Israel avoided war for two more years. After the captain cleverly coaxed Ahab into an unspoken arrangement with Yashar, Yashar brought in successive bumper crops. The wine from those harvests, though it had improved after years of prayer, study and trial, was not yet nearly as refined or subtle as Naboth’s had been. Yet Yashar was pleased. He had become competent, at least, in the pursuit of his passion, having succeeded at the craft despite failing at the art. He was young. He had time. Life seemed good and hopeful until, one evening, Bidkar brought back bitter news from Shunem after his latest visit with Sara.
“Zach has not improved at all,” Bidkar said. “He is rarely able to help with work. When the time soon comes when he cannot work at all, Sara and Nurit will need either you or me to help them to survive.”
Yashar came to a decision at once. “God has blessed me in Jezreel,” he said, “but Juttah and I will move to Shunem as soon as I can arrange it.”
“You’ve become decisive,” Bidkar said. “Like me, you are not bound to things or circumstance. You stand unafraid to leave this notch despite your love for it.”
“I only thought to help,” Yashar said.
“I posed a problem,” Bidkar said, “you responded. You would have made a good soldier.” Though they were alone in the vineyard where no one could hear, Bidkar moved closer and spoke confidentially. “Listen,” he whispered, “you must be careful how you go about these things. Ahab is now your royal partner. He revels in the profit from this enterprise. I’ve seen him serve your wine to foreign kings. He takes credit for its flavor. It’s his private vineyard, you see?”
“My grapes are not half as subtle as Naboth’s,” Yashar sighed.
“Focus,” Bidkar snapped. “This is about survival, not wine. Devise a clever way to leave this plot, making it appear to be Ahab’s will, not yours.”
“You say Ahab has served my wine to kings?”
“Here in Jezreel,” Bidkar said, “and at the palace in Samaria. I have attended, bearing arms. He’s now courting Jehoshaphat’s support for war. He clearly looks the fool for sparing Ben-hadad’s life a second time at Aphek.”
“Against God’s will,” Yashar said.
“He is more concerned about Jezebel, it seems. She is spitting mad. Though he was once grateful to the point of tears, Ben-hadad has broken his word to Ahab, as everyone but the king knew he would, and refused to yield Ramoth-gilead to Israel.”
“What has that to do with me?” Yashar asked.
“War affects everyone, son. You are looking at a soldier sick of soldiering. War and drought have left me a lonely man. You and I, Yashar, would be wise to stick together, agreed?” He waited until Yashar nodded. “We have common interests and mutual regard.”
Yashar nodded a second time.
“How best, then, son,” Bidkar asked, “do we go about to ensure our success? Why, we must sniff the wind and weigh options. We must think like foxes and make clever plans. On some not too distant day, Yashar, Israel will suffer God’s final measure of justice.”
“You are right, Captain,” Yashar said. “Elijah has whispered the same at my ear.”
“So, too, Micaiah, to me, in Ahab’s prison,” Bidkar said. “You and I and those we love must get out. With luck we’ll find safe harbor far away.”
“You’re still learning, sir,” Yashar said. “Luck has no place in a godly man’s life.”
“All the same,” Bidkar said, “The prophets have declared it. Israel is doomed.”
*
When Ahab learned from spies that followers of the Baalim had plotted violence against him (because of his lengthy penance to the God of Israel in Jezreel), Bidkar became the king’s most trusted man. Ahab ordered the captain to stand guard when Ahab sat before the gates with Jehoshaphat, King of Judah, in Samaria. Early on that day, Bidkar deployed handpicked men from Jezreel to the sound of shofars. Criers cried and the kings stepped out together onto Samaria’s sun-striped pavilion wearing crowns and splendid robes.
The gathering before the gates was dominated by followers of Baal, yet they cheered for King Jehoshaphat, revered in the south for never having bowed to false gods.
It seemed that no one in Samaria understood who God was.
The two kings’ willingness to cooperate was no surprise. Jehoshaphat’s son had married Ahab’s daughter. When the cheering subsided, Ahab got to business. “Will you go with me,” he asked the king of Judah in a booming voice, “into battle at Ramoth-gilead?”
“I am as you are,” Jehoshaphat answered, “my people as your people, my horses as your horses.”
The kings embraced. Samaria celebrated. (It was the city’s specialty.) But the kings were not nearly so cordial afterward when Jehoshaphat, to Ahab’s disappointment, requested a second meeting with him. Ahab had no choice but to agree.
