Words in Red E-Book

Colin Rank

• Herausgeber: novum premium Verlag
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Seitenzahl: 310

Beschreibung

Simon Ish Kerioth is a Temple recorder living in first century Israel. He is a very private man who has no intention of stepping onto any world stage in history, but destiny has other plans and is about to ensure his name is recorded in what will one day become the most famous book ever written. Blackmailed by the High Priest into an assignment to gather damning evidence against a mysterious religious man with extraordinary powers, it slowly dawns on Simon that his evidence is beginning to resemble evidence for the man's defence. What will happen to Simon - more importantly, what will happen to his evidence?

Leseprobe

CONTENTS

IMPRINT 2

PART 1 3

Chapter 1 4

Chapter 2 12

Chapter 3 18

Chapter 4 24

Chapter 5 32

Chapter 6 37

Chapter 7 48

Chapter 8 51

Chapter 9 56

Chapter 10 65

Chapter 11 72

Chapter 12 74

PART 2 82

Chapter 13 83

Chapter 14 90

Chapter 15 100

Chapter 16 109

PART 3 121

Chapter 17 122

Chapter 18 144

Chapter 19 156

Chapter 20 160

Chapter 21 173

POSTCRIPT 182

IMPRINT

All rights of distribution, also through movies, radio and television, photomechanical reproduction, sound carrier, electronic medium and reprinting in excerpts are reserved.

© 2022 novum publishing

ISBN print edition: 978-3-99130-094-6

ISBN e-book: 978-3-99130-095-3

Editor: Ashleigh Brassfield, DipEdit

Cover images: Pamela Mcadams | Dreamstime.com

Cover design, layout & typesetting:novum publishing

Images: Colin Rank

www.novum-publishing.co.uk

PART 1

THE TRAP

“It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.”

Henry David Thoreau

Chapter 1

COMPROMISED

It had been a perfect summer’s day. The sun was gently descending behind the Judean hills, casting three long shadows across Jerusalem from the three magnificent towers that ascended out of the citadel next to King Herod’s Palace, with the Phasael Tower dominating the other two.

The evening sunset flooded across the dolomite limestone city, painting the western walls of Herod’s magnificent Temple in a wonderful golden orange light.

Simon Ish Kerioth1, a scribe in his mid-forties, had spent the day at work making copy scrolls of the Psalms for his old friend Rabbi Nathan from Nazareth.

Now at the end of the day, he stood back from the scroll he had been working on and wandered over to the window. His back ached from standing, as was customary when reading or writing scripture. With his ink-stained hands resting on the sill, he gazed north out of the open window of the Old Refectory, taking in the tranquil scene. The Old Refectory was part of a disused community building and had been converted to a studio for scribes working on manuscripts. It was located close to the High Priest’s house and was brought into use during the reconstruction of the Temple workshops. When the reconstruction work was complete and most of the Scribes had returned, the High Priest at the time had permitted Simon to remain there on his own. He was quite a solitary individual and the privacy it afforded for his work appealed to him. From his vantage point he had a clear view of Herod’s palace on his left and the great, refurbished, gleaming Herodian Temple on the right.

Standing at the window looking out across Jerusalem, the same evening light gently painted his white robes and tinged his grey beard a glorious rose pink.

He breathed in the early evening air. A fragrance of spices from the old marketplace below mixed with the scent of fresh blooms.

It was a truly glorious evening, and as he stood there taking in the spectacle and listening to the sound of the evening bustle in Jerusalem, he felt very much at peace.

He closed the wooden shutters, rolled up his work and tidied up his workplace, closing with a traditional prayer to finish off the day before making his way downstairs and out onto the street. Enjoying a continuing sense of well-being, he made his way slowly through the small square opposite his home.

Suddenly, without any warning, a young man barged into him, brushing his arm with such force that it was all he could do to stay upright. The young man glanced back only briefly to check if he was still standing. Simon recognised him as a runner for the High Priest Caiaphas.

‘Why don’t you mind where you’re going?’ He shouted out after the boy, but the lad took no notice.

Simon climbed the semi-circular steps to the entrance of his lodgings and was greeted cheerily by Anna the housekeeper. He felt thoroughly put out by the incident in the square. It had utterly ruined his evening. He gruffly mumbled a greeting to her as he climbed the stairs to his apartment on the third floor. Anna knew his mood swings were only temporary and that when he was upset about something he was best left alone.

