“You’re a flatterer, Neaera. Salome, remember, is fourteen.”
“But you were married very young, Mistress.”
“And I was married a long time ago, too.” She peered again into the mirror. “Look. Already I can see tiny crow’s-foot lines around my eyes.”
“But unguents and a little eye shadowing....”
“More flattery.” Herodias shook a wet finger at the young woman’s nose. “But I love it; so don’t ever stop. But now”—she grasped the sides of the tub—“help me out. I mustn’t lie in this hot water any longer, or I’ll be as pink as a roast by the time the Tetrarch comes.” She grasped the maid’s arm to steady herself as she stepped from the tub to the tufted mat, and Neaera began to rub her down with a heavy towel. When the slave maid had finished drying her, Herodias turned to face the full-length minor, her body flushed and glowing from the brisk robbing. Palms on hips, she studied her own straight, still lithe frame. “Really, Neaera,” she asked, “how do I look?” With fingers spread she caressed the gently rounded smooth plane of her stomach and then lifted cupped palms to her firm, finely shaped breasts. “I haven’t lost my figure too badly, have I?”
“You haven’t lost it at all, Mistress,” the maid assured her, as she picked up a filmy undergarment from the bench. “It’s still youthful and still beautiful.” Herodias braced herself as the girl bent low to assist her into the black silk garment. Neaera leaned back and studied the older woman again. “You have the figure of a young woman, indeed, Mistress,” she said, “though fully matured and....”
“And what, Neaera? What were you going to say?”
“Well, Mistress, a figure to me more beautiful because of maturity, and more interesting.”
“And more alluring, more seductive, maybe?” Her smile was lightly wanton. “To the Tetrarch, perhaps? But the Herods, Neaera, and old Tiberius, too, I hear, like their women very young.” Her expression sobered. “I’m almost afraid he’ll be having eyes for Salome rather than for me. The child has matured remarkably, you know, in the last year.”
“I should think, though, Mistress, that the Tetrarch....”