For the first time I felt like a queen, even if only as a hypocrite playing on Herod’s stage.
Herod was already reclined against cushions on one of the ornate couches. The marble table before it was constructed in a semicircular fashion, like a waning moon. This I knew to be a Roman style, allowing easy access for the servants who stood at the ready.
“As you requested,” Phasa said proudly. “Is she not beautiful?”
Herod stood and approached, eyes sparkling by the light of a dozen candles. He took my hand and dipped his head.
“As I said, the most stunning in all of Galilee. Come, sit. We have food, wine, and dancers to come.”
I reclined between them. The food came and went, only to come and go again. Flatbread with fowl and fish and figs and cheeses and eggs and plums and grapes and squash and pears and olives and sweet sauces. And wine. Much too much wine, which I only sipped at, unlike my hosts, who seemed intent on dulling their senses with it.
The Bedu know how to feast, but this banquet consisted of far more variety than I had ever encountered.
The dancers, too, came and went, much to Herod’s delight. We talked of everything and nothing, avoiding the true nature of my mission, which could only be discussed alone with Herod, a prospect that I could not remove from my mind. Nor could I displace thoughts of Judah, who was surely eating only bread with water, or perhaps a soup.
“Now then, my dear Phasa,” Herod finally said, fully fed. “Give me some time alone with our guest to discuss her father.”
Phasa rose agreeably. I suspected that she was too pleased about his departure the following day to object to anything.
“As you wish. Remember what I told you, Maviah. Go for the eyes.” She smiled at me, then left without a second look at her husband.
Herod dismissed the servants, who closed the doors upon exiting. So then, I was finally alone with the king of Galilee.
“I trust your day with Phasa was pleasant,” he said.
“Yes, thank you.”
“She isn’t one to hold her tongue.”
“I appreciate your delicacy regarding the matter at hand.”
“And what matter is that, my dear?”
“Rami’s request.”
“Yes, of course. The great betrayal in the desert.” He reached for a burgundy grape. “Fortunately for you, Phasa isn’t terribly interested in politics. Anyone else would take great offense at your intention to betray her father.”
This surprised me. “She wouldn’t be put off?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps, but she leaves her father’s business of state to him as long as she is set in good stead. If something were to happen to her, on the other hand, Aretas would not sit quietly, as you know.” He spoke as though the thought weighed him down. “Loyalty runs thick among the Nabataeans, at least as it pertains to blood.”
“And among the Bedu,” I said.
“And the Bedu.” He glanced at me. “Your father is a brave man.”
“He is.”
“Such bravery often ends in a premature death. But what is a ruler to do? The whole world conspires to rip power from those who have it. It’s a merciless business, pitting son against father, father against son. My father was the worst offender. You have heard?”
“I know that he was ruthless. And that you owe your kingdom to him.”
“Don’t we all owe what we have to our fathers?” He plucked another grape and stared at it between his fingers. “He had ten wives in all, you know. Not all survived his jealousy and wrath. He killed more than one son—until his death, I didn’t know if I would be the next. All this to protect his throne.”
“And yet he still died.”
“Of disease, which finally destroys us all. But my father was a great man in his own way. His reconstruction of Jerusalem stands as a marvel—the temple, of course, but also the hippodrome for chariot races and games in Greek fashion. Did you know he paraded victors through the streets naked? Gladiators, even, trained in the amphitheater he built beyond the city wall. Bloody business rejected by many Jews but loved by plenty of others. He even built caged houses for exotic beasts to be viewed by all who came to his games. It is no wonder the world loved him. My father spared no expense to impress, either in coin or in blood.”
“And his son?”
He grinned. “His son loves women and theater more than blood.”
He’d charged me to speak like a queen, so I did.
“What good is it to rule over a people if they hate you?”
He hesitated, either intrigued or offended. “I see Phasa has given you more courage.”
“None that a queen isn’t entitled to.”