The tetrarch had already forgotten her presence, it appeared.  He paid no further heed to her anger, but looked intently at a young girl who had just stepped out upon the balcony of a house not far away.  At her side stood an elderly female slave, who held over the girl’s head a kind of parasol with a handle made of long, slender reeds.  In the middle of the rug spread upon the floor of the balcony stood a large open travelling-hamper or basket, and girdles, veils, head-dresses, and gold and silver ornaments were scattered about in confusion.  At intervals the young girl took one object or another in her hands, and held it up admiringly.  She was dressed in the costume of the Roman ladies, with a flowing tunic and a peplum ornamented with tassels of emeralds; and blue silken bands confined her hair, which seemed almost too luxuriant, since from time to time she raised a small hand to push back the heavy masses.  The parasol half hid the maiden from the gaze of Antipas, but now and then he caught a glimpse of her delicate neck, her large eyes, or a fleeting smile upon her small mouth.  He noted that her figure swayed about with a singularly elastic grace and elegance.  He leaned forward, his eyes kindled, his breath quickened.  All this was not lost upon Herodias, who watched him narrowly.

“Who is that maiden?” the tetrarch asked at last.

Herodias replied that she did not know, and her fierce demeanour suddenly changed to one of gentleness and amiability.

At the entrance to the castle the tetrarch was awaited by several Galileans, the master of the scribes, the chief of the land stewards, the manager of the salt mines, and a Jew from Babylon, commanding his troops of horse.  As the tetrarch approached the group, he was greeted with respectful enthusiasm.  Acknowledging the acclamations with a grave salute, he entered the castle.

As he proceeded along one of the corridors, Phanuel suddenly sprang from a corner and intercepted him.

“What!  Art thou still here?” said the tetrarch in displeasure.  “Thou seekest Iaokanann, no doubt.”

“And thyself, my lord.  I have something of great importance to tell thee.”

At a sign from Antipas, the Essene followed him into a somewhat dark and gloomy room.

The daylight came faintly through a grated window.  The walls were of a deep shade of crimson, so dark as to look almost black.  At one end of the room stood an ebony bed, ornamented with bands of leather.  A shield of gold, hanging at the head of the bed, shone like a sun in the obscurity of the apartment.  Antipas crossed over to the couch and threw himself upon it in a half-reclining attitude, while Phanuel remained standing before him.  Suddenly he raised one hand, and striking a commanding attitude said: 

“At times, my lord, the Most High sends a message to the people through one of His sons.  Iaokanann is one of these.  If thou oppress him, thou shalt be punished!”