King Jesus (Penguin Modern Classics) (15 page)

“Was Pheroras perhaps to be the Messiah ?”

“Oh no, my lady, not Prince Pheroras but a son who was to be born to him and his wife ; and Bagoas’s son was to be this Messiah’s principal minister. So of course the King—who, if I may put it that way, will tolerate no Messiahs but himself—immediately disproved the prophecy….”

Elizabeth interrupted the story with a burst of loud laughter. How very comical, my dear Shelom! Either you have misheard the name or else it is another Bagoas. Bagoas the Chamberlain has been a eunuch from childhood !”

“Comical or sad, my lady, it is nevertheless the truth. According to the prophecy, the infant Messiah would miraculously restore Bagoas to virility and enable him to beget children. So, as I was telling your ladyship, King Herod immediately disproved the prophecy by having Bagoas strangled. He also made an example of nine of the leading nationalists. Being Pharisees, of course, they believed in bodily resurrection, but he cheated them of their hopes by burning them alive. Twenty-three other men were executed and four women strangled. Oh, and he also impaled his pretty little catamite Gratus, the one who always used to tuck him up in bed and kiss him good-night. But he did not choose to do anything to Pheroras or Jochebed at the time—I suppose because there was no evidence to connect them with the plot—and Pheroras was indignant to be suspected of high treason and vowed that he would return at once to his principality across Jordan and not visit Jerusalem again until the King were dead.”

“Boldly spoken. I suppose that Herod has done away with the poor fellow by now ?”

“Yes, my lady, he died very soon afterwards, and the King brought his body back to Jerusalem just to prove him a liar, and gave him one of those costly funerals which he reserves for members of his family whom he has helped out of this world, and wept tears by the jarful.”

“What has happened to Jochebed? If I know the Herodian way, she was at once accused of poisoning Pheroras.”

“You know the King’s way well, my lady, but his scheme was a somewhat more complex one than you perhaps have in mind. He gave out that she had administered what she thought to be a love-philtre but which proved to be a poison ; and that the drug had been provided by Queen Doris, for whom it was procured some months ago by Sylleus the Arabian. He put the ladies and maid-servants of Pheroras’s Court
to the torture, and by asking them leading questions tried to persuade them to incriminate the Queen. They did not at first understand what they were being asked to confess, but at last one of them was shrewd enough to cry out from the rack “May the God who governs this earth and the heavens above punish Queen Doris, the sole cause of my anguish !” The screws were immediately slackened and she swore to the required story, and then other women who had been wating their turn for the rack corroborated it with the necessary detail. So now Queen Doris has been stripped of all her costly robes and jewels and sent packing.”

“My poor friend Doris! But what a queer story! Was any charge against King Antipater included in these confessions ?”

“King Antipater’s name is not mentioned in the official account of the trial.”

“No, that was not to be expected. But he is in great danger, none the less.”

“Do you think so, indeed? The plot, if it was a real plot, implied the removal of Herod and the usurpation of the throne by Prince Pheroras, so that Antipater cannot be reasonably accused of complicity. People are saying that the King used the occasion as an excuse for removing Doris, who had vexed him by treating his junior wives a little severely—she was a great stickler for Court etiquette, I suppose from having been so long exiled from Court—but that when Antipater returns from Rome she will be restored to favour. They say that the news will grieve Antipater, but cannot alarm him for his own safety, and that if there is one element in this obscure affair of which they can be sure, it is that King Antiater is the most wilfull loyal son a wicked father ever had.”

“They are right in saying that King Antipater will not be alarmed : his wilful loyalty will blind him to the danger. But that the danger is real and deadly I am certain.”

“Why do you think, my lady, that the King should desire Antipater’s death ?”

“I have not the least idea. I only know this, that Herod would never have made him a king had he not intended to destroy him soon afterwards. Now that Doris has left the Palace for good, Antipater has no better chance of life than a little child playing with a horned viper.”

Mary had been sitting apart with her needlework. She suddenly gave a cry and turned pale.

“Why, daughter, what is amiss? You look like a phantom.”

“I have pricked my finger ; look, it bleeds !”

“So good a needle-woman as yourself should be accustomed to pricks by now. Are you terrified at the sight of a little blood ?”

