The Ironsmith Read Online Free PDF Page A

the blood-red sun had not yet completely disappeared behind the horizon, and the gathering darkness allowed for a comfortable feeling of solitude.
    Where was this place? Caleb had never before traveled to Perea and had only the dimmest notion of its geography, but somewhere out there to the west was the Dead Sea. He had seen it once as a child, on an excursion with his family, and he remembered how still and gray the water had seemed, like slate.
    That had been a day’s journey from Jerusalem, his home.
    Jerusalem. He had not been inside its walls in eight years, not even for the holy days. He might die and never see it again. He did not even know if his parents were still alive.
    And all because of Michal.
    â€œGo. And take that sinful woman with you,” his father had said, the anger in him as cold as snow. “Live among the gentiles if it pleases you. You are almost one yourself.”
    His father, who was rigid even for a Levite, cursed him. His father, Caleb was quite sure, had never loved him. This was simply the last episode in a long history of rejection. And from that moment he had no father.
    That sinful woman. A fair description, if one was honest. Michal had been seventeen when they met, a married woman bored with her husband. They were lovers within days, and perhaps, Caleb could reasonably surmise after eight years with her, he had not been the first.
    Her husband had made no difficulties, agreeing to divorce her on payment of a trifling sum. Perhaps he was one of those who thought all women were as interchangeable as loincloths. Or perhaps he had been glad to escape.
    But Caleb knew, even after the eight wretched years of their marriage, that he would never give her up. He would as soon surrender the breath under his ribs.
    She was mostly in Tiberias now, an intimate friend of the Tetrarch’s wife. It was agony to be away from her.
    She teased and tormented him. Perhaps she had another lover.
    But the day would come, Caleb comforted himself, when all Galilee would fear him, when no man living would dare to take his place in her bed. And then she would have to behave and be his alone.
    What was he now? Very little more than one of the Lord Eleazar’s senior clerks. He had an office in the old palace in Sepphoris and a handful of scribes to deal with the more obvious tasks. He was in charge of the prison, although he did not administer it, and unofficially, by virtue of the fact that he had recommended the appointment of the commander, who was his creature, he controlled the palace garrison.
    But the source of his real power lay in the network of spies he had painstakingly created and which reached into every corner of Galilee. He knew what went on in the houses of the great and in the merest village. He knew what was said and done and, sometimes, even thought. He was the Tetrarch’s snarling watchdog, and for this he was feared. And that fear made him powerful, the rewards of which were not contemptible.
    The one check on his power was the Lord Eleazar, who was already vastly rich and therefore could afford the luxury of scruples.
    Power was magical. It settled every grievance and put all doubts to sleep. It could even dull his own fear, which nothing ever banished entirely.
    And, once he had used John to undermine the Lord Eleazar, he would have power that was almost limitless. He could see the future opening before him like the dawn.
    The last sliver of the sun was gone, and the light over the western hills was collapsing as if of its own weight. The oil lamp Caleb had brought out with him hardly allowed him to see his feet. He decided he would go back to his room, drink a few cups of wine, and go to bed.
    Tomorrow would bring John.
    *   *   *
    Caleb had no idea what to expect from this desert preacher.
    At their first interview, the Baptist was naked except for his chains. He seemed exhausted. He was bleeding from cuts on his knees and the tops of his feet, which