Bidkar, as Ahab’s personal protector, stood guard at that meeting.
*
It was Obadiah’s first time in the same room with Jezebel since she had frightened him in her bedchamber. Something evil still controlled the queen. Just as then, she licked her lips unnaturally and swayed in her seat like a cobra.
Jehoshaphat spoke first, “Regarding Ramoth-gilead, I pray you,” he said to Ahab, “ask a word from the Lord.”
Jezebel pounded the table. “What value is there in further counsel, sir?” she asked. “Three years ago the greatest of your god’s so-called prophets, the coward Elijah, rendered threats against me and the king whose judgment you now question, yet here we stand, whole and thriving…” She turned to scowl at her husband. “…even after this man hid in Jezreel for months like a frightened child, covered with ash and tearing his clothes.”
Jehoshaphat folded his hands on the table. Ahab looked away.
“Ben-hadad laughed at your superstition, husband,” Jezebel went on, “and he failed to repay your mercy after twice you spared his life. Now we sit hat in hand before this man…” She pointed at Jehoshaphat. “…begging his assistance in taking land which would already have been ours if you had only stood strong at first?”
Obadiah cleared his throat. “Perhaps, O queen,” he said, “our king’s bathing in ashes, as you termed it, is what gained him, and Samaria, God’s mercy these three years?”
“Was the drought relieved so long ago, Ahab,” Jehoshaphat said, “that your queen has forgotten the awesome power of the Lord?”
“Our ways are not your ways,” Jezebel snapped. “Israel is not burdened to worship in the old manner.”
“Your queen’s pride has clearly blinded you, Ahab,” Jehoshaphat said. “Such irreverence can only lead to ruin.”
Ahab glared at Jezebel and pointed toward the door. “Now,” he said. To Obadiah’s surprise, Jezebel curled up from her seat like a vapor and wafted out of the room.
“I remain unsettled in mind or spirit,” Jehoshaphat said. “Before Judah joins in this venture, please ask a further word from the Lord.”
*
To satisfy Jehoshaphat, Ahab summoned Samaria’s prophets to weigh in upon the war. Soon four hundred of them stood with the kings before the gates. “Shall I go against Ramoth-gilead to battle, or shall I forbear?” Ahab asked.
“Go up, for the Lord will deliver it into your hand,” they answered in chorus.
Samaria cheered but Jehoshaphat sighed. “Is there not here a prophet of the Lord besides these,” he asked, “of whom we might enquire?”
“These hundreds will not do?” Ahab asked.
Jehoshaphat folded his arms. Ahab turned to Bidkar and asked, “Is my nemesis in Jezreel still alive?”
“The prophet, Micaiah, O king?” Bidkar asked. “He remains in excellent health. I speak with him almost daily.”
“Then there is yet one man,” Ahab told Jehoshaphat, “Micaiah, son of Imlah. By him we may also enquire of the Lord but I hate him, for he never prophesies good concerning me but always evil.”
“Let the king not say so.” Jehoshaphat said.
“Ride to Jezreel and return with that man,” Ahab ordered Bidkar. “Israel and Judah shall await your return.”
*
It was over twenty miles to Jezreel from Samaria, two thirds of the way over rocky ground. Bidkar estimated that the round trip, while leading the old prophet on the return, would take between three and four hours. Before Bidkar set off, Ahab had taken him aside and told him what to say, word for word, to Micaiah in Jezreel.
*
As God would have it, Yashar was standing on the plaza chatting with three of Bidkar’s men when the captain’s lathered horse bolted up from the valley. “You,” Bidkar said to the first as he dismounted, “walk this one cool and see he gets oats and a rub.” He told the next, “Fetch my black and a mare from the livery now.” He ordered the last soldier to double-time to the brig and rouse the holy man, Micaiah. “I want him clean, combed, fed and ready to travel at the gate in no more than thirty minutes, make sure.”
As the three rushed away, Yashar nodded, impressed at his friend’s ability to command.
“There’s no time for detail,” Bidkar said, “but two kings sit the gates at Samaria. If you want to see something spectacular…” He stopped. “Can you ride a horse, son?”
“I have never,” Yashar confessed, “but I am sure God will sustain me when I try.”
Bidkar rolled his eyes then retrieved a key of sorts from his belt, a small black bolt, and handed it to Yashar. “Take this to the stable,” he said. “Show it to Ehud, the liveryman. He will recognize it as mine. Say, the captain says setup the wall eye, Alon, bridle, blanket, breast straps and quirt…” He stopped again. “Can you remember that?”