Feeling his way down the dark corridor leading to his rooms, he lifted the door latch and entered.

There on the floor, slipped under the door, a folded parchment note was awaiting him in the half light. He picked it up and turned it over. There was a seal on the back, but it was too dark to read it. Picking up his oil lamp, he retraced his steps to the pilot light on the window sill at the top of the stairs and lit the little oil lamp. He then saw that the seal was that of the High Priest, Caiaphas.

As he returned down the eerily dark passageway, to his horror, he was shocked at the sight of a menacing looking figure lurking in the darkness just beyond his door. It made him jump and he stepped backwards catching his breath. He must have walked right past him in the darkness.

‘What do you want?’ he enquired nervously. The man approached as Simon backed away. The faint light from the lamp illuminated his face and he could see that it was the lad who had nearly knocked him over earlier. ‘You half frightened me to death, young man! What do you mean by lurking in the dark back there?’

‘I’m sorry, sir. I have orders to escort you to the High Priest. I thought it best for you to read the message first, sir.’

Simon re-entered his apartment. ‘I see, so why all the urgency?’

‘I don’t know, sir. I’m just here to escort you immediately to His Holiness.’

Simon looked at the young man. He was well built, and his frame filled the doorway. His dark eyes fixed the older man with a brazen stare.

Simon opened the note. It was indeed a summons from the High Priest.

‘Very well, but let me first wash. It’s been a hot day and I have ink on my hands. Wait there while I prepare myself.’ Simon made to close the door, but the young man moved forward into the doorway. He stood there blocking the way. Simon backed away nervously.

What was all this about? Did the High Priest suspect he was allowing his old friend Rabbi Nathan to jump the queue for a fee? Everyone knew that sort of thing went on. Surely, he wouldn’t make an issue out of something so petty. It was hard enough for a scribe to make ends meet in Jerusalem. But then Caiaphas could be extremely unpredictable.

Deliberately stalling for time to think, he poured some water into a bowl and, using a small piece of pumice stone, he slowly rubbed off the ink stains.

He felt his stomach turn at the thought of a late-night audience with the High Priest; he was well known for his volatile temper.

The two men made their way down the corridor and out into the street without speaking a word. The light was fading fast as they crossed the little square towards the High Priest’s residence.

On reaching the Gate House the young man ordered the guard to open the door.

From there they followed the covered walkway through a series of carved stone archways to a small side entrance, where they were met by the night guard with a lamp. He dismissed the runner and took Simon up a stone spiral staircase and along a wide corridor, then through two large oak doors. Once inside he was shown into a small anteroom. The guard knocked on the door and waited.

‘Come!’ A voice commanded them to enter, and the guard retired to a position outside.

The room was spacious and well-lit by numerous oil lamps. A personal servant stood on one side of the room. On the far side a small man dressed in a white tunic with matching headdress was seated behind a large desk piled high with scrolls. Caiaphas, the High Priest, stood up and came around the front of the desk. He gestured to Simon to sit down on some loose cushions on the floor next to a couple of small decorative tables.

Simon bowed to the High Priest before taking a seat as requested. He waited to be addressed.

‘Would you care for a cup of wine, Simon?’ the High Priest asked, gesturing to the servant. Simon remained silent. This was not an invitation; it was an instruction. The two men knew that by drinking together they were entering a covenant of confidentiality. The servant filled two silver cups which he proceeded to serve.

‘That will be all for tonight.’ Caiaphas motioned to the servant to retire.

Caiaphas blessed the wine and both men drank.

‘I have brought you here to discuss a matter of great importance.’ The High Priest smiled faintly. ‘I’ll get straight to the point, Simon.’ He put his cup down. ‘You see; I want you to gather some information for me on a man who is posing a significant threat to our entire nation. You will recall your part in collecting some useful evidence on John the Baptist?’ He paused before continuing casually, ‘As it happens, that information was overtaken by events, but now there is a new and much more dangerous threat from a man they call Yeshua the Nazarene. He is a much greater threat than John. We know they are related, but I believe that together they may have a more sinister purpose.

‘There are reports that this Yeshua is already teaching about the establishment of a new Kingdom. This is the sort of talk that is not only dangerous for Israel but will reverberate all the way back to Rome! It’s a serious threat to everything we’ve worked for and must be stopped!’

