CHAPTER 1
The sun shone brightly over Tirzah at midday. The usually busy city was filled with joy, as everyone anticipated a royal wedding happening in a few hours, when the sun would set. The day was warm but typical for this season, marked by sporadic rainfall across the area. People called on various deities for more rain, and whenever rain clouds or storms appeared, they would thank their respective gods for the help.
Tishkhu, a servant in the royal household, maintained her faith in Yahweh, the God of her ancestors. Although Yahweh had been worshiped for generations, she lived near the palace where King Elah openly revered Baal and sometimes Chemosh, depending on what he sought. The King enjoyed celebrating festivals, mostly honoring Baal and Chemosh, but on rare occasions, he permitted Yahweh-believers to observe their own rites. Tishkhu was aware that King Elah had no idea how many worshiped her God, which she had kept secret since her childhood with her Uncle in Jezreel.
The palace buzzed with servants preparing for the celebration. Flowers, streamers, art, jewelry, and a fresh coat of paint on the outside pavilion at the back of the palace indicated the festive mood. The king emphasized the importance of banners featuring the Issachar tribe’s symbol and colors. The golden donkey, set against a rich blue background, adorned the palace and was visible throughout Tirzah. King Elah commissioned an updated banner with five golden stars atop the donkey, symbolizing Issachar’s lineage.
The tribes of Israel were linked to a particular son of Israel, whose name was changed from Jacob by an angel of the Lord. There were twelve sons, each founding his own tribe. Though united as a nation, pride in one’s tribal affiliation persisted, each tribe bearing its own banner, colors, and symbol. Such banners were primarily displayed on official structures, royal or noble residences, during wartime facing enemy nations, or at the palace, depending on which tribe held prominence.
As the palace was decorated for the Issachar tribe, Tishkhu recognized the colors and symbols because Jezreel was within that tribe’s territory. The former king belonged to the Ephraim tribe, whose banner displayed a bull on a black-and-white background. Tishkhu was very young during Ephraim’s previous kingship and did not remember Nadab’s reign. To her, the kingdom was under the rule of Elah’s father and himself.
The palace’s upper level housed the King, his children, and other residents. Elah’s main children with the queen, along with some from concubines from Israel and other nations, lived there. Among Tishkhu’s close friends was Aruru, a princess she often aided, whose mother was an Assyrian princess. About twenty years earlier, before Elah’s reign, Aruru’s mother visited Israel and had an affair with Elah. After Aruru’s birth, Elah persuaded her mother to allow Aruru to live in Israel to strengthen ties between the two nations. Aruru frequently visited her mother’s homeland and was familiar with the customs of both her mother’s and her father’s cultures.
When royalty and nobility married, it was crucial that they present themselves impeccably to the public. Palace staff were tasked with preparing both the bride and groom to ensure their display was flawless and met the King’s standards. Although Aruru was not the one getting married, she took it upon herself to ensure the bride looked her best. This was not only because of their friendship but also because she served as her personal attendant, and the bride was closely related to Aruru’s prominent family.
Marva, a servant from the tribe of Simeon, was about to marry one of the King’s eldest uncles. While many servants prepared the groom for the wedding, Aruru, along with some royal servants in Tirzah, wanted to ensure Marva received the best treatment. Her room was filled with pillows, serving both aesthetic and comfort purposes. Incense burned in the corners, kept away from anything flammable, filling the space with the calming aromas of lavender and rose. A bath had already been prepared for Marva, and she had been bathed and perfumed by those usually assigned to care for the King’s daughter.
Tishkhu offered to assist Aruru with Marva’s wedding preparations. In the palace, she fulfilled various roles, including serving as a steward at council meetings, caring for the royal horses and war chariots, and assisting Aruru. Although she wasn’t an official servant, she spent a lot of time around the palace, forming a close friendship with Aruru. She was happy to support their friend Marva as she prepared for a major milestone in her life.
“Do I really have to go through with this?” Marva asked, gazing at her near-glamorous reflection in the mirror. Tishkhu, Aruru, and several of the King’s servants had spent the day preparing her for what was supposed to be a triumphant moment. Nurit, one of the makeup artists who also did Aruru’s and her sisters’ makeup for royal events, was beginning to apply foundation to make Marva stunningly beautiful when she suddenly had an idea to improve her look and left the room to fetch a specific shade.
