She glanced around the walls of the dining room, where a number of both Phoenician and Judean officials were silently watching on. ‘Is your uncle not here?’
‘He is with the other priests giving thanks to Dagon, so the Gods might bless the grain negotiations. But he sent me to find out whether tempers had improved since Obadiah’s arrival.’
‘Do you know why the Israelite has come?’
Daniel only shrugged.
Jezebel sighed. ‘Well, he is making everyone feel bad. I came down for dinner but now I don’t feel much like eating.’
‘Shall I make you a warm drink? Menes was teaching Eshmun and I only last week about how mint can help soothe the stomach. Go up to your room and I will bring it straight away.’
Jezebel squeezed his arm and headed for the staircase. But as she reached the corridor outside her room, she found Beset waiting for her, her face flushed with the delight of a secret.
‘I don’t know what you’re looking so cheerful about. Jehu was not at the dinner. Perhaps his father is keeping him out of affairs.’
‘He’s not at the dinner because he is waiting in your chamber,’ whispered Beset. ‘Mother’s gone off for the evening to see her sister.’
Jezebel’s heart leapt and she fussed with her beaded belt. ‘What is he doing here?’
Beset gently touched her shoulder. ‘I believe you should find that out for yourself.’
‘But Daniel is on his way up.’
‘Leave that to me.’
‘Does anyone else know Jehu is here? If my father finds … if anyone—’
‘You know you can trust me,’ said Beset, giving her a gentle push into the room.
Jehu was standing at the window, his outline lit softly by the glow from the lamp nooks in the wall. Jezebel glanced back but Beset had already let down the heavy curtains over the door.
Jezebel ran her fingers over the neck of her dress. But Jehu didn’t turn from the window. He must be as nervous as me. She hesitated, watching him, her breath quick and shallow, then she slid off her sandals and crossed the room in her bare feet, drifting silently to his side like a moth settling on a night-scented flower.
Jehu slid his arm around her waist without breaking his gaze from the sky, and Jezebel entwined her fingers into his, hoping he couldn’t feel how hard and fast her heart now beat beneath her skin. She felt giddy as he lifted his free hand and pointed to the sky.
‘The stars are just the same here as they are in Jerusalem. My favourite, Kesil the archer, his belt across his waist. And above him, Ayish the red star—’
‘We call that Baal’s star,’ murmured Jezebel, ‘though it is also the eye of the bull who thought my ancestor, the Princess Europa, so beautiful that he stole her away to be his lover.’
And finally Jehu looked down at her. ‘Is that what I must do? Steal you away?’ His head lowered towards her face and she smelled the sweet almond oil that made his hair glint in the lamplight. Their eyes met for a long moment but Jezebel could think of nothing but how it would be to kiss him, to feel all his body against hers. And then, at last, his face lowered and his mouth found hers, firm and full at first, then as he drew her into him, his fingers sliding beneath the folds of her dress, his lips parted and as he drank the breath right out of her, she knew she would give herself entirely up to him.
Jezebel measured the following days in two parts: the hours she was with Jehu and the hours of waiting. During the days she would catch sight of him now and then, through a balustrade, or from a window, as he accompanied her father, her brother, or other officials on various tours of the city or to meet persons of interest. But she could see from the way his face occasionally drifted from his companions that his mind was elsewhere.
With Beset’s help he came to her room each night after dark, and left before the sun rose, either climbing along the outside sea-facing wall, or sneaking through the corridors. He would joke about the boredom of the visit as they lay in each other’s arms, feeling the sea breeze trail its delicate fingers over their skin. And after they had sated their desire, they spoke of the future. He admitted that the diplomatic life was not for him, and longed to be away from the watchful eyes of his father and grandfather.
‘They’re never quite sure what my role is,’ he said one night. ‘I don’t even know where to stand half the time.’
‘It’s the same for me,’ said Jezebel. ‘My brother seems to think I interfere where a woman’s voice isn’t needed.’
They had other things in common. Both had lost their mothers – Jezebel’s had never recovered from a chest problem when she was ten, and Jehu’s had died in a difficult childbirth when he was three; the child hadn’t survived either. He could not even remember what his mother looked like.
They spoke of their love of riding, of the different breeds in Judah and Tyre. Jezebel suggested they could elope, steal two horses and gallop along the river road, and make camp in the mountain passes like soldiers, hunting food and cooking over a fire.
‘I think you’d make a good fighter,’ Jehu said.
‘What makes you say that?’
‘You like to be in control,’ he said.
Jezebel rolled on top of him, giggling, and pressed his arms above his head. A thin scar snaked across the top of his chest, white against his bronzed skin.
‘How did you get this?’ she asked, tracing it with her finger.
‘When I was twelve,’ he said. ‘I was running with a ceremonial sword from the smith to give to my brother Jehoram. I slipped.’
‘Where is Jehoram now?’ Jezebel asked.
‘My father left him in Jerusalem. He doesn’t travel well over long distances.’
‘That’s cryptic.’
‘My brother is clever,’ he said, ‘but he has never been strong.’
Jezebel sensed she was touching a nerve and changed the subject.
‘Did it hurt?’
‘Not as much as my wounded pride.’
Jezebel smiled and kissed the scar. ‘Boys are silly,’ she whispered, feeling Jehu’s manhood stir beneath her. ‘Always playing at soldiers.’
Chapter Six
Jehu held his hand out to Jezebel as she stepped onto the royal galley, but she was far steadier on her feet than he was. He looked pale beneath that bronzed skin, and his hands were clammy against hers. Gone was the assured lover whose body she had enjoyed night after night in her chamber, the sleeping couch now so strongly scented with him that she thought she would never know other fragrances again. But here on the edge of the harbour, the west wind was sharp with salt, and Jezebel felt as though she had woken up from a deep sleep to find winter had turned to spring.
Certainly that was their reason for being on the galley, to open the water festival of Yam in gratitude for seeing the fleet through the harsh winter. She released Jehu’s hand quickly, so no one could mistake his courtesy for intimacy. The ceremonial redwood boat was in position beyond the harbour, piled high with the carcasses of all the boats that had foundered in the previous year. The whole pyre would be set ablaze as the sun set, but first there was the inspection of the merchant fleet by Ithbaal, raised up in the prow of his galley.
‘Why must it roll around so much?’ muttered Jehu as he stood beside Jezebel behind Ithbaal.
‘Because Yam breathes just as you do, only in the ebb and flow of the tide.’ Jezebel longed to reach out and steady Jehu, slide her arm around his waist, feel the muscles across his abdomen tauten at her touch.
She