Caiaphas thumped the palm of his hand with a clenched fist before composing himself and reaching for his cup of wine. Clearly the subject got under his skin. He took a sip while studying Simon over the rim. The dim light of the oil lamps was enough to betray his ugly mood. Simon swallowed nervously, the pit of his stomach recoiling. This sort of outburst was precisely what he had feared.

This was a project that Simon wanted to avoid at all costs. Like everyone else, he had heard about Yeshua, but he was in the middle of making a copy of the Psalms for Rabbi Nathan, from whom he had already taken a sizeable deposit. He also hated travelling. The thought of following this Yeshua character through the Galilean countryside and staying in all those hostels crawling with bed bugs filled him with disgust. He didn’t much care for Galilee or the Galileans if the truth were known. Above all, he wanted to avoid getting embroiled in a potentially trumped-up case which, if it went against Caiaphas, would end up being his fault.

‘Your Holiness,’ Simon interjected, ‘I have heard it reported that this man is surrounded by a fairly rough bunch of local Galileans who are supposed to be his disciples, but no doubt they are there to protect him. I’m no longer a young man, Your Holiness. I am sure this task is better suited to a more able-bodied person than I. And, what’s more, he may prove much more difficult to get close to than John the Baptist. I’m not at all sure I’d be the best person to do that. Indeed. I have heard he is quite hostile to anyone associated with the Scribes and Pharisees.’

The High Priest rose to his feet, cup in hand and walked slowly over to the open window. He closed the shutters before crossing the room, opening the door, and dismissing the duty guard.

Caiaphas casually sat down again, gently replacing his cup on the small side table. The change in his demeanour frightened Simon.

He leant forward menacingly; his ugly expression illuminated by the light of an oil lamp. Simon had a bad feeling about what might be coming next.

Then quite casually he said, ‘I think your son might help you get close to him.’ He sat back watching Simon closely.

Simon’s heart was pounding in his chest.

‘What son, Your Holiness?’ he asked trying to control his voice.

‘Judas.’ The High Priest responded, adding pointedly. ‘Judas Ish Kerioth.’

Simon was dumfounded. How on earth could he possibly know about Judas? Even Judas didn’t know the true identity of his father.

The affair with Judas’ mother had been very brief – a huge mistake which had threatened to ruin Simon’s career at the time. If it became known that he had an illegitimate son his position as a scribe would be over! He would be ruined.

He tried to compose himself.

‘I am afraid I don’t know what you’re referring to, Your Holiness. I have a nephew called Judas, but he is not my son. I do not have a son. I am celibate and always have been…’

The High Priest cut in, reaching for his wine cup. ‘I can’t disclose my sources, but they are entirely reliable. Miriam was a married woman, married to your brother in fact, and unfortunately you didn’t know that it was your brother who was incapable of having any children. You thought it was Miriam who was barren, and you took your chances.

‘Look, I won’t go into the details, it’s late and I didn’t bring you here to incriminate you, but I know the whole sordid story and I know you’ve taken an interest in the boy since he was small and grew up with your family.

‘And I also know about what happened to your brother Alexander, when he found out about Judas a few years later. At the time Miriam was pregnant, and he was up here in Jerusalem. You thought that you had got away with it, but walls have ears, Simon, and he found out. It’s a pity Alexander’s body was found dead in a dark alley shortly after he found out, don’t you think? I wonder who killed him? I don’t suppose you know do you?’

Simon was speechless. He could feel the blood draining out of his face.

‘You’re a piece of excrement, Simon Ish Kerioth! But even excrement has its uses!’ Caiaphas glared at him.

‘Well, don’t you have anything to say for yourself?’ Caiaphas paused, ‘I suppose not. So – this is what you’re going to do,’ he said, getting up and returning to his desk and rummaging about in a drawer. ‘You’re going to drop everything including your project for Rabbi Nathan in Nazareth – yes, I know all about that too – and you’ll set off for the Galilee tomorrow. The man Yeshua and his band of followers were last seen operating out of Capernaum. He’s staying in a house belonging to the mother-in-law of one of them. He’s called Simon and he’s a fisherman. Ah, here we are.’ Caiaphas closed the drawer and straightened up depositing a small purse on the desktop. ‘Of the dozen he’s selected to be his inner circle, many are related, so expect to come up against some opposition. As you know, blood’s thicker than water. Judas will be your passport to get close to this traitor, and between the two of you I expect you to gather as much damning evidence as you can. Make sure you get it all down word for word. I don’t want any slipups when we bring him to trial. Blasphemy, law breaking, you know the sort of things we need. We suspect he may be attempting to establish himself as a Messiah figure and you know how that would go down with the Romans.’