Marva stood taller and broader, her form more like a flowing, undulating box than the delicate elegance of Tishkhu and Aruru. Before Nurit began her artful touch, many commented that her nose seemed too large for her petite face. Tishkhu had noticed that her right eye was slightly larger than the left, and her ears, like weapons, seemed crafted for a warrior much larger than herself. Though Tishkhu and Aruru knew Marva might not captivate with conventional beauty, they recognized the radiance that shone from within, a luminous strength that never dimmed. Now, with Nurit’s gentle craftsmanship, that inner light blossomed before their eyes, beautifully revealed through the delicate artistry of makeup.
Tishkhu recalled how the courtiers in the palace lavished praise upon her and Aruru. Both were delicate as whispers, with flowing brown tresses and faces carved with gentle symmetry, their lips alluring enough to hold gazes. That particular compliment puzzled Tishkhu, yet she received it with quiet elegance. She glimpsed that her skin bore a touch more olive hue than Aruru’s, a subtle difference. One of the guards believed they were sisters, though neither saw themselves as such, for Tishkhu’s face was a soft oval, contrasting with Aruru’s rounder contours.
“Yes,” Aruru replied. “My father invested a lot to make this day special.” Marva sighed and slumped her shoulders in disappointment. Tishkhu looked away from Marva and focused on Aruru, both likely understanding why Marva was unhappy with her marriage arrangement.
“Is it because of his age?” Tishkhu asked.
Marva paused in picking up a comb to straighten her hair. Tishkhu could see that her hair was fine, and the hairstylist would be done once Nurit finished. Marva hesitated before placing the comb through her hair out of nervous habit and glared at Tishkhu in the mirror. “What do you think?”
“He’s not that old,” Tishkhu lied.
“He’s ancient,” Marva snapped. Nurit, the makeup artist, reentered the room with more supplies. Marva turned toward Nurit so the artist could continue her work.
“Uncle Morag is a rich man who will provide you with an excellent lifestyle,” Aruru said.
“Your name means mint, and I can see how much you love green,” Nurit whispered. She was mainly speaking to herself rather than directly to Marva or anyone else. Tishkhu noticed the woman was only partly paying attention. She intended to ensure Marva looked her best, not to get involved in the palace friends’ internal dealings.
“Do you think it will clash with my dress?” Marva asked. Tishkhu smiled for a moment. She had hoped the sudden change in conversation would distract her friend from the truth of Aruru’s uncle. He was an older man, far older than the King.
“Not at all,” Nurit responded. “I will match the color of your dress to your makeup. You will be beyond beautiful on this glorious day.”
“Glorious,” Aruru said.
“He’s still old,” Marva said. “Why would he want to get married anyway?”
“I would imagine he misses a connection a woman brings in his life,” Tishkhu responded.
“We’re in our twenties,” Marva said, pausing as Nurit looked at her face and started blending a light cream shade into her cheeks. “He’s much older.”
“She’s not wrong,” Tishkhu whispered.
“Tishkhu, you’re not helping,” Aruru said. Tishkhu nodded in apology and offered Marva a half smile. She honestly couldn’t blame her. She couldn’t imagine her uncle arranging a marriage for her to a man over three times her age. It was quite common, especially among royals, wealthy merchants, and generals, to marry younger women, often to continue their bloodline. Still, Tishkhu hoped for some happiness in her marriage, maybe even a little attraction to the man she was destined to be with. She thought that, given Marva’s past, marrying an older man might actually be a relief.
“This is a blessing,” Tishkhu said.
“How?” Marva asked.
“You have been wonderful for me,” Aruru said. “And after what happened to your family, you’re now able to do something great for Gavri...”
“He got a great position with Zimri,” Marva responded. “He didn’t need my help.”
Marva and Gavri, both from the tribe of Simeon, often felt the weight of their history. Unlike other tribes, theirs held less power, haunted by a supposed curse from a centuries-old event involving Simeon himself. Tishkhu remembered stories from the prophets, how Simeon and Levi defended their sister against an unjust attack, shaming their family. While Levi’s tribe eventually redeemed itself over generations, Simeon was left in the shadows. For centuries, others looked down on the Simeonites, dismissing them as insignificant. That is, until Zimri, a Simeonite, rose through the ranks to become one of the King’s chariot commanders. His bond with Marva and Gavri helped them carve out roles in the royal court, transforming their fortunes and adding a new chapter to their story.
