19. Let your heart rejoice, O king

Jezebel learned as a little girl, all men, from her father, King of Tyre, to the eunuch who watched her chamber pot, were proud beyond their merits and slaves to feminine eyes. That pitiable truth became even clearer when she married.

Ahab, king of Israel, so famous as a builder, hunter and warrior, turned out to be no better than the others, sometimes the dullest of them all. But Ahab was also a stubborn man, perhaps his greatest talent. When the prophet, Elijah, cursed Israel with drought, Ahab refused to kill him. When Elijah came out of hiding, Ahab allowed him to murder her priests. And when Ben-hadad sent his armies flooding into Israel, Ahab consulted Hebrew prophets for advice, not Jezebel’s favorite men of Baal.

Yet the rains returned and Ahab won both wars!

Jezebel had no answer for her husband’s success. In the course of his uncanny victories he had become a hero to his people and had somehow changed the world.

Despite herself, Jezebel found that a little attractive.

So, now and then, she stooped to honor that small part of her husband’s nature that was not an utter ass. And she grew genuinely concerned for him one day when, upon returning home from Jezreel, he headed straight to the royal bedchamber without stopping for a meal.

“Is your spirit so low, O king,” she asked, “that you have no appetite?”

“Today in Jezreel,” Ahab said, “I tried to swap land for land with the obstinate vintner, Naboth, whose family has for generations tended the slopes that flank the outer wall.”

“And this Naboth…?”

“Turned me down,” the king sighed, “even after I offered money.”

“Stop,” Jezebel said when it looked like the man might cry. “Are you not now the king of Israel?”

Ahab sighed again, then nodded.

“Eat bread, then,” Jezebel told him, “and let your heart rejoice, O king. I will give you the vineyard as a gift.”

Ahab failed to perk up. “If I could not sway him,” he said, “you too shall surely fail.”

Jezebel smiled. Although he was its frequent victim, the king had never understood her power. “Rules are for common men, not princes,” she said. “I will not attempt to sway him.”

That evening Jezebel wrote letters to the nobles and elders of Jezreel and sealed them with Ahab’s seal, asking them to proclaim a fast and set Naboth at the head of the people. Then seat two sons of Baal before him and let them testify against him.

Of course, the elders complied.

*

Sometimes when short on time, Sara would send Avi to market. Often he kept whatever she gave him and went missing for days. Good riddance when that happened, Sara thought, for Avi’s dark nature had become unbearable. But, no matter what Avi took from them or how long he stayed away, Naboth always whined while he was gone. And Naboth always eagerly welcomed Avi back into the vineyard, hoping that, “Our trust may yet turn his heart.”

“Every path to evil,” Sara would remind him, “leads through a final, open gate.”

One day, not long after King Ahab had visited the vineyard and tried to buy it, Sara sent Avi into Jezreel to buy food but Avi disappeared again. His behavior, by then, had become a source of comedy at Naboth’s expense. “Guess who has no flour for bread tonight,” Sara asked, “and why.”

“We are without flour,” Yashar guessed, “because poor Avi has lost his way?”

“Or the unlucky lad has been abducted,” Sara sighed.

“You two speak so coldly,” Naboth said. “What if our Avi has truly met with difficulty?”

Sara and Yashar waited while Naboth considered his words.

“Probably not,” he sighed. “Did you give him much coin?”

“No,” Sara said, “I sent him with olives to barter.”

Naboth smiled. “At least he’ll have something to eat.”

Unknown to even Sara’s children, she and Naboth kept a cache of quality silver minted in Tyre as a prop for their old age. She stepped to her cottage and emerged with a shiny coin. “Get flour now and some oil,” she told Yashar, folding his fingers about it. “It’s nearly dark but you may yet find someone trading. Mind you, count the change.”

Before Yashar could start to town, Avi came running down the gate path. “The tower men are here,” he said breathlessly, “three of them in fine robes up at our gate.”

“Tower men?” Yashar asked.

“The nobles and elders of Jezreel,” Naboth said. “They do important business up there.”

“It’s convenient,” Sara said. “They can look down at others without straining.”

“Shame,” Naboth said.

“I’ve no regard for their beliefs,” Avi said, “mixing the harsh rules of your god with the joys of the Baalim, but I do respect their power.”

“All show with their ephods, buckles and robes,” Sara said. “I have no use for them.”

“Please go up, Father, and speak with them,” Avi said. “Men like these cannot be ignored.”

“Do not do it husband,” Sara said. “The king of Israel himself was not too proud to walk into this vineyard but these men wait at our gate.”