Simon felt a sense of panic rising up inside. ‘I haven’t seen Judas in a while. What if he doesn’t recognise me?’

‘If he’s anything like you, Simon, he will be looking after the purse for the group and making a bit on the side!’ Caiaphas chuckled. ‘You gave him an education and looked after him whenever he was in need. I don’t suppose he will have forgotten his old uncle, do you?’

With that he picked up the purse and tossed it to Simon over the desk.

‘That’s an advance to look after your expenses. I want a report every six weeks by courier and it better be good. Now get out of my sight!’ he barked, getting up and crossing the room. He opened the door and peered into the darkness.

‘Guard!’ he yelled out.

Somewhere from down a dark corridor a man appeared.

‘Show this man out.’ Pointing to Simon’s cup, he added, ‘Oh and take that cup with you. I don’t want it on the premises. It’s tainted!’

‘Thank you, Your Holiness,’ replied the guard clutching the silver cup as he proceeded to escort Simon out into the night.

Chapter 2

A FORGOTTEN PAST

Simon’s head was spinning as he closed the door of his apartment that night. The small parchment note lay face down on his table, where he had left it a few hours before. He picked it up and re-read the summons. How on earth could Caiaphas have learnt about Miriam?

As he lay down on his bed, his thoughts returned to his sister-in-law, who had been living just a short distance away from his home in Kerioth about twenty-five miles south of Jerusalem. At the time he was just eighteen and studying to qualify for a place at the school of Gamaliel in Jerusalem. His elder brother, Alexander, had got married and settled in a house that had previously belonged to his great-grandfather.

His father John kept a flock of sheep and goats, which he tended in pastures near their home, and Alexander, who traded in asphalt from the Dead Sea, spent long periods away from home on business. While he was away Miriam would often lodge with the family. He and Miriam had been married for over six years but had no children. Everyone assumed she was barren.

Miriam was four years older than Simon. She was fun and intelligent, had a lovely generous smile, and was quite tall with beautiful dark eyes and long, raven black hair. She was seventeen when she got married having lived with her elderly parents just inside Jerusalem. Her father knew John quite well and it was through that friendship that she had become betrothed to Alexander.

One summer while Alexander was away on an extended business trip to Spain, Simon had been in school next to the Synagogue doing an extra tutorial for an exam. His tutor had to leave early to attend an appointment with the Rabbi.

He made his way back home to find his mother Ruth out shopping at the market and his father still out in the field.

He went through to his room in the annexe where Miriam was staying. As he entered, he noticed the door to her bedroom was ajar and through the crack he caught sight of her washing her hair in a large bowl of water. She was stripped to the waist and had her back to the doorway. He stood there watching her for several minutes. She had a slim frame and a shaft of the evening light flickered through the tree outside her shuttered window and played on her naked breast.

He became fascinated with what he was seeing and just stood there.

Suddenly the back door opened with a noisy creak. It was Ruth, Simon’s mother.

He turned to bolt into his room but as he reached his door he glanced back once more. She had half turned to see who was there and their eyes met for a fraction of a second before she reached out for a towel to cover herself up.

That night he lay awake. The image of Miriam was all he could think about. Her naked torso, arms raised as she poured water from a jug to rinse her long black hair and, as she did so, revealing the outline of her breast. The thought of her lying alone across the hall was utterly intoxicating.

The following day nothing was said, but over the next few days he found himself frequently glancing her way, and when their eyes met she would smile nervously and shyly look away. Daily he could feel himself regarding her in a way he had never felt before. He knew it was wrong, but somehow it didn’t seem to matter anymore.

Then one evening he found himself once more dismissed from class early.

He raced home. Miriam was preparing some food in the kitchen. She was alone. She looked up at Simon and greeted him with a broad smile. He dumped his bag on the floor and moved slowly around the table to where she was standing, not really aware of what he was doing. His breathing quickened. He took hold of her hand, but she did not resist, and he began to lead her gently towards his room.

The next morning, they exchanged glances but nothing much was said. As he set off for school, he was overcome with disgust for what he had done. His mind flipped back and forth between the pleasure and the guilt. Miriam had clearly not resisted and had responded with pleasure. It would be his first and last experience. He knew he was not in love with Miriam. He was only too aware that his ambitions and his reputation could be utterly ruined by what he had done. The implications filled him with fear.