“Bridle, blanket, breast straps…”
“And quirt,” Bidkar said. “Alon is rock-steady, forgiving and not terribly slow. Ride him to Samaria as fast as you can coax him; he will not let you harm yourself. Do not be too proud to ask Ehud to help you mount.”
“Bridle, blanket, breast straps, quirt.”
“Excellent,” Bidkar smiled. “Getting off Alon will be much easier than mounting. You need only obey the earth’s pull. As fast as you can, now, son, I’ll bet my sword that the prophet and I pass you before Ibleam.”
“We will see about that, my friend,” Yashar said, “but tell me, what will I see in Samaria?”
“Nothing,” Bidkar said, “if you don’t run to the livery now and start on your way.”
*
Once free, Micaiah asked the captain, “Have you managed to change Ahab’s heart?”
“No,” Bidkar said, “but the king sits with Jehoshaphat, king of Judah, brewing war. Ahab’s prophets see victory but Jehoshaphat first seeks a word from you.”
“Then Jehoshaphat is no fool.”
“I have been ordered to say this, exactly,” Bidkar said. “Behold now, Micaiah, the words of the king’s prophets. These have already declared good unto Ahab with one mouth. So let your word be like theirs. Speak that which is good.”
Micaiah patted Bidkar’s shoulder. “Feel no shame, soldier, for doing as your king has ordered. As the Lord lives, I will speak only what he says to me.”
“That is why you have been stuck in Ahab’s prison,” Bidkar said.
“There are worse fates,” Micaiah said. “I could be charged with protecting the king.”
*
What fun to ride a horse! Alon was a steady animal, eager to please and nothing like the captain’s twitchy mounts. While in the king’s stable, Bidkar’s man, Ehud, gave Yashar riding tips, easier to hear than to follow. Two times while heading toward the valley, Yashar would have landed in the rocks if not for clever Alon’s adjustments to mistakes.
Even Juttah seemed to make fun of Yashar’s horsemanship at first, by running circles around him and Alon, but, by the time they had passed into the hills, Yashar sat tall upon his mount with only the slightest bouncing and he clicked his tongue at the turns like Ahab’s cavalry. All went perfectly until Yashar hit the ground dismounting at Samaria.
Somehow one foot had stuck.
What a scene in the city. Like at Jezreel, every approach to Samaria led uphill. Even on that late afternoon, as Alon had set his own pace, Yashar passed men on foot from Dothan, Tirzah and Shechem, headed toward the gates to see the kings. Yashar had overheard their boasting. Ahab had beaten Ben-hadad twice. Thanks to a clever marriage, he would rout him again.
The concourse where the kings sat rippled with excitement. Yashar tethered Alon to the rear but found it easy, with Juttah, to advance to the fore. There sat Ahab and Jehoshaphat on thrones under a brilliant late-day haze. Hundreds of prophets milled before them. Though these men were not disfigured or painted like Jezebel’s priests, they looked and acted nothing like Elijah. More into politics then faith, they were bent on pleasing Ahab, not God and, parading like entertainers, they gestured and posed for the crowd.
It was the first time Yashar had set eyes on Jehoshaphat of Judah. The stately southern king, erect and serious, sat beside Ahab and seemed as fascinated by the Samarian prophets as the crowd. One of them (Zedekiah, son of Chenaanah, Yashar later learned) strutted before the kings wearing iron horns. “Thus says the Lord,” he shouted, “with these horns you will push the soldiers of Aram until you have consumed them.”
Samaria cheered. The other so-called prophets joined them. “Go up, go up, Ahab, to Ramoth-gilead and prosper,” they sang out, “for the Lord will deliver it into your hand.”
When it seemed that the enthusiasm for war might never end, Bidkar appeared leading Micaiah, threading through the assembly toward the kings. Ahab, seeing them, nodded to Jehoshaphat then stood and called out, “You, sir, Micaiah, shall we go against Ramoth-gilead to battle or forbear?”
Micaiah sat comfortably before the kings on a mare. He wore no jewelry. He sported no horns. “Go, and prosper,” he said, waving his hand toward the north, “for the Lord will deliver Ramoth-gilead into your hand.”
