23. All but the mention of murder

The wind howled so mournfully the third night after Naboth’s burial that Juttah lay beside Yashar curled up like a frightened pup. The owls returned, the sky thundered and scores of dodging bats invaded camp. Long after the fire died, Juttah sprang up, sniffed the air then began to run in circles.

The time had come. Yashar and Juttah went up. Though the wind had not abated it seemed that half of Jezreel had gathered before the gates. Hundreds more climbed the ascent or hurried along the perimeter road toward where they stood.

Torches flared at the tower sconces below scores of rippling flags.

It was an odd crowd that they had joined. Men with marked faces and pierced flesh stood beside those who followed the Lord. Women either wore bright scarves and nose rings or dressed in modest wraps. Everyone looked about continually, many on their toes. Yashar wondered if they understood why they had come.

“What is happening?” Zach asked as he and Nurit appeared at the vineyard rail.

“Not what,” Yashar said, “but who.”

Sara had come up with the rest of her family. “I should have never doubted you,” she told Yashar. “As you promised, Elijah will certainly appear.”

The gates went up. Bidkar, the by then familiar captain, rode to the middle of the assembly upon on a tall black horse, sat erect and shouted, “Elijah’s servant come forward.”

Somehow, a perfect aisle formed between Yashar and the captain as scores of people stepped aside. “Approach me, sir,” the captain said, “by order of the king.”

Yashar stood his ground.

“Please, Yashar,” Sara whispered at his ear, “do not give Israel a reason to murder you too.”

The captain was clearly a confident man. Rather than repeat his order when Yashar refused to obey, he smiled oddly, then clicked his horse forward. “You?” he said, once dismounted beside Yashar. “You are Elijah’s friend?”

When Yashar said nothing, the captain narrowed his eyes as if angry but managed to smile again. “I pleaded your case to the elders, son, when you…” He paused, noticing Sara. “…when you and this lady were in trouble. Why now, in front of all Jezreel, do you choose to show me disrespect?”

“Should one man honor another for only doing his job?” Yashar asked.

The captain dropped his hand to the hilt of the weapon at his waist and leaned forward confidentially. “Possibly, you do not grasp my authority,” he said. “If I choose to hurt you now, boy, which I promise I can do without consequence, these people will not object nor will your animal be able to save you. I am standing much too close. I am the king’s representative. Now bend a little to save your life.”

Sara whispered a second plea but, when a man’s soul is empty, it is easy to be fearless. “We may both die, then,” Yashar said, nodding toward Juttah, beside him. “Do you hear the rumbling in his throat, Captain? Do you remember the damage he did to you and others, last time? My dog may very well not save me, but he will surely finish you.”

The captain grinned a third time. “Do you know what sets soldiers apart, son?” he asked. “It is their regard, or disregard, for death. I am one of those who do not fear it.”

“Dying is one thing,” Yashar said, “a mauling is another. Harm me and my friend will not be content to snap at your wrist. I’ll bet your end will be no less painful than mine and most likely much worse.”

The captain bowed a bit toward Sara (who had never stopped praying at Yashar’s side) and said, “Enough. The king has sent me. I will do his bidding, regardless, so do not attempt to further test my humor or press your brief advantage. Ahab, recalling your prediction, asks you now, through me, what do you make of this wind, the birds and the skies? Are they, as you seemed to have threatened…?”

“Signs?” Yashar finished for him.

The captain nodded.

“The prophet, Elijah,” Yashar said, “will certainly appear this evening.”

Though surprised by the cheers that followed, Yashar found himself saying more. “But this shall not happen, Captain, before Ahab comes out to sit in the accepted manner of kings, in sight of his people near this vineyard for which he committed murder. There will be no private audience. Ahab must sit at these gates.”

While everyone murmured, the captain seemed to pause to weigh his options. “I will deliver your message,” he said finally, “all but the mention of murder, of course.” With that, he mounted up and rode back into the city.

“What strange power overcame you?” Zach asked after the captain had gone.

Yashar shrugged, understanding none of it, his thoughts having turned to Elijah.

*

Ahab did not appear until just before daybreak. No one had left the scene. When the sky first hinted at brightening, attendants set a chair before the gates, the king appeared in royal robes and his personal guard cleared space about him, standing at attention with their spear tips pointed up. The wind blew harder, the clouds tumbled like ocean waves but Elijah failed to appear.

“He makes the king wait to embarrass him,” Zach said.

Just as Yashar began to doubt, he heard the prophet’s name, first in a rush of whispers then as a rhythmic chant. Elijah, Elijah, it came, amplified, not dampened in the unstable air. But even then, the prophet did not show. When it appeared that Elijah might never come, the prophet appeared in their midst, simply there, wearing the same modest clothes and leather belt, less the dust, that he had worn at Zarephath many years earlier.

