Jezebel

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‘I know it must be difficult for her now I’m here, but there isn’t anything I can do about it.’

‘You could ask the King to take down your Temple.’

‘What makes you say such a thing?’ asked Beset.

‘I fear that if Ahab does not take it down then someone else will.’

‘Leah?’ asked Jezebel, perplexed by the turns of the conversation.

‘Not Leah, but the priests who are loyal to her. Amos told me last night that there is a lot of anger among the Samarian priests that Leah has been displaced. The Judeans pray to Yahweh just as the Israelites do.’

‘But surely they’re angry with Ahab and not with me.’

‘They believe you’re seeking to influence Esther away from her mother. It’s no secret that Esther is her father’s daughter in temperament and intelligence, but you appear to be blatantly leading her away from Judah altogether.’

‘But I’ve never taken Esther into my Temple—’

‘Jezebel?’ Esther’s voice rang out, breathless, from the corridor. ‘Are you ready to go out?’

Jezebel shot an urgent look at Daniel but he simply shrugged at her.

‘I’m doing the best I can,’ she hissed at him as she grabbed her robe from the bed. ‘I can’t spend the rest of my life locked in here!’

As Esther guided her through the narrow streets of the city, Daniel’s warnings lingered. Jezebel found herself more than usually distracted by the people around her. Every eye watched her, every mouth formed around a judgement of her, even if many of these people wished only to be left to get on with their lives.

The cloth merchants treated her with a grudging respect when they realised she knew what she was talking about, and one even spoke with her in an almost friendly fashion about the difficulties of getting good red dyes to set in wool. But as they left the bustle of the market to return to the Palace, Jezebel noticed a group of priests gathering ahead of them, their dark murmuring shot with the light tinkling of tiny bells that hung from the hems of their blue robes.

‘Let’s go this way,’ said Jezebel, pointing to a nearby lane. ‘Doesn’t this go to the jewellery quarter?’

‘But this is the quicker route, even if we aren’t going to the Palace,’ said Esther.

‘Then what’s down here?’

‘Nothing really.’

The priests had moved in very quickly and they en circled Jezebel in a swirl of bright garments. Their beards bristling with animosity, their tongues fat with insults. In a moment she was separated from Esther.

‘Heretic!’ one shouted.

‘Phoenician harlot!’ snapped another. ‘You bring your false Gods to our land!’

Jezebel spun round, throwing furious glances at one priest after another, but there were so many of them, and like a swarm of hornets they seethed around her, driving her back against a wall without touching her at all. She stumbled on the uneven ground and grabbed at the wall to steady herself, but her voice quavered as she tried to control her fury and fear. ‘I’ve nothing but respect for your God, so you can find the same for mine.’

‘You deserve no such thing,’ said another, spitting at her feet. ‘And you,’ they turned as one on Esther, ‘you should save yourself while you still can.’

‘Help us!’ Esther called out.

Jezebel tried to see through the crowd of the priests’ turbans but she could only see the top of Esther’s head.

‘You bring shame on your mother and on all the people of Yahweh by consorting with the infidel!’

And then Jezebel heard the clop of approaching feet and the clank of horse tack. The priests scattered like flies and in their absence she saw a pair of soldiers riding slowly from the opposite direction. She moved to Esther’s side. ‘Did they hurt you?’

‘They should not have spoken to you like that,’ whispered Esther, pale with shock.

The soldiers glanced incuriously after the departing priests.

‘Are you all right, Your Majesty?’ asked one.

‘I think so,’ Jezebel replied. ‘We should be getting back to the Palace.’

Jezebel slid her hand around Esther’s shaking elbow and guided her home. But once she had seen her safely through the main gate, she walked around the garden walls towards her Temple. Astarte would bring her much-needed peace and guidance to see her through this dreadful experience, she told herself, breathing deeply to calm herself.

Even before she reached the Temple she sensed that something was wrong. There were no guards at the entrance gate. As she turned into the lane she saw the two pristine white columns were smeared filthy brown with horse dung. She looked around, her chest contracting with panic, but the lane was completely empty. She swallowed down a few nervous breaths and entered the Temple.

She strangled a sob of anguish. The desecration of the inside was far worse than the filthy pillars. Each of Astarte’s beautiful statues had been smashed to pieces, and the walls were daubed with more dung. Worst of all, on the altar lay a dead dove, its throat cut.

Jezebel pressed her lips together and closed her eyes. She listened as hard as she could for the peace of Astarte’s wisdom, begging it to fall like rain through the Temple roof and cleanse the dirt from the place and the anger from her heart. But all she could feel was the ground surely shaking with Baal’s purest rage, and she turned and ran for Ahab.

