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‘Then it makes little sense,’ repeated Balazar, his cheeks ruddying.
‘Unless you think that Ben-Hadad of Damascus has ambitions to seize that piece of the Highway,’ explained Jezebel. ‘It borders his land of course. Should it fall into his hands traders would be at his mercy. That does neither Judah nor Tyre and Sidon any good at all.’
Ithbaal nodded, but his attention had fallen from her face to her dress. ‘I presume you have something else to wear for dinner. One of your very best outfits. And perhaps that engraved amethyst pendant I gave you for the Spring Festival.’
‘You want me to meet the Judean officials?’
‘They’re absolute barbarians,’ said Balazar. ‘No culture, no art, their food is bland, and that awful brown land—’
‘I suppose I’ll seat you between the King’s son Jehoshaphat and his son Jehu,’ said her father to her, resting his hand on her shoulder. He spoke casually, but she felt the weight of his touch. ‘I am sure you will show them both the very best of your hospitality.’
Jezebel’s heart banged hard in her chest, and she held her breath to slow it down. ‘Of course, Father.’
Her father stood and walked away without another word and Jezebel could only watch him go, as dizzy now as she had been up on the promontory.
‘You know what he means, don’t you,’ said Balazar slyly, ‘sitting you next to—’
‘I know.’
She ran past Hisham out of the retiring room and up the grand stone staircase to her room, flinging back the heavy drapes and darting across the corner of the room to the small shrine to the great Goddess Astarte beside the east window. But the stone plinth was already heaped with grapes, and the redwood circle carved with Astarte’s manifestations was wound with fresh tendrils and leaves of the vine.
Jezebel glanced frantically around the room, for Astarte’s shrine was only ever dressed for festivals and for weddings. At the foot of the bed stood Rebecca, her hands clasped at her waist, her eyebrows arched knowingly beneath her greying hair. Beside her was her youngest daughter, Beset, a year older than Jezebel and in Palace service at her mother’s side. The girl smiled at Jezebel. Jezebel tried to speak, but her throat was tight and she could only sink down onto the white kneeler at the foot of the shrine. At a nod from Rebecca, Beset filled Astarte’s ceremonial bowl with water and gave it to Jezebel. She drank it down gratefully.
‘What did Father tell you?’ she whispered, looking up at her maids. ‘You must know something, else why would you have dressed the shrine?’
‘So that Astarte will guide you,’ said Rebecca.
‘I will have to marry one of these Judeans to secure the safety of the Highway,’ gulped Jezebel. She’d been expecting this day for two years – not many royal daughters remained unmarried in their sixteenth year. ‘Has he told you which one?’
‘The Palace is full of gossip—’ whispered Beset.
‘Then which?’
‘It won’t do us any good to speculate,’ said Rebecca, frowning at her daughter. ‘We have made our offering to the Goddess, so we must allow her to take care of you.’
Jezebel shook her head. ‘It would surely be better if I did not understand what is at stake, then I could just do as I am told without thinking about it.’
‘When have you ever done as you are told?’ said Rebecca. ‘Now come and bathe and then we can dress you. You must look your best for your future husband, whomever the Fates decide upon.’
Chapter Three
Later that evening, Jezebel entered her father’s crowded chambers for the ceremonial dinner, her heart feeling tight in her chest. Two courtiers held the pleated train of her finest silk dress, and she kept her eyes fixed on her father rather than glancing around at what form her future might take. Ithbaal stood to escort her personally to the couch opposite his, signalling the respect which she was to be accorded by the visitors. Jezebel lowered her gaze to the tables, groaning beneath golden bowls piled high with cooked grains and meat, fruits and nuts.
‘You look wonderful,’ whispered her father.
Jezebel concentrated on keeping her shoulders drawn back. Standing so, she was almost as tall as her father. Her shoulders were bare, and almost brushed by the amethyst pendants of her earrings. Rebecca had wanted to whiten her skin, but Jezebel hated being pasted with make-up, especially when it was liable to crack as the evening wore on. She settled for a pearlescent shimmer dusted across her collar bones. Her lips were painted vermillion, using one of her mother’s recipes learned from the Egyptians.
‘I had always thought it like the cool of a midnight sky,’ said a voice to her right, ‘but in truth it is more like the heat of a glorious sunset.’
