Eleanor de Jong
Jezebel

Copyright

This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

AVON

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A Paperback Original 2012

First published in Great Britain by

HarperCollinsPublishers 2012

JEZEBEL. Copyright © Working Partners Two 2012. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

Eleanor de Jong asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

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Source ISBN: 9781847562555

Ebook Edition © DECEMBER 2011 ISBN: 9780007443215

Version: 2018-07-19

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Map

872 BC – Girl

Chapter One

Salt spray glistened in the stallion’s mane and stung Jezebel’s…

Chapter Two

There was indeed a faintly frosty welcome when she returned…

Chapter Three

Later that evening, Jezebel entered her father’s crowded chambers for…

Chapter Four

In the sharp morning light, Tyre looked almost more beautiful…

Chapter Five

She was late to the banquet that night, having spent…

Chapter Six

Jehu held his hand out to Jezebel as she stepped…

Chapter Seven

‘Hail, Hail!’ cried the crowd at the head of the…

Chapter Eight

The next morning it was not the unfamiliar light that…

Chapter Nine

‘This city was built to keep strangers out,’ murmured Jezebel…

Chapter Ten

The chambers she had been allocated were a pleasant surprise.

Chapter Eleven

In the light from flickering lanterns, the young woman stared…

Chapter Twelve

Jezebel tried to sit still on the couch in her…

Chapter Thirteen

In the light of dawn the Palace did seem more…

Chapter Fourteen

A few days later, Jezebel stood in front of a…

Chapter Fifteen

The hot and barren summer did little more than stifle…

Chapter Sixteen

Jezebel recovered quickly from the birth and within two days…

Chapter Seventeen

From the roof of the Palace, Jezebel could see the…

Four years later 868 BC – Mother

Chapter Eighteen

‘Yahweh has blessed the House of Omri once again!’ cried…

Chapter Nineteen

The energy of her fury abated during a sleepless night…

Chapter Twenty

The courtyard was already crowded with crates and chests as…

Chapter Twenty-One

She didn’t dwell on Jehu’s unceremonious departure for long. As…

Chapter Twenty-Two

The trees in the Palace courtyard were just beginning to…

Chapter Twenty-Three

That evening in the King’s office, Ahab sat at his…

Chapter Twenty-Four

She couldn’t reach the city before the processions of priests…

Chapter Twenty-Five

Ahab had been sitting on his bed, head in his…

Eight years later 860 BC – Queen Consort

Chapter Twenty-Six

Jezebel shifted her weight on Ahab’s throne. At least none…

Chapter Twenty-Seven

But that afternoon, Balazar insisted on a private audience with…

Chapter Twenty-Eight

‘Come away from the window,’ said Beset. ‘You will catch…

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Boaz thrust open the Council Chamber doors.

Chapter Thirty

Jezebel carefully removed the Consort gown before going up to…

Chapter Thirty-One

Jezebel made a great fuss of Athaliah that afternoon. They…

Chapter Thirty-Two

The Palace felt empty after Balazar and Esther returned to…

Chapter Thirty-Three

Though night had long since fallen, the Council Chamber was…

Chapter Thirty-Four

In the days that followed Naboth’s death, the mood in…

Chapter Thirty-Five

Athaliah grabbed her mother tightly, sobbing into Jezebel’s neck, her…

Chapter Thirty-Six

As the carriage turned onto the causeway at Tyre, Jezebel…

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Two days later, Jezebel stood alone on the roof of…

Chapter Thirty-Eight

For more than a week, Jezebel remained inside the Palace…

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Jezebel left the throne room, her chin held high, but…

Five years later 854 BC – Regent

Chapter Forty

From the banks of the River Jordan, the encampment of…

Chapter Forty-One

Through the archway of the Court of the Priests, Jezebel…

Chapter Forty-Two

Though it pained Jezebel dreadfully to leave Athaliah behind in…

Chapter Forty-Three

The plains around Samaria were almost unrecognisable, so thick were…

Chapter Forty-Four

A prophecy was just a set of words, Jezebel told…

Chapter Forty-Five

Jezebel called for Beset, who summoned the commander of the…

Chapter Forty-Six

Down in the stableyard, several horses were already harnessed and…

Chapter Forty-Seven

Messengers were dispatched to Samaria, Tyre and Jerusalem to spread…

Chapter Forty-Eight

The coronation was set for the following day, and from…

Chapter Forty-Nine

Throughout the coronation ceremony, Jezebel kept looking around the fringes…

Chapter Fifty

The Palace was full of noise that evening, but Jezebel…

Two years later 852 BC – Queen Mother

Chapter Fifty-One

The spring sunshine brought a light breeze with it, and…

Chapter Fifty-Two

Beset dropped her spoon on the platter, a dull thud…

Chapter Fifty-Three

Shadows from the lamp danced on the walls of Jezebel’s…

Chapter Fifty-Four

A terrible pall of silence had fallen over Samaria after…

Chapter Fifty-Five

‘It’s too dangerous,’ said Daniel, as Jezebel stood on the…

Chapter Fifty-Six

Jezebel’s melancholy was infectious. She and Raisa sat for a…

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Even after a month, Jerusalem still felt like a foreign…

Chapter Fifty-Eight

It wasn’t Athaliah who called on Jezebel the next day.

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Without the protection of her anonymity in Jerusalem, Jezebel found…

Chapter Sixty

Five days later Jezebel received word that Joram had returned…

Ten years later 842 BC – Jezebel

Chapter Sixty-One

The tiny stone house in the corner of the Palace…

Chapter Sixty-Two

Jezebel rode out to meet the carriage that brought Joram…

Chapter Sixty-Three

Once again it was Ahaziah who spotted the arrival of…

Chapter Sixty-Four

Jezebel blinked in the darkness, unsure at first what had…

Epilogue

Who will stop and drop a coin to hear the…

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Other Books by Eleanor de Jong

About the Publisher

Map

872 BC – Girl

Chapter One

Salt spray glistened in the stallion’s mane and stung Jezebel’s cheeks. She leaned close into the neck of the horse, urging the animal on through the low waves. Ahead, the city of Tyre rose up out of the lapis blue of the Great Sea, the white walls of the Royal Palace and the temples like the crest of a perfect wave just ready to break.

As Jezebel reached the causeway that climbed onto the lower reaches of the Tyrian island, Shapash the sun Goddess had already begun to draw her heavy head towards the soft shoulder of Yam, the God of the sea. Jezebel knew she should turn south at the city gates, towards the Palace and the stables. Rebecca, her maid, would be waiting to tut and sigh at how the young princess had surrendered her carefully arranged elegance for the dishevelled disarray of any other fifteen-year-old girl let loose for an afternoon.

But Jezebel couldn’t resist one last whip of the wind in her hair and instead turned north, daring the horse faster and faster round the city walls. She galloped out along the narrow stone promontory, built on the orders of her father to protect the harbour from the heaving discontent of winter seas. For a moment, she felt like she was flying, until the stallion tensed beneath her, his ears pricked and eyes wide. He shuddered to a halt. Jezebel grabbed at the harness to steady them both, her knees digging hard into the saddle cloth. ‘Steady, boy!’

The promontory fell away steeply on either side, the sheer walls plunging deep into the natural well that Tyrian ships called home. For a moment she felt dizzy, as though the tide was rising fast to meet her, and she laughed in spite of the unexpected rush of fear, and patted the horse’s neck. ‘Don’t you dare tell Father I brought you out here.’

She glanced back along the wall but they were quite alone up here. A large crowd had gathered below on the wooden docks that nestled into the curve of the harbour, their attention entirely on a wedding party disembarking from small redwood boats. Snatches of pipe music and laughter drifted up. Jezebel spotted a girl of about her own age stepping off the boat, her hands taken up by a young man. They both wore the plain linen tunics favoured by fishing families, but the young man wore a second overskirt, a shenti in rich Tyrian purple. Jezebel’s older brother Balazar wore the same type of garment – if somewhat more bejewelled – every day as he strutted the enclosed gardens of the Royal Palace. Jezebel guessed this young man must be one of the fishermen whose rare right to wear the purple cloth came from the back-breaking daily grind of harvesting the precious sea snails that gave up the dye. His bride was lucky to marry such a man, for if she could ignore the terrible smell of the rotting snails he must endure to make the dye, and if he could rise up steadily from fisherman to trader, perhaps one day he would sail her in a much larger boat down the coast to Ashdod or even as far as Egypt.

The crowd cheered as the young man draped a fine purple veil over his bride’s hair, and beneath Jezebel the horse grew restless. She shivered and glanced towards the setting sun.

‘Father will be expecting us,’ she said quietly.

She turned the horse around where the wall widened and let it trot back into the city. But she could not resist a last look down at the wedding party. The dock was now edged by the sparkle of shell lamps. The girl looked so happy as her husband fastened a purple-edged cape at her throat. Jezebel’s hand reached absently to her own throat and the fat Red Sea pearls that rested on her skin. Perhaps Rebecca would know who the happy couple were, perhaps they were young cousins of hers and she would be able to tell their story. The island was full of faces Jezebel recognised and who would smile respectfully when they saw their princess ride by, but whose names only Rebecca could know.

Though when she sees me like this, Jezebel thought, I doubt if she will ever speak to me again.

Chapter Two

There was indeed a faintly frosty welcome when she returned to the stables, not from Rebecca but from Hisham, one of her father’s senior courtiers.

‘I must be in trouble if Father has sent you to find me,’ she said as she handed the harness to one of the stable boys.

Hisham’s lips barely curved. ‘His Royal Highness has been waiting two hours.’

‘I suppose Balazar has told on me. Otherwise, how would you have known where to find me?’

‘The King had also hoped to ride this afternoon, Your Highness.’

‘Oh.’ Jezebel winced and glanced at her father’s favourite stallion, now being rubbed down by the boy. ‘I don’t suppose I have time to change my dress either, do I?’

‘I believe there will be time for that in due course.’

Hisham turned neatly on his sandalled feet, and led Jezebel through the Palace to her father’s retiring room at a ridiculously stately pace considering the apparent urgency.

‘You look a mess,’ said Balazar from where he lay on the couch beside her father’s marble desk. King Ithbaal was sitting at the desk studying a scroll of papyrus that rustled crisply as his fingers worked across it. He did not look up at the sound of his son’s voice and Jezebel chewed on her lip. The desk was piled high with scrolls, some of them papyrus, others of vellum, and a neat pile of engraved clay tablets stood on one corner. Jezebel tucked her loose hair behind her ears.

