Jesus’s back must’ve been turned to me, for his voice was faint. “I, too, believe the time has arrived to be rid of Rome, but God’s kingdom won’t come by the sword.”
“Until the Messiah comes, the sword is all we’ve got,” Judas argued. “My men and I will use our swords tomorrow to make off with a portion of grain and wine en route to Antipas’s warehouse in Tiberias. I have a worthy source at the palace there who has informed me . . .” The rest of his words faded.
Hoping to hear them better, I edged around the house and pressed myself into the shadows, where I listened to Judas recount the splendors of Tiberias—a vast palace on a hill decorated with graven images, a Roman stadium, a shining colonnade that ran from the Sea of Galilee all the way to the hillside. Then Judas said my name, causing me to stiffen to attention. “I’ve told Ana her father isn’t well. He will die soon, but he’s as treacherous as ever. I asked to speak to you without her presence because I’ve learned news that will disturb her. She might be compelled to . . . well, who knows how she’ll respond? My sister is impetuous and too fearless for her own good.” Judas chuckled. “But perhaps you’ve learned that for yourself.”
Impetuous and fearless. Once I’d been those things. But that part of me seemed like one of the forgotten women in the stories I’d written, diminished by years of chores, Susanna’s death, and those long famines of spirit when I couldn’t write.
My brother said, “Ana’s father has concocted one last plot to convince the emperor Tiberius to make Antipas King of the Jews.”
How predictably disappointing Father was. But this was hardly news that would alarm me in the manner Judas predicted.
There was an uneasy silence before Jesus’s voice resounded. “It’s prophesized the Messiah will bear the title King of the Jews—it would be a mockery for Antipas to steal the title for himself!”
“I tell you, his plot is cunning—I fear it could work.”
Across the compound, Mary, Salome, and Judith walked toward the little courtyard kitchen to prepare the evening meal, leaving Berenice to tend the children. I worried that any moment they would call me and when I didn’t answer, they would seek me out.
“Matthias wrote out the plot in meticulous detail,” Judas said. “His servant, Lavi, is unable to read, so he passes me as many of Matthias’s documents as he can. I was shocked to come upon the one that lays out his plan. Antipas will travel to Rome next month to make an official appeal to the emperor to be named king.”
“It doesn’t seem likely Tiberius will grant such a thing,” Jesus said. “It’s widely said the emperor opposes giving Antipas the title. He refused to do so even after Antipas named his new city Tiberias.”
Across the way, the chatter of the women made it difficult to hear. I crept back around to the ladder and climbed halfway up.
Judas was saying, “Antipas is hated. The emperor has denied him being king in the past because he fears the people will rise up. But what if there was a way to lessen that possibility? That’s the question Matthias put forth in his plot. He wrote that we Jews oppose Antipas as king because he has no royal bloodline, because he’s not from the line of King David.” He snorted. “That’s hardly the only reason, but it’s a paramount one, and Matthias has conspired a way around it. On Antipas’s way to Rome, he will stop in Caesarea Philippi to visit his brother Philip, but what he’s really after is his brother’s wife, Herodias. She descends from the royal Hasmonaean line of Jewish kings.”
Antipas would take a new wife? Had something tragic befallen Phasaelis, my old friend? Confused, fighting a sickening feeling in my stomach, I climbed two rungs higher.
Judas said, “Herodias is ambitious. Antipas will have an easy time convincing her to divorce Philip and marry him. He will promise her a throne. When Antipas arrives in Rome, it will be with the assurance of a royal marriage. If this doesn’t win him the kingship, nothing will.”