The Ironsmith by Nicholas Guild Page A

but the Romans were a different matter.
    â€œSo what are you suggesting?”
    â€œThat the wisest course would be to let him go. He preaches that men should purify themselves against the time of God’s judgment of the world. He is a harmless madman.”
    â€œHe has a large following. Caleb says he might incite them to anything.”
    â€œI have heard nothing to suggest he will incite them against Your Majesty, and if he does, then there will be time enough to act.”
    It was in every sense an uncomfortable moment. The steam was oppressive enough that it almost made one gag to breathe it. And the Tetrarch had a dangerous look in his eyes.
    â€œIf I let him go, these people whose opinion seems so important to you will imagine I am weak. They will believe I am afraid of the Baptist.”
    Aren’t you? Eleazar asked, though only his own mind.
    â€œNot if we act quickly. Then it will appear as an act of clemency—an act, almost, of piety. Mercy proceeds from strength, sire. A wise and benevolent ruler, who respects a man of God and seeks only justice, corrects the act of a hasty official…”
    â€œAh! That is it.” Antipas held up the index finger of his right hand, as if commanding attention. “You intend for Caleb to assume the blame.”
    â€œHe is to blame, Lord.”
    Suddenly the Tetrarch rose to his feet, which meant that Eleazar was obliged to stand. The two men faced each other, with hardly the length of one’s arm between them. It felt like a confrontation, the beginning of a bitter quarrel.
    Antipas glanced about him, wary as a hunted animal. His hands clenched into fists.
    â€œCaleb protects me,” he almost shouted. “I am surrounded by enemies. The Baptist would lead a mob to the palace gates. Caleb wishes to crush him. Caleb would crush all my enemies.”
    In his mind he seemed to see it all—the howling rabble, forcing him to flee when they overpowered his household guards. The Roman prefect in Caesarea, shaking his head in silent contempt. And then the summons from Rome.
    Then, just as quickly as it had begun, it was over. Antipas, perhaps realizing that he had betrayed himself, sat back down. Eleazar remained on his feet, which the Tetrarch noticed after a moment. He motioned wearily for Eleazar to be seated again.
    For a long interval neither spoke.
    â€œI am tired,” the Tetrarch said finally. “I am old and weary.”
    Yes, of course, Eleazar thought. Now he wants sympathy.
    â€œYour Majesty carries a heavy burden,” he replied.
    â€œA heavy burden … Yet I have you to help me. Haven’t I, Eleazar?”
    â€œYes, sire. All that I have, all that I am, even my life, is yours.”
    â€œYes. I know.”
    Antipas dropped his gaze a little and then looked sideways at his minister. He smiled. It was a smile full of menace.
    â€œYou think Caleb is becoming a danger to you,” he said, as if the possibility had just occurred to him. “You created him. You brought him into my service. And now you want to destroy him.”
    â€œI am not afraid of Caleb, sire. I think, however, he needs to be curbed.”
    â€œNo. I will not permit it.”
    Eleazar took a breath, intending to offer some protest, but then thought better of it. The Tetrarch, he knew, would not be moved. It had become a point of honor.
    So, best to defer the question to another day, when heads might be cooler.
    â€œThen would it be possible merely to hold the Baptist for the time being? An honorable detention, while we make inquiries.”
    â€œCaleb is already in Machaerus.” Antipas made a gesture with his right hand, as if presenting a gift. His smile, however, betrayed him. “He has orders to question the Baptist and to act accordingly. If this ‘harmless madman’ of yours has dared to call my marriage into question, he dies. The audience is over.”
    He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. There