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‘Your Highness?’ asked Philosir hesitantly.
Jezebel’s heart sank. Ahab?
‘And you must be the diplomat,’ replied the rider. ‘We will meet more formally later.’
He strode off through a courtyard, slapping the dust from his tunic, and Philosir moved quickly to Jezebel’s side. ‘I wish it could have been more auspicious a first meeting,’ he murmured.
‘I wish he could have been less rude,’ muttered Beset.
But Jezebel could only stare after him. And I wish he weren’t such an old man!
Chapter Ten
The chambers she had been allocated were a pleasant surprise. Not only would they furnish comfortably with all the cushions and couches she had brought with her from Tyre, but they commanded an excellent view far across the land towards the west. Across a narrow corridor outside her room was a long balcony above one of the internal courtyards, thick with climbing plants, though their flowers were barely in bud due to the relative cold up here. In her memory, Tyre was already so low and small, and even with the spectacular view she couldn’t see the sea along the line of the setting sun.
And somewhere to the south, on another mountain sat Jerusalem, and Jehu.
A snap of barking cut the evening peace and Jezebel shuddered. Down below a group of wild dogs strained on chains as they dragged a pair of soldiers around the castle walls, their mottled coats rippling over their muscular limbs, their mean faces wrinkling up over sharp yellow teeth as they howled up through the shadows towards her.
‘They can smell the infidels.’
Jezebel twisted away from the window. A woman stood behind her. The voice had been so low and hard she’d thought it a man’s. The face was hard too, and her hair was scraped back into a brutally tight twist. She looked as old as King Ahab, as old even as Jezebel’s own father, her skin lined like the layers of rock that formed the mountain beneath Samaria.
Jezebel gave a cordial nod of greeting but the woman made no effort to respond, so Jezebel said, ‘I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean.’
‘The dogs. They know Yahweh isn’t your God.’
Jezebel felt her politeness grow taut with impatience at the woman’s tone. ‘He is one of the pantheon of Phoenician Gods. He is the son of El and the brother of—’
‘He is the only God. And those dogs down there defend His Name. They can smell your corruption. Be wary of them.’
She just means to frighten me. Perhaps she is the King’s sister and disapproves of him marrying someone so young.
‘Mother?’ A girl barely a couple of years older than Jezebel appeared in the curtained doorway, dressed in a simple ochre dress that shone against the swathes of black worn by the older woman. The girl glanced at Jezebel, looking her up and down, taking in the cape which Jezebel still wore like a protective shield. ‘That purple is such a beautiful colour. I envy you—’
‘Of course you envy her,’ spat her mother.
Jezebel gave a friendly smile to the girl. ‘I have another one like it if you would like to borrow it. I imagine it gets very cold here in the winter, being up so high.’
‘That’s true. Last winter—’
‘Esther!’ snapped the older woman.
‘Mother, please. It’s not her fault.’
‘What isn’t my fault?’ asked Jezebel.
Esther’s face creased into an awkward smile. ‘Don’t you know who we are?’
‘I’ve only just arrived. My name is Jezebel. I have come from Tyre.’
‘We know all about you,’ said the older woman.
‘Then you have the advantage,’ said Jezebel. ‘I’ve already been here long enough to know I’m not welcome, but I cannot defend myself if I don’t know who hates me.’
‘We don’t hate you,’ said Esther quickly.
‘On the contrary,’ said the older woman, ‘we bid you great welcome.’ She bowed low and swept her hand almost to the floor as Esther watched, wretched with embarrassment.
‘I’m afraid I’ve been told very little about the family of the King,’ began Jezebel, but Esther interrupted her.
‘Please, it doesn’t matter, it really isn’t your fault. We none of us wished for—’ Her words ended in a shriek as the older woman slapped her face.
‘Do not speak for me!’ snapped her mother. ‘When you have been used up and thrown away as I have, then you can speak for me!’
Esther tried to reply but her words were choked with tears and she ran clumsily away.
‘What riches I have brought the House of Omri,’ said the older woman bitterly. ‘May your reign be as long and as happy as mine.’ And with that she swept out of the room.
Jezebel sank down on the nearest couch, her hand resting on her flat belly. She must be Ahab’s first wife, she thought. She frowned, trying to remember the name Beset had told her, but she was so weary from the journey, and the late afternoon gloom seemed only to cloud her thoughts still further. At least I won’t be alone, she thought, trying to imagine how the baby lay within her, but it was little comfort to know that she had brought her own trouble to a Palace that had already made her so unwelcome.