“My cousin loves you, by the way,” Marva said. She had to say that through strained teeth while Nurit applied a light shade of green around the lower jaws, that Tishkhu was surprised, blended as well as it did.
“I can tell,” Aruru responded. Tishkhu was aware that the king’s daughter was not interested in Gavri. Aruru always expected her father to eventually look for a prominent tribe leader’s son or perhaps a prince from another nation. Being half-Assyrian, she didn’t oppose the idea of marrying someone from that land. “Still, you being the wife to such a man of importance and wealth will bring much favor to your family.”
Marva sighed and accepted Aruru’s words. Tishkhu knew the King’s daughter was right. Her friend came from humble beginnings, losing her family to a disease. Some elders sent them to Tirzah for work. Both Marva and Gavri cleaned streets, helped farmers with animals, and did jobs others avoided. Zimri saw Gavri’s kindness to belligerent horses and wanted him in his group. Though not a warrior, Gavri protected officials and Zimri himself. Marva was soon chosen by Aruru, who realized her life would be more prominent in Israel than in Assyria.
“Is your Uncle well?” Marva asked.
Aruru paused and let the moment ease by. She sighed, smiled, and then responded. “Yes.”
After Nurit finished applying her complete makeup, Marva was clothed in a sophisticated green dress adorned with silver thread and embellishments. As a member of the tribe of Simeon, she wore green and grey as symbols of her heritage. Nurit’s makeup was carefully chosen to highlight the various shades of green, emphasizing her eyes. Tishkhu observed that the eyeshadow was skillfully applied to create an even appearance, enhancing her sensual beauty and inspiring admiration from the audience during her special moment.
The symbol of the Simeon tribe was a castle wall on a green-and-grey banner. Inside the hall hosting the wedding, banners from both families were displayed, symbolizing their union. Once the marriage was complete, Marva would be considered part of Issachar, including any children she had. Tishkhu was amazed to see her tribe’s donkey banner from Issachar next to the castle wall of Simeon. She also pondered her own future marriage and who her uncle might arrange for her. Would she be paired with someone from Issachar again, or might her banner be next to someone from a completely different tribe?
Tishkhu and the other servants knew that green was Marva’s favorite color. She wasn’t sure whether this was because of the tribe of Simeon, the meaning of her name, or just a personal preference. Nurit’s artistic makeup application brought out a previously unseen beauty in Marva, captivating many in the crowd once the wedding began. Tishkhu overheard whispers among those who knew Marva, describing her as stunningly beautiful as she waited at the front for the groom’s entrance.
The palace was bustling with dignitaries from all over Tirzah and many influential figures from across Israel. Aruru mentioned that some guests were from Assyria, and there might even be a few from Moab and Egypt. While Marva was getting dressed, Aruru told everyone in her room that her uncle had conducted numerous business deals in other countries and was acquainted with many people from various empires.
Tishkhu noticed that at least half of the wedding guests wore colors to showcase their tribes or nations. She found this unnecessary, as many guests dressed in fabulous outfits regardless of their family ties. However, the men on the King’s council all displayed their family crest, tribe, color, or symbol on their attire.
Besides the numerous individuals from Issachar, there were still those from Ephraim who would offer counsel to the King. They bore distinct black-and-white markings accented by a small bull pendant resting somewhere on their visage. Some from Naphtali carried wine and golden deer, their attire shimmering with richness. She was surprised to see King Elah had a man from Dan, often mistaken for someone from Simeon due to their vibrant green and deep blue garments, but an aggressive snake-shaped pendant unmistakably identified their tribe. The Reubenites had traveled far, yet some of their notable members wore striking red and white, carrying a mandrake flower as a symbol of their lineage. Aruru pointed out a few Assyrians, adorned in brilliant crimson and copper outfits, with a distinctive four-pointed star and wavy lines radiating from its center, intricately woven into their clothing and jewelry.
Tishkhu’s uncle Omri, a commander in the king’s army, arrived in town a few hours before the ceremony. He didn’t know Morag well but was there primarily to support the King. There was often a suitable time to discuss attack plans or retaliation against nations, kingdoms, minor warlords, or any threats to Israel’s borders.
