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‘Would you like wine?’ asked Ahab.
Philosir had told her that women did not normally drink wine with the men in Israel and indeed there was a slight pause in the chatter around the table when Jezebel nodded and took the drinking bowl. And then she realised that this was in itself a small act of defiance by Ahab, and she sipped from it.
‘This vintage comes from my vineyard at Jezreel, a city north-east of here,’ said a nobleman sitting between the priests and Obadiah. He was a round fellow with a cheerful face, rather less lean than the other Israelites who still gawped at Jezebel, and his hair was curly, and as grey as Ahab’s.
‘Ever the merchant, Naboth,’ said Ahab dryly.
‘We grow most of our vines there for the valley is fed well by the river that runs through it.’
‘Is it not too cold?’ asked Philosir, his voice strained with enforced politeness.
‘The winds are weak so far inland,’ said Naboth. ‘The Winter Palace is there too.’
Jezebel had heard already of the city of Jezreel several times. During the coldest part of the year, the royal court left Samaria and travelled inland for the warmer climate. Although most of what she’d heard of the fortified city was grim.
‘The wine is very nice,’ she said.
Naboth gulped from his bowl. ‘I told you they would like it, Obadiah.’
‘You also told me there were mermaids in the sea,’ said Obadiah. ‘But I didn’t see one.’
‘There are many extraordinary riches in the Great Sea,’ said Philosir, ‘and it is on such discoveries that we have built our prosperity, just as you have built yours from the land.’
‘Israel isn’t as it once was,’ said Ahab, passing his own gold plate piled high with food to Jezebel. The gesture touched her, subtle as it was.
‘Our land is drying out,’ he continued, ‘and the crops didn’t flourish this year. What you see here is the best of it, and I’m not ashamed to ask our Phoenician neighbours to help us survive.’ He turned to Philosir. ‘We need engineers to help us extract the water from our springs if we are to survive another summer.’
‘The land isn’t drying out,’ said the first of the priests, ‘but our farmers have lost their faith that Yahweh will provide. And is it any wonder?’
‘When you understand the intellect of our Phoenician neighbours as well as you claim to understand the souls of our people, then perhaps I will concede your point,’ said Ahab. ‘But for now even you must admit that we cannot provide all that we need by way of cloth or metal ores, not to mention knowledge that can help our people live comfortable lives.’
Jezebel picked up a flatbread rolled with cheeses and olives, and chewed tentatively at the corner. With all the butterflies in her stomach she hadn’t realised that she was hungry and she’d eaten very little since being sick this morning. The food wasn’t bad at all, though rather blander than she was used to.
‘His Highness is right,’ said Naboth, the nobleman. ‘We need to expand our horizons if we are to make the most of what land we have.
‘When the springs north of Samaria are properly dug out,’ Naboth continued to Philosir, ‘I will be able to plant a new vineyard. There is an excellent curve in the foothills which faces full south and will catch the sun all day.’
‘Perhaps it would be better to plant on a west-facing slope,’ said Jezebel absent-mindedly, picking up a fig. ‘If the vines have too much sun they will be sweet enough, but without cool autumn mornings the wine will lack acidity, and won’t have sufficient finesse.’
Her mouth turned dry and the fig hung from her fingers. Without turning her head at all she knew every Israelite in the room was staring at her, some of them with expressions of utter disdain, while her own people stared at their plates. Jezebel felt her face burn with shame beneath the mask of white powder and she lowered the fig to the plate. And then, unexpectedly, Ahab roared with laughter from beside her.
‘That is the best advice you have ever been given, Naboth,’ he said, ‘and I suggest you take it.’
Chapter Twelve
Jezebel tried to sit still on the couch in her room as Beset unpinned the long tresses of her hair from the headdress, but she was far too anxious to maintain any repose, and she simply grabbed the last few pins and yanked them out herself.
‘You are bound to be nervous,’ murmured Beset as she lifted the headdress off Jezebel’s head and laid it down in its cedarwood box. ‘The first night with your husband is an important occasion and will set the tone for your marriage.’
Jezebel wriggled off the couch and went to the window, her hand resting on her abdomen. ‘It’s not that.’
