“Herod – Unleashed”
“My Liege.” Cornelius relaxed his formal stance and nodded slightly.
“A caravan from Persia has arrived.”
Herod stood, lifting his arms while Sarbonius toweled him dry in preparation for the tunic.
Cornelius hesitated slightly before continuing…
“They are quite insistent…uh… the appearance of a star…a sign … “
Cornelius paused, his furrowed brow suggested he was choosing his words carefully.
Herod sensed the hesitation and shifted a penetrating gaze to Cornelius;
His head tilting slightly as he listened more intently.
“They seem to believe the appearance of a star is a sign,,, signifying a royal birth ….They have come to pay homage…” He took a quiet breath before he delivered the last tidbit of information: “Bearing gifts.”
Herod stiffened noticeably as he turned to face Cornelius. His pursed lips curled his mouth into a snarl.
His eyes became vacant, black holes where a fire had begun to smolder.
Cornelius’s senses were on a knife’s edge as he shifted imperceptibly.
He knew not to react when the dark cloud came over Herod. In this state of mind any action would be treated as a threat.
He carefully continued with the briefing, giving no indication he noticed the change in Herod’s demeanor.
“They are of Persian nobility.”
He paused ever so slightly to allow Herod to ingest the information.
“They believe their observation of the star is a fulfillment of a Jewish prophecy.”
He cleared his throat slightly, seeking a matter-of-fact tone, before continuing.
“They believe it portends the royal birth of a prophesied Jewish king.”
Herod exploded in a fit of rage,
Venting his anger on the brass bowl at the end of the slabbed limestone bench, he grabbed it and hurled it angrily towards the far end of the pool;
The bowl, bounced and clanged noisily against the stones, the shrill clamor reverberating its protest.
Cornelius remained at attention, unruffled, his eyes ahead.
“Why must I always be challenged!”
Herod bellowed, like an enraged bull; Bloodied and seeking his tormentor amid the frenzied noise of the colosseum!
“There is no Jew king! I am the only KING of the Jews! I rule in Judea!”
His voice was hard and bitter. He paused, panting with the exersion.
Taking a deep breath, he exhaled as he turned to Cornelius.
Struggling to regain his composure, he assumed a forced civil tone; the change in his visage was remarkable.
“Situate them in the palace gardens: Instruct Messala to post additional Praetorian guards.” He paused briefly deep in thought. He adjusted his belt, fiddling with it to buy some time for the next instruction.
“Prepare a formal reception.”
He held out his arms as Sarbonius arranged the toga over the tunic.
“Inform the high priest and Sanhedrin. I’m quite sure, ‘Our Guests’ will want to meet our religious leaders.”
The sarcasm in his voice was biting, a remnant of the tyrade he had just managed to quell.
“As you wish my liege.” Cornelius bowed an acknowledgment of the instruction, then turned smartly on his heel and exited the bath.
Pagan Rome understood that Jerusalem was the religious center for the Jews.
Herod, himself half-Jewish, was accustomed to entertaining dignitaries and large religious activities.
The palace gardens, with lush vegetation, beautiful fountains and bronze figurines, provided the backdrop for entertaining dignitaries and indulgent parties.
Herod made his appearance after the guests had been seated at a large table piled high with extravagant delicacies; A product of Rome’s power and wealth. The Sanhedrin were seated separately and served according to kosher rules of etiquette.
He was a gracious host, representing the power and influence of the Roman empire.
He listened intently as Gaspar, Melchior, and Balthazar recounted the purpose of their entourage and the appearance of the star. When they finished Herod turned to the high priest and several prominent members of the Sanhedrin.
He swallowed, struggling to keep his roiling emotions in check.
“Where is it written in the sacred writings regarding this … “Star of Jacob?”
One of the Sanhedrin spoke up. “The prophet Balaam spoke a prophecy regarding the appearance of a star.”
Herod turned and looked through him with a steely gaze. “Yes?” He spoke the one word question with a note of impatience and edge to his voice.
“Did the prophet also say where this king was to be born?” The question had an ominous tone.
Herod nodded for the servant to refill his wine chalice.
The high priest spoke, his condescending tone gave his voice a weaselly sound.
“The prophet Micah wrote “thou Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, art not the least among the princes of Judah: For out of thee shall come a Governor, that shall rule my people Israel.”
The whine in his voice grated on Herod. He turned to the three with a forced smile.
“There you have it. Bethlehem of Judah. Very interesting…”
Herod made as if to continue the question, then stopped. He turned to dismiss the members of the Sanhedrin. His instinct told him he knew all he needed to know.
“I want to thank the most distinguished members of the Sanhedrin for joining us at the palace to welcome the Magi. You are free to return to your duties.”
After they had dutifully excused themselves and left, from their abrupt dismissal, Herod turned to the Magi.
“Fortunately for you, Bethlehem is only a short journey from here.
Go, and when you find the infant, return to me, so I too may worship him.”
Having commissioned the Magi he turned to leave, but again stopped.