“They are more powerful than Ahab in Jezreel,” Avi said. “The king drills his troops here, these elders run the town.”

“And now these important fellows wish to see me,” Naboth beamed.

“Ask yourself why, husband,” Sara said, “instead of puffing up.”

“They have likely spotted our vines from up in their lofty place and come to admire them,” Naboth said. “It’s been years since Jezreel has enjoyed a decent grape.”

“Use your head, sir,” Sara said. “First the king attempts to buy this land, now these men come calling? Doesn’t the coincidence concern you?”

“Woman,” Naboth said, “you see schemes which simply are not there.”

Avi grabbed his father’s hand and led him up the path.

“Please follow that foolish man,” Sara asked Yashar. “Take Juttah with you and do not leave him, no matter what.”

*

Yashar and Juttah ran up the path and stood behind Naboth at the gate. One of the waiting elders introduced himself as Paz, a prophet’s son. Another, who later called himself Givol, stood behind Paz dressed in long white robes; a third, wearing a jeweled vest, called Zvi, stepped forward, sniffed at Naboth then seemed to wait as if he expected the old man to bow or kiss his hand.

“Hello,” Naboth said, “do you wish to speak with me?”

“We wish to honor you, sir,” Zvi said. “We have proclaimed a fast throughout Jezreel to establish you among the people.”

“How wonderful,” Naboth said, “but how can it be? I tend grapes and raise olives down the hill. My family has done so for generations. No attention has ever before come our way. Perhaps you mean to honor someone else?”

“Who in Jezreel deserves honor if not you, sir?” Zvi said. “Have you not restored your vineyard to its former glory?”

“Excuse me, sirs,” Yashar said. “Is the honor you’ve proposed related to the king’s visit, days ago?”

“And who is this?” Zvi asked.

“He is a servant,” Avi said, “and has no right to be here.”

“This is Yashar, who is like a son to me,” Naboth told the elders, “but I concede that he has overstepped.” He turned to Yashar. “By interrupting these esteemed men,” he said, “you have failed to show respect.”

“Leave us, then,” Zvi told Yashar, “you and the beast.”

Yashar remembered to speak the truth. “I would gladly leave, sir,” he said, “but Naboth’s wife has charged me to watch after her husband and not abandon him.”

“You will not go back to camp then, son, according to my wishes?” Naboth asked.

“I cannot, sir,” Yashar said. “I gave Sara my word.”

The elders hurried Naboth away, across the plaza toward the gates. When Yashar followed, they stopped and huddled, turning their backs. The late sun, lying below the plaza’s rim, cast their shadows against the gates. Torches had been lit in the tower sconces. Above the murmur of their flames, Yashar listened to a hurried conversation. Though the elders spoke softly, Yashar heard their every word.

*

Once back at camp, while Naboth sat mumbling, thrilled and confused by the elders’ plans to honor him, Yashar told Sara all he had overheard. “Avi insisted that Naboth cooperate,” he told Sara, “and Naboth gave in and agreed.”

That evening at dinner, owls hooted and Juttah growled for no reason. The campfire seemed dimmed by something foreign in the air. When Sara tried to persuade Naboth to renege, Avi stood and accused his mother of envying her husband.

“See what you’ve done, Sara?” Naboth said, as Avi stormed away.

“He leaves every night after filling his stomach,” Sara said. “What makes this exit special?”

“His attitude has been improving until now,” Naboth said. “We must encourage, not offend him. I’m sure you have noticed how pleased the boy has been for me on the heels of this new attention. I am thrilled, Sara, despite your interference, for my opportunity to increase his respect for me.”

Sara began to cry.

“Sara,” Naboth said, “would you, as Avi says, deny me modest recognition out of unbecoming jealousy? These men wish only to honor me, nothing more.”

“Honor is for the Lord,” Sara said, “and him only.”

“Sometimes you preach too much, woman,” Naboth said. “No harm shall come from a bit of sincere admiration. By paying me a little mind, our elders only attempt to bring Jezreelites together during confusing times. No one has been able to steer Israel from her idols. The elders are wise to search for common ground.”

“Forget their polluted beliefs, husband,” Sara said, “and ask only, why you, why now? Do you truly believe these puffed up men are suddenly impressed by you?”

“Avi was right,” Naboth said, “you are jealous,” and he left the fire for the cottage.

Sara followed him, unable to stop her tears.

Before that evening Yashar had believed that no one he knew, save Elijah, walked closer to the Lord than Naboth, but it seemed that the old vintner had allowed his pride, and his son, to promote a bad decision. Later that evening Juttah growled in the dark for hours.

All across the foggy vineyard terraces the night air bristled with dread.