‘I’m sorry?’ said Jezebel politely, turning. The accent was not like any she had heard before.
‘Tyrian purple,’ said a young man settling on the couch next to her. From Balazar’s dismissive description, Jezebel had imagined the Judeans to be as dull and ugly as their lands, but this fellow was as handsome as any of the young men of Tyre. His jaw was a little squarer and his eyes had a dark knowing about them that Jezebel found oddly cool in their attractive setting. From his unlined face, he might have been only a couple of years older than her, perhaps even eighteen, but his body was certainly a man’s. She blushed at how intently he studied her in return. His eyes caressed her shoulders, then took in the folds of fabric that draped across her body. ‘The cloth I’ve seen dyed with it in the Jerusalem markets has a rather bluer hue to it,’ he continued, ‘but your dress is quite rich and red in comparison.’
There was a moment’s silence before Jezebel realised he was expecting an answer, but when she tried to speak, no words would come. The Hebrew he spoke was guttural but soft. She coughed, her fingers covering her mouth, and the young man quickly reached for a bowl of wine and offered it to her.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered, furious with herself for being so struck by his looks that she had forgotten her poise and her manners. She drank some wine, and swall owed hard. ‘I’m afraid that the colour you are describing isn’t true Tyrian purple, but tekhelet.’
‘I don’t know this word,’ he said, ‘what does it mean?’
Jezebel swallowed some more wine, its richness surely flushing her cheeks even more. ‘Tekhelet is the colour used for our ritual clothing.’
‘And that makes it different?’
Jezebel lowered her gaze. ‘I am quite sure one of the officials will be able to tell you about the technical processes if you wish to know.’
He leaned closer to her and she smelled the sweet almond oil on his hair. ‘It can be very boring,’ he whispered, ‘listening to a lot of officials droning on. But I’m sure the Princess Jezebel can make even a dead snail sound interesting.’
‘It seems you know more about me than I know about you,’ said Jezebel. ‘I’m afraid I don’t even know your name.’
The young man lowered his head and hesitantly offered his hand, palm up, in the traditional Phoenician greeting. Jezebel lowered her palm onto his in response, the calluses at the base of his fingers catching on her own smooth soft skin.
‘I apologise. A soldier’s hands are not as soft as a princess’s,’ he said. ‘I’m Jehu, the youngest in the Judean line. My father, Jehoshaphat, sits to your left. My grandfather Asa sits between your brother and your father.’
Jehoshaphat had turned towards the sound of his name, and she offered her hands for the greeting. The father’s jaw had the same hard contour as the son’s but his mouth lacked fullness and his eyes were hawkish. He glanced contemptuously at Jezebel’s hands, then turned his attention back to Balazar. King Asa was a small man with bright eyes and just a scattering of hairs across his liver-spotted scalp. Most of his fingers bore thick gold rings, and he threw a mischievous smile towards her, as if to say ‘Were I a younger man …’
Jezebel darted a glance at Jehu, but he made no apology for his father’s rudeness, or his grandfather’s lechery, only staring at the back of his father’s head. She fumbled for her golden platter to cover her embarrassment at being snubbed, selecting fruits and meats from the table.
Jehu began to do the same, hurriedly saying, ‘I have spent little time on the coast. I had not imagined Tyre would be so striking.’
‘Thank you,’ said Jezebel rather formally, staring at her plate. ‘I am sure there are many attractive towns and cities on the Judean coast.’
‘Perhaps. But I have never seen them for the Judean army have never had to defend our nation from armies of mermaids and seahorses.’
Jezebel glanced up in spite of herself, and found Jehu grinning shyly at her, his eyes gazing deep into hers. She smiled and broke his gaze, but he quickly spoke again.
‘Your officials were talking of a city called Mog’dor, where the Tyrians own great yards for turning the snails into dye, but I cannot imagine what such a place is like. Is it not far to the west, beyond the end of the Sea Road?’
‘But not beyond the end of the sea,’ said Jezebel allowing her eyes to be drawn back to his. ‘Where feet might fail, a boat will always sail.’
‘Give me a horse instead. You are not at the whim of the winds on a horse.’
‘I love to ride too,’ she answered, glad of something in common. ‘But a boat can carry far more cargo and will bring you more by return. The King’s Highway, the Sea Road, these roads will always stop where the sea begins. But the sea crosses land by way of rivers—’
‘You make it sound almost beautiful.’