Even those who honored the Baalim seemed thrilled to see him. As earlier, an aisle formed between the prophet and the king but Elijah, instead of approaching Ahab, turned his back as the king waved him forward.

When their eyes met, Elijah ran to meet Yashar. “Look at you all grown,” he said, wrapping him in a hug. The embrace was too much. Yashar cried in Elijah’s arms, not like a man might weep for happiness but as a child might break down within the sudden comfort of his mother—terribly embarrassing, though Jezreel seemed not to care.

All joy, Elijah pounded Yashar’s back and mussed his hair. He whooped and sniffed then grabbed Yashar and danced him in a circle. Israel’s greatest prophet ignored her king while tugging at the curling beard of a youth from the north, saying repeatedly, “Look at you, boy. I told you. Just look at how you’ve grown.”

Prophets are never predictable. Without warning, Elijah stooped and snatched up Juttah, asking, “And who is this big mutt?”

It seemed that everyone standing in the plaza let out an audible gasp.

“What is it?” Elijah asked. “Is something wrong?”

Gesturing cautiously with his hands, Yashar coaxed Elijah, slowly, gently, to set big Juttah down, then said, “This animal, sir, has earned a violent reputation.”

“Yes, I can see by these terrified faces,” Elijah said, “that you’ve perhaps understated the case. O, if only there were time to hear this beast’s story but it is time for us to part.” Elijah wrapped him in a final hug. “There, there, boy,” he whispered (as Yashar had never stopped sobbing), “we find that all is well when we have courage enough to look beyond the day.”

The lane reopened between prophet and king.

“I must go,” Elijah said as Yashar dabbed at his eyes. “Remember what I told you? You’ve proven it, with God’s grace. You do not need me now nor did you then.” He began away then hesitated, back to whisper, “A time shall come, and you shall surely know the moment, to get yourself out of Israel forever.”

“Will I be in danger?” Yashar asked.

“Neither you, nor your wife, nor your sons,” the prophet said.

Wife, sons, how wonderful. Yashar had expected to be lonely forever.

“But woe unto your grandchildren and their children,” Elijah said, “if you fail to heed my warning and remain here in the land.”

Adella had been right, then. God had also spoken to her, though apparently more clearly.

“I understand,” Yashar said. “God will someday judge Israel.”

“No,” Elijah said. “God has already judged this nation; it only remains to unfold.”

*

Yashar, Sara and her family followed Elijah toward the gates. When the prophet stopped before the throne, Ahab said, “Have you found me, then, O my enemy?”

“I have found you,” Elijah said, “because you have sold yourself, Ahab, to work evil in the sight of the Lord.” He raised a finger and the king dared not interrupt him. “Behold, then, I will bring evil on you!” He turned and pointed toward the vineyard. “Have you committed murder, Ahab, and also taken possession?”

Ahab’s eyes went round. “Not I…” he began…

“Liar!” Elijah yelled. “Thus says the Lord, in the place where dogs licked the blood of Naboth will dogs lick yours. Yes, Ahab, even yours!”

“I am but a man,” Ahab pleaded, “imperfect, seeking mercy.”

“Was not my poor Naboth but a man?” Sara cried from her place behind the prophet.

“I will bring evil upon you, says the Lord…” Elijah said.

I will take away your posterity and will cut off from you him that pisses against the wall (meaning, Yashar knew, Ahab’s legitimate sons) and him that is shut up and left in Israel (meaning all the children that Ahab had fathered by concubines throughout the land). I will make your house like the house of Jeroboam, the son of Nebat, and like the house of Baasha, son of Ahijah, for the cause with which you provoked me to anger and made Israel to sin.

Ahab slid from his throne to his knees and sobbed in his hands, his head hanging so low that the tip of his crown nearly touched the prophet’s sandals.

“And what of Jezebel?” Yashar cried out.

“The dogs shall eat Jezebel by the wall of Jezreel, so says the Lord.”

“O, my God in heaven, mercy, no!” Ahab cried.

“He that dies of Ahab in the city, the dogs shall eat,” Elijah added. “He that dies in the field shall the fowls of the air eat.”

As Ahab kneeled, weeping, the first pink rays of daylight tipped the Jezreel tower. Elijah turned his back on the king and said…

People of Jezreel, there have been none before like Ahab, who sold himself to work wickedness in the sight of the Lord, who Jezebel, his wife, stirred up.

The wind died, the pennants settled on the ramparts and the clouds overhead rolled to a leisurely stop. Jezreel looked left and right for Elijah, but he had gone.