In the Shadow of Jezebel by Mesu Andrews Read Free Book Online Page A

boasted the same four-pillared entry and grand stairway leading to double-cedar doors. Fully armored Israelites waited to usher the Judean delegation into the audience hall, but Ima Thaliah halted them in the entry, determined to perfect their appearance before meeting Gevirah Jizebaal.
    She fluffed her own fox-fur collar before straightening Hazi’s jeweled crown. She untied and retied the sash on Sheba’s linen gown, dyed a deep purple with the rare shellfish found only in Tyrian waters. Finally, Mattan’s freshly shaved head drew special attention to his high priestly appearance, which was accented by his golden turban and an embroidered stole suspended from his left shoulder by a jeweled broach. After a last glance at her charges, Ima Thaliah offered an approving nod, signaling the guards to open the double doors.
    Sheba felt as if she’d swallowed a hornet’s nest, and the buzzing in Jezreel’s grand audience hall didn’t settle her nerves one bit. In a room large enough to hold four sailing ships, King Joram—or Ram, as Ima Thaliah called him—sat on a gilded throne, scepter in one hand, Gevirah Jizebaal’s hand in the other. The great lady sat on a second throne of equal height and grandeur, her kohl-rimmed eyes fixed on Sheba.
    A huge soldier stood behind the royal pair. Probably Jehu, the general of Israel’s troops. Sheba was suddenly grateful Mattan had quizzed her mercilessly on the political and economic climate of bordering nations—including the names of top-ranking military officers of their nearest neighbors. From the stories she’d heard of Jehu, he was ruthless, having taken harsh but necessary measures of discipline on his own people during Samaria’s siege. His metal-studded breastpiece and armor, the deep scars on his face, and his watchful eyes certainly made a frightening impression.
    The Judean delegation waited at the doorway until a handsome steward announced their arrival. “May it please our mighty king and worthy Gevirah to receive Queen Athaliah of Judah; Prince Ahaziah and Princess Jehosheba, children of Jehoram; and Mattan, Judah’s high priest of Baal Melkart.” He bowed slightly. “They come as envoys of the house of David, bearing gifts that affirm Judah’s ongoing treaty with the house of Ahab and Jizebaal.”
    The four honored Judeans began their slow procession up the red woolen carpet as servants pulled a four-wheeled cart of copper behind them. Ima Thaliah stopped at the edge, where the tile began, two camel lengths from the double thrones. “A gift from my husband, King Jehoram of Judah,” she said, directing all attention to the cart. “It is the finest copper from the mines of Edom—a people who rebelled against Judah as Moab rebelled against Israel. We’ve come to discuss these weighty matters with King Ram and his honored Gevirah.”
    Those in the gallery gasped, but Ima offered a mischievous grin before she knelt and placed her nose where the carpet met marble tile. Sheba realized she was the only one standing and felt Hazi yank her down beside him. Mattan had fallen to his knees on the other side of Queen Athaliah. Feeling as awkward as a three-legged camel, she buried her nose in the worn woolen rug, waiting in uncomfortable silence.
    Nothing. More silence.
    If this was to be a political visit, why had Ima spoken instead of Hazi? Was the king offended? Whispers fluttered across the gallery, and then nervous chatter.
    Sheba didn’t dare look up but furtively scanned to her left and right. The palace furnishings were distinctly Phoenician, the inlaid metalwork and carvings exquisite. But on closer inspection, she noticed scuffed corners, chipped ivory, and worn tapestries. Even the spectators appeared somewhat worn-out. Thin and frail, the onlookers seemed as nervous as Sheba felt.
    “You may rise, my daughter,” a smooth female voice purred, “and those with you as well.”
    The Judeans stood in a row, Mattan on Ima Thaliah’s left,then Hazi and Sheba