The room was little better now the shadows were falling, for no servant had yet appeared to make up the fire or light the lamps. I can’t stay in here forever, she thought, so she wrapped her cape tightly around her and went out to the balcony, seeking the warm glow of braziers that filtered up from the courtyard below. The dusk hung like a tekhelet canopy across the sky, and Kesil had not yet shown his sparkling bow. But Baal’s star glimmered faintly as though he was keeping half an eye out for Jezebel, and she wandered slowly down a wide stone staircase into the courtyard. The whole place seemed deserted but three braziers burned fiercely around a circle of benches in the centre of the courtyard and Jezebel sat down on one of them, holding her hands up to the flames to warm herself.
With a sense as keen as the dogs’ out in the street, Jezebel abruptly realised she was not entirely alone. She turned as gracefully as she could manage to find Obadiah standing behind her, his narrow features starkly lit by the glow from the braziers.
‘I would not go wandering around the Palace if I were you. Not everyone welcomes you here.’
‘That is because they don’t know me yet,’ said Jezebel, irritated by all the hostility.
‘I did not agree to the marriage because I liked you.’
‘That’s fine, because I’m not marrying you.’
‘You have no idea how difficult it will be to become Queen of Israel,’ said Obadiah, moving into the shadow of the brazier. ‘You’re just a child.’
‘I am quite sure that is not why King Ahab wants to marry me.’
‘What makes you think he wants to?’
‘What are you chattering on about, you little fool?’ A reedy voice cut across the courtyard and a tiny elderly woman swathed in layers of silks hobbled between the benches, her gown glistening with pearls, her hands glimmering with gold and precious stones. ‘Ignore him, my dear. Ignore all of them. Politics has made every last one of them a little soft in the head. And none more so than Obadiah, who has spent so long listening to his own voice that he believes every word he says.’
Jezebel swallowed her laughter, and rose to greet this extraordinary woman whose bright beady eyes now shone in her wrinkled face.
‘By your youth and your beauty, I assume you are Jezebel of Tyre,’ continued the old woman. ‘You must be missing your home so let me tell you a little about mine.’ She glanced at Obadiah. ‘What are you waiting for? Run away and bore someone else.’
Obadiah gave a curt bow and vanished into the shadows.
‘Ours is a marriage of inconvenience, you might say,’ said the old woman, watching Obadiah’s departure. ‘Neither of us can dismiss the other, nor can we ignore them. Each of us is wedded to the King by duty and a certainty that we are his best adviser. Such are the trials of the Queen Mother and the Chief of Palace Staff.’
Jezebel bowed low, cheered enormously by this tiny woman, so humorous and spirited. ‘Your Highness.’
‘Never mind that.’ The elderly woman linked her hand into Jezebel’s arm. ‘Would you see me to my room, my dear? That way, you will always know where to find me.’
‘Of course, Your Highness.’
‘Call me Raisa. After all, I am mother to the man you have been dragged down here to marry, and we are to become family.’ They set off across the courtyard, between elaborate statues and ponds that shimmered in the lamplight. ‘My son is a good man – don’t let that shaggy haircut fool you into judging him otherwise – but he takes little care of his appearance because he spends too much time thinking. Not all of them useful thoughts, but I’m probably the only one in the Palace who is allowed to say so.’
Raisa paused beneath a lamp that lit the foot of another staircase and clamped her bony fingers around Jezebel’s chin. ‘Hmm. Not enough to see you clearly by, but you have a strong face, a good straight nose, and a nice figure on you. I think you will do very well in the House of Omri.’ She patted Jezebel’s cheek then began to climb the stairs, leaning heavily on Jezebel’s arm.
‘Not everyone seems to agree with you,’ said Jezebel. ‘I met the King’s first wife.’
‘Leah sought you out already, did she?’ Raisa chuckled. ‘Then you’ll know you have nothing to compete with there, not least in temperament, for you look to me to have a good heart. Bad-tempered people, the Judeans, impetuous angry souls with a born sense of entitlement, and Leah is no exception.’
‘She’s from Judah? I thought—’
‘We were sworn enemies?’ Raisa smiled. ‘All the more reason to attempt such an alliance. The marriage was brokered while my husband was still alive. I’m afraid, as so often with these arrangements, there was never much affection between man and wife.’
Jezebel tried not to wince, but she obviously didn’t completely succeed.
