Aulus had tied behind his back the sleeves of his violet robe, embroidered with silver.  His clustering curls were laid in carefully arranged rows; a necklace of sapphires gleamed against his throat, plump and white as that of a woman.  Crouched upon a rug near him, with legs crossed was a pretty white boy, upon whose face shone a perpetual smile.  Aulus had found him somewhere among the kitchens and had taken a violent fancy to him.  He had made the child one of his suite, but as he never could remember his protege’s Chaldean name, called him simply “the Asiatic.”  From time to time the little fellow sprang up and played about the dining-table, and his antics appeared to amuse the guests.

At one side of the tetrarch’s pavilion were the tables at which were seated his priests and officers; also a number of persons from Jerusalem, and the more important men from the Grecian cities.  At the table on the left of the proconsul sat Marcellus with the publicans, several friends of the tetrarch, and various representatives from Cana, Ptolemais, and Jericho.  Seated at other tables were mountaineers from Liban and many of the old soldiers of Herod’s army; a dozen Thracians, a Greek and two Germans; besides huntsmen and herdsmen, the Sultan of Palmyra, and sailors from Eziongaber.  Before each guest was placed a roll of soft bread, upon which to wipe the fingers.  As soon as they were seated, hands were stretched out with the eagerness of a vulture’s claws, seizing upon olives, pistachios, and almonds.  Every face was joyous, every head was crowned with flowers, except those of the Pharisees, who refused to wear the wreaths, regarding them as a symbol of Roman voluptuousness and vice.  They shuddered when the attendants sprinkled them with galburnum and incense, the use of which the Pharisees reserved strictly for services in the Temple.

Antipas observed that Aulus rubbed himself under the arms, as if annoyed by heat or chafing; and promised to give him three flasks of the same kind of precious balm that had been used by Cleopatra.

A captain from the garrison of Tiberias who had just arrived, placed himself behind the tetrarch as protection in case any unexpected trouble should arise.  But his attention was divided between observing the movements of the proconsul and listening to the conversation of his neighbours.

There was, naturally, much talk of Iaokanann, and other men of his stamp.

“It is said,” remarked one of the guests, “that Simon of Gitta washed away his sins in fire.  And a certain man called Jesus—­”

“He is the worst of them all!” interrupted Eleazar.  “A miserable imposter!”

At this a man sprang up from a table near the tetrarch’s pavilion, and made his way towards the place where Eleazar sat.  His face was almost as pale as his linen robe, but he addressed the Pharisees boldly, saying:  “That is a lie!  Jesus has performed miracles!”

Antipas expressed a long-cherished desire to see the man Jesus perform some of his so-called miracles.  “You should have brought him with you,” he said to the last speaker, who was still standing.  “Tell us what you know about him,” he commanded.