Everyone cheered again, but the breezy manner in which Micaiah had spoken caused Yashar to laugh aloud. When he continued, Yashar discovered Ahab glaring at him just as he had years earlier both at Carmel and Jezreel. How embarrassing.
Ahab looked away, mercifully, waggled a finger at Micaiah and said, “How many times must I warn you, Micaiah, that you must tell me nothing but that which is true in the name of the Lord?”
Micaiah dismounted, stepped toward the kings and raised his arms heavenward. With that simple gesture, even Ahab’s pocket-prophets held their breath. Jehoshaphat, caught up in the drama too, leaned far forward to hear.
“I saw all Israel scattered upon the hills,” Micaiah said, his voice sad and trembling, “as sheep that have not a shepherd. And the Lord said, ‘These have no master; let them return every man to his house in peace.’”
“Did I not tell you,” Ahab told Jehoshaphat, “that Micaiah would prophesy no good concerning me, but evil?”
Before Jehoshaphat could answer, Micaiah, still hailing heaven, added…
Hear you therefore the word of the Lord. I saw the Lord sitting on his throne and all the host of heaven standing by him on his right hand and left.
He stopped and looked from face to face, first into the eyes of the two sullen kings, then at Samaria’s blank-faced prophets and last into the very souls of those in the crowd with the courage to meet his eyes.
And the Lord asked among his host, “Who shall persuade Ahab that he may go up and fall at Ramoth-gilead?” And one said one thing and another, another. And there came forth a spirit before the Lord, saying, “I will persuade him.”
Ahab glowered but Micaiah kept on…
And the Lord said unto the spirit, “How so?” And the spirit answered, I will go forth and be a lying spirit in the mouth of all his prophets. And the Lord said, “You shall persuade him and prevail. Go and do so.”
Nearly finished, Micaiah turned his back to the kings and faced Zedekiah, son of Chenaanah who had danced earlier wearing horns. “Now therefore, behold, Ahab,” Micaiah said, “the Lord has put a lying spirit in the mouths of all these men, your prophets, and the Lord has spoken evil concerning you.”
Zedekiah stepped up and slapped Micaiah’s face. “And how has the spirit of the Lord caused me to speak with you?” he asked Micaiah in an effort to intimidate him.
A fire lit in Micaiah’s eyes even as a groan of foreboding swept the square.
“Behold, Ahab,” the prophet said, “you will see in that day when you go into an inner chamber to hide.”
“Take him,” Ahab ordered Bidkar. “Carry him into the city to Amon, the governor, and to Joash, the king’s son. Tell them, Ahab says lock this fellow up and feed him with bread and water of affliction until I come in peace.”
“If you return at all in peace,” Micaiah shouted, “then the Lord has not spoken by me.”
Having done his duty, Micaiah extended his wrists.
Bidkar shackled his friend, put a hand gently under his elbow and helped him mount again. As they rode into the city, not a sound was heard above the sound of horses’ hooves. Micaiah turned again at the gates and said, “Pay attention, O people, to what you have heard.”
His words hung in the air. The square had fallen still.
Blaming the gloom on Micaiah’s deceit, Ahab urged Samaria to be of good cheer again. He, the horned prophet, Zedekiah, and all Zedekiah’s peers lifted threat after threat against Aram until even Jehoshaphat seemed to forget Micaiah’s warning and begin to shake his fists.
Even after the sun had dipped behind the hills, having lit torches and bundled up against the evening air, they chanted, Mighty Ahab, mighty Ahab he shall lead us to war!
*
Yashar and the captain rode back to Jezreel that evening. Bidkar offered further riding instruction as they went. “Trust your mount,” he said most often, “especially by moonlight.” True to that, steady Alon picked his way over ruts and rocky slopes without a stumble. The night air had grown bitter cold by then in combination with a stiff wind. When Yashar began to shiver, the captain removed his mantle and threw it over Yashar’s shoulders.
“These old bones,” he said, “have long since made their peace with biting air.”
Though ashamed by his lack of toughness, Yashar did not argue.
Juttah ran the flats as they rode. Yashar spoke of grapes. The captain mentioned how sorely he would miss his visits with Micaiah now that Ahab had moved him to Samaria. At the end of their ride, as they climbed toward Jezreel, Bidkar spoke again of the future. “Ahab is a dead man,” he sighed. “We’ve heard it from two prophets.”
Not long ago Bidkar had worn charms for luck, run in the groves at springtime and lit incense to coax magic; now he was a man of uncommon faith.