‘You did the right thing,’ muttered Beset, stroking her arm.
Jezebel sighed and couldn’t look into Beset’s eyes. Instead she turned up into the dark sky, searching for Kesil’s constellation. But the night was shrouded with thin cloud and she saw nothing to comfort her.
‘Jezebel?’ said Beset. ‘You did drink the purge, didn’t you?’
She shook her head a fraction. ‘I couldn’t kill the child,’ she whispered. ‘It was a betrayal of all that Jehu and I meant to each other.’
‘But what about the King?’ hissed Beset. ‘He isn’t a fool. When the child is born before nine months are over, he will know anyway.’
Jezebel sat down on the deep window ledge, looking out to the north-west, towards Tyre. ‘Perhaps I will be lucky and he will only send me home in disgrace.’
‘Amos told me you received a very hostile welcome at the banquet. When the priests find out about the baby—’
‘Then they will certainly do worse than send me home.’ Jezebel shivered and moved away from the window, turning to the shrine to Astarte that Beset had already set in the corner of the room. ‘The best I can do is to be honest with Ahab. Besides, he will know after tonight that he isn’t my first lover.’
Beset huffed. ‘That, at least, is easily taken care of. A man’s pride is fragile, yes, but easily fooled.’ She went to the shrine and fiddled around in a box in the base, pulling out a small metal vial. ‘Chicken blood. It will pass for a broken maidenhead if you spill it when the time is right.’
‘How did you—’
But Beset put her finger quickly to her lips. A steady tread approached along the corridor. ‘I pray that Astarte and Kotharat will look after you. But you must have faith in them.’
Beset leaned forward and kissed her charge on the cheek, then ran through a curtain to the side of the room and into her own quarters beyond. Jezebel looked at the bed, then at the couch, trying to decide where Ahab might most want to sit down next to her, but her heart was beating so fast that she couldn’t hear herself think and could only wipe her damp palms on the delicate folds of her sleeping gown. Do I defy you, Kotharat, if I remember making love to Jehu when Ahab lies down on me?
But if the Goddess was listening she sent no sign, for in a moment the curtain was pushed back and Ahab entered. He was dressed as he had been at dinner, but the silvered gown now hung undone about his shoulders. He glanced around him, taking in the shrine, the well-stuffed Phoenician couches beneath the window, and the luxuriant blankets and sheets on the bed, all unpacked during the banquet.
‘Your maid has made it very comfortable for you. I’m glad. I want you to be happy here.’
‘Thank you, Your Highness,’ whispered Jezebel, far less sure of her voice now than she had been at the banquet.
Ahab smiled, the creases around his eyes catching deep shadows in the lamplight. ‘There’s no need to be so formal. That’s for my advisers and my nobles, not for my wives. Although you’ll have noticed that not everyone treats me with the same respect.’
‘I will do my best to honour you, and will defer to your judgement at all times.’
‘That isn’t what I’ve been told.’ Ahab sounded rather fierce and Jezebel couldn’t help but wrap her arms defensively across her. ‘I frighten you, I’m afraid. It isn’t surprising, but I’d hope you will soon learn what sort of man I really am.’
He crossed the room and stood very near to her, delicately fingering the long curls of hair that framed her face. He was a head or so taller than Jezebel, but he didn’t loom over her, only looked down rather sweetly at her.
‘My mother has already taken a great liking to you,’ said Ahab, his breath fragrant with wine.
‘She is a fine woman.’
‘You have no mother of your own, I understand.’
‘She died several years ago.’
‘I hope you will come to enjoy Raisa’s wisdom as I have, not to mention her comfort. For when our first son is born you’ll know not only my pride but the pride of my late father, for the future of the House of Omri will be assured.’
Jezebel couldn’t meet his eyes any longer.
Ahab slid his fingers beneath her hair to the nape of her neck, stroking the skin so lightly that his hand might have been made of feathers. Jezebel felt herself quiver with bewildering delight, and when he drew her to him and began to loosen the clasp of her gown, she found herself reaching for the neck of his tunic to unlace it. His kisses were soft and delicate at first, as if he were still afraid of frightening her, but she quickly found his passion beneath his restraint and she was already breathless with anticipation when he finally drew off her gown. She couldn’t help but notice that his body was not sculpted and strong like Jehu’s and he caught the way her eyes lingered on the scars on his arm and his shoulder as he lifted her up and laid her down on the bed.
