The Ironsmith Read Online Free

prophet. To arrest him and, certainly, when it came to that, to execute him, involved risks.
    But it also presented opportunities. John was a man like other men. Like all men he must fear pain and, most of all, death. Like all men he could be broken, and a broken, repentant John, begging the Tetrarch’s forgiveness, could have his uses. First, it would discourage John’s followers. Second, and perhaps more important, it would appeal to the Tetrarch’s vanity. Either way, Caleb advanced in his master’s confidence.
    And John had smoothed the way for him by besmirching the Tetrarch’s marriage. He had said that for Antipas to marry his half brother’s wife, who was also his niece, was in the sight of God an unclean thing.
    The Lord Eleazar, the First Minister of Galilee, had advised Antipas to put the matter from his mind. Perhaps he was even right, for the Lord Eleazar was a clever man who knew when to strike and when to stay his hand. He it was who had brought Caleb into the Tetrarch’s service.
    Some events are like a flash of light in the darkness. Caleb had not been present during the discussion, but he heard the details from his wife. Michal was the confidante of the Lady Herodias, the Tetrarch’s wife, who had little enough reason to love either the Baptist or the Lord Eleazar.
    And Antipas, it seemed, had not found the First Minister’s advice congenial. He had complained that the dignity of his name seemed to count for nothing. He hinted darkly that the Lord Eleazar had grown timid, that he was more interested in protecting his own vast wealth than in upholding the honor of his master.
    So was the First Minister falling from favor? Or was the Tetrarch merely giving vent to his frustration over advice he did not quite have the courage to ignore?
    It was a question that required the nicest judgment. Caleb owed his position to the Lord Eleazar. He was his disciple, his chosen instrument, almost his second self. But if the lord was heading to his ruin—a course that would most likely end with his head on the executioner’s block—Caleb might be lucky to escape alive himself. In any case, his career in the Tetrarch’s service would be finished.
    Unless, of course, he had by then distanced himself from the First Minister. Unless he had positioned himself as the logical successor.
    On the other hand, such a move could be a terrible mistake. If the Tetrarch’s anger was no more than a mood, and the Lord Eleazar remained in power, Caleb’s betrayal would never be forgiven.
    In the end the Tetrarch himself settled the matter. He invited Caleb and his wife to a banquet and seated them on couches very near his own. The entertainment was a performance of a comedy by Menander, and after it and a dinner that went on for half the night, Antipas wanted to gamble. He liked to win, so of course the dice were crooked, and Caleb cheerfully lost over a thousand silver shekels.
    Then at last they rose from the table, and Antipas threw his arm across Caleb’s shoulders and took him out onto the terrace to admire the sunrise. The Tetrarch was in rare good spirits, laughing and quoting lines from the play, which he seemed to know almost by heart, and then suddenly his mood darkened.
    â€œTell me, my boy, what do you think of this business with the Baptist,” he asked, absolutely without preamble. “Do you agree with the First Minister that we should leave him alone?”
    â€œThe Lord Eleazar is a wise and careful man.”
    Caleb was afraid to say more.
    â€œThen you do agree.”
    Antipas lifted his arm from Caleb’s shoulder and seemed to withdraw into himself. He stared at the light streaming over the eastern hills, as if facing the last great disappointment of his life.
    â€œI did not say that I agree, Lord,” Caleb answered, searching his mind for everything in the reports about John that could be made to seem incriminating. “But perhaps it is