A murmur ran through the crowd. Princess Izevel, who now stood beside King Ahav, motioned to the High Priest. He broke off his speech and leaned in, allowing the Princess to whisper in his ear. The priest turned to King Ahav, who nodded. The High Priest winced, but restored the calm to his face by the time he stood upright and faced the crowd again. “This marriage is more than a union of two people; it is the joining together of two nations. The High Priest of Tzidon will bless the union as well.”
The man in the garish robes, who I’d mistaken for the Princess’s bodyguard, stepped forward, his hand still resting on the hilt of his sword. “I am Yambalya. I serve Baal, the mighty storm god, patron god of Tzidon.” His voice resonated with the deep tones of a bass drum.
“Long ago, when the heavens were young, the children of El fought for mastery. In his struggle against Ya’am, lord of the seas, Baal turned to Koshar, the craftsman, for weapons that would make him invincible. With these tools in hand, Baal threw down the lord of the seas into the depths, and climbed supreme into the heavens.” Yambalya raised his arms skyward, revealing scars running up his forearms.
“As Baal’s faithful, we follow his ways. Baal was mighty on his own. But he did not achieve victory until he formed an alliance joining his power with the strengths of another. So too, Tzidon and Israel apart are mighty nations. But their union will be incomparable. With the blessing of Baal, the fertile soil of Israel and the merchants of Tzidon will bring the nations of the world to our feet.” A cheer erupted from the crowd, and Yambalya stepped back to the side of the platform.
All eyes again turned to the High Priest of Israel, who stood pale and silent. He didn’t resume his speech, but rather nodded to King Ahav, who took a ring from a waiting servant and slid it smoothly onto Princess Izevel’s outstretched finger. The High Priest faced the crowd. “I give you King Ahav and Queen Izevel.” The crowd cheered as the King and his new Queen clasped hands, stepped out from under the canopy, and headed toward the palace.
Three court musicians escorted the King and Queen while the rest of us followed the guests out through the city gates and into the fields around the city. As long as the King and Queen were in seclusion, the musicians were allowed to eat and enjoy the festivities. The feast area was divided into three sections: one for the soldiers, one for the nobility, and one for the commoners, who were invited to the celebrations but hadn’t been allowed into the city for the ceremony.
The aroma of sizzling fat reached my nose, made my stomach rumble, and brought to mind the altar at Beit El. Zim grabbed my arm, “Did you see the size of the cows they’re roasting?”
“That’s for the nobility,” Yonaton said. “Come on, the food on our side looks fine. I’m starving.”
“We could get in there if we wanted to.” Zim stared beyond the guards at the roasting pit.
“How?” I asked.
“With these.” Zim indicated our instruments and the dark red sashes that we’d been issued for the wedding.
“Look at us; we hardly dress like nobility.” I’d borrowed Zim’s mirror before the wedding, and thought the dyed sash served only to highlight the plain weave of my tunic.
“As long as we look as if we’re supposed to be there, the guards will let us through.”
“I don’t know,” Yonaton said. “That one on the left looks pretty mean.”
“Stop worrying. Just start playing and follow me—and remember to stare straight ahead.” He launched into a weaving rhythm and started off.
Could Zim be right? If we acted as if we belonged, would the guards let us pass? I glanced at Yonaton, who arched his eyebrows as he raised his halil to his lips. I lifted my kinnor, and my heart thumped in my chest from the thrill of the challenge. When we reached the guards, Zim stepped up his beat and closed his eyes. Just hold the rhythm, I told myself. Ignore the guards. Keep moving forward. Despite his rough tunic and wild hair, Zim passed through, drawing the two of us after him.
“Wait.” The guard on the left stepped in front of Yonaton—he had looked. The guard turned to Zim, then back to me, his face knotted in confusion. I stopped playing and took a step back, not waiting for the outburst that was sure to come.
