A.D. 30(92)

“Sit!”

“She’s right about the pig,” Phasa said. “His lusts know no bounds.”

“Sit down!”

She sat.

“She might be right about Herod, but Maviah doesn’t know Herodias,” Shaquilath said. “I’ve heard of this witch. It will never work.”

“I will worry about Herodias,” I said. “Herod will surely expect retaliation from you. I might lead him astray.”

“How so?”

“I would tell him how I was treated like a slave and mercilessly thrown in a dark pit for many days.” This much was true. “I would convince him that I know of your plans for the harshest retaliation.”

Aretas frowned and then stood. He paced. “She’s right, Herod will expect retaliation. He knows that I cannot allow his insult to stand.”

“Surely he prepares already,” I said.

He turned to me. “You know this?”

“Would you not prepare?” I continued before he could respond, moving to my right only to match his movement. “But I might persuade him that you will accept a lesser penalty than war.”

“I would never accept a lesser penalty.”

“Of course not. But he won’t know this. By agreeing to a lesser payment, he will lower his guard.”

“Allowing me to strike effectively.”

“Precisely.”

Shaquilath stood, incensed. “We are discussing matters of state with a slave from Egypt? We are in this predicament because of her.”

“I am alive because of her!” Phasa snapped, standing to match the queen.

The gathered elders alone remained seated, watching the four of us with interest.

“What kind of lesser payment?” Aretas asked of me, ignoring both daughter and wife.

“Whatever Herod might expect the king of Nabataea to demand,” I said. “The changing of the border to Perea, perhaps.”

Shaquilath sat, looking on with suspicion. But the king was curious.

“Perhaps a large payment in gold, enough to show the world his guilt.”

“It’s brilliant,” Phasa said.

“You must understand,” I said to Shaquilath, for I knew that she too had to be convinced. “You have nothing to lose. I take all the risk. Whether I succeed or fail, you will one day crush Herod, as is the Nabataean way. If I fail, Herod will be prepared, for he prepares already. But if I succeed, you may crush him when he is least prepared, at a time of your own choosing. What is there for you to lose in using me at my own risk?”

They said nothing.

“As well, what might I learn while in Herod’s courts that might benefit you? Did I not learn of his intentions to kill Phasa? No emissary from you could hope for that much.”

They studied me, fully curious. “And if you succeed?”

“Then you would restore my father’s honor in Dumah.”

“You cannot succeed in this,” the queen said.

“Then Herod will put me to death and you will be rid of me.”

For a long while, no one spoke. Then Aretas sat and spoke to the guard.

“Take her out and bring her when we call.”

I bowed my head and followed the guard beyond the doors, which they closed behind me.

So, then, I had cast my lot. And having done so, I began to imagine the task ahead of me. Faced now with their possible agreement to my plan, I wondered how I could possibly approach Herod with such a proposition and succeed.

He was no fool. As cunning as Aretas. He would as likely put me to death or use me for his own pleasure as believe a word I said.

I was a slave now to both Aretas and Rami. But I knew only slavery.

I heard passionate voices beyond the door but could make out no words as I waited for long minutes. And then the door was thrown wide.

“Come.”

Without waiting to be led, I walked in and stood before them once again.

Aretas sat beside his wife, who regarded me with arms crossed. It was she who delivered their verdict.

“We have not come to an agreement,” she said. “But we will consider this plan further and with care. In either case you could not go to Herod soon, or he would surely expect foul play. These matters take time. No hasty demand for payment will be taken seriously.”

I felt a moment of relief, for time would serve me well in preparing my thoughts, should they agree.

“You will be returned to your cell and wait for our decision,” she said.

To the cell? The air thickened inside my chest.

“Until we decide, you stand in defiance as your father’s daughter.”

“How long?” I asked.

She shrugged. “We shall see. No less than two months.”

My mind descended into a pit of despair.

“This was not what we said!” Phasa cried. No—it was Shaquilath’s way of exerting her will. And Aretas made no objection.