‘I’m sure it will be different for you two,’ said Raisa. ‘Leah never showed any wish to make it work.’ The old woman waved her hand, as if to shoo the subject away. ‘I’ve tried to influence Ahab in the way he raised Esther, of course, but one can only hope.’ Raisa took a step back from Jezebel and peered at her with sparkling dark eyes. ‘Of course, your people have recently endured a long visit from the Judeans so you know what I’m talking about. Leah’s brother is Jehoshaphat.’
‘So she is Jehu’s aunt?’ said Jezebel.
Raisa frowned. ‘He’s the child of the second wife, isn’t he?’
‘Yes,’ said Jezebel, colouring. ‘He accompanied Jehoshaphat to Tyre. I do see a certain family resemblance.’
Raisa laughed. ‘You are an intelligent girl for your years. You think a lot and don’t say too much. That will help you with Ahab but …’ She paused. ‘Well, you’ll work it out.’
Jezebel wasn’t sure what Raisa had been about to say, but as Obadiah had already stated, clearly not everyone was as happy with the match as her mother-in-law. She knew well enough about the long period of distrust between Israel and Judah. Since the kingdoms had separated in the bloody civil war after King Solomon, outright hostility had been avoided, because diplomacy was preferential to antagonism, and both sides found common ground in their homage to Yahweh, their one true God. Jezebel had not realised that Ahab’s first wife was a daughter of Judah, and could see that failure to produce an heir and heal the wounds under the auspices of Yahweh would carry heavy disappointment for Leah and those who had arranged the wedding.
She and Raisa walked together in silence to the top of the stairs, where Ahab’s mother reached up and cupped Jezebel’s face in her hands. ‘I hope you produce many children for my son and for Israel. That is what you have come here to do and so I bless you in the name of the God we share. It will be good to hear children running through the Palace.’
‘I am sure that in the daylight I will learn to appreciate its beauty.’
‘My husband, the former King, built it. His House, the House of Omri, should continue to prosper with you here.’
Jezebel thanked her for her kindness, and the old woman disappeared through a curtained doorway, leaving Jezebel alone once more. Surely there must be more than half a dozen people living here, she thought, but though she strained to hear sounds of life, she felt as alone once more as one of the tiny stars in the great firmament above.
She looked around her, trying to get a sense of the layout of the Palace, but as she followed the balcony round, searching for her own room, she found only a wall and another corridor leading off in a different direction. She wandered along it, looking for a stairway so that at least she could return to the garden level. But it was all so confusing in the shadows and she felt a little sick. She leaned against the balcony and put her hand on her stomach, but she immediately let it fall again, for someone like Obadiah would surely seize on such a gesture. For though the baby had not yet begun to swell in flesh it was already growing in her mind, and around it such intense thoughts of Jehu that she was sure anyone who knew him – his aunt Leah, for example – would somehow see them reflected there. And what of Ahab, tonight, in the marriage bed?
She gazed up at the sky, looking for Kesil once more, but her attention was caught by a quiet sobbing somewhere below. She peered down into the small courtyard and identified the shadowy outline of Esther in a corner.
Jezebel walked swiftly along until she found a staircase, then she padded down it, her cape dragging behind her. Esther sniffed and glanced up, her eyes shining with tears. ‘You shouldn’t stay here. Mother will be furious.’
‘I’ve no wish to get you into more trouble. But you shouldn’t be out here in the dark. And besides, if we’re all going to be living here together, we can’t really avoid each other.’
‘Obadiah has seen to it that we should. Mother and I have been relocated to this wing.’ She nodded towards the small courtyard. ‘I apologise for the way my mother spoke to you. She hates being in Israel and she has always hated the Phoenicians too. She says you sacrifice people and not animals.’
‘No wonder I’ve had such a hostile reception,’ laughed Jezebel nervously. ‘It’s not true, I promise you.’
‘And she says your Gods are so malicious they will sink foreign ships if they sail in your waters.’
‘Without charts and plans of the coast, the sea can be dangerous. But that could happen to even the most experienced sailor, whatever kingdom they come from.’
‘She despises you.’
‘Look, Esther, I’m only here because my father and your father agreed that it was in the interests of both our peoples. It is what young women like us must do.’
‘I hope it never happens to me.’
Jezebel chewed her lip. It felt so strange to be making friends with this girl, almost the same age, when in just a few hours she would be lying down in a bed with her father. Perhaps Esther sensed that too, for she stood up.
