To Be a King

By Hugh J. Cannon

(Previous chapter)

Chapter 2

The home in Jerusalem to which David and his retinue came was a palatial one, more beautiful and scarcely less pretentious than that of Tiberius at Rome. The loving deference with which David was received by the host of servants indicated a heartfelt affection which cannot be purchased with money. The house had been beautified by gold, silver, and precious gems. Skilled decorators had exhausted their ingenuity in an effort to make it and its surroundings perfect. In the gardens, too, the hand of an artist as well as a craftsman was visible.

The young man was conscious of an abnormal obsession to be satisfied with nothing less than the best which could be obtained.

While his association with heathen nations had not weaned him from the faith of his fathers, it had given him tastes not common to his race; and the delight he took in sports, combined with his rugged physique, had encouraged him to become highly proficient along lines requiring great bodily strength and endurance. In addition, no possible opportunity of gaining knowledge had been denied him, and his studies, aided by an innate love of virtue inherited from his parents and solicitously cultivated by those worthy people, had kept him unpolluted despite the vice which flourished on all sides and to which his associates so flagrantly abandoned themselves.

During the long hours of traveling, after leaving Rome with hope so high, he had endeavored to analyze his own character. Lebanah’s words had made a deep impression. If his mission was to bring redemption to an oppressed people, he must be worthy of the call. Outwardly his character was unusually stable; and yet he recognized the fact that it was in reality made up of strangely divergent and contradictory elements.

Not many hours after his return to Jerusalem, David was visited by a number of his staunch friends and supporters. Among them were sol- diers, statesmen, and scholars; and the young man felt at ease with them all, for he was himself a thoroughly trained soldier, had prepared himself to be a member of the great Sanhedrin as soon as years and marriage entitled him to such a place, and was a scholar of more than ordinary note.

These callers were impatient to learn the results of his visit to Rome; and the report of what had ‘occurred there was given and received with enthusiasm.

“One thing Tiberius advised,” David said, “is most repugnant to my feelings, and he was offended because of my reluctance to accept his suggestion. He insists that I cultivate Herod and his friends, conceding of course that I cannot win the former, but with the thought that some of the latter may join our movement. But you, my friends, know how I abhor the expedient, and I can hardly bring myself to fulfil my promise to the emperor.”

Tiberius’ view met with vigorous approval from all. Haran expressed the general feeling.

“It is the wise thing to do. To be sure you will never have Herod’s good will, but he may be less dangerous as a professed friend than as an avowed enemy. He himself is so fickle that he has few sincere followers. Those who remain faithful to him do so because they think such allegiance offers some personal advantage.”

“That is largely true but not entirely so,” interposed a genial old man, Elihu. “He has some very up- right men on his side whose support we must win if we are to succeed — Nicodemus, for example.”

“And Zebulon?” The question aroused opposition on the part of most of those present.

“Zebulon is absolutely pledged to the tetrarch,” Elihu replied, “and I am not sure he would add to our strength if we could win his support. He is powerful to be sure, but unscrupulous, and he hates David bitterly. Do you know Herod has promised, in the event he becomes king, that at the earliest possible moment Zebulon shall have Annas’ position, and that much of the former power of that office is to be restored?”

“What? Make that dissolute wretch high priest?” A chorus of voices were raised in protest.

“That promise has been given. Of that I have positive knowledge,” Elihu said. “Judah would indeed have cause to mourn should such a calamity befall us, and we can do our race no greater service than to thwart such unrighteous plans. Zebulon is corrupt, but he has, never- the-less, a large following, and Herod can well afford to make flattering promises in return for the prestige which these elements will bring. Notwithstanding the rebuff he received in Rome, the tetrarch is determined to succeed and is spurred on by the ambitious and unprincipled Herodias, to whose seductive wiles he has fallen an easy victim.”

“Is he putting forth any direct efforts to win my friends?” David asked.

Several were eager to answer, but Elihu was first to be heard. “To show the lengths to which Herod is prepared to go, I have but to report that he sent for me to seduce me away from you, David, with promise of position and honors. Seduce me! When I have loved you always as my own son! I learned that he is making handsome offers of reward to others, and we must fight him with his own weapons, not the venal ones he uses, to be sure, but with the thing you hate, David, expediency. He professes to have the kindliest feelings for you personally, and no word indicated that he views you as a rival. We must cultivate him and his friends.”

This meeting lasted far into the night. Before its conclusion, it was decided that all present should maintain as pleasant relations with Herod as possible. After much persuasion, David agreed to accept an invitation to attend a celebration which the tetrarch was giving in Jericho in honor of his own birthday.

Frequent reports reached David that Herod had spared neither expense nor pains to make the celebration an event which should surpass in splendor all similar occasions. It was to be held in the palace at the Garden of Palms in Jericho, renowned as the most beautiful spot in Palestine.