The gathering buzzed with whispers about how beautifully Marva was presented at the wedding. Outsiders who didn’t know the royal court assumed she was from a merchant or elite family they hadn’t heard of before. Tishkhu reflected on how makeup, clothing, and jewelry can transform perceptions, highlighting inner attractiveness. Marva exemplified radiant beauty both in her appearance and demeanor. While she saw her transformation into one of the city’s most appealing women, she thought her future husband was quite the opposite in her view.
“I thought you said he was well,” Tishkhu whispered to Aruru. The two women stood far from the main ceremony between Marva and Morag. The king, along with officials and priestly members, surrounded the podium where the vows would be exchanged. Usually, Marva’s family would receive a bride price, but since they had passed away, her cousin Gavri arranged for a better home nearby, near the servants’ quarters around the palace. Gavri and Marva moved in early before the wedding, bringing happiness to both. With his good fortune, Gavri hoped to use this gift to persuade Aruru to be his bride.
“He is,” Aruru whispered.
Morag was far older than Tishkhu had imagined. She recalled discussions about his age and was aware of his grand residence near the palace. She rarely saw him, as his preference was to remain apart from others. Morag was the elder brother of the king’s mother, and his longevity was attributed to his disciplined lifestyle and abstention from alcohol. At least, that was the tale whispered by two gossiping figures behind her. Despite his healthy habits that extended his life, Morag was compelled to halt his procession three times during the wedding ceremony, each pause marked by violent coughing fits and a personal attendant diligently wiping spittle from his beard. His hair was not grey but a striking white, reminiscent of the rare snowfall that blankets the heart of winter. Initially slow to move toward the main area, he was eventually drawn forward by the sight of his beloved emerald, Marva, standing gracefully at the front.
Tishkhu noticed a spring in Morag’s step, and his eagerness to see his bride filled his bloodshot eyes with happiness. Dark spots on his skin seemed to glow as blood rushed through them, giving him a brief moment of youthful vitality, which was then interrupted by a coughing fit to clear his throat and regain his composure. Despite his robes attempting to conceal it, Morag looked thinner than Tishkhu had expected. After another glance at the older man, she turned her gaze back to her friend.
“What is your definition of well?” Tishkhu asked.
“He’s alive, isn’t he?” Aruru whispered.
Tishkhu quickly laughed, then coughed. The wedding officials looked her way, and she silently apologized while clearing her throat. Her uncle Omri, watching from afar, shook his head with a slight smile, recognizing who she was paying attention to.
After the ceremony between Marva and Morag, the celebration in the palace began. King Elah, knowledgeable about wines, had abundant drinks flowing for his uncle and his new bride in the garden behind the palace. Arza, the King’s royal steward, always stayed close to ensure the king wouldn’t issue any public decrees, promises, or statements while intoxicated. Some officials and people from across Israel mingled with the leader, and Arza’s priority was to ensure the king did not make any remarks that could offend anyone regarding land or property, especially at the nation’s expense.
Food and drinks were arranged on both sides of a large garden at the back of the palace. Musicians, dancers, and jugglers offered varied entertainment for the guests. Tishkhu knew that later tonight, she and Aruru had plans for Marva, with Tishkhu playing the flute and Aruru the harp. The music was a beautiful piece about two people in love, likened to the stars and the moon in the night sky. Lanterns lit up the backyard on the cool night, making the song feel especially meaningful for the moment. The full moon in the sky added to the perfect timing of the event.
Tishkhu mingled with various guests throughout the party, her gaze subtly shifting to those from the King’s cabinet and royal court. They engaged in their usual scheming, vying for greater power or riches. A striking woman in a midnight black dress with white accents caught her eye, clearly representing Ephraim. Though unfamiliar, her intoxicating scent was unforgettable: an enchanting blend of roses, lilacs, mints, and other serene, floral aromas, both captivating and mind-ravishing. Taller than most women around her, she moved with a quiet confidence, leaning in to whisper secrets to several guests.
Initially, Tishkhu believed King Elah had actually brought a pleasure seeker to the wedding, which would have been unusual for him. She had heard of weddings and ceremonies in other countries that featured pleasure providers for guests to indulge in carnal acts. She wasn’t sure if this was true or just a way to belittle other cultures, but she would have been surprised if Elah had done the same. Relieved, she realized the stranger must have been someone’s wife or lover at the wedding.