‘At least I’ve not just been lying around.’

‘Don’t we have boys to exercise the horses?’ yawned Balazar, twisting his black hair between his short fingers. ‘Anyway, you should not go out on your own like that. I could see you racing along the beach from up here. It’s not safe.’

‘Or seemly?’ she asked. ‘When was the last time you even stepped out of the Palace? In all your seventeen years, have you ever been across the causeway?’

‘I have no need to go down there. Anyone of note comes to us, Jezebel.’

Ithbaal let the scroll close around his hand. ‘And did you see anyone of note on your ride today, my dear?’

She walked to the desk and kissed his cheek. ‘I’m sorry. Will you forgive me? You should have told me at lunch that you wanted to ride. We could have gone together. I would even have let you saddle your own horse.’ She maintained a pious expression for a moment, then smiled, for her father’s dark eyes sparkled with amusement.

‘Actually, we could have ridden out together to meet the Judeans,’ he said. ‘I am surprised you did not see their retinue on the Sea Road.’

‘I thought they weren’t coming for a few days.’ Jezebel pushed back one end of the scroll which her father had been reading. The angular letters were neatly inscribed, but they were so tiny and ran on and on. But still she read, lowering her head towards the scroll: Tax on goods in transit— Contribution to maintenance of the King’s Highway—

She let the scroll go. ‘Are you asking the Judeans to pay for the upkeep of the northernmost stretch of the Highway? They surely will not agree to that. It is the furthest stretch from Judah, and also the furthest from here, and the part of the Highway in which both kingdoms have least interest.’

‘Are you calling Father a fool?’ asked Balazar lazily from the couch.

‘Jezebel is right. Strategically it appears to make little sense.’ Ithbaal looked down at his son.

‘Then it makes little sense,’ repeated Balazar, his cheeks ruddying.

‘Unless you think that Ben-Hadad of Damascus has ambitions to seize that piece of the Highway,’ explained Jezebel. ‘It borders his land of course. Should it fall into his hands traders would be at his mercy. That does neither Judah nor Tyre and Sidon any good at all.’

Ithbaal nodded, but his attention had fallen from her face to her dress. ‘I presume you have something else to wear for dinner. One of your very best outfits. And perhaps that engraved amethyst pendant I gave you for the Spring Festival.’

‘You want me to meet the Judean officials?’

‘They’re absolute barbarians,’ said Balazar. ‘No culture, no art, their food is bland, and that awful brown land—’

‘I suppose I’ll seat you between the King’s son Jehoshaphat and his son Jehu,’ said her father to her, resting his hand on her shoulder. He spoke casually, but she felt the weight of his touch. ‘I am sure you will show them both the very best of your hospitality.’

Jezebel’s heart banged hard in her chest, and she held her breath to slow it down. ‘Of course, Father.’

Her father stood and walked away without another word and Jezebel could only watch him go, as dizzy now as she had been up on the promontory.

‘You know what he means, don’t you,’ said Balazar slyly, ‘sitting you next to—’

‘I know.’

She ran past Hisham out of the retiring room and up the grand stone staircase to her room, flinging back the heavy drapes and darting across the corner of the room to the small shrine to the great Goddess Astarte beside the east window. But the stone plinth was already heaped with grapes, and the redwood circle carved with Astarte’s manifestations was wound with fresh tendrils and leaves of the vine.

Jezebel glanced frantically around the room, for Astarte’s shrine was only ever dressed for festivals and for weddings. At the foot of the bed stood Rebecca, her hands clasped at her waist, her eyebrows arched knowingly beneath her greying hair. Beside her was her youngest daughter, Beset, a year older than Jezebel and in Palace service at her mother’s side. The girl smiled at Jezebel. Jezebel tried to speak, but her throat was tight and she could only sink down onto the white kneeler at the foot of the shrine. At a nod from Rebecca, Beset filled Astarte’s ceremonial bowl with water and gave it to Jezebel. She drank it down gratefully.

‘What did Father tell you?’ she whispered, looking up at her maids. ‘You must know something, else why would you have dressed the shrine?’

‘So that Astarte will guide you,’ said Rebecca.

‘I will have to marry one of these Judeans to secure the safety of the Highway,’ gulped Jezebel. She’d been expecting this day for two years – not many royal daughters remained unmarried in their sixteenth year. ‘Has he told you which one?’

‘The Palace is full of gossip—’ whispered Beset.

‘Then which?’

‘It won’t do us any good to speculate,’ said Rebecca, frowning at her daughter. ‘We have made our offering to the Goddess, so we must allow her to take care of you.’

Jezebel shook her head. ‘It would surely be better if I did not understand what is at stake, then I could just do as I am told without thinking about it.’

‘When have you ever done as you are told?’ said Rebecca. ‘Now come and bathe and then we can dress you. You must look your best for your future husband, whomever the Fates decide upon.’

Chapter Three

Later that evening, Jezebel entered her father’s crowded chambers for the ceremonial dinner, her heart feeling tight in her chest. Two courtiers held the pleated train of her finest silk dress, and she kept her eyes fixed on her father rather than glancing around at what form her future might take. Ithbaal stood to escort her personally to the couch opposite his, signalling the respect which she was to be accorded by the visitors. Jezebel lowered her gaze to the tables, groaning beneath golden bowls piled high with cooked grains and meat, fruits and nuts.

‘You look wonderful,’ whispered her father.

Jezebel concentrated on keeping her shoulders drawn back. Standing so, she was almost as tall as her father. Her shoulders were bare, and almost brushed by the amethyst pendants of her earrings. Rebecca had wanted to whiten her skin, but Jezebel hated being pasted with make-up, especially when it was liable to crack as the evening wore on. She settled for a pearlescent shimmer dusted across her collar bones. Her lips were painted vermillion, using one of her mother’s recipes learned from the Egyptians.

‘I had always thought it like the cool of a midnight sky,’ said a voice to her right, ‘but in truth it is more like the heat of a glorious sunset.’

‘I’m sorry?’ said Jezebel politely, turning. The accent was not like any she had heard before.

‘Tyrian purple,’ said a young man settling on the couch next to her. From Balazar’s dismissive description, Jezebel had imagined the Judeans to be as dull and ugly as their lands, but this fellow was as handsome as any of the young men of Tyre. His jaw was a little squarer and his eyes had a dark knowing about them that Jezebel found oddly cool in their attractive setting. From his unlined face, he might have been only a couple of years older than her, perhaps even eighteen, but his body was certainly a man’s. She blushed at how intently he studied her in return. His eyes caressed her shoulders, then took in the folds of fabric that draped across her body. ‘The cloth I’ve seen dyed with it in the Jerusalem markets has a rather bluer hue to it,’ he continued, ‘but your dress is quite rich and red in comparison.’

There was a moment’s silence before Jezebel realised he was expecting an answer, but when she tried to speak, no words would come. The Hebrew he spoke was guttural but soft. She coughed, her fingers covering her mouth, and the young man quickly reached for a bowl of wine and offered it to her.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered, furious with herself for being so struck by his looks that she had forgotten her poise and her manners. She drank some wine, and swall owed hard. ‘I’m afraid that the colour you are describing isn’t true Tyrian purple, but tekhelet.’

‘I don’t know this word,’ he said, ‘what does it mean?’

Jezebel swallowed some more wine, its richness surely flushing her cheeks even more. ‘Tekhelet is the colour used for our ritual clothing.’

‘And that makes it different?’

Jezebel lowered her gaze. ‘I am quite sure one of the officials will be able to tell you about the technical processes if you wish to know.’

He leaned closer to her and she smelled the sweet almond oil on his hair. ‘It can be very boring,’ he whispered, ‘listening to a lot of officials droning on. But I’m sure the Princess Jezebel can make even a dead snail sound interesting.’

‘It seems you know more about me than I know about you,’ said Jezebel. ‘I’m afraid I don’t even know your name.’

The young man lowered his head and hesitantly offered his hand, palm up, in the traditional Phoenician greeting. Jezebel lowered her palm onto his in response, the calluses at the base of his fingers catching on her own smooth soft skin.

‘I apologise. A soldier’s hands are not as soft as a princess’s,’ he said. ‘I’m Jehu, the youngest in the Judean line. My father, Jehoshaphat, sits to your left. My grandfather Asa sits between your brother and your father.’

Jehoshaphat had turned towards the sound of his name, and she offered her hands for the greeting. The father’s jaw had the same hard contour as the son’s but his mouth lacked fullness and his eyes were hawkish. He glanced contemptuously at Jezebel’s hands, then turned his attention back to Balazar. King Asa was a small man with bright eyes and just a scattering of hairs across his liver-spotted scalp. Most of his fingers bore thick gold rings, and he threw a mischievous smile towards her, as if to say ‘Were I a younger man …’

Jezebel darted a glance at Jehu, but he made no apology for his father’s rudeness, or his grandfather’s lechery, only staring at the back of his father’s head. She fumbled for her golden platter to cover her embarrassment at being snubbed, selecting fruits and meats from the table.

Jehu began to do the same, hurriedly saying, ‘I have spent little time on the coast. I had not imagined Tyre would be so striking.’

‘Thank you,’ said Jezebel rather formally, staring at her plate. ‘I am sure there are many attractive towns and cities on the Judean coast.’

‘Perhaps. But I have never seen them for the Judean army have never had to defend our nation from armies of mermaids and seahorses.’

Jezebel glanced up in spite of herself, and found Jehu grinning shyly at her, his eyes gazing deep into hers. She smiled and broke his gaze, but he quickly spoke again.

‘Your officials were talking of a city called Mog’dor, where the Tyrians own great yards for turning the snails into dye, but I cannot imagine what such a place is like. Is it not far to the west, beyond the end of the Sea Road?’

‘But not beyond the end of the sea,’ said Jezebel allowing her eyes to be drawn back to his. ‘Where feet might fail, a boat will always sail.’

‘Give me a horse instead. You are not at the whim of the winds on a horse.’

‘I love to ride too,’ she answered, glad of something in common. ‘But a boat can carry far more cargo and will bring you more by return. The King’s Highway, the Sea Road, these roads will always stop where the sea begins. But the sea crosses land by way of rivers—’

‘You make it sound almost beautiful.’

