“Playing your kinnor.”
My ears perked up at the word. “I’ve only been in the Throne Room once, but there were no musicians.”
Ovadia fingered the signet he wore around his neck. “Many things have changed since the wedding, Lev. King Ahav models his Throne Room on those of his fathers in Israel and Judah—the heart of the Kingdom, where the people can seek the justice of the King. Izevel prefers the ways of Tzidon. Ethbaal’s Throne Room is the seat of the powerful, where he makes decisions of importance. His people come there only to bring tribute or provide entertainment.”
“So there are musicians there now?”
He nodded. “Soon after their marriage, Izevel told Ahav that she could not bear to be apart from him the entire day. Then she pleaded boredom, saying she could not focus on the important affairs of the Kingdom for so long, and music would help pass the time.” Ovadia sighed. “I saw her face as she said it. The truth is that she fears to be absent from the seat of power, even for a moment. The needs of the poor of Israel are no concern of hers.”
“The poor are no longer welcome in the Throne Room?” My uncle taught me that the King’s ear was open to all of Israel.
“They still gain entrance—her will does not rule Ahav yet. Izevel is wise enough to make her changes slowly, except when provoked. Remember that. For now, she shares the Throne Room with the people of Israel, but she has succeeded in making it her personal salon, complete with musicians playing and servants bringing her delicacies. But let her have her entertainments if they enable me to have my spy.”
My mind jumped. “Is Dov still the master musician?”
“Yes, and it’s a good thing you made such an impression on him at the wedding. All I had to do was mention that you had arrived in Shomron, and he had the idea of bringing you into the Throne Room. It was the Holy One’s grace. Had I pushed you upon him, it might have planted seeds of suspicion.”
“You could have forced him?”
“Of course. He may play at the will of the Queen, but he collects his silver from me.”
“What is your business in the palace?” The guard at the gates stood a full head taller than I, and I had to crane my neck to meet his eyes.
“I have come to speak with Master Dov, the head musician of the Court.” My voice shook. I had asked Ovadia to accompany me, but he insisted we could never be seen together.
The guard grinned at the quiver in my voice. “Dov is playing before the King and Queen. You can wait.”
“I’m a musician.” I swung my kinnor around from my shoulder. “Master Dov told me to meet him at this hour.” It was a lie, but it worked. The guard frowned once at my instrument and waved me past into the courtyard.
The sentry at the door to the Throne Room was less suspicious and immediately sent a page in to retrieve Dov.
The heavy cedar door pushed open enough for Dov to slip out. “Lev, I’m so glad you returned.” A warmth spread in my chest at his words. “The Queen has us playing twice as often as the King ever did, and we need the help.” He scanned me from head to toe, and his expression tightened. “I can’t have you looking like one of the peasants coming to petition the King. Come.”
Dov led me out through the courtyard, and I hurried to keep pace with his long strides. “When do we rehearse?” I hoped he would slow down to answer.
“There’s no time now.” We passed through the gates onto the stone streets of the upper city. “While the Queen is on her throne, we have at least two musicians playing at all times, ideally three. She often requires us again at night. The only time we could rehearse is while the Queen sleeps, but we need rest ourselves.”
The prospect of laboring over my kinnor for long hours did not bother me. Better callouses from its strings than from grinding grain. But no rehearsal posed a bigger problem. “When will I learn the music?”
“You’ll pick it up as we go.”
I stopped walking, and it took Dov a moment to realize I was no longer racing along beside him. He took a half step back toward me with a fatherly smile. “Don’t look so worried. No one else picked up the melodies for the wedding as quickly as you did.”
His words brought me little comfort. Those other musicians had arrived at the first rehearsal hung-over from the King’s wine. My mission depended on my invisibility, and nothing drew attention like a misplaced note.
We arrived at the marketplace below the palace. Batya had sent me once to the capital’s other market, in the square just inside the city gate, where farmers sold fruits and vegetables from their donkey carts. Now I found myself walking a street lined with stalls of cut stone, where vendors sold oil, wine, meat, and other luxuries. Only grain was sold in both marketplaces.
Dov entered a stall with walls draped in wool and linen cloth.
“Dov, back so soon?” A bald man with a sharp nose rose from a stool. “How can one who sits all day wear out his garments so fast? Or perhaps the Queen feeds the musicians too well?”
“I’m not here for myself today, Asher.” Dov pushed me gently forward. “Meet Lev, the newest Court musician. He needs a full set of garments, the same make as the rest.”
The cloth cutter’s keen eyes took me in with one quick glance, coming to rest on the worn collar of my woolen tunic. His smile faded. “Who will pay?”
“Ovadia has commissioned his first set. After that, Lev will pay for his own. How long will they take?”
His smile returned at Ovadia’s name, and he rubbed his hands together. “Two days. If it’s pressing, I can squeeze it into one.”
“Make it one,” Dov said. “Lev, come to me at the palace once you have your garments. I leave you in good hands.” He slapped my shoulder and hurried out of the stall.
The cloth cutter picked up his measuring rope. “I’ve been cutting the musicians’ clothing since King Omri first moved the capital to Shomron. I’ve never fit anyone of your age before.”
I bit my lower lip. Would my age draw the Queen’s notice as well? “I played during the King’s wedding,” I said. “Master Dov invited me to return.”
“Ah, you must be talented indeed.” His words were truer than he knew—more than my success as a musician depended on my talent. “Stand over here.” He stretched his rope across my shoulders. “I’m going to make them extra big. They’ll still look right if you keep the sash tight, but they’re too precious to replace at the rate you’ll be growing.”
As he looped his rope around my waist, his hand brushed the bulge under my tunic. “What is this?”
My heart raced at the question. Out of laziness, I’d taken to keeping my knife with me rather than hiding it after each journey. “It is my knife,” I said, unable to think of a good excuse why I wore it under my tunic instead of around my waist as normal.
“Hmm,” he said, still staring at the bulge. “There is more to you than there seems. It will stick out even more under the new linen garments. Leave it behind if you don’t want anyone to notice it.”
I nodded eagerly. “I’ll do that tomorrow.”
He knelt and measured from my foot to my waist. “That’s a beautiful kinnor you have. Where did a boy dressed like you come by such a fine instrument?”