A group of jugglers from Dan had just finished a captivating and energetic performance for the newly married couple, which Tishkhu found particularly intriguing. Her Uncle was standing near a cluster of roses toward the far end of the garden, engaged in conversation with a few military officials. She yearned to make her way through the crowd to join him. Suddenly, a deep, guttural yell erupted from the direction of the married couple. The unexpected sound startled her for a moment, until she realized it was a Baal priest about to perform a special blessing for the newlyweds.
Tishkhu knew that Marva wasn’t especially devout in her faith in Baal, but since her husband was content with that religion, she reluctantly accepted it. Shagarbaal, the high priest serving the king, was present as an advisor on the royal council. He was dressed in elaborate blue-and-gold robes that matched the grandeur of his house. His attire was adorned with luxurious silks, and he wore an excessive amount of jewelry around his neck and fingers, along with multiple piercings in his face and ears. As Tishkhu continued walking toward the garden, she overheard some guests praising the priest’s performance and the proclamation he made over the couple’s future.
Many military officials began to disperse as Tishkhu approached them near the roses. Zimri turned down a cup of sweet red wine offered by a servant and exchanged a few words with Omri. The commander whispered something, and Tishkhu guessed that about half of their conversation focused on military matters or issues related to Israel’s security. Nonetheless, the discussion soon drifted to topics like the latest popular board game, advanced agricultural techniques for cultivating better trees, and much more.
“How are my little cousins?” Tishkhu asked as she approached Omri. They hugged and smiled at each other. It had been a while since she last saw her Uncle, and seeing family was always a joy. Especially since, in the palace, she was often alone and separated from relatives.
“Ahab and everyone else are fine,” Omri replied, his voice resonating as it often did with Tishkhu. She was aware that many people found Omri’s imposing, tall figure and deep, commanding voice intimidating, while others found it inspiring. Tishkhu believed this was the authoritative presence expected of a military leader guiding his troops in battle.
“I miss them,” Tishkhu said.
“They miss you as well,” Omri said. “You’ll have to take a little break from the festivities and come to Jezreel.”
“As soon as I can, I will,” Tishkhu said.
Omri sighed, glanced at the open-air celebration, and waved for Tishkhu to come along. He led them to a tall bush of white and pink roses along a short path. With no one nearby, Omri surveyed the area carefully before speaking.
“There’s talk of a potential rebellion against the king,” Omri whispered. Tishkhu’s uncle was skilled at lowering his voice when needed. His calm tone and serious expression made her understand he wasn’t joking or being facetious.
“It’s been less than a year. How can you be sure?” Tishkhu asked, matching his serious tone. She understood the gravity of this information after all, this was Aruru’s father. She knew him only through her best friend and couldn’t picture anyone trying to depose him, especially considering his own dark history with his father over the throne, which was filled with violence.
King Elah’s father, Baasha, never received an official coronation as King of Israel. Instead, he was a formidable commander in the army of Nadab, the second king of Israel, whose father, Jeroboam, had famously wrested the ten tribes from Judah to establish their own fledgling nation. Jeroboam and Nadab hailed from Ephraim, a noble tribe with a proud history, while Baasha himself was a man of Issachar, known for his keen sense of strategy and fierce loyalty.
As Nadab led the charge to reclaim Gibbethon for the Israelites, Baasha’s ambition reached its breaking point. Under the cover of darkness and treachery, he assassinated Nadab and seized the throne in a dramatic coup. Not content with mere conquest, Baasha ruthlessly eliminated Nadab’s entire lineage, ensuring that no rival would threaten his rule or that of his descendants. Years later, after Baasha died a natural death, Elah ascended to the throne, signaling a new chapter. Yet, in the shadows of history, the tribes of the northern kingdom remembered the treachery with bitter resentment. The Ephraimites and their allies, haunted by the betrayal, displayed their colors and symbols boldly whenever they could, a defiant reminder of their fractured past and unyielding spirit.
“I’ve been paying attention,” Omri said. “When you return to the celebration, observe that most people are staying within their own tribe rather than genuinely mingling.”