‘The sea is beautiful.’

‘But I think only you could make it sound so.’

Jezebel blushed deeply but she held Jehu’s gaze as he offered her his plate of food to share, the light of the shell lamps glistening on his dark curly hair. She tentatively reached for the plate, her fingers settling on a bunch of grapes in the middle, and she smiled to herself as she picked them up.

Perhaps Astarte is watching after all, she thought.

Chapter Four

In the sharp morning light, Tyre looked almost more beautiful than at sunset, its white buildings sparkling. Up on the roof of the Palace the light breeze caught Jezebel’s dress and her headscarf fluttered behind her. Beset had stayed with her long after Rebecca had gone to bed last night, and they had spent considerable time choosing the outfit, giggling softly between them at how Jehu might admire the flattering cut of one against the pretty hues of another. Their efforts had been worth it, for Jehu had hardly taken his eyes off her since he and Jehoshaphat had followed Ithbaal up to the roof for the best vista of the city. Indeed he now grinned foolishly at her as he rubbed his palms vigorously on his bare arms. This morning he had shed his formal robes in favour of a rough tunic strapped with a leather belt and knife sheath. His strong calves were laced into leather riding boots, and he looked very much the warrior he claimed to be.

‘Are you cold?’ asked Jezebel.

‘I’m not used to the sea wind. It is cooler than when I’m galloping through the valleys.’

‘I prefer to ride along the beach.’

‘It isn’t good for a horse to run on such soft ground. They waste their effort and their hair gets clogged with sand.’

‘I agree with you, Jehu,’ said Ithbaal. ‘And I would advise you never to let Jezebel ride one of your horses for both of them will return muddy and exhausted.’

Jezebel smiled but avoided looking at Jehu. The young man was even more handsome in the sunshine, taller and broader than she had realised, like one of the heroic Temple statues with his feet wide, his arms crossed, and the black curls on his head kissed lightly by the breeze. So she turned away, containing her attraction, for the negotiations were the purpose of this visit and not merely the prelude to a suitable marriage. Ithbaal had watched her during the banquet last night with that glimmer of amusement she loved so much, and she had glowed to know she was making him proud. It didn’t harm, of course, that her dinner companion had been charming, and it made up for Jehoshaphat’s less engaging disposition.

‘Women should not ride,’ said Jehu’s father as he peered across the city’s roofs. ‘They cannot keep up with men when the going is fast, they’re easily scared by the dogs, and they turn feeble when the blood of prey is spilled.’

‘Spoken like a true huntsman,’ said Balazar, who was lolling against the parapet.

‘Surely you don’t allow your women on the battlefield?’ asked Jehoshaphat of Ithbaal.

‘I find their wisdom more valuable than their physical strength.’

‘Hmm.’ Jehoshaphat sneered. ‘In Judah, women have no contribution to make except in the home.’

‘Then on that perhaps we differ,’ said Ithbaal. ‘Phoenicians constantly seek harmony with each other, with our surroundings, and with our Gods. For example, this very island is a partnership between land and sea. Indeed, it was a great feat of construction to put land back into the sea to build the promontory, not to mention a mastery by Melqart, the God of Tyre, of Yam, the God of the sea. I admit I sacrificed a good number of bullocks the night before the building began.’

‘So many Gods to satisfy,’ said Jehoshaphat dryly.

‘Tyre reminds me of Jerusalem, my home,’ said Jehu quickly, looking at Jezebel. ‘It is built on a plateau in the mountains that sticks out into the valley below, rather like this island. I think you would like it. And it does no harm that you have to cross Israel’s ugly plains to get there for it sits like a jewel in a headdress compared to their heathen encampments.’ At that he turned to Ithbaal. ‘I was surprised to hear you mention concessions to the Israelites at dinner last night. They’re not worthy of your consideration.’

Jezebel glanced at her father, but it was Balazar who caught her eye, gleeful at the prospect of an argument.

‘The difficult history between your peoples is well known,’ said Ithbaal, ‘but Phoenicia’s own history is one of exploration and friendship. We have long sailed the Great Sea in search of trade, and such exchanges are always defined by difference. Besides, as Israel are our neighbours it is neither practical nor wise to exclude them—’

‘But with your superior knowledge of the Sea,’ insisted Jehu, ‘and an agreement between ourselves on the King’s Highway, we could control the north–south routes to both sides of Israel and exclude them altogether. It is no more than they deserve.’

‘Jehu, mind your place,’ said Jehoshaphat. Jezebel held her breath. For all his fairness and wisdom, her father was not used to being interrupted, or disagreed with.

A light cough broke the silence and Jezebel saw Hisham standing at the top of the stairs. ‘Your Highness,’ he bowed to Ithbaal. ‘Your visitor has arrived and is waiting for you in the courtyard.’

Jehoshaphat looked down over the parapet, then jerked around angrily. ‘That is the headdress of an Israelite official. How dare you invite them to join our negotiations!’

Jehu strode across to join his father and peered over the edge. ‘From his unsteady gait on the horse, I’d say the intruder is Ahab’s aide, Obadiah.’

‘I believe King Ahab of Israel is as entitled to be addressed by his rank as your own grandfather,’ said Ithbaal patiently. ‘Obadiah isn’t party to our discussions, but as I explained, it isn’t in the interest of my own kingdom to build relations with only one nation at a time—’

‘I will be consulting with my officials about this,’ snapped Jehoshaphat, barging past Hisham down the stairs.

‘Balazar,’ continued Ithbaal, ‘please invite Jehoshaphat and his staff to join you on a tour of the Silk Halls. He is sure to find the beauty soothing, and the merchant opportunities extremely lucrative.’ Ithbaal turned to Jehu. ‘You are very welcome to accompany your father on the tour.’

‘Perhaps I will await the outcome of your discussions with Obadiah before I accept,’ said Jehu coolly. ‘It would be foolish to become intrigued by goods that were no longer available to me.’

‘You may slay a man with a single thrust of a knife,’ said Ithbaal, ‘but to build a partnership takes more than one passing of hands.’

Jezebel watched her father and Balazar walk away down the stairs, then she glanced at Jehu. Perhaps he was still cold, for he shook, and his shoulders were tense beneath his tunic.

‘Come down to the gardens,’ she said suddenly, surprising herself. ‘They’re far prettier than the Silk Halls, and we’ll be out of the wind.’

Jehu raised his chin. ‘I apologise. You must think I’ve insulted your father.’

‘I’ve argued with him just as fiercely.’

‘But not with so much at stake.’ He looked towards the stairs. ‘And now my own father is angry with me too.’

‘You were only defending Judah’s interests.’

Jehu shook his head and sat down on a stone bench. ‘If he trusts me to know what they are. My father would rather have brought my older brother instead, but my mother is the second wife—’

‘And she has more influence than the first?’ Jezebel couldn’t help but laugh. ‘You must forgive me now, for I don’t understand the purpose of these ranks of wives and children.’ She sobered her face. ‘But clearly it troubles you.’

‘I’ve much to prove if I’m to rise to my proper place in the Judean Kingdom.’

‘If what I hear is right,’ said Jezebel gently, sitting down on the bench beside him, ‘you have little to worry about.’

Jehu glanced at her. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Rival kings might argue but their servants always gossip happily together. I’m told you are thought of very highly in your household.’

‘How would you know what the servants have been saying about me?’ he enquired, his mood abruptly lightening. ‘Have you been asking about me?’ he asked, teasingly.

Jezebel blushed. ‘I too have a proper place in my kingdom, to listen to what others say.’

‘I am quite sure there is more to your talents than that,’ said Jehu reaching for her hand, not in greeting this time, but lifting it carefully from her lap, his thumb delicately stroking her palm. ‘I confess there are some attractions to this Phoenician custom of openness.’ His eyes locked on hers, so dark and deep, and she felt his breath warm against her lips as he leaned in towards her.

A gull screeched loudly as it landed on the parapet beside them and Jezebel jumped. ‘You noisy bird,’ she laughed.

‘I suppose there are even Gods in the birds who look over you,’ muttered Jehu, leaning towards her again. But this time Hisham’s discreet cough interrupted them and Jezebel stood up abruptly, smoothing down her skirt.

‘Yes?’

‘Jehoshaphat is asking for his son,’ said the attendant.

Jehu straightened himself and strode towards the stairs without another word. And Jezebel turned her back on Hisham and looked down the coast towards Judah.

Chapter Five

She was late to the banquet that night, having spent such a long time choosing what to wear that even Beset had lost her enthusiasm for the game. ‘You are as choosy as a child sometimes,’ Rebecca had said. ‘I’m sure that your Jehu will notice only those beautiful eyes of yours.’

‘He isn’t my Jehu yet,’ Jezebel had replied, but that light retort echoed rather dismally as she approached her father’s chambers. For Jehu was not on any of the couches, nor was there any sign that he was expected. Instead Jezebel’s couch was drawn tightly between King Asa and Jehoshaphat, who was already loudly criticising the Israelite visitor, Obadiah.

‘How can I possibly endure an evening of that?’ muttered Jezebel, her shoulders sagging.

‘Are you all right?’

Jezebel looked into the shadows. ‘Daniel?’ A tall slender youth a year or two older than her emerged from behind a pillar, his dark straight hair tucked behind one ear. His brown eyes narrowed as he peered into the room, and his face was taut with concentration. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Eavesdropping for my uncle,’ he murmured, moving close beside her. He smelled of the sweet medicines of the herb garden, rosemary and sage.

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 suspected that the cordiality between kingdoms remained only between herself and Jehu. There hadn’t been a banquet for almost a week and negotiations now only took place between lower level officials. Ithbaal had invited Jehu to the ceremony as a last gesture of faith, but he admitted to Jezebel he thought the son just as stubborn as his father and grandfather. They would not concede on the point of taxation of exports to pay for the military patrols on the King’s Highway, and there was nothing more to be done about it.

Earlier in the day, as the galley was rowed out, Jezebel felt torn. She wanted to tell her father that Jehu’s passion could be useful if it was properly directed. She was desperate to explain that Jehu was not blindly holding on to his family’s principles but could reason as thoughtfully as he could make love to her. But as she cast a subtle look at him, whose hands gripped the rail of the boat, she guessed nothing but an enforced declaration of marriage between them would bring the nations together.