He felt very unsettled and disturbed and over the following days he became certain that he needed to take control of the situation and to get Miriam out of the house and to get away from her. He complained to his parents that he needed the room where she was staying for his further studies; for the scrolls which he had started to bring home from the library.

In the end she returned to her house of her own volition, sensing also a feeling of shame and fear should Alexander find out. She made an excuse, but Ruth had her suspicions, even if she kept them to herself. Something had happened, but she didn’t know what; but Miriam had gone now, and things reverted to normal. Not a word was said.

Then, about two months later, Simon was returning home through the market when he saw Miriam looking at some fabrics. She hadn’t seen him and he turned away pretending not to notice her. She had been waiting for him and left the stall and came towards him. Turning to see if she was still there he was taken aback to see her a few paces away and reaching into a pocket. She took out a small scrap of parchment which she pressed into his hand before moving away quickly without saying a word.

Simon didn’t read it but stuffed it into his cloak pocket.

Once home he closed the door and took out the note. It said quite simply, “I think I’m having a baby.”

Simon’s heart nearly stopped. Surely that was impossible, since Miriam was unable to have children? Everyone said so. Then he thought to himself that it must be Alexander’s, or maybe she was mistaken. Then he realised that Alexander had been away nearly nine months and could not be the father. Perhaps she had had another illicit relationship. His head spun in panic. But what if she was pregnant and the baby was his?

He decided to speak to her as soon as possible, so the following evening he told his parents he was going to visit his friend Joel and then made his way to her house under cover of dusk. She opened the door and beckoned him in.

‘What is this?’ he whispered harshly, holding out the note. ‘This has nothing to do with me! How can you be so sure you’re having a baby anyway?’

An oil lamp on the side table bathed her beautiful face with a soft flattering light.

‘Would you like a drink?’ she asked in her gentle, kind voice.

But he didn’t answer the question.

He looked at her and as he did so he felt those awful conflicting feelings flooding back. His look said it all.

Then reason returned to him.

It was her fault that they were in this mess! If she hadn’t egged him on this would never have happened and in his confusion, he tried to justify himself.

‘You will have to have the baby here,’ he said, clutching his brow as if thinking hard. ‘Then we can think about what we do.’ His mind was all over the place. ‘No, if Alexander finds out he will divorce you and then the whole family will be disgraced.’

Miriam’s face began to show the stress and tears began to well up in her eyes.

‘What am I going to do?’ she sobbed. ‘I thought I couldn’t have children.’

‘I don’t know. I’ll think of something. Perhaps you can give the baby away. Maybe to someone who has just lost a child.’ he suggested.

‘No!’ pleaded Miriam as she dropped down on her knees. ‘No, please…Alexander…’ but before she could finish the door swung open and in walked Ruth.

‘Simon?’ she exclaimed in surprise. ‘What are you doing here? I thought you said you were going over to see Joel.’ She paused looking first at Miriam, who had stood up by now, and then back at her son, Simon.

Simon broke the silence. ‘I can explain everything, mother.’ But, of course, he couldn’t. ‘I was just bringing her some raisins which I bought in the market today.’ And he picked up a small bowl of raisins sitting on the table and held it out. He was clutching at straws.

‘Don’t lie to me!’ shouted Ruth. Then she noticed the small scrap of parchment on the floor and bent down to pick it up. She moved towards the lamp. Simon snatched it away, but not before she had read it.

‘So that’s what this is all about. You little slut!” she rounded on Miriam.

‘No, mother!’ pleaded Simon. ‘It’s all my fault,’ he said, looking down at the floor in shame.

‘You mean you raped her?’ Asked Ruth.

‘No, it wasn’t like that. I took advantage of her,’ he replied.

‘More like she took advantage of you, you mean! I know your sort. Came to our house, took advantage of our kindness, and then thought you’d have a bit of fun on the side! Serves you right, you little whore!’

Miriam said nothing but buried her head in her hands, sobbing loudly.

‘Shame on you!’ shouted Ruth. ‘And now I suppose you want money to keep him quiet?’ she taunted.

‘No! No! No! I just don’t know what to do!’ Miriam sank to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably.

Ruth fell silent as Simon watched hopelessly. She needed a plan to get them out of this mess.