If Jezebel wished for solace in Ahab’s arms, she didn’t find it. He pushed past her to see the devastation for himself, and emerged fuelled by the war Goddess Anat’s burning desire for vengeance. He summoned the head of his personal guard and issued in the coldest terms the order to round up every priest who had openly taken issue with Jezebel’s arrival, starting with the three who had left the wedding banquet.

‘If you would just let me talk to them,’ begged Jezebel as she stood before him in his private office, ‘I could show them that I mean them no disrespect.’

‘They won’t listen to you.’

‘Then I ask that you do. Exacting revenge on them will not solve this.’

‘I won’t tolerate their contempt for you, for it’s nothing less than contempt for me!’ he barked. ‘I’ve put up with their petty disregard for the Judeans throughout my marriage to Leah, but now they turn that into some perverted loyalty to our southern neighbours, just so that they may turn their malice on you. Priests of Yahweh occupy a privileged position within this kingdom – I tolerate their outspokenness, but outright rebellion must be quashed without mercy.’ He strode to the wall and grabbed down a long sword which hung in its ceremonial sheath, yanking out the blade so quickly that it sliced the air.

Jezebel stepped back, shocked by how easily the gentle lover had been swallowed up by the ruthless ruler. ‘What will you do to them?’

‘Exactly what they would do to anyone who defiled their temples.’ He raised the sword and pointed it over Jezebel’s shoulder just as Obadiah strode into the office.

‘Your Highness—’ He stopped at the sight of Jezebel and gave an obsequious bow. ‘Madam.’

‘Well?’ snapped Ahab.

‘The girl is too young to be party to affairs of state.’

Ahab started to reply, but Jezebel saved them both the trouble by leaving the room without another word.

Up in her chamber she lay on the couch in front of the window, Beset beside her holding her hand, and they listened together for the inevitable resonances of Ahab’s punishment, first the awful screams of the executed, then the dreadful thump of the bodies being thrown over the city walls. Twelve men in all met their deaths. Only as the sun began to cast its golden evening light into her room did they rise to look, still clinging on to each other, and saw the cluster of vultures swirling thick and black over the foothills to the east.

Jezebel sat for a long time in the window that night, staring out towards Tyre, to where her own Gods surely sat in judgement on her husband. While Samaria lay stunned in silence below her, not even a whisper or the bark of a dog disturbing the dark, news would soon break over the Phoenician border like a storm-swollen wave of the travesties inflicted on their distant princess. But Jezebel was politic enough to know that stories changed and shifted like sand-dunes. By the time her father heard of what had happened, the complexion of the events would no doubt be quite different.

Chapter Fifteen

The hot and barren summer did little more than stifle the tensions of Jezebel’s arrival in Samaria, and she spent much of the season shut away inside the Palace, at first under Ahab’s orders for her own safety, and then under Daniel’s as her belly swelled with the child. She felt enormous, and was sure that Raisa would notice that she was bigger than she should have been. But as the eighth month came and went, she and Ahab only delighted in the prospect of the birth, so auspiciously soon after marriage, and Jezebel was left to pray with Beset that the child didn’t resemble its true father.

Ahab had also been distracted by reports from the banks of the River Jordan, to the north-east, where the forces of Ben-Hadad of Damascus were gathering to threaten the fertile Israelite plains of Gilead. Ahab spent endless nights in his rooms consulting with his soldiers, and Jezebel, growing ever bigger, felt a fondness grow for him that she had never imagined possible. Despite the affairs of state, he made sure that they met every day to eat together, and she would listen as he talked with his officials about Asa, the King of Judah’s continuing reluctance to join the Israelites for war. Obadiah was ever present, like a dark shadow cast by the high summer sun, eyeing her in his way that made her feel dirty.

Eventually Ahab agreed with his advisers that Ben-Hadad couldn’t be allowed to threaten the plains any longer and, at first light one late summer morning, with a storm brewing in the humid grey skies, the King rode out with his army to war, confident that his rival would be defeated before his longed-for son came into the world. Yet Jezebel realised the anxiety she felt was not only about the baby, but also about the possibility that Ahab would not return from the war. She had traced the scars on his body many times now, and she remembered well his words that first night they shared together, but still she offered up a prayer as he passed beneath her window, his eyes lingering on hers. He’s been so kind to me, she thought, please bring him home safe and soon.