Zim called back to us, “Don’t lose the tempo, they’re waiting for us.” My hands leapt back to the strings—Zim wasn’t admitting defeat. His voice carried so much confidence that the guard looked sheepish and stepped out of the way. Once out of earshot, Zim struck a final drum roll, ending in a belly laugh. “Remember: if you believe it, it’s true.”
The nobility merited a far wider space than the commoners. In the center was a roasting pit, spanned by two whole oxen and numerous lambs, surrounded on three sides by trestles piled high with roasted meats, breads, and salads. My mouth watered at the smell of spices mixed with the smoke of the roasting meat. Zim walked straight to a serving table, wrapped a chunk of roast lamb in bread, and bit into it like a wolf, letting the juices flow down his chin.
My hands were sweating from the ruse we used to get past the guards. Though excited at our success, I couldn’t bring myself to touch the fare. If I ate the nobles’ meat, I’d be just like the shepherds in Levonah who grazed their flocks across furrowed fields. “I want to go back and eat in our area,” I said. Zim laughed, but Yonaton’s shoulders relaxed in relief.
“If you two want to go back, I’ll come with you. Let me take a little more meat first—it’s delicious. Who knows when I’ll get another chance at a roast this good.”
Yonaton pointed to the far corner of the nobles’ area where a small crowd stood gathered around a table. “What’s over there?”
“Don’t know. Let’s see.”
From one end of the table to the other lay a carcass covered in scales with sharp teeth and bulging, lifeless eyes. The animal was split open down its middle, and five servants stood shoulder to shoulder dispensing its flesh, steaming and fragrant. “What is it?” Yonaton asked.
“I don’t know.” I ran my hand over the animal’s skin, feeling the smoothness of the scales that crackled between my fingers. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
A fleck of meat hit me in the ear as someone behind me laughed. “Mountain boys. Go back to your goats.” Zim extended his bread to one of the servants who balanced a piece of the creature on top of his already overflowing pile of meats. “Never seen a fish before?” He held his bread in front of us. “Sure you don’t want to try?”
Yonaton glanced at me.
“No,” I said.
“Just try a bit of mine. I’ve already taken it, and I’m not taking any more, so no one will lose if you taste it.”
I reached out and broke off a small piece of Zim’s fish—just a taste.
“See, it’s no fun being holy all the time. Isn’t it nice to grab what you want just once?”
I put the fish back on Zim’s pile of meat and wiped my hand on my tunic. “I don’t want it.”
Zim laughed. “Please yourself. Just be careful. You don’t want to wind up righteous and alone like Uriel.” Zim led us back out past the guards, who paid us no heed.
In the commoners’ section, Yonaton and I waited in line to get our food. There was no fish, and the meats weren’t spiced, but it still smelled wonderful. Food in hand, we rejoined Zim, who handed us each a clay goblet. “I got us wine.” His own goblet was already half empty.
Again I hesitated, remembering our first morning in Shomron, when I could barely rouse Zim for all the wine he’d drunk the night before. The only reason I distinguished myself at the rehearsal was because I hadn’t stayed up drinking with the musicians. Now Zim was handing me a goblet with far more wine than had ever passed my lips. This was my last opportunity to impress Dov—I couldn’t take any chances now. “I’ll pass.”
“Don’t worry. I got it from this side, you don’t have to feel bad about drinking it.”
“It’s not that. I don’t want it to hurt my playing.”
“A little wine isn’t going to hurt your playing—it might even improve it.” Zim downed a quarter of his goblet in one gulp, then wiped his mouth with the back of a greasy hand. “You’re not with the prophets now. You’re at a feast—probably the biggest you’ll ever enjoy. Everyone is drinking and having a good time. Stop thinking so much.” He held out the goblet again.
Slowly, I reached out and grasped it, then sipped at its pungent sweetness. It was much stronger than I was used to—not watered down at all. All around me people were drinking and laughing. I closed my eyes, took a large swallow, and felt my nervousness melt away.