As the young nobleman, en route with his servants to attend this gathering, came to the brow of the hill from which the first glimpse of the “sea of the plain” and the Jordan valley was to be had, he ordered his company to a halt and gazed enraptured at the scene spread out before him.

Seven hundred feet below the surface of the Mediterranean and on the eastern slope of the mountains of Judea was the city of Jericho. In early history of the promised land it was known as the fragrant city, “a pleasant place” to live. To the east and southeast the ground declined gradually to the Jordan and the Salt Sea.

On this particular evening Jericho was at its best. A soft rain had fallen during the day, and nature was radiant. The final rays of the setting sun beautified the dark blue saline sea and adjacent hills and plains with their semitropical foliage. Above the city towered the somber mountain, later known as Mount Temptation.

Even the poorest spots in the landscape were wondrously rich in color and in history. Here prophets had communed with the Almighty and had boldly declared his message. Mount Nebo of the Pisgah district, the highest peak of the mountains of Moab on the extreme east of the valley, stood as a watchful sentinel over the promised land. The River Jordan, a purple ribbon in the mellow evening light, verdant gardens, silvery lake, and desolate hills united in making the picture impressively colorful.

So interested in the scene was the young man that the banquet was almost forgotten. When the lengthening shadows finally reminded him of his duty, he commanded his servants to follow, and urging his swift and willing camel to its greatest speed, he was soon at the gaily decorated palace.

One might easily have imagined from the interest awakened by David’s arrival that the Roman emperor himself had honored the feast with his presence. No host could have welcomed a guest more ceremoniously, nor could any hostess be more graciously charming than was the ill-famed Herodias.

Indeed, more than one observant guest suggested to David that this affair was specially planned to rehabilitate Herod and Herodias among the influential men and women of the land; for despite their arrogance and usual disregard of the proprieties, they realized that a feeling was developing against them which, if not effectively checked, would result in disaster to their plans. David’s welcome, therefore, was particularly ostentatious, and he was urged to mingle with friends and acquaintances while his hosts greeted other newly arrived guests.

David was attracted by a magnificent garden made more colorful by the tints of the departing sun and further enlivened by the lights, freshly trimmed, shining through the open windows and doors of the palace.

Stepping out of the house, he stood unexpectedly in the presence of a man and a young woman. The man was Zebulon. The girl was a winsome creature, and the exquisite coloring left by the setting sun on surrounding hills, plains, and flowers could not surpass that of her dainty face. She gave the impression that her days had been spent in loving and being loved. Though scarcely emerged from girlhood, there was about her the look of a woman who could meet life’s problems with courage and determination.

David was about to withdraw apologetically, but the girl so clearly expected Zebulon to observe the laws of courtesy and bid the newcomer remain that Zebulon could not do otherwise. David was introduced to the young girl, Ruth, who manifested relief that her interview with Zebulon had been thus opportunely terminated. Her companion, on the other hand, could not conceal his annoyance at the interruption.

Soon these three with the other guests were bidden to the feast, the splendor of which surprised even David, accustomed as he was to the display of wealth and grandeur. Nor was the real purpose of the celebration left long in doubt. Speeches referred to the magnificence of Herod and extolled his fitness to govern, not only in the comparatively narrow sphere which was his by reason of being tetrarch, but also in a higher position and one in which he would find a wider field for his incomparable talents.

Zebulon was directing the affair. David watched him narrowly, for it was apparent that his natural animosity had been augmented by the unintentional interruption in the garden. David knew that if this man, his lifelong enemy, now smarting under the sting of jealousy, could find in the occasion an opportunity to embarrass him, it would not be overlooked. However, he was not prepared for the sudden and impulsive step which his opponent took. Zebulon announced with ill-concealed triumph that David Hyrcanus would respond to the toast, “Long life and higher position to the matchless Herod.”

All eyes were turned instantly upon the young nobleman, for his aspirations were well known, although they were not yet publicly announced.

David had always prided himself on his quick and decisive nature, but in this instance he hesitated for a moment. With a winning smile on her tawdry but still attractive face, Herodias came coquettishly to him and laid her hand appealingly on his shoulder.

“You will respond, will you not? Do, for my sake, if for no other.”

Thus importuned he arose to his feet. To those who knew him, the determined look on his face indicated a dangerous purpose. Truly it would be a serious matter to violate the rules of hospitality by stating his honest opinion of their host. But he firmly believed the welfare and indeed the liberties of an entire people were in the balance; and the people involved were his own, the chosen race — God’s people. He must rebuke the usurper.

“Honored Herod,” he began, then paused a moment seeking suitable words in which to clothe the unpalatable truth. His indignant eyes met those of Zebulon who had arisen to assist Herodias to her seat. Evidently the pair felt they had carried matters too far, for they began a whispered consultation. David, accustomed to having people hang upon his words, was piqued at the lack of courtesy, though pleased to have an additional moment in which to assemble his thoughts.