With his absence, and that of three-quarters of the soldiery, the city felt desolate. Jezebel too felt empty despite her huge belly beneath her gown. She tried to fill her time with daily rituals of her own, and one morning, almost three weeks after his departure, she waddled alone across the gardens to her Temple to pray for Ahab as she always did. She wanted to pray too for the baby. She knew Daniel was concerned that the baby was about to go beyond safe term, and though every day meant another day Raisa would not think the child born early, Daniel’s anxiety made her nervous. The Temple had long ago been cleaned and new statues found for the altar, and though it had taken her a while to stop looking over her shoulder, she had drawn courage from the stillness that pervaded its walls. This morning though she felt too big to kneel to pray and instead she sat on a small bench and smiled at the statue of Astarte.

‘You got me into this trouble,’ she murmured, rubbing the mound at her waist, ‘so you will have to forgive my lack of penitence.’

As if Astarte was in no mind to forgive her disciple, a bright flash lit up the Temple with a deafening crack, and within moments rain was pouring through the skylight and all over the altar. It was the first rain the city had seen for months but Jezebel was in no mood to celebrate it and she pushed herself up from the bench.

She’d barely reached the gates when she felt a sharp heave of pain and a great wetness between her legs. She wailed with the agony of opening the gate and fell to her knees just inside the garden. The rain soaked through her clothes and she tried to crawl but soon she curled howling into a ball, unable to do anything but cry, even her tears washed away by the intense rain.

Was this her punishment for lying to Ahab? Would she die in the storm with Jehu’s baby still unborn? Please, forgive me, she begged Astarte.

She was so absorbed by the cascading pain that it took her a moment to realise that someone was leaning over her, talking to her.

‘I saw you from the Palace. Is it the baby?’ Daniel’s taut face hovered above her.

Jezebel nodded weakly.

‘Have your waters broken?’

‘Yes—’

‘I’m not going to leave you, and Beset is on her way with help.’ He bent over her, shielding her from the rain, and she felt his fingers draw her sodden hair away from her face. She made herself listen to his voice as he told her to breathe as deeply as she could. And soon she was being carried through the courtyard to her room, Daniel’s hand in hers, Beset drying her face with a cloth, trying to think of anything but how much it hurt.

Upstairs Raisa was waiting with a bundle of linens and basins of water, the sleeves of her gown pinned above her elbows.

‘You are so sad to see Ahab go that you have called his child forth to keep you company!’ said Raisa. ‘There now, lie yourself here. There are plenty of cushions.’

Jezebel could only do as she was told, and as another scream of agony welled up within her, Raisa bathed her forehead with warm cloths soaked in lavender water. A midwife bustled with cloths and bowls beside the fire, and Daniel stood uselessly by the bed.

‘She will be well looked after,’ Raisa reassured him. ‘I’ve either borne or delivered every child in the House of Omri and this will be no different. Now go along and make sure the nursery is ready. The Queen will be perfectly safe with us.’

Jezebel gazed helplessly at Daniel. She hadn’t realised that he wouldn’t be staying with her and as the midwife brought a tray of wooden implements over to the bed, she clamped her eyes tight shut in terror. She felt Daniel squeeze her hand and then he was gone.

‘An early child is always at risk, Jezebel,’ Raisa was saying. ‘Do you understand?’

‘It will be all right,’ said Beset gently, close to her ear. ‘Chew on this liquorice root when you want to scream, it will calm you and stop you from biting your tongue.’ Jezebel felt the rough twig slide between her teeth and she started to breathe through her nose, listening for the midwife’s steady counting.

But the pain would not end and for hours she writhed and cried, the liquorice roots quickly shredding in her mouth without soothing her. In her delirium all Jezebel could think was that the Gods were so angry with her for deceiving her husband that they had decided she would be stuck forever with Jehu’s child unborn between her legs. It was all she could do not to scream her fears.

But finally, as the sun began to set, and with one last dreadful holler that Jezebel would never forget, the baby was born.

‘A boy!’ cried Raisa. ‘Yahweh has blessed the House of Omri with a boy!’

Jezebel released a great breath and opened her eyes. A tiny body hung from Raisa’s bony hands, his eyes screwed shut and his feet wriggling beneath him. Jezebel’s breath caught in her throat at the beauty of her child, how fragile he was and yet how strongly he kicked and cried with his first breaths. The midwife cut the cord, and Raisa handed her the baby.

‘Bathe him quickly and carefully,’ said Raisa, ‘keep him warm and let Jezebel hold him. They must know each other immediately if this boy is to survive.’ Raisa glanced knowingly across the room. Jezebel followed her gaze and realised Esther had joined them. But she stood apart from the others, chewing her thumbnail, and when Jezebel smiled at her, Esther turned and ran away.

‘The legacy of Ahab’s first wife isn’t your concern,’ said Raisa. ‘The Judeans have chosen to turn their backs on us in our time of war, so I won’t be surprised if Yahweh permits this boy to live, to confirm the new way forward for our people.’