“It was a. sharp prick. It seemed to stab me to the very heart.”

“Quick, Shelom,” said Elizabeth. “Fetch a cordial. The kerm is best. You know the shelf. Why, upon my living soul, the child has fainted! Is that not strange ?”

“I was watching her. She pricked herself because she felt faint ; she did not faint because she pricked herself. But oh, my lady, you cannot
hide the truth from me. When I first came to your father’s house your sister Hannah was the same age, or a little younger, and this girl is my lady Hannah all over again. The Lord shower blessings on her pretty face! Here is the kerm. Give me leave to put it to her lips. Remember, my lady, that you sent me as midwife to your sister Hannah when she was to be delivered of a child ; this is the very child that I brought into the world.”

“Shelom, not another word! You are as impudent as ever !”

“Yes, my lady, and you will forgive me once more, out of old habit.”

Mary revived and continued quietly with her needlework as if nothing had happened to disturb her tranquillity, but soon afterwards excused herself and went to bed.

A few days later Shelom was sitting in the walled garden with Elizabeth. Between them on the flagstones lay a sackful of the lopped heads of roses, and they were plucking off the petals to make perfume. Shelom said ; “My lady, a certain young woman who is your companion, about whom I am forbidden to know anything—have you observed her colour ?”

“No, what do you mean ?”

“I mean that in a few months’ time, when you have been safely delivered of your child, I shall have another confinement on hand. I judge from the unevenness of colour in her cheeks.”

“Oh, Shelom, you are not teasing? You are so fond of teasing. Is it really true ?”

“It is true. Why do you stare at me, my lady? I have heard about the child’s marriage, though why she has been sent here who can tell ?” “How much do you know, Shelom ?”

“My husband’s brother happens to be the Temple scribe who drafted the marriage contract between this child and your brother-in-law Joseph of Emmaus, of the House of David. He mentioned it to my husband because he remembered that I had been in the service of the child’s mother.”

“But when was this marriage celebrated ?”

“That I cannot tell you. Soon afterwards, one would suppose, to judge from the child’s condition.”

“Shelom, upon my word I am in a very uneasy situation, and the worst of it is that I know as little as you do.”

“You fear that the child who is to be born may not be Joseph’s ?”

“I cannot permit myself to fear anything of the sort, and I forbid you to suggest it.”

“I am under your orders, my lady.”

“Shelom, you are a good creature. You must stand by us both.”

“Yes, my lady. For my lady Hannah’s sake and for yours, and for the girl’s. But why should she have fainted? Were we discussing anything of concern to herself ?”

“No, you were telling me about Prince Pheroras and his wife, and about King Antipater. Perhaps she was not listening but pursuing her
own thoughts, and suddenly was overcome by anxiety for herself and her child. The last words that I had spoken were about a child playing with a horned viper. They frightened her, I suppose.”

“It is likely enough, my lady. I wonder whether she is aware of her condition ?”

“Perhaps not. But soon she will be, and then she must say something to me about it. Meanwhile, I propose to say nothing to her, and I beg that you will do the same.”

That same evening Mary came to Shelom. “The lady Elizabeth assures me that you are a discreet woman.”

“The lady Elizabeth is not given to bestowing idle praise, and I thank her for her good opinion.”

“Shelom, there is something which I cannot ask your mistress to do for me. Perhaps you will help me. It is of the greatest importance. There is someone in Italy to whom I wish to send a message. You say that your husband has dealings with the merchants of Caesarea—could he arrange to have the message secretly delivered? I have a little gold with me : you shall have it all if you can arrange the matter quietly. And look, here is a Babylonian gold pin. You shall have this too, though it was a gift to me from my own dear mother.”

Shelom replied in the calmest of voices : “Keep your pin, child. The message has already been sent.”

Mary stared at her. “But I have not yet told you the message.”

“You told it to me when you pricked your finger.”

“I do not understand you.”

“The message was sent off on the day that I left Jerusalem.”

“This is absurd. To whom was it sent ?”

“To the man whom you have in mind. A message of warning about his father’s intentions. I did not let the lady Elizabeth know that I had already foreseen the danger which threatens your friend.”

“Have you a familiar spirit ?”

“No, but I love you. And I have sent off another message since I came here, to the same man. My husband rode off with it a week ago ; he will give it to his agent at Jamnia.”