‘It will be calmer in deeper water,’ she said as the vessel pushed past the first of the great trading boats, its prow carved into the rearing head of a sea serpent.

He didn’t answer. He stared wide-eyed across the water, his teeth gritted and jaw set.

‘Don’t be afraid,’ she murmured. ‘Yam won’t swallow you up when I’m with you. He wouldn’t dare.’

‘My people are meant to walk the earth, Your Highness,’ he said eventually, his voice more brittle than usual. ‘We fear the sea because, just as you say, it might swallow us up. Only our prophet Moses could control the sea, and even he didn’t sail upon it but parted it so that my ancestors could walk on the land beneath. Our priests tell me that we are a people destined to walk the land forever in search of a home.’

‘Then you will only ever walk in circles,’ said Ithbaal from the prow. ‘This is your opportunity to change that, to break with the narrow vision of your father and grandfather, to lead your nation forward to exceed the very history that still confines you. Do you have the courage to do so, or will you stand rigid on this deck forever, pretending that the wooden boards are a little piece of earth beneath you?’

‘Well said, Father,’ cried Balazar from the other side of Jezebel. But she could only exhale quietly and try not to look at Jehu. If that was not an exhortation to him to marry into the Tyrian royal family, then what was?

So it was with considerable joy late that evening after the festival that she watched Jehu walk alone from her father’s retiring room towards the guest wing in which the Judean delegation were staying. He didn’t look up at her window, but she couldn’t expect that he would. Appearances had to be maintained until the announcement was made. Besides, there were still two hours before Jehu would climb the tree outside her window in the dark and creep into her bed, and Jezebel was desperate to hear what her father had said to him. She was considering casually going down to her father’s chambers when Beset knocked on the open door and parted the inner curtains. She glanced quickly around the room, no doubt fearful that Jehu was also there, but kept her voice steady.

‘His Highness the King is here to see you. Shall I ask him to wait?’

‘Of course not.’ Jezebel came away from the window. ‘Father? Come in.’

Beset drew back the curtains fully and gave a low bow as Ithbaal entered. He looked around him at the cosy space, soft with couches and cushions and the yellow tones of the oil lamps, and for a moment, Jezebel was sure he would notice Jehu’s distinctive almond scent in the room. But he merely gave a nod of satisfaction and sat down on a couch beneath the window. Jezebel smiled to herself. At least if Jehu scaled the tree, eager to give her the news of their engagement, he would see that her father had got there first!

‘You have made these chambers very comfortable for yourself. You have your mother’s eye for beauty.’

‘Thank you, Father.’ Jezebel sat down beside him.

‘At least you can take all these fancy pieces with you when you move, and recreate this room exactly as it is elsewhere. It won’t be the same, of course.’ He paused, and Jezebel looked eagerly at him. ‘What I’m trying to say is that I will miss you when you are gone, but the time has come for me to let you go. The negotiations have been completed and you are to be married.’

Jezebel gasped, her hands flying to her cheeks to smother the flare of delight. ‘Just as you wish, Father.’

‘In three days you will travel to Samaria to marry King Ahab of Israel.’

Jezebel sagged on the couch, all her giddy joy suddenly dispelled. Her hands turned clammy in her lap as she stared at her father, panic rising fast in her chest. ‘What? I don’t understand. King Ahab?’

‘It has been a far more difficult negotiation than with the Judeans, if that could be possible, and I don’t believe that Obadiah came here prepared to give up anything at all in exchange for you. But it is the right outcome for Tyre.’

‘But the Judeans have been here longer.’

‘What sort of reason is that?’

Jezebel scrambled to order her thoughts. ‘Then settling with Israel is the less ambitious choice, they are our immediate neighbour, they open no new land routes for trade, and Jehu was right, the King’s Highway and the Sea Road together would secure—’

‘Jehu’s arguments are persuasive only because of the passion with which he delivers them. Just because a man shouts loudly does not mean that what he says is right. He is thinking only of Judah whereas I’m thinking of Tyre and all the Phoenician kingdoms.’

‘But Jehu is a better match—’

‘For whom?’ demanded Ithbaal, standing up. ‘For you or for Tyre? You have enjoyed a life utterly without responsibility, Jezebel, and though you are more than intelligent enough to understand the issues, you know nothing of what sacrifices must be made for the good of the kingdom. It is time to put aside your personal wishes and become a true princess of Tyre. You are to marry Ahab and there will be no further discussion about it.’

He strode across the room towards the doorway and Jezebel sucked hard on her cheeks, trying to control her tears until her father had left.

But at the doorway he suddenly stopped, steadying himself on the doorframe as he turned.

‘Perhaps I haven’t presented this to you very well. Perhaps if you had seen Obadiah for yourself, if you had witnessed both sets of negotiations, you might have understood better what I’ve had to consider myself. And perhaps if I had seen matters through your eyes, I might have understood that the presence of a handsome young man, however misguided, is always going to be more attractive than the proposition of an absent stranger. But Ahab is a sound ruler.’

‘And what is the point of owning two great ports,’ sniffed Jezebel, ‘if you cannot safely navigate the sea between them? We must protect all of the King’s Highway, not just the top and the bottom.’

Jehu didn’t see the arrangement that way at all.

The dish of nuts left his hand and smashed against the wall and Jezebel flinched. ‘Your father had no intention of ever sealing a deal with us!’ he yelled.

She went quickly to him, smothering his body in her arms. He remained rigid, trembling with rage. ‘Don’t be angry, please. If there was any other way …’

‘He kept us hanging on here for days while he waited for Obadiah to make up his mind,’ Jehu muttered.

‘It’s not like that—’

Jehu pushed her away. ‘Isn’t it? I’ve been a fool.’

‘We love each other! What’s foolish about that?’

‘Love? Is that what you call this? Sweetening me night after night so that I might go back to my father every morning with fresh reasons for us to stay and negotiate.’

‘Don’t say that!’ cried Jezebel, stepping back. ‘Don’t say things so hurtful when I know you don’t mean them. I must go to Israel and marry a man I’ve never met instead of the man I love.’

‘So you say!’ His voice cracked on the words, and she could see his face holding back his tears. The boy who had seemed so grown up now looked very young.

‘I’d never given myself to a man before you came to Tyre.’

‘You want me to believe you learned those charms in my arms? Surely a people as travelled as yours have learned a thing or two along the way.’

‘Oh!’ Jezebel fell back on the couch, unable to hold back her tears. Had this monster, who even now was kicking over stools and hurling cushions across the room, lurked always beneath that tender exterior? As he grabbed the ceremonial bowl from Astarte’s shrine, she threw herself at him, trapping it between them.

‘Don’t dishonour us both,’ she whispered urgently, ‘don’t call down the rage of the Gods on us for what has happened.’

She clasped his face, now wet with tears of anger and disappointment, and wiped them away, then she kissed her fingers so that she might taste his misery and know it as well as her own. ‘Don’t blame Astarte but pray with me that our love might last for all eternity.’

Jehu’s head fell against her shoulder, and Jezebel felt his body shudder against her in a great heave of despair. ‘No God will protect that.’

‘Then at least believe in me. Stay with me tonight, one last night, so that we can seal our love—’

But Jehu pulled away from her, drawing out of reach. He turned his back on her and laid Astarte’s bowl back at the foot of her shrine. ‘I won’t lie down with the wife of the Israelite king. The God I share with him would forbid it.’

‘Jehu!’

He shook his head and strode from the room. Jezebel watched the curtains sway in his wake, felt the last sweet draught of almond-scented air brush her face, then she sank sobbing to her knees.

Chapter Seven

‘Hail, Hail!’ cried the crowd at the head of the causeway. ‘All Hail to Jezebel!’

Jezebel glanced at Beset, who stood beside her in the Palace courtyard. But the young maid was staring at the huge gathering of Tyrians who lined the path linking the promontory to the mainland, her eyes wide with her own nervousness and anticipation of her future responsibilities at Jezebel’s side. Beyond Beset stood Daniel with his horse, the beast saddled up with his medicinal chests and rolls of clothes and blankets. Her friend smiled at her and puffed out his cheeks – there weren’t really words for occasions like this.

Barely a month had passed since Jehu and the Judeans departed the city, but it seemed like longer. Everything had changed, and Jezebel felt as though she’d been snatched up on a whirlwind of preparations which would carry her away from Tyre to a new and strange life.

Before the retinue stood an enclave of priests, all dressed in the same long linen robes, led by Daniel’s uncle, Amos. He held aloft a great wreath of sacred branches which he would shortly break apart and spread on the first few steps of the journey. The offering to the Great God El was to ensure safe passage south to Samaria.

Finally, ahead of Amos in the arch of the Palace gateway stood Ithbaal, with the wine bowl of Kotharat, the Goddess of marriage. The King raised the bowl high, then he turned to face Jezebel and summoned her forward.

‘Go in safety, go in peace, go in contentment,’ he intoned. ‘May your journey through life be rich and fertile, and may it please the great pantheon of our Gods.’ He drank from the bowl then handed it to Jezebel. It sat heavily in her palms, steadying their tremor. She looked uncertainly at him, then lifted the bowl and sipped from it, the wine sweet in her dry mouth.

He leaned forward to take the bowl from her. ‘I will miss you,’ he murmured softly. ‘But you will become a great emissary for our kingdom. And every one of our people gathered here to see you go believes that too.’

Jezebel looked around her at the Palace officials, at Rebecca sniffing proudly into her apron, at the fishermen, the traders, the priests and all the families of Tyre clustered together, each of them perhaps holding their breath just as she did, uncertain of the future. She swallowed hard, and gave the bowl back to her father, then straightened herself as she knew she must, her bead-edged scarf rippling over her shoulders, and looked out across the causeway towards the land.

‘To Samaria.’

It was a long walk down through the crowds that lined the road, their cheers rolling around her like the waves on the beach. But she knew as she crossed the causeway that those same crowds would ebb away quickly enough too. Her city would forget her. In the days since Jehu had left, she’d prayed to forget him too, just to escape the pain of the memories. The almond sweetness was fading from the cushion on which he had lain, now tucked safely into the carriage behind her, but his image was stubborn and resolute in her mind. The love which had made her feel afloat above the petty concerns of trade and borders and politics now lodged deep in her stomach like nausea on a rolling sea. She doubted it would ever leave.

