King's Shadow: A Novel of King Herod's Court by Angela Hunt

Author:Angela Hunt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Biblical Fiction;Courts and courtiers—­Fiction;| Herod I (King of Judea;73 B.C.–4 B.C.)—­Fiction;Christian fiction;Historical fiction;FIC042030;FIC042040;FIC027050
ISBN: 9781493418596
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2019-06-10T16:00:00+00:00

Costobar and I had just reentered my bedchamber when I turned to Zara and abruptly dismissed her.

“But, mistress, do you want me to help you—?”

“I am not retiring right away, so run along. Costobar and I must meet with the king.”

Zara bowed and departed straightaway, which left my husband and I alone for the first time that night. “Did you hear . . . ?” I began.

“Of course! I thought I was imagining things.”

“How could she?”

“They must do things differently in Egypt. And she did have a son by Julius Caesar.”

“I’m sure his wife wasn’t happy about it.”

“Mariamne looked as if she wanted to slap—”

“She might have slapped Herod if he had not refused.”

“He will want to talk about this. Will he summon us tonight or tomorrow?”

“He’s probably trying to calm Mariamne now. If he wants to talk, we’ll know soon enough.”

The moon had scarcely risen above the horizon when a messenger knocked on the door. “The king asks for you and your husband to—”

“We’re coming.”

Costobar grabbed a lamp and I followed, moving silently along the halls until we mounted the stairs to Herod’s private reception room. We found him inside, not pacing as I had feared but sitting calmly at the table, a loaf of bread and a block of cheese in front of him.

“Come,” he said, gesturing to a pair of empty chairs. “Have something to eat while we discuss what we should do with the queen who has made herself too much at home.”

“I thought you were taking her back to Egypt,” I said, sinking into the chair. I looked at the cheese and frowned—the notion of food suddenly turned my stomach.

“She needs to leave,” Costobar said, taking his seat next to me. “And on the journey you would do well to place guards around your abode. A woman that forward would think nothing of slipping into your tent during the dead of night. And what would Mariamne do then?”

“I do not want to sleep with that woman,” Herod said, his voice flat. “She does not interest me.”

“I know you do not want to offend Antony—”

“My reasons have nothing to do with Antony. Cleopatra is not beautiful, Mariamne is. Why would I sleep with a short little woman who talks too much, plots with Alexandra behind my back, and would happily kill me if she could arrange it? We know she covets Judea. I cannot see how she would profit by sleeping with me, unless it was to turn Antony against me. But I am not a man who would willingly give her pleasure.”

I blinked, surprised by the vehemence of my brother’s words.

“Then what do we do with her?” Pheroras asked as he came into the room. He nodded to Herod, broke off a hunk of bread, and dropped into an empty seat. “If you travel with her to Egypt, you had better double the guard around your tent. She’s the sort who would pay handsomely to have someone stick a knife in your back as you slept.

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