A.D. 30(46)

According to Saba, Herod had spent thirty years building the city, and I could now see why so much effort had been required, surely on the backs of Jewish workers. Perhaps Miriam’s son, Yeshua, had learned a disdain for Roman oppression here, on these very streets.

When we came to the entrance to the royal court, Quintus handed us off to another soldier, this one in black leathers. The palace guard, I guessed. Quintus dipped his head in respect, uttered the man’s name, “Brutus,” then turned his horse and left.

By the scar over his right eye and another visible below his sleeve, this one called Brutus appeared to have seen his share of battle. He had limbs like small trees and towered over a normal man. He was as tall as Saba. But he did not possess Saba’s placid demeanor. The scowl on his face looked fixed.

“Leave the beasts here,” he ordered. “With your weapons.”

We offered no objection, though I knew that both Judah and Saba might just as well have been asked to disrobe in public. I could see Saba’s jaw flex as he removed the two knives at his waist and the bow upon his back and carefully placed them in his saddlebag.

Thus stripped, we followed the brute past armed guards, up a sweep of marble steps, and to a great atrium. Its towering dome was supported by columns that surrounded a fountain and pool. We kept going, up another wide staircase also flanked by guards in full regalia, then through the entrance into Herod’s villa.

The grand room into which we were led had a polished marble floor with yet another, smaller pool at its center. Herod clearly had an obsession with water, which was life. A curved stairway on either side of the expansive hall rose to the second-story walkway, which encircled the room. Ahead, yet more steps led to what I assumed would be the inner sanctum.

Everywhere I looked I saw frescos and tall decorative vessels. The railing was trimmed in silver polished by servants. The frescos were embedded with precious stones and framed by velvet curtains.

My first sight of Herod’s palace took my breath away, and I stopped for a moment. This then was what so many taxes had purchased for the ruler of Galilee.

“This way,” Brutus said.

Neither Judah nor Saba spoke, but I could hear them breathing close behind, surely as impressed as I. Or as affronted.

We were led around the pool, up the broad steps flanked by yet more guards, and into Herod’s living quarters. By the looks of the long carved dining table to the right and the groupings of upholstered chairs about the room, he met with dignitaries and entertained private guests here.

The oil lamps on the tables and the walls were all silver. Copious draperies of rich red and green velvet were suspended from the ceiling between windows that peered out on an expansive view so high above the city.

Herod stood by a table with his back to us, pouring wine from a pitcher into a silver chalice. He wore a purple robe with a golden sash and his feet were bare on the polished floor. Apart from the guard and two servants who worked over the table, freshening offerings of grapes, olives, and cheese, we were alone with him.

“As you requested, my lord,” Brutus announced. “The Bedu.” He stepped to one side.

I had applied the frankincense upon rising and Judah had helped me with the strings of black stones about my forehead and around my neck, then assured me that I was a stunning sight to behold. But in this extravagant palace, my white linen dress and olive mantle only humbled me.

“So…” Herod’s voice filled the room. Back still to us, he picked up the dagger of Varus, looked at it curiously for a moment, then unceremoniously dropped it into a chest by his feet.

“Maviah, queen of the desert.”

He turned slowly, then lifted the chalice to his lips, his piercing amber eyes never leaving mine.

By any measure Herod was a handsome, powerfully built man. His trimmed beard and wavy hair were nearly black, though I knew he’d lived fifty years.

His robe hung loosely over his shoulders, as if he’d only just risen and shrugged into it, but his hair was oiled. Two golden rings, one with a ruby, the other ornately fashioned, hugged strong fingers. He held his goblet with grace.

He wore his authority with careless confidence, like a man who was bored with his command. I was immediately reminded of how powerless I was in his court. Fear whispered through my bones, mocking me.

You are a fool, Maviah, a powerless woman in this world of kingdoms ruled by ruthless men.

But I refused to show my fear.

The tetrarch lowered his silver goblet and glanced briefly at Judah and Saba behind me, but his eyes returned to me immediately. I thought wine might spill to the floor for the way he let his cup dangle from his fingers.

“And tell me, queen where there is no queen, what brings you to this godforsaken land?”