As soon as she reached the shore, Jezebel paused, waiting for the retinue to swell up around her and regroup for the journey, first along the coast and then inland. Priests, diplomats and officials clustered into their groups, all watching her intently. But it was not until the stable boys arrived that Jezebel spoke, tilting up her chin as she strode through the crowd.

‘I will ride from here.’

‘Your Highness?’ said Philosir, the senior official sent by Ithbaal to Israel. Beneath his headdress, his forehead was lined with all the wisdom of the kingdom, and those sharp blue eyes that had seen so much observed her shrewdly. ‘Your carriage would be more comfortable.’

‘I want to ride.’

‘It is very warm this morning,’ said Beset, ‘and we have a long slow journey ahead of us all day. You’ll want to look your best when we arrive tomorrow.’

‘I won’t hide away among this delegation,’ said Jezebel. She paused, trying to still the fear in her voice. ‘It is my place to lead it as any Phoenician princess should.’

Philosir and Beset exchanged the briefest of looks, then Philosir clapped his hands. A horse was brought forward with a mounting block, and Philosir offered his hand to Jezebel to mount.

‘I understand you very well,’ said Jezebel as she took it, settling herself side-saddle in all her finery on the horse. ‘But I must begin as I mean to go on.’ However that might turn out to be, she thought to herself.

Philosir bowed his head, his grey hair curling at his shoulders, then he released the harness so that Jezebel could trot out of the group. She saw Daniel urge his horse forward to join her, but she shook her head and broke into a canter to put space between her and the group. Too far and they would canter to catch up with her. But a small gap should allow her the solitude she craved.

It had been a small argument with Philosir this time, but she knew that would surely be the last of such victories. From now on, she must do as others wanted, from the diplomatic orders rolled up in parchment in Philosir’s chest, to the rituals of Amos and the priests, and not least the wishes of her husband-to-be. Rebecca had explained to Jezebel and Beset that Ahab wanted her as his second wife to give him a son, as those his first wife had provided had all died shortly after birth, leaving him with just one daughter. As she thought of this, Jezebel couldn’t help but remember Jehu on the roof of the Palace talking of first and second wives, the shame and impotence of being born a strong man to the wrong woman. She shivered a little and cast a brief look at Tyre, now receding against the shimmering blue of the horizon, its people attending to their own business again, their princess no doubt already a fading memory. Then she rode on, aware of the dull murmur of the retinue dragging behind her, trying to picture a bed she had never slept in, a lover she had never seen, and a future she could barely imagine. While miles ahead Jehu was probably forgetting his loneliness in the soft arms of some other girl.

The mountains had been a soft smudge on the horizon for a while, like dirty clouds belched by Shapash from her yellow sun. The land had none of the sparkling purity of the sea, and Jezebel had felt suddenly frightened when she glanced over her shoulder and realised she could no longer see the coast at all. The light was draining quickly across the dusty foothills around them as Daniel rode up beside her.

‘We are making camp for tonight because there is a spring just over there and soon it will be too dark to ride safely any further. Shall I bring some water to wash your face and hands?’

Jezebel looked past Daniel towards the well. It was a ramshackle wooden construction, dilapidated from use and with none of the elegant mosaics of shells that celebrated the carefully pumped water on Tyre. Some distance away were the huts and tents of a small Israelite settlement, as brown as the land around. But she knew appearances were deceiving. The land here concealed vast underground reserves of water.

‘Let’s get you off that horse. You should eat something and rest.’

Jezebel shivered. ‘I’m not hungry.’ She rubbed her belly. ‘I feel sick with nerves.’

Daniel smiled gently. ‘I’m not surprised. But some food and wine will settle you down and help you sleep. Even you have never spent a whole day in the saddle.’

Jezebel laughed ruefully and guided the horse to the rapidly assembling encampment. Tents were being erected and wood piled up for a fire, and she could hear the rhythmic evening chants of the priests. The land grew dark even as she looked at it, and she suddenly felt weary. As she dismounted she couldn’t even work out which way was home, and she stood alone on the edge of the busy group, watching them prepare everything for her just as she would expect it, so they might all pretend that this was still a little piece of Phoenicia. But there was nothing familiar in all this industry, not the nervous murmurings of her staff nor even in Daniel’s soft plucking of his nevel, tuning the twelve strings so that he might play soothing songs of home. Even the air smelled strange and dry, and Jezebel rocked back her head to breathe in from the sky and not the land. And there, far above her, sparkled Baal’s star – Ayish, as Jehu had called it – and there, as she traced the patterns in the sky with her finger, Kesil, his twinkling archer.

Where are you, my love? she wondered. Do you look towards Tyre as I do, and remember?

Chapter Eight

The next morning it was not the unfamiliar light that woke Jezebel, nor the strange soft breaths of the horses against the walls of her tent, but the awful heat in her skin and the lurch of sickness in her stomach.

‘What is it?’ said Beset, sitting upright in her bed on the floor beside her.

Jezebel clamped her hand over her mouth, her tongue bitter with bile. Beset emptied a water bowl just in time and held her as the sickness heaved through her, drawing her hair back from her face and resting cool damp cloths against her neck and forehead.

‘You rode too long in the sun yesterday,’ the maid said. ‘I’m calling for Daniel.’

Jezebel didn’t have the strength to disagree, and soon she lay still while Daniel gently felt her face and then carefully touched the skin around her belly.

‘Was it the food? The water in that well might not be good so far inland,’ suggested Beset.

‘No one else is sick,’ said Daniel standing up from where he had knelt beside the couch. But he was frowning, and he was slow to soak the cloth from Jezebel’s forehead in the bowl of cold water. ‘How long have you been feeling like this?’

‘Just today,’ she replied weakly.

‘But you said you felt sick last night.’

‘I remember.’

‘Have you woken like this on any other morning recently?’

‘Daniel?’ said Beset in a warning tone. Jezebel shivered, not from feeling so awful but from the strange atmosphere that was building in the tent.

Daniel bowed his head but his expression was confused and he frowned over hidden thoughts Jezebel couldn’t decipher. ‘What is wrong with me?’ said Jezebel, suddenly afraid.

Beset took Jezebel’s hands in hers and gestured to Daniel with a jerk of her head that the two young women should be left alone. He glanced at Jezebel, his face creased with worry, then he slipped out of the tent.

‘Am I going to die?’ whimpered Jezebel.

‘No, no. Well …’

‘What is it?’ Jezebel felt sick once again, but purely from fear. She tried to sit up on the couch and Beset piled cushions behind her, never once letting go of her hand. Then the young maid knelt down on the ground beside Jezebel, looking up at her mistress. Jezebel was comforted by the shadow of Rebecca’s sensible comfort in her daughter’s face, but Beset suddenly looked so grown up that Jezebel felt her eyes sting with tears at how their worlds were surely changing.

Beset, thinking her mistress understood, nodded with relief. ‘That’s right. You are with child.’

Jezebel shook her head in bewilderment. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘I thought you had guessed for yourself.’ Beset chewed her lip with worry. ‘Those nights of intimacy you shared with Jehu. He has left his seed in you and you are now carrying his child. The early sickness is very common, it does pass, but in eight months or less you will give birth to his child.’

Jezebel grabbed Beset’s hand, gripping it hard as she tried to get up off the couch, but her head was spinning. ‘But I’m not yet married to Ahab. When I give him a child that isn’t his own he will …’ Panic surged through her. He would certainly cast her out, and she’d be lucky to escape with only exile. Death would be swift for the child. And where could she go then? Her father’s anger would be implacable, the shameful stain on the kingdom too great. She wouldn’t be welcome in Tyre, the soiled princess, and foreign kingdoms would view her as nothing but a pariah. She could only shake as if Baal Hadad’s godly roar shuddered through the skies in anger at her foolishness. ‘Oh, dear Gods, what have I done?’ she wailed.

‘Shh,’ murmured Beset, sliding her hand around Jezebel’s shoulders. ‘Daniel?’

The young physician returned to the tent, his face taut and pale in the shadows. He looked almost as wretched as Jezebel felt but she could no longer bear to look at him. When Beset stood up to confer, she curled into a ball, drawing the covers over her head. She didn’t want to hear their fears for her future. She’d known, she supposed, that it could have ended like this, but in those blissful nights it hadn’t mattered. Jehu was going to be her husband and any children would be legitimate. It would have seemed perverse to curtail their passion, churlish even. Now those desires looked very reckless indeed.

Beset tugged the covers aside, leaned again over the bed, her long black hair dangling against Jezebel’s cheek. ‘All is not lost,’ she said. ‘Daniel can make you a special drink that will end your worries.’

‘But I’ve never concocted such a thing before.’ Jezebel could hear the desperate concern in Daniel’s voice and she pressed her face further into the pillow.

‘If you take the life of the child then you are saving Jezebel’s in return,’ Beset replied.

‘I trained as a physician to save all lives, even the ones who haven’t yet known this world.’

‘But you do know how to make the drink,’ said Beset.

‘It goes against everything I believe—’

‘But you believe in Jezebel. Surely you believe in the role she plays for our kingdom?’

Daniel sighed and after a moment Jezebel heard the creak of the lid as he opened his small medicine chest, and with these strangely comforting noises she sat up on the bed and faced him. She lifted her eyes to look at his and saw not judgement, only a sad understanding.

‘I’m so ashamed,’ she whispered. He nodded, silently drawing together powders and dried leaves and mixing them with wine. Then he came to the bed and offered her the bowl.

‘This will purge the child. It will make you sick and you will bleed. You should ride in the carriage and not on the horse today while you take this treatment. But perhaps that is for the best.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘For you cannot ride into Samaria as though you are going to conquer it.’

Jezebel took the drink from him. ‘I don’t know how to thank you—’

Daniel cut her off with a wave of his hand. ‘No one need ever know.’ He closed his chest, picked it up off the floor and left.

Jezebel watched him go, then she glanced wretchedly at Beset. ‘He’s angry with me.’

‘He’s afraid,’ said Beset.

Jezebel looked down at the bowl, the sweet red liquid cloudy and bitter with the poison that would tear Jehu’s baby from her. She thought of the sky beyond the roof of the tent from which last night Kesil the archer had looked down on her. Soon the stars would be the only reminder she had left of the nights she had shared with Jehu. Slowly she lifted the bowl to her lips but the smell made her wince and she retched, the bowl shaking in her hand.

