A.D. 30(96)

A flicker of annoyance at the interruption crossed the king’s face, but he let it go. “Yes,” he said. “We’ve decided to grant you your wish.”

“With a few conditions,” Shaquilath said.

“Naturally. With a few conditions.” Aretas paced to his right, stroking his beard again. “Assuming, that is, that you’re still willing.” He faced me. “Or has your time alone cast doubt on your proposition?”

It had, of course. But I saw no alternative path to honor, and hearing that they had decided in my favor gave me some courage. At the very least I would be rid of Petra. I had come to despise what I knew of their city.

“My offer stands as spoken,” I said, gathering strength.

“Then you have lost none of your resolve?”

“None.”

“And you still believe you possess the strength necessary to approach Herod with all the cunning of your father?”

The fog in my mind was clearing and I slowly drew breath to settle my focus. I was sure to be joined by Judah and Saba once again—together we would find a way.

“Would I have presented the proposition if I doubted myself?”

He smiled. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t have.” He turned and walked toward the table again. “So, then, you may take to Herod my demand for payment of one hundred talents of gold. We will supply all that you need for the journey, including a sealed letter from me, explaining my terms.”

“And if I succeed?” I asked, finding more courage.

Aretas reached his chair behind the stone table, seated himself, and stared at me.

“Return to me with this payment, and you will be properly honored.”

His words did not reflect what I had requested per se, but they were enough for the moment. I dipped my head in acceptance.

“And if you fail,” Shaquilath said, “there will be equal consequence.”

“As I said, I accept my risk with Herod.”

“I’m not speaking of your own life. Do you think we would send you to Palestine without a guarantee?” She motioned to one of the guards with her finger, and he strode for the door behind the table. “What is to keep you from fleeing your duty once it is agreed to? Only the leverage that we hold over you.”

I watched as the door swung wide. First Judah, then Saba was led from darkness, both in chains, wearing only gags and loincloths.

My heart crashed against my breast.

Judah had lost some of his color and he wasn’t as full in the chest. And yet his eyes were bright and full of courage as he looked at me. There was no sign of suffering on his face, nor regret.

I knew immediately that the only way the Nabataeans could have my mighty Bedu warriors in chains without sign of struggle was by holding my well-being over their heads. Judah’s and Saba’s allegiance to me had put them in these chains.

“Saba will go with you,” Shaquilath said. “Phasa will throw a tantrum, but you will need your dark slave.”

Saba remained between two guards near the door as they led Judah across the floor.

“And Judah?” I demanded.

“Judah. The one you love will be held for your safe return, of course.”

“How dare you!” I cried. My mind felt loosed of its tethers. “I cannot leave without Judah!”

“Oh, but you must.”

The large entrance door swung open and a man walked in. He stood in the light, dressed in the black fringed thobe of the Thamud. On his head a red-and-yellow kaffiyeh was bound by a black agal.

For a moment I could not breathe.

Kahil bin Saman.

This was the son of the Thamud sheikh who had crushed my father. This was the man who had flung my son from the window in Dumah.

My fingers began to tremble as he walked forward, first eyeing me, then stopping and bowing to Aretas and his queen.

“You must,” Shaquilath said again. “And if you fail or defy this king in any way, your slave will be put to death.”

I could not speak.

She nodded at Kahil, and he returned the gesture. The two guards restraining Judah seized his arms behind his back and held him still.

“So that you remember how serious this matter is…” the queen said.

Kahil walked up to Judah without ceremony, withdrew his hand, and struck him in the face with a fist. Judah’s head snapped back with the impact. A white gash appeared over his right eye and immediately filled with blood, which flowed down his face.

When Kahil drew his arm back for a second blow I could see that his knuckles were wrapped in hardened pitch.

I had clung to my sanity for eleven weeks in Petra’s dungeons, but there in the arena it left me completely.

I heard Saba protesting through his muzzle the moment I launched myself toward Kahil. It was only a cry, but I knew he was demanding I hold my place. Even I knew I should remain. Even I knew that any attempt to save Judah would end badly for both of us.