‘The sea is beautiful.’
‘But I think only you could make it sound so.’
Jezebel blushed deeply but she held Jehu’s gaze as he offered her his plate of food to share, the light of the shell lamps glistening on his dark curly hair. She tentatively reached for the plate, her fingers settling on a bunch of grapes in the middle, and she smiled to herself as she picked them up.
Perhaps Astarte is watching after all, she thought.
Chapter Four
In the sharp morning light, Tyre looked almost more beautiful than at sunset, its white buildings sparkling. Up on the roof of the Palace the light breeze caught Jezebel’s dress and her headscarf fluttered behind her. Beset had stayed with her long after Rebecca had gone to bed last night, and they had spent considerable time choosing the outfit, giggling softly between them at how Jehu might admire the flattering cut of one against the pretty hues of another. Their efforts had been worth it, for Jehu had hardly taken his eyes off her since he and Jehoshaphat had followed Ithbaal up to the roof for the best vista of the city. Indeed he now grinned foolishly at her as he rubbed his palms vigorously on his bare arms. This morning he had shed his formal robes in favour of a rough tunic strapped with a leather belt and knife sheath. His strong calves were laced into leather riding boots, and he looked very much the warrior he claimed to be.
‘Are you cold?’ asked Jezebel.
‘I’m not used to the sea wind. It is cooler than when I’m galloping through the valleys.’
‘I prefer to ride along the beach.’
‘It isn’t good for a horse to run on such soft ground. They waste their effort and their hair gets clogged with sand.’
‘I agree with you, Jehu,’ said Ithbaal. ‘And I would advise you never to let Jezebel ride one of your horses for both of them will return muddy and exhausted.’
Jezebel smiled but avoided looking at Jehu. The young man was even more handsome in the sunshine, taller and broader than she had realised, like one of the heroic Temple statues with his feet wide, his arms crossed, and the black curls on his head kissed lightly by the breeze. So she turned away, containing her attraction, for the negotiations were the purpose of this visit and not merely the prelude to a suitable marriage. Ithbaal had watched her during the banquet last night with that glimmer of amusement she loved so much, and she had glowed to know she was making him proud. It didn’t harm, of course, that her dinner companion had been charming, and it made up for Jehoshaphat’s less engaging disposition.
‘Women should not ride,’ said Jehu’s father as he peered across the city’s roofs. ‘They cannot keep up with men when the going is fast, they’re easily scared by the dogs, and they turn feeble when the blood of prey is spilled.’
‘Spoken like a true huntsman,’ said Balazar, who was lolling against the parapet.
‘Surely you don’t allow your women on the battlefield?’ asked Jehoshaphat of Ithbaal.
‘I find their wisdom more valuable than their physical strength.’
‘Hmm.’ Jehoshaphat sneered. ‘In Judah, women have no contribution to make except in the home.’
‘Then on that perhaps we differ,’ said Ithbaal. ‘Phoenicians constantly seek harmony with each other, with our surroundings, and with our Gods. For example, this very island is a partnership between land and sea. Indeed, it was a great feat of construction to put land back into the sea to build the promontory, not to mention a mastery by Melqart, the God of Tyre, of Yam, the God of the sea. I admit I sacrificed a good number of bullocks the night before the building began.’
‘So many Gods to satisfy,’ said Jehoshaphat dryly.
‘Tyre reminds me of Jerusalem, my home,’ said Jehu quickly, looking at Jezebel. ‘It is built on a plateau in the mountains that sticks out into the valley below, rather like this island. I think you would like it. And it does no harm that you have to cross Israel’s ugly plains to get there for it sits like a jewel in a headdress compared to their heathen encampments.’ At that he turned to Ithbaal. ‘I was surprised to hear you mention concessions to the Israelites at dinner last night. They’re not worthy of your consideration.’
Jezebel glanced at her father, but it was Balazar who caught her eye, gleeful at the prospect of an argument.
‘The difficult history between your peoples is well known,’ said Ithbaal, ‘but Phoenicia’s own history is one of exploration and friendship. We have long sailed the Great Sea in search of trade, and such exchanges are always defined by difference. Besides, as Israel are our neighbours it is neither practical nor wise to exclude them—’
‘But with your superior knowledge of the Sea,’ insisted Jehu, ‘and an agreement between ourselves on the King’s Highway, we could control the north–south routes to both sides of Israel and exclude them altogether. It is no more than they deserve.’
