The Ironsmith by Nicholas Guild Page B

was nothing to do except to rise once more and bow. Eleazar was already pushing against the door when he heard the Tetrarch’s voice again.
    â€œYou really do fear Caleb, don’t you, minister. Perhaps you are right. It will be interesting to see which of you is my true servant.”
    *   *   *
    When he returned to the changing closet, Eleazar closed the door and was for the moment completely alone. It was then that his usual icy calm deserted him. He leaned his forehead against the cool marble wall and fear flooded his heart.
    So this is what it all means, he thought. He sees Caleb’s ambition, so he will set us against each other like dogs fighting over a scrap of meat.
    And Eleazar knew what would happen if he lost. Antipas was extravagant, always building new palaces and always in debt. Even with the vast wealth of Galilee at his disposal, he was constantly borrowing money. The First Minister’s property, his farms and houses, his money invested with merchants, all he had inherited from his father and had acquired since by his own labor, could not help but tempt a ruler who never felt himself rich enough.
    Caleb had been clever. He had played on the Tetrarch’s fears, for a despot was always afraid of rebellion. He had insinuated his wife into Herodias’s inner circle. He had arrested the Baptist and now, doubtless, would begin a great purge of his followers. There would be accusations and forced confessions, leading to a series of carefully staged executions, all of it serving to impress upon the Tetrarch the narrowness of his escape. Thus Caleb would rise in power and influence. He would become First Minister, and his word would become law. Good men would go to their deaths that Caleb might buy up their property at a tenth of its value. He would become a great man, wealthy and feared.
    And Galilee would become a realm of nightmare.
    And Zadok, what would become of him? He would lose his inheritance. The future to which his talents entitled him would be obliterated in a stroke. The best he could hope for was that his mother’s family might be able to keep him safe in Jerusalem.
    Unless the Romans, as a goodwill gesture, decided to make a gift of him to the new First Minister of Galilee. Caleb was of a vengeful temperament. Even with the father dead, it might gratify him to take out what remained of his resentment on the son.
    â€œUnless I can stop him,” he whispered to himself, and then added, bitterly, “my disciple.”
    These terrors were unworthy of him, Eleazar decided. He pushed himself away from the cold, comforting stone.
    He dressed quickly, putting on his priestly robes, making sure that everything was in order. He would leave now, in silence but not in haste—he did not wish to appear to be running away, not least to himself.

 
    4
    On his return journey from Machaerus to Sepphoris, Caleb stopped off in Tiberias. He had to explain to the Tetrarch that it had proved necessary to execute John. The Tetrarch received him in the palace gardens, where he was taking his after-dinner stroll. The news was not well received.
    â€œSo now, instead of a living prophet, we have a corpse. You may have trouble with the Lord Eleazar about this.”
    Which meant, of course, that Antipas was disappointed. And, as his servant understood only too well, disappointment was a dangerous emotion in rulers.
    â€œJohn could not be broken,” Caleb replied, his voice low and confiding. “The man was not human. He cared nothing about pain, and he saw death as deliverance. Thus he had no weakness to exploit.”
    â€œYou sound as if you admire him.”
    The Tetrarch smiled contemptuously, and Caleb could almost see the dark wings of death fluttering over his head.
    They had stopped for a moment. The lord of Galilee and Perea needed to catch his breath. The two men stood facing one other.
    â€œAdmired?” Caleb could only shrug. “No, sire. John