‘I heard the baby cry. It’s healthy?’ Daniel appeared in the doorway, his hair damp with sweat as though he had been the one giving birth and not merely worrying about it.

Raisa tutted and pulled Jezebel’s gown down over her knees. ‘I would have sent for you.’

The midwife handed Daniel the bundled child and after a brief inspection, he handed Jezebel her son and she nestled him against her breast. He had a shock of dark hairs damp from being bathed, and Jezebel couldn’t help but think of Jehu.

‘He even looks like Ahab,’ said Raisa, stroking the child’s head.

Jezebel looked up with surprise. ‘You think so?’

Raisa laughed. ‘You didn’t expect him to be born with grey hair, did you?’

Chapter Sixteen

Jezebel recovered quickly from the birth and within two days was able to walk around the Palace, if a little tenderly. She spent most of her time in the rooms adjacent to her own, where a wet-nurse had been provided to look after the baby. But when the nurse went for her meals or to take a bath, Jezebel would lift the boy out of his crib and hold him to her breast and the child would suckle fiercely. The child had survived the crucial early days of what everyone but Beset and Daniel believed to be a premature birth, and with that apparent good fortune the priests had come to regard Jezebel with a certain cool acceptance, although she was under no illusion that the joyfulness across the city at the arrival of the longed-for son was still tempered by hatred of her religion. Amos had allowed the Palace priests to undertake all the Israelite birthing ceremonies, then he had secretly blessed the child in the Phoenician custom in Jezebel’s room. And when the boy had made to scream, as though with the voices of all the Gods who fought over his protection, Daniel had simply held him and in a moment the baby had forgotten his discontent, gurgling at the physician and allowing the sacred water to be poured over his head, hands and feet.

Even Obadiah had accepted that Jezebel wandered freely round the Palace now, and that each afternoon she would go to Ahab’s office in the hope that he had sent her another letter tucked in among the military dispatches from the battlefield. Two weeks had passed since she had written to inform him of the birth of her son, and she was growing both impatient and anxious at his silence. One afternoon she was so eager to discover if a letter had arrived that she did not realise the office was already occupied until she had thrown back the curtain to enter.

Obadiah was seated in Ahab’s chair at his desk, flanked by a number of senior priests. But in front of them stood a tall man in military uniform, whose dark curls and suntanned skin, so recognisable yet so strange in this place, made Jezebel put her hand on the doorframe to steady herself.

She gulped down her gasp of surprise with an apology. ‘I beg your pardon for the interruption,’ she said.

Jehu turned at the sound of her voice, and his lips parted a fraction.

Jezebel, acutely aware of her appearance, felt her cheeks blaze with all the raw pleasure of seeing him again, and the embarrassment that their reunion had come in front of Obadiah. What was he doing here?

Jehu nodded minutely at last, but said nothing and strode to the window. He stared out, his jaw hard, his eyes averted from her.

‘I was not informed that we had received a Judean delegation,’ she said to Obadiah, then felt immediately frustrated with her imperious tone.

‘Your Highness has been occupied with your child,’ replied Obadiah. ‘I did not anticipate you would be interested in matters that concern the Kingdom of Israel.’

‘Your solicitude is generous,’ said Jezebel. ‘But now I’m here, I’d be grateful to know what brings our visitor to Samaria.’ She glanced at Jehu but still he ignored her.

‘Jehu comes with news,’ said one of the priests, a relatively young man named Enosh who had risen quickly in the Palace since the reprisals in the spring. ‘King Asa of Judah has died. Jehoshaphat is now King.’

Jezebel crossed the office towards Jehu, memories of her lover displaced by sympathy. ‘I’m sorry to hear of your grandfather’s death.’ She recalled the way his sparkling eyes had followed her throughout the visit. ‘I remember him as being very spirited when he came to Tyre.’

Still Jehu didn’t reply, nor did he turn to face her. After a moment’s awkward silence, Jezebel bowed and left without looking at the priests. Clearly he would make no sign of their intimacy in front of the Israelite priests, but still his indifference upset her. Surely now he’d had time to reflect upon their parting, he understood that she had never meant to hurt him? Perhaps it was wounded pride, or shame at their shared passion. He’d probably found another lover by now – perhaps even a wife – just as she had married Ahab.

As she climbed the staircase to return to her rooms, her sandals slapped angrily and her fingers had balled into fists. Whatever his reasons for such dismissiveness, he hadn’t even accorded her the respect her position here—

‘You forgot your letter.’

At the sound of his voice Jezebel’s breath caught in her throat. Jehu stood at the bottom of the stairs, the folded vellum in his outstretched hand.

‘I suppose someone else has already read it,’ she said.