‘Probably best just to drink it in one go,’ said Beset. ‘That’s what my mother always told us to do with medicine when we were little, do you remember?’

Jezebel nodded. ‘Then could you bring me more wine? This smells so awful that I’ll need something to wash it down.’

‘I’ll come straight back.’ Beset disappeared through the tent flaps, and Jezebel let the bowl sink into her lap. Her hand felt beneath the covers for her stomach. There was nothing there yet, no bump, no sign of the baby’s presence except in the sickness in her throat. But she knew in that moment that for all the good intentions of Daniel and Beset, for all the dreadful fear of what would happen if Ahab found out, she could no more end the life of the child than she could put a stop to her longing for Jehu.

She snatched up the bowl and poured the liquid away in the corner of the tent out of sight. Then she curled up on the couch and cried.

Chapter Nine

‘This city was built to keep strangers out,’ murmured Jezebel under her breath.

The carriage lurched and she clung on to Beset, not daring to look out at how the slopes fell steeply away. They had been travelling for much of the day across the undulating foothills but the city of Samaria now towered above them on a great flattened mountain as if all the Gods had chosen this as their table round which to sit and feast. The city was barely visible from down here, though as the long Phoenician entourage twisted and turned its way up the steep sides of the mountain, Jezebel glimpsed the dull yellow corners of buildings and shallow reeded roofs. The sun was already low in the sky and the air grew colder with every step of the horses’ hooves.

Finally the carriage slowed and Jezebel peered out at the looming city walls, a last defence against any determined invader who had made it this far. She could hear Amos and Philosir up ahead presenting their credentials to the gatekeepers, and a moment later a soldier appeared at the carriage window, his face creased from months of defending this harsh landscape, his hair long and greasy.

‘So you’re the Phoenician bride?’

Are you expecting any others? she wondered. She chose to ignore the word he’d used for ‘bride’. Rather than kingly consort, its meaning hinted at a brood-mare paired with a stallion. ‘I’m Jezebel, Princess of Tyre,’ she answered.

He stared at her as one might a strange sea creature beached on the shore. They’d paused before the ascent for her to assume her best purple travelling cape and the modest cap of the betrothed bride.

A shout went up at the head of the procession and with a great creak the gates were opened and a bugler played a single solemn note that sounded more like a peal of bad tidings than a welcome. The carriage lumbered forward once more and the procession dragged into the city. But there was none of the warmth and joy of the departure from Tyre, none of the cheering or the wash of the sea. Instead the city was flat with the clop of hooves on stone as they travelled among the walls within walls, deep into the heart of the city. Jezebel caught a glimpse of what was surely the King’s Palace, a huge stone edifice that rose up in the middle of the city, its sheer walls pockmarked with windows and wooden shutters. The Israelites who passed the carriage met them with cold curiosity, drifting begrudgingly apart to let them pass.

It wasn’t quite the warm welcome Jezebel had expected. She felt Beset’s hand link with her own beneath the cape.

The carriage jolted to a halt and the doors were snatched open. A pair of soldiers clad in leather armour stood on each side. Neither offered a hand.

Jezebel climbed out of the carriage as elegantly as she could, shaking out the heavy travelling cape over her dress. The procession had stopped at another closed gateway and Jezebel realised they were outside the Palace, for the great walls soared above her, pale against the dusk sky. In one of the high windows she thought she saw a woman looking out across the city, but when she looked again the figure was gone. Her gaze fell to the stony street beneath her feet and she shivered. Philosir appeared at her side, Amos behind him, the priest’s normally tranquil demeanour tainted with worry.

‘I apologise, Your Highness,’ said Philosir rather more loudly than was his usual custom. ‘I do not know why we are being kept here outside the Palace gates like tradesmen.’

Because it is a trade, thought Jezebel. And someone wants me to remember that.

After a short wait the gates yawned open and through them emerged Obadiah, the Israelite envoy who had arrived in Tyre the day after the Judeans. He wore a black robe over his tunic, embroidered at the edges in pale thread, but his head was bare and he looked rather scruffy next to Philosir. He had also dispensed with the permanently obsequious smile he had worn in Tyre and he looked humourlessly down his long narrow nose at Jezebel. She wondered fleetingly if her father had been deceived by the courtship of negotiation, like a maid duped at market by a flirtatious farmer. Nonetheless she took a deep breath and bowed while Philosir offered his hands to the other official in the traditional Phoenician greeting.

But Obadiah ignored them both, instead asking his soldiers, ‘Why have you brought them here? Escort them to the rear gate.’

Philosir asked sharply, ‘Is there to be no formal welcome?’

Obadiah raised his brows. ‘Before the wedding?’

‘This is a meeting of kingdoms, not just a marriage of convenience.’

Obadiah gave a dry laugh. ‘There will be a dinner this evening.’

‘Before or after the wedding?’ asked Beset. ‘Should Her Highness wear the wedding gown or—’

Obadiah waved a hand. ‘I will have someone see the girl to her chambers. The rest of you should follow the walls around to the far side.’ And then he strode off into the Palace compound without a backward glance.

Jezebel glanced at Philosir but the diplomat was himself exchanging angry whispers with Amos. So she took a deep breath and walked through the Palace gate after Obadiah, lifting her cape so that it would not drag in the dirt. She could feel every eye on her. Stopping, she turned around.

‘Well?’ she said in a voice so loud and clear it surely didn’t belong to the girl who was shaking so much inside she could hardly breathe. ‘Which of you will take me to my chambers?’

Her momentary courage was lost in a rattle of horses’ hooves and a spray of dust as a rider cantered round the Phoenician party and into the courtyard. The soldiers suddenly stood to attention and rapped their staffs into the ground, one of them dashing forward to take the horse’s harness as the rider dismounted.

‘From the look of you, I assume you are Ithbaal’s daughter,’ said the rider, a tall lean figure in a dirt-streaked tunic and leather jerkin. Greying hair fell in a tangle around his shoulders. He must have been twice Jehu’s age, at least. His nose was narrow and his eyes small and very dark as they watched her. A deep scar ran beneath his mouth and along his jawline. ‘They told me you were beautiful, although I would suggest that striking is a more accurate description.’

At least my face isn’t scarred, and my clothes are not filthy.

‘Your Highness?’ asked Philosir hesitantly.

Jezebel’s heart sank. Ahab?

‘And you must be the diplomat,’ replied the rider. ‘We will meet more formally later.’

He strode off through a courtyard, slapping the dust from his tunic, and Philosir moved quickly to Jezebel’s side. ‘I wish it could have been more auspicious a first meeting,’ he murmured.

‘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. 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.’

‘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.

Chapter Eleven

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.

She passed beneath the grand archway to the dining hall. Over the silence that followed the pronouncement of her name, she heard dozens of indistinct whispers. There was not another woman to be seen among the diners, and their garb was so drab she felt their disrespect in all their dullness. Even Ahab, sitting imperiously on a raised platform at the head of the table, looked plain in a long grey robe that sparkled with silver thread. He rose slowly to greet her, perhaps as overwhelmed as she was by the trophy Obadiah had won for him in the negotiations.

‘Please, sit with me, Jezebel.’

At the moment she sat down on the smaller throne beside his, three Israelite priests stood from their couches and left the room. Ahab reddened.

On the opposite side of the table Amos, who was standing in dutiful expectation of his princess, turned towards Obadiah, who sat on Ahab’s other side. ‘You were never shown such contempt in Tyre,’ he said.

‘Priests here don’t bow to the King,’ said Obadiah, ‘and certainly not to a wife.’

‘Especially one so gaudy,’ said the other remaining Israelite priest. ‘They must grow gold in Tyre, from the look of her. If that is any indication, perhaps the Phoenician lands will be more fertile to farm than Judah’s,’ he added.

So her suspicions and Raisa’s aborted warnings were confirmed. Jezebel sensed Ahab tense beside her. He was staring at her, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment and his eyes bright with rage, their chestnut brown so vivid against his hair and gown. She felt sorry for him, and guilty for being so elaborately dressed, as though the effusion of all her riches had somehow made everything so much worse. But why hadn’t he challenged his priests? In spite of all her own awkwardness she held his gaze in hers and smiled at him. As he studied her, probing deep beneath the mask of betrothal, she thought she saw a half-smile pass his lips in response, though when he spoke his voice was brittle with suppressed fury.

‘Would you like wine?’ asked Ahab.

Philosir had told her that women did not normally drink wine with the men in Israel and indeed there was a slight pause in the chatter around the table when Jezebel nodded and took the drinking bowl. And then she realised that this was in itself a small act of defiance by Ahab, and she sipped from it.

‘This vintage comes from my vineyard at Jezreel, a city north-east of here,’ said a nobleman sitting between the priests and Obadiah. He was a round fellow with a cheerful face, rather less lean than the other Israelites who still gawped at Jezebel, and his hair was curly, and as grey as Ahab’s.

‘Ever the merchant, Naboth,’ said Ahab dryly.

‘We grow most of our vines there for the valley is fed well by the river that runs through it.’

‘Is it not too cold?’ asked Philosir, his voice strained with enforced politeness.

‘The winds are weak so far inland,’ said Naboth. ‘The Winter Palace is there too.’

Jezebel had heard already of the city of Jezreel several times. During the coldest part of the year, the royal court left Samaria and travelled inland for the warmer climate. Although most of what she’d heard of the fortified city was grim.

‘The wine is very nice,’ she said.

Naboth gulped from his bowl. ‘I told you they would like it, Obadiah.’

‘You also told me there were mermaids in the sea,’ said Obadiah. ‘But I didn’t see one.’

‘There are many extraordinary riches in the Great Sea,’ said Philosir, ‘and it is on such discoveries that we have built our prosperity, just as you have built yours from the land.’

‘Israel isn’t as it once was,’ said Ahab, passing his own gold plate piled high with food to Jezebel. The gesture touched her, subtle as it was.

‘Our land is drying out,’ he continued, ‘and the crops didn’t flourish this year. What you see here is the best of it, and I’m not ashamed to ask our Phoenician neighbours to help us survive.’ He turned to Philosir. ‘We need engineers to help us extract the water from our springs if we are to survive another summer.’

