A.D. 30(80)

The blood had left my head. I had been played for a fool. All was lost! Any semblance of courage I had fell away, and I felt a great fear swelling in my breast.

“So he will kill her?” I said. “This is less of an offense than divorce?”

“Where Rome is involved, yes, and Herod is Rome’s puppet. Arranging Phasa’s inconvenient death would earn Herod less trouble than casting Aretas’s daughter aside in divorce.”

Nicodemus must have seen the pallor of death on my face, for he softened his voice and spoke deliberately.

“But I’ve said too much already. Remember the words Yeshua spoke to you, Maviah. You will know what to do. Save Herod’s wife. Take your path. Do not hear the voices of fear that would push you into even deeper darkness. This is Yeshua’s way.”

And with that, Nicodemus, perhaps fearing that he had overstayed his time alone with a woman, stepped around me, walked to the doors, and left without another word.

I cannot fully express what consternation poured over me when the import of the Pharisee’s message fully set into my mind. Where I had been riding with such courage and purpose only an hour before, I felt crushed there in Herod’s courts.

But I could not run to Judah for comfort. Nor advice. Not yet. I had to consider why Nicodemus had come to me and not Judah or Saba. Yet who was I to restore honor to the Kalb and avenge my son’s death? Who was I to save Phasa or Judah or Saba or myself?

I hurried to the chest in which I’d seen Herod place the dagger of Varus upon our arrival. Not once had I thought to check to see if he’d taken it, assuming he had.

Dropping to one knee, I opened the chest. There it lay, among golden goblets and ornate bowls. Anger rushed through me. He’d never had any intention of taking it.

I quickly withdrew the dagger and stood. Herod had betrayed me. My mission had been no more than a fool’s errand. I paced, dagger tight in my fist, washed with indignation.

You are the light of the world.

The thought came unbidden and I blinked.

Do not be afraid.

I turned to the window and stared at the distant horizon, which ran with ribbons of red from the setting sun.

Breathe, Maviah. Breathe.

There between breaths a new thought entered my mind and instilled an even deeper fear.

It wasn’t true that the dagger had gained me nothing. It had led to my alliance with Phasa. And Herod would rid himself of Phasa, because to divorce her would unnecessarily inflame Aretas. Herod would surely have her overcome by an accident. He didn’t fear Aretas’s wrath the way Rami had when Nasha died, because Herod had Rome at his back. After Phasa’s death, he would marry Herodias. It was what Nicodemus had meant.

And if Herod intended to kill Phasa, I too was in grave danger, because I was allied with her and could voice my suspicions should any harm come to her.

So, then, Herod would kill us all.

Do not allow fear to bind you up, dear one. You will only lose what you already have.

Surely I now understood his teaching in a way that perfectly applied to me.

I thought about my son being dashed upon the rocks.

I thought about weeping on Miriam’s shoulder.

I thought about the trust my father had placed in me.

I thought about Yeshua, who had found me.

Fear gripped my heart, and yet slowly, like moonlight reaching across dark waters, a path came into view. And then I knew that I must follow this path no matter what fear threatened my way.


“THIS IS MADNESS!” Phasa hissed, pacing in her outer chamber, which was now lit by the flames of four lanterns. With only one hearing of what I knew, she agreed that I spoke the truth.

Indeed, she directed her initial rage at herself for not suspecting Herod’s devious plotting sooner. Had he not carried that distant look of desire in his eyes ever since his return from Rome six months earlier? Had he not made the thinnest excuse for such a hasty return to Rome? Had he not refused to touch her for the better part of a year?

When I told her the extent of my intention to solicit Rome’s help to overthrow the Thamud in Dumah, she seemed unconcerned, despite her father’s support of those same Thamud. These were matters of state.

Phasa was overcome instead by the betrayal of her heart.

I carried my head high, for I did not want her to see the depth of my fear, but even as I watched Phasa rage, my fingers trembled. Judah and Saba stood to the side, having expressed their outrage at Herod’s betrayal in short order.

“What that wench has to offer him that I don’t is impossible to imagine! Does he realize for a moment the kind of terror he brings upon his own head? My father will storm Sepphoris and crush him!”

“No, Phasa, you don’t hear—”

“Divorce me! For that witch? And what of her husband, Philip? But no… Philip is a coward and will quickly hand Herodias to him along with that contemptuous daughter of hers, Salome. What does Herod see in that woman?”