Eleanor Jong - Jezebel

‘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.’