She looked at Miriam and then back at Simon. Then her mood changed.

She knew Alexander had written to say he was returning soon for a short visit before going up to Jerusalem for a while. What if Miriam was to conceal her pregnancy from him, and after he had gone away again, she would write and tell him the news that he was to be a father?

When the baby was born, she could remain hidden away at home for a further three months and he would be told it had arrived. That way he would have no reason to suspect that it was not his.

She sat Miriam down and they went through the whole idea. They all agreed it was the best solution.

So, Alexander returned and left again shortly afterwards. Miriam had her baby six months later and never left home for another three months.

The little boy was named Judas, after his great-grandfather, and grew up thinking Simon was his uncle. As far as Simon was concerned, only Miriam and his mother knew the truth. John, his father, never suspected anything or so they thought.

Chapter 3

GALILEE

Simon woke up and, having dressed and eaten, he reluctantly prepared to depart for Galilee on the mission he had hoped to avoid. But he would go, because he was afraid of Caiaphas who had somehow found out about his past. How was a complete mystery, but now Simon found himself in a dangerous position. He had heard about Caiaphas’ methods, but seeing it all face to face was not a pretty sight. None of it fitted with the sort of person you would expect to find in a High Priest; yet he was a very successful High Priest. The ruling Prefect, Pontius Pilate liked him because Caiaphas knew what was wanted and had demonstrated he could deliver. The Prefect wanted peace and order on his watch, and he wasn’t interested in anything less.

Caiaphas had managed to maintain a sort of equilibrium between the hot headed nationalists on one hand, who wanted Roman blood and the restoration of an independent Israel, and the more traditional and Aristocratic Sadducees on the other, who enjoyed strong connections with the rulers of their day. The Sadducees didn’t trust the ultra-religious Pharisees with their legal rules and regulations. Alongside sat the monastic Essenes, who held opposing views to just about everyone. They were obsessed with purity and inspired many with their apocalyptic teachings. As a group, the Essenes enjoyed widespread popular support through their schools and teachings. Embedded into all of these factions were the Scribes, whose simple devotion to the Holy Scriptures made them friends in almost all the other camps. They taught, translated, and provided the clerical services that made the whole system function. However, they all had one thing in common, which was a deep hatred and suspicion of the Romans: the occupying power.

Whether they appreciated it or not, all these factions made a good living out of the stability and financial input which the Roman Empire was providing. As ever, for those at the top the pickings were rich, but for those at the bottom, life was harsh.

Simon packed a few possessions into a bag which he slung over one shoulder. Over the other he carried his trusty leather document cylinder containing all his writing materials. He set off northwards for the Galilee. This was a journey he had made before, and he was acquainted with both the safest route and his favourite stops.

Not far from Jerusalem he joined up with a group of travellers who were heading in the same direction. He tagged along with them for company and, most importantly, for security.

He had plenty of time to think as he walked, and inevitably he began to think of seeing Judas again after so long. The last time he had seen him was in Batanea to the east of the Jordan River, where John the Baptist had been preaching to large crowds. The political climate there was relatively benign under Philip, Herod the Great’s youngest son, and there was plenty of water for John’s mass baptisms. John had a sort of magnetic influence over the people. His call to repentance had touched a nerve with many, including Judas, and he and his contemporaries had travelled there in search of this remarkable man.

Yeshua the Nazarene was not associated with John’s ministry, although he was a cousin. The two men were very different. John had huge influence with the people and had attracted widespread popular support. In the tinder dry political climate where one spark could start a firestorm, the Roman authorities had sought assurances that no such firestorm would happen on their watch.

Simon had been sent to document John’s activities and report back but there was widespread access to John, so the job was relatively easy, and he was able to reassure the leadership that he presented little threat to the authorities. His reports were being given directly to the Roman Prefect who treated them as valuable corroborative intelligence.

While Simon was there he had stumbled across Judas, who had taken a keen interest in seeking out anyone who he thought might lay claim to being the Messiah, the Anointed One. Everyone was anticipating the arrival of the Messiah, and John had made it very clear he himself was not the Messiah but that the Messiah was coming soon. All of this had fuelled a volatile expectation.

Philip’s brother Herod Antipas had become embroiled in an incestuous marriage affair, which resulted in John the Baptist passing judgement on the matter. That upset Herod or, more particularly, his wife Herodias, who wanted revenge. As a result, John was imprisoned at Machaerus, a fortress on the north-eastern side of the Dead Sea. Herod found John intriguing and despite his incarceration he continued to summon him for lengthy discussions together. It was a curious relationship.

