Eleanor Jong - Jezebel

‘So she is Jehu’s aunt?’ said Jezebel.

Raisa frowned. ‘He’s the child of the second wife, isn’t he?’

‘Yes,’ said Jezebel, colouring. ‘He accompanied Jehoshaphat to Tyre. I do see a certain family resemblance.’

Raisa laughed. ‘You are an intelligent girl for your years. You think a lot and don’t say too much. That will help you with Ahab but …’ She paused. ‘Well, you’ll work it out.’

Jezebel wasn’t sure what Raisa had been about to say, but as Obadiah had already stated, clearly not everyone was as happy with the match as her mother-in-law. She knew well enough about the long period of distrust between Israel and Judah. Since the kingdoms had separated in the bloody civil war after King Solomon, outright hostility had been avoided, because diplomacy was preferential to antagonism, and both sides found common ground in their homage to Yahweh, their one true God. Jezebel had not realised that Ahab’s first wife was a daughter of Judah, and could see that failure to produce an heir and heal the wounds under the auspices of Yahweh would carry heavy disappointment for Leah and those who had arranged the wedding.

She and Raisa walked together in silence to the top of the stairs, where Ahab’s mother reached up and cupped Jezebel’s face in her hands. ‘I hope you produce many children for my son and for Israel. That is what you have come here to do and so I bless you in the name of the God we share. It will be good to hear children running through the Palace.’

‘I am sure that in the daylight I will learn to appreciate its beauty.’

‘My husband, the former King, built it. His House, the House of Omri, should continue to prosper with you here.’

Jezebel thanked her for her kindness, and the old woman disappeared through a curtained doorway, leaving Jezebel alone once more. Surely there must be more than half a dozen people living here, she thought, but though she strained to hear sounds of life, she felt as alone once more as one of the tiny stars in the great firmament above.

She looked around her, trying to get a sense of the layout of the Palace, but as she followed the balcony round, searching for her own room, she found only a wall and another corridor leading off in a different direction. She wandered along it, looking for a stairway so that at least she could return to the garden level. But it was all so confusing in the shadows and she felt a little sick. She leaned against the balcony and put her hand on her stomach, but she immediately let it fall again, for someone like Obadiah would surely seize on such a gesture. For though the baby had not yet begun to swell in flesh it was already growing in her mind, and around it such intense thoughts of Jehu that she was sure anyone who knew him – his aunt Leah, for example – would somehow see them reflected there. And what of Ahab, tonight, in the marriage bed?

She gazed up at the sky, looking for Kesil once more, but her attention was caught by a quiet sobbing somewhere below. She peered down into the small courtyard and identified the shadowy outline of Esther in a corner.

Jezebel walked swiftly along until she found a staircase, then she padded down it, her cape dragging behind her. Esther sniffed and glanced up, her eyes shining with tears. ‘You shouldn’t stay here. Mother will be furious.’

‘I’ve no wish to get you into more trouble. But you shouldn’t be out here in the dark. And besides, if we’re all going to be living here together, we can’t really avoid each other.’

‘Obadiah has seen to it that we should. Mother and I have been relocated to this wing.’ She nodded towards the small courtyard. ‘I apologise for the way my mother spoke to you. She hates being in Israel and she has always hated the Phoenicians too. She says you sacrifice people and not animals.’

‘No wonder I’ve had such a hostile reception,’ laughed Jezebel nervously. ‘It’s not true, I promise you.’

‘And she says your Gods are so malicious they will sink foreign ships if they sail in your waters.’

‘Without charts and plans of the coast, the sea can be dangerous. But that could happen to even the most experienced sailor, whatever kingdom they come from.’

‘She despises you.’

‘Look, Esther, I’m only here because my father and your father agreed that it was in the interests of both our peoples. It is what young women like us must do.’

‘I hope it never happens to me.’

Jezebel chewed her lip. It felt so strange to be making friends with this girl, almost the same age, when in just a few hours she would be lying down in a bed with her father. Perhaps Esther sensed that too, for she stood up.

‘If Mother goes back to Jerusalem, as she keeps threatening to do, your life here might be a bit easier. It’s a shame though, because you seem so nice.’ Esther smiled shyly then she glanced up at the balcony. ‘I must go before Mother misses me.’

‘Of course. But maybe we could take a walk together tomorrow? You could show me round the Palace?’

‘Perhaps,’ said Esther uncertainly. ‘Your wing is that way.’ She pointed through an archway lit with torches. Then she set off quickly across the courtyard, her fingers sketching a wave.

Jezebel walked back towards her room, listening to the strange sounds of the Palace around her as it slowly came alive in the dark, to the distant barking of the dogs and the calls of the servants behind hidden doorways. She smelled the roasting of meat and the stewing of fruit for the wedding banquet in her honour, and heard a lonely bugle call drift into the night sky. But it was of the sea she thought, that faraway kingdom of her own that she carried in her heart. And of the child that grew in her before its time.

In the light from flickering lanterns, the young woman stared back at Jezebel, haughty and refined, almost arrogant in the way her eyebrows arched and her eyes stared, rimmed with the blackest kohl. Her skin was fashionably paled with the most expensive of the ground powders but it looked like a mask, taut and still, concealing every thought within. Only the mouth curled faintly, reddened with dyed wax. But if her face was mesmerising, it was merely an opal in the most elaborate of settings, from the headdress of sculpted gold through which her hair was delicately woven, down through the rich swathes of silken gown edged with hundreds of tiny shimmering pearls, to the jewelled sandals and sparkling ankle bracelets which tinkled musically as she walked. She was the richest of offerings in every sense.

‘I hardly recognise myself,’ said Jezebel.

Beset lowered the bronze hand mirror, its panel etched with a scene from the abduction of Princess Europa by the lovesick bull. ‘You look like a queen.’

Behind the facade and the armour of a bride, Jezebel’s heart thudded with fear and her hands sweated, and she prayed that the paint on her face would not smudge and smear. It was well after dark, and she’d heard the dining party gathering for some time.

‘I hope the King has made such an effort,’ murmured Beset as she straightened the train of Jezebel’s gown one last time. And then the maid stepped back to admire her work and sniffed, quickly wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. ‘Your father would be so proud.’

Jezebel lifted her chin to swallow down her own emotions and the wide gold neckband rubbed against her throat. There was something to be grateful for in these ceremonial outfits for they made you stand tall and proud even when you wanted to run away to curl up and hide. And perhaps Philosir understood that, for he didn’t make her walk any slower than she could bear to on the way to the banquet, giving the Israelites that clustered in the Palace corridors enough time to notice her but not to weigh her further with their disdainful fascination.