‘The land isn’t drying out,’ said the first of the priests, ‘but our farmers have lost their faith that Yahweh will provide. And is it any wonder?’

‘When you understand the intellect of our Phoenician neighbours as well as you claim to understand the souls of our people, then perhaps I will concede your point,’ said Ahab. ‘But for now even you must admit that we cannot provide all that we need by way of cloth or metal ores, not to mention knowledge that can help our people live comfortable lives.’

Jezebel picked up a flatbread rolled with cheeses and olives, and chewed tentatively at the corner. With all the butterflies in her stomach she hadn’t realised that she was hungry and she’d eaten very little since being sick this morning. The food wasn’t bad at all, though rather blander than she was used to.

‘His Highness is right,’ said Naboth, the nobleman. ‘We need to expand our horizons if we are to make the most of what land we have.

‘When the springs north of Samaria are properly dug out,’ Naboth continued to Philosir, ‘I will be able to plant a new vineyard. There is an excellent curve in the foothills which faces full south and will catch the sun all day.’

‘Perhaps it would be better to plant on a west-facing slope,’ said Jezebel absent-mindedly, picking up a fig. ‘If the vines have too much sun they will be sweet enough, but without cool autumn mornings the wine will lack acidity, and won’t have sufficient finesse.’

Her mouth turned dry and the fig hung from her fingers. Without turning her head at all she knew every Israelite in the room was staring at her, some of them with expressions of utter disdain, while her own people stared at their plates. Jezebel felt her face burn with shame beneath the mask of white powder and she lowered the fig to the plate. And then, unexpectedly, Ahab roared with laughter from beside her.

‘That is the best advice you have ever been given, Naboth,’ he said, ‘and I suggest you take it.’

Chapter Twelve

Jezebel tried to sit still on the couch in her room as Beset unpinned the long tresses of her hair from the headdress, but she was far too anxious to maintain any repose, and she simply grabbed the last few pins and yanked them out herself.

‘You are bound to be nervous,’ murmured Beset as she lifted the headdress off Jezebel’s head and laid it down in its cedarwood box. ‘The first night with your husband is an important occasion and will set the tone for your marriage.’

Jezebel wriggled off the couch and went to the window, her hand resting on her abdomen. ‘It’s not that.’

‘You did the right thing,’ muttered Beset, stroking her arm.

Jezebel sighed and couldn’t look into Beset’s eyes. Instead she turned up into the dark sky, searching for Kesil’s constellation. But the night was shrouded with thin cloud and she saw nothing to comfort her.

‘Jezebel?’ said Beset. ‘You did drink the purge, didn’t you?’

She shook her head a fraction. ‘I couldn’t kill the child,’ she whispered. ‘It was a betrayal of all that Jehu and I meant to each other.’

‘But what about the King?’ hissed Beset. ‘He isn’t a fool. When the child is born before nine months are over, he will know anyway.’

Jezebel sat down on the deep window ledge, looking out to the north-west, towards Tyre. ‘Perhaps I will be lucky and he will only send me home in disgrace.’

‘Amos told me you received a very hostile welcome at the banquet. When the priests find out about the baby—’

‘Then they will certainly do worse than send me home.’ Jezebel shivered and moved away from the window, turning to the shrine to Astarte that Beset had already set in the corner of the room. ‘The best I can do is to be honest with Ahab. Besides, he will know after tonight that he isn’t my first lover.’

Beset huffed. ‘That, at least, is easily taken care of. A man’s pride is fragile, yes, but easily fooled.’ She went to the shrine and fiddled around in a box in the base, pulling out a small metal vial. ‘Chicken blood. It will pass for a broken maidenhead if you spill it when the time is right.’

‘How did you—’

But Beset put her finger quickly to her lips. A steady tread approached along the corridor. ‘I pray that Astarte and Kotharat will look after you. But you must have faith in them.’

Beset leaned forward and kissed her charge on the cheek, then ran through a curtain to the side of the room and into her own quarters beyond. Jezebel looked at the bed, then at the couch, trying to decide where Ahab might most want to sit down next to her, but her heart was beating so fast that she couldn’t hear herself think and could only wipe her damp palms on the delicate folds of her sleeping gown. Do I defy you, Kotharat, if I remember making love to Jehu when Ahab lies down on me?

But if the Goddess was listening she sent no sign, for in a moment the curtain was pushed back and Ahab entered. He was dressed as he had been at dinner, but the silvered gown now hung undone about his shoulders. He glanced around him, taking in the shrine, the well-stuffed Phoenician couches beneath the window, and the luxuriant blankets and sheets on the bed, all unpacked during the banquet.

‘Your maid has made it very comfortable for you. I’m glad. I want you to be happy here.’

‘Thank you, Your Highness,’ whispered Jezebel, far less sure of her voice now than she had been at the banquet.

Ahab smiled, the creases around his eyes catching deep shadows in the lamplight. ‘There’s no need to be so formal. That’s for my advisers and my nobles, not for my wives. Although you’ll have noticed that not everyone treats me with the same respect.’

‘I will do my best to honour you, and will defer to your judgement at all times.’

‘That isn’t what I’ve been told.’ Ahab sounded rather fierce and Jezebel couldn’t help but wrap her arms defensively across her. ‘I frighten you, I’m afraid. It isn’t surprising, but I’d hope you will soon learn what sort of man I really am.’

He crossed the room and stood very near to her, delicately fingering the long curls of hair that framed her face. He was a head or so taller than Jezebel, but he didn’t loom over her, only looked down rather sweetly at her.

‘My mother has already taken a great liking to you,’ said Ahab, his breath fragrant with wine.

‘She is a fine woman.’

‘You have no mother of your own, I understand.’

‘She died several years ago.’

‘I hope you will come to enjoy Raisa’s wisdom as I have, not to mention her comfort. For when our first son is born you’ll know not only my pride but the pride of my late father, for the future of the House of Omri will be assured.’

Jezebel couldn’t meet his eyes any longer.

Ahab slid his fingers beneath her hair to the nape of her neck, stroking the skin so lightly that his hand might have been made of feathers. Jezebel felt herself quiver with bewildering delight, and when he drew her to him and began to loosen the clasp of her gown, she found herself reaching for the neck of his tunic to unlace it. His kisses were soft and delicate at first, as if he were still afraid of frightening her, but she quickly found his passion beneath his restraint and she was already breathless with anticipation when he finally drew off her gown. She couldn’t help but notice that his body was not sculpted and strong like Jehu’s and he caught the way her eyes lingered on the scars on his arm and his shoulder as he lifted her up and laid her down on the bed.

‘This body has lived a little, I’m afraid,’ he murmured as he lay down beside her. ‘But the men who drew my blood did not live to see the wounds heal.’

In Jehu’s voice such words would have sounded terrifying, but Ahab’s was as soft and thoughtful as his manner with her. He touched her with such tenderness that she knew his body wished to find its echo in hers and when he entered her she felt not the fear nor the repulsion she had so dreaded, but such an intense and unexpected pleasure that she barely remembered to reach for the vial of blood in time. While his head was buried in her shoulder, she flicked off the stopper with her right hand and felt the slightly warm liquid trickle over her fingers. She wiped them on the sheets, but Ahab made no remark, if he even noticed.

Afterwards, they lay in silence for a long while, the whole Palace so quiet that Jezebel could hear each of Ahab’s breaths as they caressed her hair. She felt his eyelashes brush her forehead each time he blinked, and beneath her fingers his chest pulsed with the beat of his heart. There was such intimacy in the way he held her that she already felt his renewed stirrings of desire in herself. And yet it was infused with such guilt that made her cheeks burn, for it was Jehu’s arms she remembered being held by, his unshaven jaw that she recalled softly scratching her throat as he kissed her, the smell of his hair she missed so dreadfully.

She must have slept, for in the early hours, she woke to him stirring and leaving the bed. In the near darkness, he tied the robe at the waist, then leaned over the bed and kissed her once more.

‘You will find your wedding gift at the end of the orchard,’ he murmured.

When he was gone, Jezebel buried her face in her pillow and let the tears flow so they might flush out the poisonous turmoil in her heart and in her head.

Chapter Thirteen

In the light of dawn the Palace did seem more welcoming, its interlocking courtyards now easy to navigate. Guided by her curiosity, Jezebel rose early and wandered towards the walled gardens to the south. A pair of soldiers overtook her with watchful nods, the air was sweet with the smell of baking breads and honey cakes, and as she looked up at the colonnades and archways, she hoped it would not be impossible to make some sort of home for herself here.

It would never be Tyre, but what city was? And if Ahab was always as kind to her as the previous night, if he was as good a man as Esther said—

The nausea rose fast within Jezebel just as it had the previous morning, and she stumbled to the nearest tree, desperate not to be sick out here in full view of the Palace. But she couldn’t keep it down and she staggered against the trunk, retching over and over until her body stilled and her mouth tasted sour.

‘Perhaps you swallowed something you were not accustomed to,’ said a cool voice.

Is that dreadful man following me around? she wondered weakly, lifting her head to find Obadiah staring down at her, his eyes tracing her body as though he was imagining her first night with the King for himself.

‘Or perhaps you don’t find our food as palatable as the Judeans?’

An awful thought occurred to Jezebel. Could he know? Had he perhaps seen Jehu climb into her room in Tyre?

‘Your water isn’t as pure here,’ she forced herself to say as she straightened up and moved away from the tree, ‘nor the air you breathe.’

‘You haven’t spoiled the surprise, have you, Obadiah?’ Ahab came striding down the gentle slope towards them, the regal gown of the night before dispensed in favour of a plain white tunic and a wide leather belt.

‘Of course not, Your Highness. I would not dream of denying you that pleasure.’ Obadiah lowered his head and moved away, leaving the King and Jezebel alone.

‘Good morning,’ Jezebel bowed low.

Ahab lifted her chin and kissed her on the forehead. ‘I knew you wouldn’t be able to wait to see your wedding present, and I woke up knowing I couldn’t either.’ He smiled and took her hand and led them between low clipped hedges across the gardens. ‘Custom dictates I should wait until after the wedding ceremony, but I would much rather show you now without any of the pomp and nonsense that will be expected.’