Simon remembered it all well because, on account of his assistance with intelligence gathering, he had been asked to represent Caiaphas alongside a wide-ranging group of military and other dignitaries at a banquet which Herod had put on for his birthday. Machaerus was an impressive fortress with a sumptuous palace.

As the wine and entertainment flowed Herodias had cunningly arranged for a dance to be performed for Herod by her very beautiful young daughter. Herod had made no secret of his admiration for her.

As the party was in full swing, Herodias leant across and whispered in her husband’s ear that she had a special birthday treat for him. The King had consumed rather more wine than was good for him and when she asked the Master of Ceremonies to halt proceedings so that she could reveal her special treat, Herod could barely conceal his excitement.

A hush descended over the guests. Simon, who was reclining a short distance behind the Royal couple, had a clear view of what happened next.

The Master of Ceremonies stepped forward.

‘Your Majesty,’ he began bowing low before the King, ‘Tonight to mark the occasion of your birthday and by special permission of Her Royal Highness, Queen Herodias, I introduce to you tonight’s mystery guest performer.’ He bowed low once more.

‘Your Majesty, for your pleasure, I present to you, a Princess.’ He drew out the introduction to full effect before sweeping into another low bow and retiring.

The musicians began to play very softly as a troupe of dancers slowly entered the stage from either side in front of the Royal couple. They proceeded to dance around the top table, collecting up the flaming torches which were illuminating the area. As they danced, two others brought a fine woven silk screen across the front of the stage. The music rose slowly in a crescendo of rhythm. Then the dancers moved gracefully behind the screen, placing the torches in a row of holders at the back of the stage, thus revealing its transparency. As they withdrew, the figure of a sole female dancer remained in silhouette, stretched out across the floor, head and arms reposed along an extended leg.

The music stopped with the crash of cymbals and as the sound decayed, a dark silence descended over the banqueting hall. Everyone strained to get a better view.

The screen drew back slowly to reveal the young girl motionless on the floor. The musicians played on softly.

The King immediately recognised the Queen’s daughter and beamed with delight as she arose to dance for him. She was graceful and skilful, dressed in a translucent, full-length veiled dress of the finest silk from the Far East. As she danced, the King could clearly glimpse the outline of her beautiful figure silhouetted against the flames as she passed to and fro between him and the torches.

The murmurs and gasps of the guests rippled around the hall.

The King sat motionless, transfixed, his face softly lit by the flickering light as the young Princess twisted and turned to his unashamed and very evident pleasure. Her dance quickened into a frenzy of erotic movement, but the Queen saw nothing of it, her stony glare transfixing the King like a lioness about to pounce.

Finally, the Princess threw herself to the ground in a finale of surrender, sliding gracefully across the polished stone flagstones and coming to a halt right in front of the King.

She lay there motionless as the King rose to his feet accompanied by rapturous applause from the delighted guests. Even Simon found himself caught up in the exhilaration of her magnificent performance. He had never seen anything like it. Across the hall he could see the Queen’s face and what he saw sent a shiver down his spine. A look of sheer evil spread across her face, and something told him that the performance was only just beginning.

As the applause subsided, the King congratulated the young girl, who had by now risen to her feet to acknowledge the applause. As she did so, he staggered to his feet and stepped up onto the low stage, taking her by the hand and showing her off to thunderous applause.

The king motioned with his hand and the hall fell silent.

‘What can I say?’ he asked almost speechless as he swayed unsteadily beside her. ‘Name your pleasure, my dear, and I will grant it!’ he slurred. ‘No! I swear to you, ask of me whatever you want up to…’ and he paused before blurting out defiantly, ‘up to half my Kingdom!’ The guests erupted in sheer delight.

As Simon watched the Queen, he was shocked to see her countenance transform from an evil stare into uncontrollable, triumphant laughter.

The young girl walked over to her mother to ask her advice.

‘What shall I ask, Mother?’ She enquired tentatively.

‘Ask for…’ the Queen paused making sure everyone was listening. ‘Ask for the head of John the Baptist…’ There was an audible gasp from the guests, followed by a silence that was so intense you could hear the torches hiss and roar in the darkness. Not one single guest dared to move. ‘…on a plate!’ she added whimsically, her eyes locked on to her quarry.