‘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.