“Isn’t that normal?” Tishkhu asked. “Familiar with your own.”
“This feels different,” Omri responded. “Could be nothing, but you’ll be here. Keep your eyes open for anything strange or suspicious.”
Tishkhu and Omri kept discussing what he had seen and then shifted to life in Jezreel. Tishkhu listened carefully, but her thoughts drifted to her uncle’s request. Was he asking her to spy? She thought she must have misheard him, knowing that couldn’t be what he meant. Still, she figured that if she behaved normally, most people wouldn’t notice her, since she would be watching everyone for signs of trouble.
Servants in the royal palace often went unnoticed, serving as background figures that the elite summoned to assist, fix issues, or simplify their lives. Most servants simply did their work and stayed out of sight. In fact, this was generally the case because if a servant became a problem, it could mean losing their job, social status, opportunities, or, in severe cases, their freedom.
Tishkhu was overwhelmed by the many people coming in and out of the palace, including guests, visitors, and dignitaries from other kingdoms. She needed help deciding whom to observe. Her goal was to determine if Omri knew any of these individuals or whether any could pose a threat.
“Is there anyone I need to specifically look out for?” Tishkhu asked.
“There are a few, I’ve heard or at least feel suspicious about, but no one in particular,” Omri said.
“Oh,” Tishkhu responded.
Omri paused for a moment, stroked his beard, and nodded. “I can give you a few names, but don’t assume it’s one of them.”
“Okay,” Tishkhu said.
A gentle breeze drifted through the garden as the night sky showcased the brilliance of distant stars and galaxies. Tishkhu often wondered if other people lived near those stars or what was happening in remote places. The moon grew more visible, and she realized the full reveal would happen within an hour or two.
“There’s a large contingent from Reuben who came, and I know one of their elders is staying around to help Elah with matters east of here,” Omri started. “I believe his name is Shimiah.”
“Shimiah,” Tishkhu repeated, recognizing the man from the wedding. The Reuben tribe mainly resided in the far eastern part of Israel and frequently faced conflicts with nearby empires, unlike most other tribes. The Reubenites considered themselves superior because they descended from Israel’s eldest brother. However, many tribes remained indifferent, pursuing their own control and power.
“There’s also that one official who is part Assyrian that the king adores,” Omri said.
“Belsaduam,” Tishkhu responded. “I’ve seen him on a few councils and around the palace.”
“Hmm, interesting,” Omri murmured.
“But I thought he was from Naphtali, I forgot the city,” Tishkhu said.
“He is, but you can never be too careful,” Omri responded.
“I’ll keep an eye on him for sure,” Tishkhu said. “Anyone else?”
Omri nodded and let out a sigh. Tishkhu sensed that the last person must have been someone he had considered carefully or believed there was more to them than meets the eye. “There’s a woman here from the tribe of Ephraim.”
“That’s not so bad everyone has people here,” Tishkhu whispered. The two people paused their conversation as two partygoers hurried past, laughing about trivial matters while drinking wine from goblets supplied by the king.
“You know that was Jeroboam and Nadab’s tribe,” Omri said.
Tishkhu nodded, aware of the history of Israel’s early kings and the split from Judah. Most knew the story that God had told Jeroboam about the separation. While Tishkhu understood that part, she couldn’t grasp how Jeroboam went from believing Yahweh had ordained the division to worshipping Baal and constructing idols in Bethel and Dan. “Her name is Latifa she seems to be a perfume dealer of sorts,” Omri said. Tishkhu wondered why her uncle was nervous about a woman, as she couldn’t see her wielding enough influence to take control. She knew that generals and war leaders might challenge the king’s power, but not a woman. The only way she could seize power was to marry Elah and then take control. Since the king was already married to several wives and concubines, Tishkhu didn’t understand why she would be considered so dangerous.
“Why are you nervous about her?” Tishkhu asked.
“There’s a rumor that she’s a long-lost relative of Nadab and has possible connections to Tibni.”
Tibni was someone Tishkhu had heard of before, an influential Ephraimite. Although he wasn’t a problem yet, many people advised keeping watch on him. Like others, Tibni never forgot that his tribe and family were the founders of the northern kingdom of Israel.
“I see,” Tishkhu said.
“And now she’s parading on the very grounds of a family that killed her people,” Omri said.
