When Herodias returned to the Hasmonean Palace she learned from Neaera that the Tetrarch had shut himself away from all company in the seclusion of one of the inner chambers. He seemed to be entering a period of depression, the maid reported, like the one into which he had plunged after the beheading of the Wilderness prophet.

The Tetrarchess found him sprawled in his chair, staring at the wall, his heavy jowls sagging. For a moment he appeared unmindful of her entrance. Then he turned ponderously to face her. “The Galilean,” he said slowly, as though in pain, “is dead. Crucified.”

“Dead already? How did you learn it?”

“Joanna. She was at the Hill of the Skull with some of his friends, including Mary of Magdala. They saw him die. But she declared she knew that the Galilean”—suddenly his dull eyes brightened with the pain of sharpened fear—“would rise from the dead and avenge himself upon his enemies. Herodias”—he got heavily to his feet and flung out his hands in desperation—“why did you make me do it? By the beard of the High Priest, Tetrarchess, why, why?”

“Are you mad, Antipas?” Her dark eyes snapped. “You didn’t kill him! By the gods, Pilate did. The Procurator tried him. You sent him back to Pilate, don’t you remember?”

“Of course I sent him back to Pilate. But I had it in my power to free him; instead, I sent him to his death. When he rises, he will wreak upon me a double vengeance.”

“Double vengeance?”

“Yes, the vengeance of both the prophet of the Wilderness and of the Nazarene.” His eyes glittered with incipient madness. “The Nazarene was the prophet returned to life. When he arises, he will be the two returned.”

“Nonsense!” Herodias advanced, her eyes flaming, and grasped her husband’s arm. “If the Galilean is dead, he’s dead, and you know it. Must you give heed to Joanna’s superstitious drivel?” Her scowl lightened into a crafty smile. “Pilate has served you well in crucifying this fellow. Can’t you see that the Galilean’s followers will be all the more determined to do the Procurator ill?”

“But how will his misfortune help me?” the Tetrarch asked.

“Your father ruled this whole province. Should Pilate’s mishandling of his duties drive him from the Procuratorship, the Emperor might elevate you to king of all the region. It’s not for nothing that your father is called ‘Herod the Great.’” She shook a ringed forefinger under his nose. “If you had one-fourth the ambition and energy that he had, you’d already be wearing the crown!”

“But I don’t want to wear a crown,” Antipas protested. “Crowns often become greater burdens than they’re worth. We can live out our lives at Tiberias, happy and unchallenged, and enjoy the benefits of the royal prerogative without risking its dangers and burdens, my dear, and with considerably less chance of drawing the ire of old Sejanus.”

Herodias stamped her foot angrily. “Don’t you have any aspirations, Antipas? Are you willing to continue being a mouse instead of a man?” Her tone was coldly sarcastic, and she knotted her hand into a fist to emphasize her stern words. “Well, by the beard of the High Priest, Antipas, I’m going to see to it that you sit on the throne of Judaea as your father did. I’ve just returned from talking with Claudia about my plan ... and my determination ... to get you elevated to kingship. She will help; she wants to see Pilate disgraced so that she can divorce him and marry Longinus.”

“I don’t know about that, my dear Tetrarchess. What would be the difference anyway, except in titles? Wouldn’t it be best to let well enough...?”

“And spend the rest of our lives in an out-of-the-way poor district of illiterate fishermen and grape growers! Never!” she stormed. “Would you be willing for me never to occupy a station higher than Salome, by all the gods?” She studied him, her contempt plainly revealed. “I do believe you would. Well, I’m not willing. I’ll leave you first ... and go back to Rome!” She was silent for a moment and when he made no retort, continued. “This is what we’ll do,” she said, her tone even now. “We’ll return to Tiberias and begin to assemble choice presents for the Emperor, and most important, for Sejanus. And you will increase the revenue going to the Prefect. The gifts will please and flatter him, and the increased revenues from Galilee and Peraea may suggest to him that if you were governing the whole province the increase in taxes would be substantial. And we won’t send them to Rome, the gifts, I mean, but we’ll take them ourselves, and then we can personally petition Sejanus to make you king over the entire province.”

Herod Antipas shook his grizzled head slowly, and his countenance was troubled. “But I foresee only disaster if....”

“I don’t care what you foresee or how agitated you may become,” she said, with a defiant toss of her head, “we are going to Rome to ask the Prefect to make you king, and I’m either coming back to Palestine as queen or I’m not coming back at all!”