‘Jehu, mind your place,’ said Jehoshaphat. Jezebel held her breath. For all his fairness and wisdom, her father was not used to being interrupted, or disagreed with.
A light cough broke the silence and Jezebel saw Hisham standing at the top of the stairs. ‘Your Highness,’ he bowed to Ithbaal. ‘Your visitor has arrived and is waiting for you in the courtyard.’
Jehoshaphat looked down over the parapet, then jerked around angrily. ‘That is the headdress of an Israelite official. How dare you invite them to join our negotiations!’
Jehu strode across to join his father and peered over the edge. ‘From his unsteady gait on the horse, I’d say the intruder is Ahab’s aide, Obadiah.’
‘I believe King Ahab of Israel is as entitled to be addressed by his rank as your own grandfather,’ said Ithbaal patiently. ‘Obadiah isn’t party to our discussions, but as I explained, it isn’t in the interest of my own kingdom to build relations with only one nation at a time—’
‘I will be consulting with my officials about this,’ snapped Jehoshaphat, barging past Hisham down the stairs.
‘Balazar,’ continued Ithbaal, ‘please invite Jehoshaphat and his staff to join you on a tour of the Silk Halls. He is sure to find the beauty soothing, and the merchant opportunities extremely lucrative.’ Ithbaal turned to Jehu. ‘You are very welcome to accompany your father on the tour.’
‘Perhaps I will await the outcome of your discussions with Obadiah before I accept,’ said Jehu coolly. ‘It would be foolish to become intrigued by goods that were no longer available to me.’
‘You may slay a man with a single thrust of a knife,’ said Ithbaal, ‘but to build a partnership takes more than one passing of hands.’
Jezebel watched her father and Balazar walk away down the stairs, then she glanced at Jehu. Perhaps he was still cold, for he shook, and his shoulders were tense beneath his tunic.
‘Come down to the gardens,’ she said suddenly, surprising herself. ‘They’re far prettier than the Silk Halls, and we’ll be out of the wind.’
Jehu raised his chin. ‘I apologise. You must think I’ve insulted your father.’
‘I’ve argued with him just as fiercely.’
‘But not with so much at stake.’ He looked towards the stairs. ‘And now my own father is angry with me too.’
‘You were only defending Judah’s interests.’
Jehu shook his head and sat down on a stone bench. ‘If he trusts me to know what they are. My father would rather have brought my older brother instead, but my mother is the second wife—’
‘And she has more influence than the first?’ Jezebel couldn’t help but laugh. ‘You must forgive me now, for I don’t understand the purpose of these ranks of wives and children.’ She sobered her face. ‘But clearly it troubles you.’
‘I’ve much to prove if I’m to rise to my proper place in the Judean Kingdom.’
‘If what I hear is right,’ said Jezebel gently, sitting down on the bench beside him, ‘you have little to worry about.’
Jehu glanced at her. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Rival kings might argue but their servants always gossip happily together. I’m told you are thought of very highly in your household.’
‘How would you know what the servants have been saying about me?’ he enquired, his mood abruptly lightening. ‘Have you been asking about me?’ he asked, teasingly.
Jezebel blushed. ‘I too have a proper place in my kingdom, to listen to what others say.’
‘I am quite sure there is more to your talents than that,’ said Jehu reaching for her hand, not in greeting this time, but lifting it carefully from her lap, his thumb delicately stroking her palm. ‘I confess there are some attractions to this Phoenician custom of openness.’ His eyes locked on hers, so dark and deep, and she felt his breath warm against her lips as he leaned in towards her.
A gull screeched loudly as it landed on the parapet beside them and Jezebel jumped. ‘You noisy bird,’ she laughed.
‘I suppose there are even Gods in the birds who look over you,’ muttered Jehu, leaning towards her again. But this time Hisham’s discreet cough interrupted them and Jezebel stood up abruptly, smoothing down her skirt.
‘Yes?’
‘Jehoshaphat is asking for his son,’ said the attendant.
Jehu straightened himself and strode towards the stairs without another word. And Jezebel turned her back on Hisham and looked down the coast towards Judah.