At the far end of the gardens was a small wooden gate in the high wall which he opened to reveal a tangle of lanes sprawling down the gentle slope into the city. Ahab put his hand over Jezebel’s eyes then she felt him turn her gently to the right before lowering his hand again.

‘There! A little piece of Tyre in Samaria.’

A stone’s throw from the Palace walls, nestled among wooden huts was a tiny round building with an angled roof, built entirely out of the white stone she knew from Tyre, not the local yellow rock. Above the entrance a star within a circle had been carved out of the stone, and around the pillars that flanked it were endless engraved doves in flight. Inside she could see a pristine white altar decked with stone sculptures of all Astarte’s icons, the horse, the lion, the sphinx and the dove. Even in the morning light it sparkled as though Astarte herself had begotten the Temple from the night sky and Jezebel thought it the most beautiful building she had ever seen. It was a perfect size for her and her small cadre of priests to worship in and seemed to reflect the presence her father wanted her to establish in Israel – contained and discreet but still elegant.

‘When I saw the shrine in your room last night,’ said Ahab, ‘I knew that I had been right to build this for you. I set the top stone myself. It has a hole carved through it so that your Gods may always look down on you.’

Jezebel’s eyes grew wet and once again she wrapped her arms around herself, not in fear this time, but to contain the extraordinary surge of emotion that threatened to overwhelm her.

‘I thought wives were expected to take their husband’s Gods,’ she said.

‘And abandon their own?’ said Ahab. ‘Perhaps for some people this is true, but my father never succeeded in doing so with my mother, and he was the wisest council I know.’

‘And how will your subjects take this?’

‘They are your subjects too. You are a long way from home,’ said Ahab, ‘not in distance but in difference, so I want you to know that this will always be yours, just as this city is now yours, and the Israelite people are yours too. They will learn to know you and love you just as you will them. But this is my personal gift to you.’

‘Thank you,’ she said quietly.

She didn’t mention the soldiers who had passed her in the garden and who now stood on guard at the Temple entrance, spears in their hands and swords in their belts. Ahab was clearly not so confident of universal approval as he made out. They are your subjects too. It hardly answered her question. But voicing any further reservations would seem ungrateful, so instead she accepted Ahab’s arm. As they walked back up to the Palace in silence, she prayed inwardly for Astarte’s protection to reach this far into hostile lands.

Chapter Fourteen

A few days later, Jezebel stood in front of a polished obsidian panel set into one of the walls of her chamber, pulling her dress tight across her belly. In the reflection she could see Daniel fiddling around in his medicine chest, and Beset brushing an outer robe. Both were fully engaged in their business but the room was full of their silence and eventually Jezebel could stand it no longer.

‘I wish one of you would just say something.’ She saw Daniel look across the room at Beset.

‘Are you sure you feel well enough to go out?’ asked her maid.

‘Of course,’ said Jezebel. ‘I always feel better by the middle of the morning.’

Daniel and Beset exchanged glances once more, then they joined Jezebel in front of the mirror-stone, all three of them staring at the reflection of Jezebel’s abdomen. ‘It barely shows,’ murmured Beset.

Daniel didn’t say anything, and not for the first time, she wondered if he disapproved. Since their time on the desert road, he had stayed close to her, giving her salts to overcome her sickness. But his face wore a permanent crease of anxiety, as though reflecting on the magnitude of their shared secret.

‘I feel terrible lying to Ahab,’ said Jezebel. ‘He’s been so kind to me.’

‘You should be safe for two or three months yet,’ said Beset, ‘if we dress you properly and it is dark when you lie down with the King.’

But Daniel rubbed his chin, ran his fingers through his hair, and finally he turned away from the mirror so abruptly that Beset let go of the dress. Jezebel turned after him.

‘At least say something?’

Daniel sat down alone on the couch. He linked his fingers together, stretching them to and fro, then he stood up again and went to the window. ‘I don’t think you should go out with Esther today, that is all.’

‘She is the only friend I have here, apart from the two of you,’ said Jezebel.

Daniel smiled a little at this, but his crease remained. ‘Then at least stay in the Palace.’

‘But she is going to show me the cloth merchants and the markets. She wants my opinion on which cloth is of the best quality and that at least is something I know a little about.’

‘Does she talk to you about her mother?’

‘Not really,’ said Jezebel, now feeling Daniel’s anxiety herself. ‘Should she?’

‘Perhaps she wouldn’t anyway. Not given how things are.’

‘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.

Those should not have been my first words to him after all this time, not after our child’s birth.

‘You always were astute for your age.’

‘It is no more than is necessary for the Queen of Israel. We are honoured by your visit, though it is unexpected.’

Jehu shrugged. ‘My father thinks my skills of diplomacy in need of development.’

In that moment, seeing him so lost, so put upon, she had to fight to stop herself descending the stairs and taking him in her arms. Instead, she found herself uttering banalities.

‘So now you are son to a king.’

Jehu stiffened. ‘I hear a son has been born to Ahab also. Yahweh has seen fit to bless this marriage after all.’

Jezebel fought to keep composure in her expression. His words sounded bitter and yet he looked at her with that familiar intensity that burned right through her. Anyone who saw them together would surely know what they had shared, and there were bound to be officials near at hand, no doubt with the explicit instructions of Obadiah to eavesdrop on their conversation.

‘I would say that all the Gods have been kind to us.’

Jehu moved to the balcony and looked out across the gardens towards the south-west. ‘Even though only Yahweh is acknowledged here.’

Jezebel followed his gaze which was fixed on the roof of her Temple.

‘Your Gods have a reputation for being malicious and fickle,’ he continued. ‘I hear that even on the day of Ahab’s departure for Gilead the skies opened and drowned twenty of his troops. Was that not also the day you gave birth?’

‘If it is Yahweh who has blessed me with a child then presumably He could have protected the men of His own nation from a force of nature,’ said Jezebel.

Jehu glanced at her, and for the very briefest of moments Jezebel could see just how much he still yearned for her. Somewhere in a room behind them their child cried out. For a moment, Jezebel’s hopeful spirit imagined leading Jehu by the hand to greet his son.

‘You shouldn’t have accepted Ahab’s gift of a temple,’ said Jehu.

The spirit of the past vanished in a haze of disillusionment. ‘Considering little love is lost between Israel and Judah at the present time,’ she said, ‘you are well informed as to events in Samaria. Of course, if you knew Ahab as I do, you’d know that he retains a more open mind than many.’

‘Such an open mind that he himself executed some of the priests whose only crime was to uphold their own faith in the face of an unbeliever. Your influence is remarkably corrupt.’

Jezebel was so shocked at his accusation, she was about to ask Jehu whether he thought himself corrupted by her too, when Obadiah appeared in the courtyard below, looking up at the balcony.

Behind her, the baby’s cry had turned to a constant wail.

‘I won’t keep you,’ she said in a hollow voice.

Jehu peered in the direction of the sound. ‘My time here is brief,’ he said. ‘I’ve come to escort Leah back to Judah.’

‘I see. Is Esther going with her?’

‘No. She’s chosen to stay with her father. And her new friend,’ he said, drawing his attention back to Jezebel.

‘Does Ahab know of Leah’s departure?’

‘I believe not.’

Jehu seemed to be about to add something, but instead he turned away and loped down the staircase to join Obadiah. Jezebel could not watch him leave, but went into the nursery and took her son from his crib. Had Ahaziah sensed his father’s brooding presence? And what would Jehu have said if she had led him into this room and told him the truth? For while her cheeks flamed with raw anger and loss, her head rattled with everything she could have said but didn’t. Such a course of action could only create discord and chaos. By the time the child had stopped crying, all that remained was a dull ache in her heart.

Chapter Seventeen

From the roof of the Palace, Jezebel could see the dust kicked up by the advance rider, and behind that the steady brown cloud of men and horses that moved across the plain. Before long the rider was driving hard up the steep mountain road and she heard his triumphant shout even before the gates were opened.

‘Victory,’ he yelled. ‘Victory to King Ahab of Israel and his army!’

The bugle call went up as news surged through the city and soon the streets rang with cheering and shouting. Citizens jostled to get the best view of the army’s ascent. But Jezebel stood for a long time alone on the roof in the cool autumn sun, watching the army approach, eager to see Ahab but terrified of what he would see in her child.

‘I thought I might find you here,’ said Beset behind her. Jezebel glanced at her maid, who was holding out a cloak of ochre wool. ‘Don’t get cold.’

‘How is the baby?’

‘He has suffered an endless stream of visitors, mostly the Palace priests, since the rider was first sighted. He received the first few in good humour, but when Enosh arrived he started screaming and even Daniel couldn’t calm him. Raisa chased them away in the end. But they all had to see for themselves that the baby was still fit and well to meet his father.’

Jezebel nodded and turned back towards the sight of the approaching army. They’d be here soon and she could already make out Ahab in the lead from his distinctive black horse beneath him.

‘I keep telling myself that if he doesn’t notice it the first time he looks at the child, he won’t see it at all,’ she said.

‘No,’ said Beset, arranging the cape around Jezebel’s shoulders.

‘But if the resemblance is as strong as I’ve come to think it is then—’

‘Do you love him?’

‘Ahab?’

Beset smiled. ‘Yes, Ahab.’

‘I missed him much more than I thought I would, and his letters brought me great comfort. I know he didn’t tell me much of significance, but it mattered to me that he was thinking about me, even when he was far away with a war to fight. He is the only one who welcomed me from the start.’

And does he love me? Could any man with more than one wife truly love any of them? She turned away from the parapet. Certainly, they seemed to have found a fondness for each other. He had her loyalty too. There were times in this dark and complicated city when she thought that mattered more even than the son she’d given him.

Beset stopped at the head of the stairs. ‘It’s been less than two months, but you have grown so much older since he went to war.’

‘Is it the baby that made me grow up?’

Beset shrugged. ‘You will make a good mother, I’m sure of that.’

Jezebel squeezed her maid’s hand in gratitude. ‘If I’m wiser too, then perhaps the baby will be the last mistake I make.’

Her stomach churned as she processed with the Palace priests down to the city gates to wait for Ahab’s arrival. She was wearing the Queen’s gown and headdress, formally given by Raisa after the baby was born, and the baby lay in her arms wrapped in a cloth edged with gold beads. Perhaps he sensed the significance of the occasion for he had not stopped wailing since the priests’ visit.

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