Читать книгу Jezebel - Eleanor Jong De - Страница 19

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.