‘If Mother goes back to Jerusalem, as she keeps threatening to do, your life here might be a bit easier. It’s a shame though, because you seem so nice.’ Esther smiled shyly then she glanced up at the balcony. ‘I must go before Mother misses me.’
‘Of course. But maybe we could take a walk together tomorrow? You could show me round the Palace?’
‘Perhaps,’ said Esther uncertainly. ‘Your wing is that way.’ She pointed through an archway lit with torches. Then she set off quickly across the courtyard, her fingers sketching a wave.
Jezebel walked back towards her room, listening to the strange sounds of the Palace around her as it slowly came alive in the dark, to the distant barking of the dogs and the calls of the servants behind hidden doorways. She smelled the roasting of meat and the stewing of fruit for the wedding banquet in her honour, and heard a lonely bugle call drift into the night sky. But it was of the sea she thought, that faraway kingdom of her own that she carried in her heart. And of the child that grew in her before its time.
Chapter Eleven
In the light from flickering lanterns, the young woman stared back at Jezebel, haughty and refined, almost arrogant in the way her eyebrows arched and her eyes stared, rimmed with the blackest kohl. Her skin was fashionably paled with the most expensive of the ground powders but it looked like a mask, taut and still, concealing every thought within. Only the mouth curled faintly, reddened with dyed wax. But if her face was mesmerising, it was merely an opal in the most elaborate of settings, from the headdress of sculpted gold through which her hair was delicately woven, down through the rich swathes of silken gown edged with hundreds of tiny shimmering pearls, to the jewelled sandals and sparkling ankle bracelets which tinkled musically as she walked. She was the richest of offerings in every sense.
‘I hardly recognise myself,’ said Jezebel.
Beset lowered the bronze hand mirror, its panel etched with a scene from the abduction of Princess Europa by the lovesick bull. ‘You look like a queen.’
Behind the facade and the armour of a bride, Jezebel’s heart thudded with fear and her hands sweated, and she prayed that the paint on her face would not smudge and smear. It was well after dark, and she’d heard the dining party gathering for some time.
‘I hope the King has made such an effort,’ murmured Beset as she straightened the train of Jezebel’s gown one last time. And then the maid stepped back to admire her work and sniffed, quickly wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. ‘Your father would be so proud.’
Jezebel lifted her chin to swallow down her own emotions and the wide gold neckband rubbed against her throat. There was something to be grateful for in these ceremonial outfits for they made you stand tall and proud even when you wanted to run away to curl up and hide. And perhaps Philosir understood that, for he didn’t make her walk any slower than she could bear to on the way to the banquet, giving the Israelites that clustered in the Palace corridors enough time to notice her but not to weigh her further with their disdainful fascination.
She passed beneath the grand archway to the dining hall. Over the silence that followed the pronouncement of her name, she heard dozens of indistinct whispers. There was not another woman to be seen among the diners, and their garb was so drab she felt their disrespect in all their dullness. Even Ahab, sitting imperiously on a raised platform at the head of the table, looked plain in a long grey robe that sparkled with silver thread. He rose slowly to greet her, perhaps as overwhelmed as she was by the trophy Obadiah had won for him in the negotiations.
‘Please, sit with me, Jezebel.’
At the moment she sat down on the smaller throne beside his, three Israelite priests stood from their couches and left the room. Ahab reddened.
On the opposite side of the table Amos, who was standing in dutiful expectation of his princess, turned towards Obadiah, who sat on Ahab’s other side. ‘You were never shown such contempt in Tyre,’ he said.
‘Priests here don’t bow to the King,’ said Obadiah, ‘and certainly not to a wife.’
‘Especially one so gaudy,’ said the other remaining Israelite priest. ‘They must grow gold in Tyre, from the look of her. If that is any indication, perhaps the Phoenician lands will be more fertile to farm than Judah’s,’ he added.
So her suspicions and Raisa’s aborted warnings were confirmed. Jezebel sensed Ahab tense beside her. He was staring at her, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment and his eyes bright with rage, their chestnut brown so vivid against his hair and gown. She felt sorry for him, and guilty for being so elaborately dressed, as though the effusion of all her riches had somehow made everything so much worse. But why hadn’t he challenged his priests? In spite of all her own awkwardness she held his gaze in hers and smiled at him. As he studied her, probing deep beneath the mask of betrothal, she thought she saw a half-smile pass his lips in response, though when he spoke his voice was brittle with suppressed fury.