‘This body has lived a little, I’m afraid,’ he murmured as he lay down beside her. ‘But the men who drew my blood did not live to see the wounds heal.’
In Jehu’s voice such words would have sounded terrifying, but Ahab’s was as soft and thoughtful as his manner with her. He touched her with such tenderness that she knew his body wished to find its echo in hers and when he entered her she felt not the fear nor the repulsion she had so dreaded, but such an intense and unexpected pleasure that she barely remembered to reach for the vial of blood in time. While his head was buried in her shoulder, she flicked off the stopper with her right hand and felt the slightly warm liquid trickle over her fingers. She wiped them on the sheets, but Ahab made no remark, if he even noticed.
Afterwards, they lay in silence for a long while, the whole Palace so quiet that Jezebel could hear each of Ahab’s breaths as they caressed her hair. She felt his eyelashes brush her forehead each time he blinked, and beneath her fingers his chest pulsed with the beat of his heart. There was such intimacy in the way he held her that she already felt his renewed stirrings of desire in herself. And yet it was infused with such guilt that made her cheeks burn, for it was Jehu’s arms she remembered being held by, his unshaven jaw that she recalled softly scratching her throat as he kissed her, the smell of his hair she missed so dreadfully.
She must have slept, for in the early hours, she woke to him stirring and leaving the bed. In the near darkness, he tied the robe at the waist, then leaned over the bed and kissed her once more.
‘You will find your wedding gift at the end of the orchard,’ he murmured.
When he was gone, Jezebel buried her face in her pillow and let the tears flow so they might flush out the poisonous turmoil in her heart and in her head.
Chapter Thirteen
In the light of dawn the Palace did seem more welcoming, its interlocking courtyards now easy to navigate. Guided by her curiosity, Jezebel rose early and wandered towards the walled gardens to the south. A pair of soldiers overtook her with watchful nods, the air was sweet with the smell of baking breads and honey cakes, and as she looked up at the colonnades and archways, she hoped it would not be impossible to make some sort of home for herself here.
It would never be Tyre, but what city was? And if Ahab was always as kind to her as the previous night, if he was as good a man as Esther said—
The nausea rose fast within Jezebel just as it had the previous morning, and she stumbled to the nearest tree, desperate not to be sick out here in full view of the Palace. But she couldn’t keep it down and she staggered against the trunk, retching over and over until her body stilled and her mouth tasted sour.
‘Perhaps you swallowed something you were not accustomed to,’ said a cool voice.
Is that dreadful man following me around? she wondered weakly, lifting her head to find Obadiah staring down at her, his eyes tracing her body as though he was imagining her first night with the King for himself.
‘Or perhaps you don’t find our food as palatable as the Judeans?’
An awful thought occurred to Jezebel. Could he know? Had he perhaps seen Jehu climb into her room in Tyre?
‘Your water isn’t as pure here,’ she forced herself to say as she straightened up and moved away from the tree, ‘nor the air you breathe.’
‘You haven’t spoiled the surprise, have you, Obadiah?’ Ahab came striding down the gentle slope towards them, the regal gown of the night before dispensed in favour of a plain white tunic and a wide leather belt.
‘Of course not, Your Highness. I would not dream of denying you that pleasure.’ Obadiah lowered his head and moved away, leaving the King and Jezebel alone.
‘Good morning,’ Jezebel bowed low.
Ahab lifted her chin and kissed her on the forehead. ‘I knew you wouldn’t be able to wait to see your wedding present, and I woke up knowing I couldn’t either.’ He smiled and took her hand and led them between low clipped hedges across the gardens. ‘Custom dictates I should wait until after the wedding ceremony, but I would much rather show you now without any of the pomp and nonsense that will be expected.’
At the far end of the gardens was a small wooden gate in the high wall which he opened to reveal a tangle of lanes sprawling down the gentle slope into the city. Ahab put his hand over Jezebel’s eyes then she felt him turn her gently to the right before lowering his hand again.
‘There! A little piece of Tyre in Samaria.’
