Free Salome by Beatrice Gormley Page A

Tiberias. In any case, Diana, protector of maidens, wouldn’t be interested in me once I was married.
    About mid-morning we turned off the Via Maritimus, the main trade route, and followed another road east. Parting the carriage curtains, I saw hills planted with vineyards and olive orchards and low hovels here and there. The buildings looked more like goat sheds than houses.
    The hills sloped down to a broad plain covered with fields of grain. “There are some fertile farmlands in Galilee, aren’t there?” remarked Herodias. “After we get settled in Tiberias, I must get Antipas to deed me my own estates or perhaps a tax revenue.”
    “Why?” I asked, thinking of the ruby earrings. “He gives you anything you ask for.”
    “Yes,” she said, “but it’s not the same as having one’s own wealth. I lost my dowry when I left Junior, you see.”
    A sober note in my mother’s voice made me glance at her. She was still gazing out the window, and there was a line of worry between her eyes. I felt suddenly uneasy myself, as if Herodias and I were not in a carriage, but in a little boat on the high seas. Then the moment passed. Smothering a giggle behind her hand, Herodias began to tell me some gossip about Procula, Pilate’s wife.
    The road crossed the plain to a river, marked by the trees that grew thickly along its banks. Soon the forward section of our caravan, including Antipas’s carriage and most of the guards, disappeared into the wooded margin. Our carriage, too, followed the road into the trees. I smelled the pleasantly cool freshwater air, and finally I glimpsed the water itself through the oaks and sycamores. By this time, the other carriage was on the farther side and disappearing into the trees again.
    Our carriage paused, and a guard rode up to speak to Herodias. “Lady Herodias, the ground is very soft at the river’s edge. It might be well to stop here and lighten the carriage before we ford the river. We can unload the baggage, take your ladyship and her daughter across, and return for the baggage.”
    “Nonsense,” said Herodias. “I will keep my personal baggage with me, as I ordered at the beginning.”
    “Just as my lady commands,” said the guard, expressionless, and he rode off.
    As the carriage rolled forward again, Herodias sniffed. “Antipas’s men need to learn to obey orders from his lady. And to use their heads! If the carriage is too heavy, why, hitch another horse to it! That guard’s horse, for—”
    A severe jolt broke off Herodias’s words. The carriage pitched forward, causing her to lurch toward me. I clutched at the nearest curtain, and it ripped away from the rod.
    The horses whinnied, and I heard shouts and scuffling in front of the carriage. At first I thought the driver and guards were cursing because we were stuck in the mud. The next moment, the carriage was surrounded by strangers in rough clothes, shouting in Aramaic and brandishing knives. There must have been twenty of them.
    One stranger in a dirty head cloth scowled through the curtainless window. He barked a command.
    I shrank away. Herodias screamed, “Help! Guards!”
    The stranger spoke again, this time in halting Greek. “Give riches, quick, quick!”
    “He’s a bandit,” I said stupidly. “He wants our jewelry.” Lifting my hands to my ears, I unfastened my opal earrings.
    But Herodias clutched her neck, her wrists, her hands, as if to hold on to all her jewels as long as possible, and screamed louder still. “Help! Bandits!”
    As I dropped the earrings in the bandit’s hand, I noticed with wonder how young he was. He couldn’t have been any older than I was—he had no beard—and he looked shorter than me.
    And then more guards splashed back across the river and fell on the bandits with their swords. A few of the outlaws were killed and most of the others scattered, but the guards seized the one with my earrings. Although the young bandit struggled wildly, moments later he lay facedown on