“Her father?” Claudia exclaimed, aghast. “By all the gods, surely....”
“Of course not, my dear.” Herodias laughed. “The other Herod Philip, her father’s half brother and”—she grinned—“my half uncle. He rules the puny tetrarchy over east of us, Batanea and Trachonitis. He’s considerably older than Salome, naturally, but....”
“Then he’s Salome’s half great-uncle and half uncle as well as half stepuncle, and ... well....” Claudia broke off with a shrug. “You Herods really never let anything get out of the family, do you?” Then she was serious. “But what about old King Aretas? If he should attack Antipas....”
“Certainly he hasn’t attacked yet,” Herodias hastened to reply. “And he probably never will. But even if he does, that might just strengthen Antipas with Rome. At any rate,” she added, “the Arabian isn’t making trouble at the moment.”
“But, Herodias, what if Sejanus, instead of putting Judaea under Antipas and making him king, should send out a new Procurator to succeed Pilate?”
The Tetrarchess of Galilee and Peraea was not abashed. “In that case,” she replied without hesitation, “he might even make Longinus Procurator, although I’m sure he—and surely you too, wouldn’t you—would prefer to be assigned a post in some province other than Judaea. But in any event, Claudia, if Longinus should very strongly recommend and urge the transfer of Pilate and the extension of Antipas’ realm to embrace Judaea, then I’m confident it would have great weight with Sejanus. That’s why I came to see you, Claudia, the principal reason, I mean. I hope you’ll suggest such a course to Longinus. It’s a way by which you and Longinus and I—I’m not considering Pilate and indolent old Antipas—can attain what all three of us want most.” She leaned forward again, and her expression betrayed a malevolent cunning. “Claudia, Longinus would have good reason to advise Sejanus to withdraw Pilate from Judaea. Pilate from his first days out here has failed to get along with the Jews, from the High Priest on down. And now, today, the suddenly bitter hostility of the followers of this Galilean fellow whom he tried this morning....”
“Galilean fellow?” Claudia’s expression was suddenly grave. “Who...?”
“Maybe you haven’t heard of him. He has a large following devotedly attached to him, so large that the Temple leaders are both jealous and fearful of him. They brought him before Pilate this morning, and the Procurator, wishing to evade responsibility”—her tone was sarcastic—“sent him to Antipas for trial, since the fellow was a Galilean, from the village of Nazareth, I believe. But I learned about it in time to warn Antipas to have nothing to do with the fellow....” She paused, and the bitter lines around her mouth deepened in a scowl. “He’s never forgotten that Wilderness fanatic at Machaerus. So he sent the Galilean back to Pilate.” She smiled. “Whatever the Procurator does with him, or has done, will add to his troubles with the Jews ...” she paused—“or at any rate, we hope so, don’t we?”
“Then you don’t know whether Pilate has tried the man?” Claudia tried to conceal her anxiety.
“No. I only know that Antipas didn’t fall into Pilate’s trap.”