The Ironsmith Read Online Free Page B

fluency, but the words did not matter. All that mattered was the seal and the signature.
    Zev’s examination of the document was no more than a glance. It was likely his literacy did not go beyond a stumbling acquaintance with the Hebrew characters, but again it didn’t matter. He knew who was in command.
    â€œWill you be taking John back with you?” The question was asked almost humbly.
    Caleb shook his head, and it was just possible to detect a certain darkening of the commander’s expression, suggesting he would have liked to be relieved of this burden.
    â€œNo. He is safest here. He is a popular figure, and his popularity renders him dangerous. We don’t want him near the cities.”
    â€œThen you plan to execute him?”
    â€œThat has not been settled. We must see how he responds to interrogation.”
    â€œInterrogation?”
    â€œYes.” Caleb allowed himself a tight smile. “That is the polite word for it.”
    This answer seemed to perplex the commander. It was possible that, in the isolation of Machaerus, he had never heard of John’s insulting references to the Tetrarch’s marriage, but did the precise nature of the charge matter? The Tetrarch’s will was a law unto itself.
    â€œIt may be a problem,” Zev announced, with perceptible reluctance. “He has only been here a fortnight, and already the men are grumbling. They say he is a prophet and beloved of God. They say it is a sin to keep him in prison.”
    â€œJohn is not a prophet. The age of prophecy is over. God has not sent us a true prophet in four hundred years. John preaches to the rabble and infects them with treason.”
    The commander did not react, and Caleb suddenly discovered that he was angry.
    â€œI don’t care what your men think,” he went on. “I look to you to keep them in order—unless you feel this is beyond your capacities.”
    â€œI will keep my men in order,” Zev answered sharply.
    â€œThen where lies your problem?”
    â€œI only think it will be difficult to find one of them willing to assist in the ‘interrogation.’”
    He seemed a little ashamed of the admission, and rightly so.
    â€œYou needn’t fear,” Caleb answered, after a pause just long enough to make his contempt felt. “I have provided for that contingency.”
    *   *   *
    His interview with the commander finished, Caleb supplied himself with a jar of beer and brought it to the covered wagon that had accompanied him all the way from Galilee. Inside was Uriah, huddled in a corner, clutching his knees and rocking back and forth like a frightened child.
    He was terrified of the open sky.
    In the dungeons of the Tetrarch’s palace in Sepphoris, the old capital of Galilee, Uriah was more feared than death. The dungeons were his home, and his duties there his consuming pleasure. He hardly seemed to know that there was a world beyond the cold, damp walls within which he exercised his authority.
    But now he was in a pitiable condition. Caleb knelt beside him and put the jar of beer into his hands.
    â€œDrink,” he said quietly. “It will be dark in a few hours, and then I myself will take you down to the prison.”
    Uriah finished off about half of the beer in what seemed like one swallow. He really was quite loathsome. His torso was short, but he had the long limbs of an ape. He seemed utterly hairless, and his skin was as pale as bread dough.
    â€œI want walls around me, Master. Even in this wagon I feel as if a breath of wind will carry me away into the empty air.”
    â€œI understand. I will see you safe.”
    And he would. Very soon Caleb would have need of Uriah.
    *   *   *
    That evening, having endured the company of soldiers all through dinner, Caleb took a stroll around the fortress walls. Below him the valley was covered in impenetrable shadow, but Machaerus was high enough that