Turning a corner, Titus and I came into view of a majestic building, a palace and a fortress both. It sat on a promontory that jutted out over the Mediterranean and was easily the largest habitable building in the city. Inside the courtyard sat two large statues, one I didn’t recognize, but the second was clearly that of my favorite Roman ruler, Augustus. Seeing it brought a pang of anger to me, as I knew this statue would be destroyed and lost at some point in history. As much as I hated the idea of “Rome” these days, knowing so much history and art will be lost still pained me.
The streets here were lined with stalls and kiosks, an interesting commonality amongst most ancient cities I’d visited over the years. The midday crowd was thick, as was the line of men and women waiting to enter Herod’s residence, hoping he would settle disputes between conflicting parties. It wasn’t a requirement for the King of the Jews to perform, but we’d learned that Herod apparently enjoyed the task.
In reality, his judicial power meant little in the Roman world. His decrees only went so far as to appease those concerns that did not interfere with Roman law. Since Rome wanted little to do with the religions of its protectorate constituents, especially one that only worshiped a silly, single deity, Herod mainly concerned himself with matters of religion and culture.
As for the line of waiting Jews, it extended well outside the doors of the building and into the courtyard. Noticing the crowd, I pulled up short, tossed my hands in the air and shook my head. With this many people in front of us, it could take all day before we saw Herod.
I looked over my shoulder for one of the pairs tailing us and saw Helena and Vincent stopped outside a clothing stall. Helena noticed my attention and quickly looked around in anticipation of some kind of trouble. I indicated with a quick slash of my hand that everything was fine. She nodded and blew me a peck of a kiss. I smiled at the gesture and yanked on Titus’ arm, pulling him towards the end of the line.
Thirty minutes later, I was having flashbacks to my childhood standing in line at an amusement park. Kids never really realized just how much of an inefficient use of time it was spending two hours in a line for only five minutes of payoff. It may have been a fun five minutes, but was it really worth it?
Sure it was. Rollercoasters were a blast.
I still hated lines.
Just as I felt the need to fight off a sudden angry mood swing, I saw a familiar face in the crowd.
Matthias Ben Joseph.
He was strolling through the throng of people, apparently weeding out the more urgent disputes from the lesser ones, prioritizing the cases before they went before Herod. He appeared to be placating a pair of old and wrinkly women who had been insistently screaming at each other since Titus and I found our place in the queue. He was clearly aggravated by the two old crones by the time he managed to catch my eye.
I raised an eyebrow at him and his expression lifted. He said something to the bickering grandmas and made his way to my place in the line.
“Vani,” he greeted my mostly silent companion and me. “Have you come to deal with Herod?”
“We have,” I answered. “Is there any chance you can send us to the front of the line?”
The older man looked relieved. “Of course. It will give me an excuse from dealing with these complainers.”
I had to smile. Any issue these people had that didn’t fall under Roman rule had to be about as insignificant as a single ant on an ant hill. I could only imagine the silly squabbling that occurred that led most of these people to seek solace in Herod’s power. I imagined allegations like someone picking their nose on the Sabbath had to be common in Herod’s court. Probably why men like Matthias were tasked with picking out only the most ripe of cases.
Without another word, Matthias gripped my arm and led me through the mob of people waiting outside. Passing by dozens of arguing Jews, our companion escorted us through a few quick rooms before delivering us to what looked like Herod’s courtroom.
Marble floors, a vaulted ceiling and pillars running along both sides of the room conveyed opulence and power. Mosaics covered the floor and ceilings, and the distance from the door to the only chair in the room was a good forty yards, plenty of time for an offending party to rethink their stance before being heard by the king.
I made sure to take note of any tactical amenities the room offered. The columns supported second level balconies, which had no doors, merely appearing as further decoration. The balconies gave anyone situated in them a clear view of the room below. Also, even though it was 1600, and the sun was shining brightly outside, there were deep shadows in the corners. Finally, there were only two exits, the large double doors we’d come through, and a small door in the far corner.
Twenty five yards in, I was able to make out the man I knew had to be Herod Agrippa. Known as Julius Marcus Agrippa back in Rome, or later as simply Agrippa I, he was the grandson of Herod the Great and a rather impressive ruler in his own right. I knew quite a bit about the man thanks to my study of the Julio-Claudian family, and had come to respect him as both a person and ruler.
Even though he was seated, I estimated he had to be about six feet tall. He had dark brown hair in neat curls, along with a full beard, left thick but well groomed. He had dark brown eyes that, as we drew closer, I noticed flitted about rapidly, analyzing ever detail he came across. His shallow cheeks and generous nose gave him a very distinguished look, and for once, I could honestly admit whoever did the casting in my favorite BBC miniseries I, Claudius, had got it right.
Thirty yards in, I noticed a line engraved in the floor, and figured it would probably be a good idea to stop. Kings never liked their subjects too close. Paranoid bunch. Titus, Matthias, and I performed half bows for him and waited until spoken to. The few dozen or so retainers and guards gathered around the room’s single seated occupant watched vacantly.
King Herod measured us up quickly before breathing an unimpressed sigh. I didn’t blame him. We weren’t all dressed up and ready to party right now.
“So you are these Vani I have heard so much about,” he accused in a rich, deep voice. “Most interesting. From the stories I have heard, I half expected giants, or at least a woman wearing little clothing.”
I resisted the urge to smile.
“They are,” Matthias answered for us. “This is… Burt,” he said awkwardly. “I spoke to him yesterday near the docks.”
Herod nodded in my direction. “Good. I’d hoped to meet all of you, but I understand your desire to remain secretive. Very wise. Now. What have you come to discuss with me?”
“Sir,” I began, taking a small step forward, remaining behind the line. “We have been made aware of a growing threat to your person. The Empress has ordered your assassination. It is to happen very soon.”
Herod uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and his chin in his hands. “Is that so? How is that you have come by this information?”
“We have contacts within the Empress’ Praetorian Guard. We worked with them four years ago and have good friends in high places. The threat is very real.”
He leaned back in his seat. “So the Vani feel obligated to protect me then, is that it? As I have said, I know all about your exploits in the West, but why should I trust you? You owe me nothing.”
I stepped forward, defiantly crossing the boundary between man and king. Herod stifled at my approach, but no one made any attempt to stop me. I didn’t have the time or the patience to deal with kings. There was too much at stake to let the pomp and arrogance of a so-called monarch stand in my way.
“King Herod, please understand if we wanted to deceive you, we could have spent this afternoon having a relaxing lunch instead of warning you. Fadus is gathering his assassins as we speak. Whether you want our help or not, I would not sleep in your bed tonight.”