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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

HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication

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.