The excitement caused by the strained situation was eased by the entrance of Salome, Herodias’ daughter, who, at a signal from Zebulon, glided into the center of the room and began to dance for the guests. She was a young and captivating creature, with all the beauty of her mother and something more, for she had not entirely lost that which in a young girl surpasses all else, a look of innocence, and which was gone forever from the older woman.

David was still standing, and Herod made a gesture as if to stop the dance until the speech was finished.

“By no means,” the young nobleman insisted. “Proceed with your plans; I can speak afterward.”

Thus encouraged the damsel began the rhythmical motion. She was graceful, voluptuous, and enticing, and as she passed from table to table, the applause which greeted her was overwhelming. Each time she indicated a desire to retire, there were such vociferous acclamations of delight at her performance that she was forced to continue until, through sheer exhaustion, she withdrew from the room. Himself highly pleased with the dance and inexpressibly gratified by the comments of his guests, Herod bade Salome return and ostentatiously told her to ask whatsoever she would have, even to the half of his kingdom, and he placed much emphasis upon the word kingdom. Flushed with pride at the numerous compliments which were showered upon her, she asked for permission to consider the matter for a few moments before making her choice.

David was prepared to resume his speech but waited for an invitation. The guests arose from the table, and he and some of his followers went into the garden where they discussed the unpleasant position in which they had been placed.

The friends considered the advisability of leaving the palace in a body as a protest against the treatment accorded them; but the majority, including David, felt that such a course would be viewed as a retreat in the face of difficulties and would give encouragement to Herod’s supporters.

Gradually they were joined by others of David’s sympathizers. One of them asked:

“Did you hear what Salome asked of Herod?”

“No, what was it?”

“The head of that barbarian, John, known as the Baptist.”

A few of the group were amused; more were indignant.

“I have heard that Herod has had this man illegally imprisoned in the fortress of Machaeverus because John rebuked him for his incestuous relations with Herodias; but surely Herod would not dare to add murder to his other crimes!” It was David who spoke.

“The tetrarch was aghast,” continued the man. “Perhaps his conscience did not play an active part, but his cowardice did, for though many of those present laughed at the unusual request and were anxious to see the promise fulfilled, it was apparent that some were offended by the suggestion.”

“Was no protest made?”

“No word was spoken, but Herod was keen enough to sense the opposition. Zebulon felt it necessary to come to his wavering master’s assistance, feeling that a failure to keep a pledge so publicly given would be fatal to all their interests. He extolled Herod’s tenderheartedness, but said he carried it to extremes. He must adopt some of the sterner qualities of his illustrious father, who did not permit members of his own family to live if he deemed it necessary for the good of the land to slay them. ‘This fellow John, so uncouth in dress and manner,’ he went on to say, ‘is a menace to us all, preaching sedition as he does and attacking the characters of those in high places.’ He insisted that all who love their country must approve the girl’s request and demand to see it immediately granted. The applause which greeted ZebuIon’s speech gave Herod the courage to call some of his officers and give them the order for the execution.”

“You mean to tell us that this crime has already been ordered?” David asked.

“Ordered and doubtless executed ere this. While I was still in the hall, the officers left to carry out their instructions.”

“Did you not protest?”

“What could I do? I am here to help you, not — ”

“But something must be done to prevent such a hideous murder!”

They were attracted to the banquet hall by some new excitement, and entered in time to see upon a golden platter the head of the man who had dared call the world, including the proud Herod, to repentance.

Herodias was fiendishly gleeful. “I am avenged,” she exclaimed triumphantly. “And thus shall perish all who raise a voice against the mighty Herod.”

David strode wrathfully forward.

His bearing attracted instant attention, and there was a deathlike silence in the hall. “I was interrupted in my speech earlier in the evening but shall finish it now.”

Like an avenging king he stood before the tetrarch, whose gaze, de- fiant at first, fell before the other’s stern eyes. The cowering ruler became a hateful sight. Every eye was focused on the commanding figure of the speaker.

“Herod, there is still one voice which dares raise itself against you and your damnable crimes. Here in your palace and in the presence of your friends who buzz approvingly about you as flies about filth, I denounce you as a cowardly murderer, as your father was before you! Because of your iniquitous acts, you will writhe under tortures a thousandfold more acute than this poor fanatic suffered.”

The painful silence continued for a moment. Then the astonished ruler, trembling with anger and fear, sprang to his feet and called for his officers. Before they could reach his side, the overwrought Salome, who was about to present the charger with its hideous burden to her mother, let it fall to the floor with a crash. The head rolled to the very feet of Herodias, and the accusing eyes offered a final rebuke to the terrified woman. She and other women screamed, and Ruth, who was trying to reach the door, was about to faint when David caught her in his arms and, defying all who would hinder him, carried her into the fresh night air.

(To be continued)