would kill Iaokanann.

"It is I!" thought the tetrarch.

It might be that the Arabs would return and make a successful attack
upon him. Perhaps the proconsul would discover his relations with the
Parthians. Several men whom Antipas had recognised as hired assassins
from Jerusalem, had escorted the priests in the train of the proconsul;
they all carried daggers concealed beneath their robes. The tetrarch had
no doubt whatever of the exactness of Phanuel's skill in astrology.

Suddenly he bethought him of Herodias. He would consult her. He hated
her, certainly, but she might give him courage; and besides, in spite
of his dislike, not all the bonds were yet broken of that sorcery which
once she had woven about him.

When he entered her chamber, he was met by the pungent odour of cinnamon
burning in a porphyry vase and the perfume of powders, unguents,
cloud-like gauzes and embroideries light as feathers, filled the air
with fragrance.

He did not speak of Phanuel's prophecy, nor of his own fear of the Jews
and the Arabs. Herodias had already accused him of cowardice. He spoke
only of the Romans, and complained that Vitellius had not confided to
him any of his military projects. He said he supposed the proconsul
was the friend of Caligula, who often visited Agrippa; and expressed
a surmise that he himself might be exiled, or that perhaps his throat
would be cut.

Herodias, who now treated him with a kind of disdainful indulgence,
tried to reassure him. At last she took from a small casket a curious
medallion, ornamented with a profile of Tiberius. The sight of it, she
said, as she gave it to Antipas, would make the lictors turn pale and
silence all accusing voices.

Antipas, filled with gratitude, asked her how the medallion had come
into her possession.

"It was given to me," was her only answer.

At that moment Antipas beheld a bare arm slipping through a portiere
hanging in front of him. It was the arm of a youthful woman, as graceful
in outline as if carved from ivory by Polyclitus. With a movement a
little awkward and at the same time charming, it felt about the wall an
instant, as if seeking something, then took down a tunic hanging upon a
hook near the doorway, and disappeared.

An elderly female attendant passed quietly through the room, lifted the
portiere, and went out. A sudden recollection pierced the memory of the
tetrarch.

"Is that woman one of thy slaves?" he asked.

"What matters that to the