“What message did you send ?”

“I told him how it was with you.”

“In what words ?”

“In these words.” Shelom bent down and wrote in the dust these antique Hebrew letters :

TETH-KAPH-DALETH-HE
HE+YODH-ALEPH+YODH
LAMEDH-BETH + TETH+ VAV

“That is a novel way of writing,” said Mary. “Do the letters stand for numbers? It looks like a charm.”

“A charm that will cheer him.”

“Why do you not tell me more ?”

“I have told you far more than you have told me.”

Mary eyed Shelom steadily, and Shelom returned her gaze with the air of a servant who has done her duty well.

“You are a strange woman,” Mary said at last.

“You will come to understand me in time, Daughter of the Lotus !”

At Jerusalem, Cleopas was saying to Joachim as they went up the steep road together towards the Temple : “But it is not true, surely ?”

“Why should it not be true? Simon the High Priest had the right to bestow her in marriage on whatever man he pleased. And Joseph of Emmaus is of honourable family.”

“Though not a Levite.”

“Nevertheless he married the sister of your wife, and of mine.”

“The club-footed one. When that marriage was arranged he was a prosperous merchant of middle age. Now he is old and bald and has already divided the greater part of his property between his four sons.”

“He still has property at Emmaus.”

Cleopas said impetuously : “Something is being concealed from you, honest Joachim. I believe that the High Priest betrothed her to Joseph because nobody else could be found to marry her.”

Joachim stopped dead. “You mean ?”

“Perhaps she acted foolishly,” said Cleopas, trying to speak in a light tone.

“You mean my daughter ?” asked Joachim, narrowing his eyes and speaking softly. “Brother, put a bridle on your tongue, lest you offend me.” His fingers tightened on his almond-wood staff.

Cleopas blustered. “I meant nothing, nothing whatever. Girls often behave thoughtlessly, especially in festival time : become compromised—innocently, very often. Why, my own sister…”

“Yes, Cleopas, your sister perhaps, but not my daughter !” He turned his back on Cleopas and slowly went down the hill again ; he did not wish to enter the Temple with furious passions surging in his heart.

Cleopas was irritated with himself for having blundered so stupidly. He had been trying to find out from Joachim the truth of the rumour that Joseph, having agreed to marry the girl, had come to the High Priest’s house with the redemption fee of ten shekels as bride-money, but that for some unexplained reason the contract had not been signed. If only he had refrained from that unfortunate remark! Now he had mortally offended Joachim, one of his dearest friends, and he would have to suffer the reproaches of his wife, whose sister Hannah was Joachim’s wife. He stood for a while where Joachim had left him, then turned and hurried down the hill.

He soon overtook Joachim, plucked him by the sleeve and said : “Brother Joachim, forgive me my folly! It is written : ‘Even a fool when he holds his peace is accounted wise.’ But I, being worse than a fool, have forfeited that consolation.”

Joachim answered : “And it is written in the same book : ‘A soft
answer turns away wrath’, and again : ‘It is an honour in a man to cease from strife.’ Come, let us go up again to praise the Lord together in the Temple.” But as they neared the top he said quietly : “Cleopas, I did wrong to boast in your presence that I had rid myself of the burdensome responsibility of providing a husband for my daughter. Since you have proved yourself a wise man by the confession of your folly, I will confide to you my sorrow, which is too much for one heart to bear. The High Priest was directed in a dream to betroth my child to Joseph of Emmaus, in the house of whose married daughter Lysia she had spun the purple flax for the Holy Curtain. He sent to Joseph asking him whether he were willing to consider the marriage and whether, if so, he would ride up from Emmaus on a certain day with the bride-money. Joseph was willing enough ; but he came a day too late. Early on the previous morning as my poor child was walking with a companion from the College of Virgins to Lysia’s house they were both seized upon by bandits in a narrow lane and carried off. They set the other virgin free outside the City gates and she returned unharmed—none of her golden ornaments had been taken from her—but not my child. The High Priest would not raise a hue-and-cry in the City for fear of damaging her reputation ; he hoped that in good time the bandits would state the price of her ransom, which he would pay quietly. But not a word has been heard of her since. I am distracted with anxiety.”