Antipas was waiting for assistance and reinforcements from the Romans,
but as Vitellius, the Governor of Syria, had not yet arrived, he was
consumed with impatience and anxiety. Perhaps Agrippa had ruined his
cause with the Emperor, he thought. Philip, his third brother, sovereign
of Batania, was arming himself clandestinely. The Jews were becoming
intolerant of the tetrarch's idolatries; he knew that many were weary of
his rule; and he hesitated now between adopting one of two projects: to
conciliate the Arabs and win back their allegiance, or to conclude
an alliance with the Parthians. Under the pretext of celebrating his
birthday, he had planned to bring together, at a grand banquet,
the chiefs of his troops, the stewards of his domains, and the most
important men from the region about Galilee.

Antipas threw a keen glance along all the roads leading to Machaerus.
They were deserted. Eagles were sweeping through the air high above his
head; the soldiers of the guard, placed at intervals along the ramparts,
slept or dozed, leaning against the walls; all was silent within the
castle.

Suddenly he heard the sound of a distant voice, seeming to come from
the very depths of the earth. His cheek paled. After an instant's
hesitation, he leaned far over the balcony railing, listening intently,
but the voice had died away. Presently it rose again upon the quiet air;
Antipas clapped his hands together loudly, crying: "Mannaeus! Mannaeus!"

Instantly a man appeared, naked to the waist, after the fashion of a
masseur at the bath. Although emaciated, and somewhat advanced in years,
he was a giant in stature, and on his hip he wore a cutlass in a bronze
scabbard. His bushy hair, gathered up and held in place by a kind of