve been attacking my men when they find them alone! Just yesterday morning when I came out of my tent before sunrise in my own camp, I found one of my men bound and gagged on the ground. The rebels were bold — they even attached a note to the man’s chest warning that more attacks could follow.”
I steeled myself not to let a sound escape my lips. I was pretty sure this group was Simon’s militia. Though I found the Roman’s description of them as rebels to be ridiculous, I did not want to admit that I had any knowledge of them or else I might find myself tied to a stake and whipped until I gave up their location.
Antipas, meanwhile, was being his usual coy self. He leaned back, his elbow resting on his large belly as he reached up to stroke his chin thoughtfully. “You say they left a note? That in itself is remarkable. And since you could apparently read it, I will assume it was written in Greek. So what makes you think it was any of my people? Very few of them can write, and certainly not in Greek.”
Pancratius leaned forward and poked his massive finger toward my master’s nose. “Because the note said, ‘If any of your soldiers molest one of our women again, he will be missing his offending member when we return him to you.’ Now, I admire their boldness and courage coming into my own camp, but they will not castrate a Roman and live to tell about it.
“When I was stationed in Jerusalem, I learned how to stop uprisings like this. We lined the roads with crosses, with hundreds of rebels’ bodies hanging there as a warning. I can do the same thing here if you don’t keep your people under control.” His voice, though steady and even, had the quality of a fierce growl.
If he was offended by the other’s pointing finger, Antipas did not show it. “Certainly, Captain. But it sounds like you must also keep your people under control. From what you just told me, it was your man who provoked the attack by molesting a woman. I don’t know what the laws are like at your home, but in this territory that could be a capital offense. Your man is lucky these people only tied him up.”
“Soldiers are allowed the spoils of war,” the officer said dismissively. “I’ll maintain discipline in my ranks my own way. You just be careful!”
Herod drained his cup of wine and patted a piece of cloth against his lips. “Well, as I said, it does not sound like anyone from this territory. We don’t have a secret army of men who can overpower Roman soldiers and leave polite notes written in Greek. More likely, it was some group passing through on its way to or from Rome.”
Pancratius stood to leave. “You’d better hope so.”