A stone’s throw from the Palace walls, nestled among wooden huts was a tiny round building with an angled roof, built entirely out of the white stone she knew from Tyre, not the local yellow rock. Above the entrance a star within a circle had been carved out of the stone, and around the pillars that flanked it were endless engraved doves in flight. Inside she could see a pristine white altar decked with stone sculptures of all Astarte’s icons, the horse, the lion, the sphinx and the dove. Even in the morning light it sparkled as though Astarte herself had begotten the Temple from the night sky and Jezebel thought it the most beautiful building she had ever seen. It was a perfect size for her and her small cadre of priests to worship in and seemed to reflect the presence her father wanted her to establish in Israel – contained and discreet but still elegant.
‘When I saw the shrine in your room last night,’ said Ahab, ‘I knew that I had been right to build this for you. I set the top stone myself. It has a hole carved through it so that your Gods may always look down on you.’
Jezebel’s eyes grew wet and once again she wrapped her arms around herself, not in fear this time, but to contain the extraordinary surge of emotion that threatened to overwhelm her.
‘I thought wives were expected to take their husband’s Gods,’ she said.
‘And abandon their own?’ said Ahab. ‘Perhaps for some people this is true, but my father never succeeded in doing so with my mother, and he was the wisest council I know.’
‘And how will your subjects take this?’
‘They are your subjects too. You are a long way from home,’ said Ahab, ‘not in distance but in difference, so I want you to know that this will always be yours, just as this city is now yours, and the Israelite people are yours too. They will learn to know you and love you just as you will them. But this is my personal gift to you.’
‘Thank you,’ she said quietly.
She didn’t mention the soldiers who had passed her in the garden and who now stood on guard at the Temple entrance, spears in their hands and swords in their belts. Ahab was clearly not so confident of universal approval as he made out. They are your subjects too. It hardly answered her question. But voicing any further reservations would seem ungrateful, so instead she accepted Ahab’s arm. As they walked back up to the Palace in silence, she prayed inwardly for Astarte’s protection to reach this far into hostile lands.
Chapter Fourteen
A few days later, Jezebel stood in front of a polished obsidian panel set into one of the walls of her chamber, pulling her dress tight across her belly. In the reflection she could see Daniel fiddling around in his medicine chest, and Beset brushing an outer robe. Both were fully engaged in their business but the room was full of their silence and eventually Jezebel could stand it no longer.
‘I wish one of you would just say something.’ She saw Daniel look across the room at Beset.
‘Are you sure you feel well enough to go out?’ asked her maid.
‘Of course,’ said Jezebel. ‘I always feel better by the middle of the morning.’
Daniel and Beset exchanged glances once more, then they joined Jezebel in front of the mirror-stone, all three of them staring at the reflection of Jezebel’s abdomen. ‘It barely shows,’ murmured Beset.
Daniel didn’t say anything, and not for the first time, she wondered if he disapproved. Since their time on the desert road, he had stayed close to her, giving her salts to overcome her sickness. But his face wore a permanent crease of anxiety, as though reflecting on the magnitude of their shared secret.
‘I feel terrible lying to Ahab,’ said Jezebel. ‘He’s been so kind to me.’
‘You should be safe for two or three months yet,’ said Beset, ‘if we dress you properly and it is dark when you lie down with the King.’
But Daniel rubbed his chin, ran his fingers through his hair, and finally he turned away from the mirror so abruptly that Beset let go of the dress. Jezebel turned after him.
‘At least say something?’
Daniel sat down alone on the couch. He linked his fingers together, stretching them to and fro, then he stood up again and went to the window. ‘I don’t think you should go out with Esther today, that is all.’
‘She is the only friend I have here, apart from the two of you,’ said Jezebel.
Daniel smiled a little at this, but his crease remained. ‘Then at least stay in the Palace.’
‘But she is going to show me the cloth merchants and the markets. She wants my opinion on which cloth is of the best quality and that at least is something I know a little about.’
‘Does she talk to you about her mother?’
‘Not really,’ said Jezebel, now feeling Daniel’s anxiety herself. ‘Should she?’
‘Perhaps she wouldn’t anyway. Not given how things are.’
