His eyes widened, and I could tell at a glance that this was a man who enjoyed a challenge. “Sit.” He jerked his chin toward a stool, put down his stone, and tested his blade across the tip of his thumbnail.
I hated haircuts—Aunt Leah’s blade always pulled at my hair—but now I felt barely a tug as clumps of hair fell at my feet.
When he finished, I headed to the pool of Shomron, outside the gates of the city. The spring which fed the city was as old as the hill itself, but Ovadia told me the pool that received its waters and the stone plaza surrounding it were among the first things King Omri built. At this hour of the morning, a few maidservants filled their water jugs, so I went to an empty spot at the far side of the pool. I scooped double handfuls of water over my head. Once I had scrubbed myself clean, I waited in the sunshine until I was dry.
I barely recognized my reflection in the still water of the pool. My hair, so thick and curly when I woke that morning, was cropped short. My new linen garments hung loosely on my shoulders, with none of the heaviness of my woolen tunic. The garments were white, with a fringe of blue at the neck and cuffs. There was a bit of bagginess to the fit, but they looked natural when I tightened the sash, as the cloth cutter promised. I could easily pass as the son of a nobleman.
I looked deeper into the pool, staring into my eyes. The last time I looked at my reflection, a few months earlier, I was struck by how old my eyes looked. Now I saw a scared boy pretending to be a man.
I strode back through the city gates with my woolen tunic balled under my arm. The guards in the gates halted their conversation as I passed by, the Israelite one standing a touch straighter. When I put my woolen tunic back on, would I be able to pass the gates as invisibly as I once had?
I dumped my shepherd’s clothes on my sleeping mat and retrieved my kinnor. It was time.
Not an eye turned my way as I entered the Throne Room. The King listened to a petitioner, and the Queen sat back in her throne, examining a scroll. Dov, Peretz, and a third musician sat off to the Queen’s right against the wall, where they could be heard, but not easily seen. When Dov caught sight of me, his hand nearly stumbled on his harp. Peretz gave my shoulder a welcoming squeeze. The third musician nodded to me, and I recognized him from the wedding, a halil player named Tuval.
I waited until their melody came back to the beginning and joined in on the first note of the round. The Queen glanced up at the change in the music. I fought the temptation to look back, forcing myself to stare at the far wall.
My hands grew sweaty, and the grip on my kinnor loosened as her eyes passed over me. Then she dropped her focus back to the scroll in her hand. That was it. The Queen had seen enough to find me unworthy of attention. I exhaled, and only when my shoulders dropped did I feel how tense I had been. Now I was positioned to be Ovadia’s unseen eyes.
I glanced around the Throne Room as we played. A guard stood by the door, and two scribes sat at the King’s left hand, recording his instructions. In addition to the petitioner who stood before the King, four other commoners awaited their turn against the back wall. A magistrate stood before the line of petitioners, keeping order and signaling each one when he could approach the throne. Two pages stood behind the thrones, ready for any command.
Even with four of us playing, the music had no more energy than when Peretz and I played alone. The sun shifted in the windows as petitioners moved forward one by one. I had pictured myself entering a lion’s den, but after a short while, I found it quite tame.
Once the King dismissed the last petitioner, the magistrate rapped the floor twice with his staff. All present stood straight, and the King and Queen rose to make their exit. Once the great wooden doors clanged shut behind the royal couple, their servants slouched as one. Dov brought our music to an end, the scribes put down their quills, and many voices broke out at once.
“A fine effort for your first day.” Dov said. “I knew you picked up melodies quickly, but you hardly listened at all before joining in.”
“All thanks to Peretz,” I said. “He took me through the music last night.”
Dov raised an eyebrow at Peretz. “Very good. The essence of surviving as a Court musician is supporting one another.”
“It certainly isn’t playing invigorating music,” Tuval said. “When you spend an entire day playing at the tempo of a lullaby, it’s hard enough to stay awake.”
“It’s not always like this,” Peretz told me. “Since the Queen’s arrival, we play in the Throne Room, but also for festivals, banquets, ceremonies, wherever we’re needed.”
“True,” Dov said. “We have slow days, and others when we’re wanted in three places at once. You play at the will of the King now, and his demands are unpredictable, so we need to back each other up. Be there for the rest of us, Lev, and we’ll be there for you.”
Walking out of the Throne Room with the other three musicians, I felt a lightness in my step. For the first time since I played with Daniel, Zim, and Yonaton in Emek HaAsefa, I belonged.
As we neared the palace entrance, Tuval asked me, “You hungry, Lev?”
“Famished. But I have some bread at home.”
“No need to eat cold bread. As servants of the palace, we eat from the King’s table.”
“Are you all going?”
“They go home to their wives at night, but I see no need to cook my own food. Come.”
Dov and Peretz headed out through the courtyard, and Tuval directed me down an arched hallway of cut stone. I walked on toward the dining room at the end, but Tuval grabbed my arm halfway down the hall, turning me through a narrow doorway in the side. “You don’t think we’re eating with the King and Queen, do you? Eventually, you’ll be welcome in the royal dining room, but only as a musician. The servants eat in here.”
He pulled me into a cavern of uncut stone. A hearth as large as the musicians’ quarters stood against one wall, with six sweaty cooks working before it. A giant pot of stew and a stack of bread stood on a counter between the hearth and a small eating area where seven men sat. We stood as far away from the hearth as possible, but sweat beaded on my forehead nonetheless.
Tuval pulled off his linen tunic and swapped it for a woolen one hanging on the wall by the entrance. “If you eat in your linen, you’re either neater than I or freer with your silver. We may not be nobility, but we’re expected to look like them when playing before the King and Queen. Stain your tunic, and Master Dov won’t let you back in the Throne Room until you’ve washed or replaced it.”
“So what should I do tonight? I don’t have another tunic here.”
“Take it off and eat without, no one who eats here will care.” He laughed at the shame on my face. “Suit yourself. If you don’t want to eat in your undergarment, be extra careful or go home to your cold bread.”
Tuval filled us two bowls of hot lentils, and I ate standing, bent forward over my meal so I wouldn’t spill. Men ate quickly in the kitchen, and there was a constant stream of them coming in and out. Some entered in finer clothes like Tuval and myself, either changing them or throwing something over them before eating. Others came in wearing workmen’s tunics and ate as they were.
Three maidservants helped themselves to bowls of stew, and I was grateful I hadn’t taken Tuval’s advice about eating in my underclothes. Yet, when one of the scribes came in and slipped off his linen tunic, neither he nor the maidservants showed the slightest embarrassment.
The cooks flew around the kitchen, stopping only to drink, which they did constantly due to the heat of the hearth. Every now and again fresh bread was thrown on top of the stack for the servants. Each time I looked up at the slap of the bread being thrown down, the cook had already turned to work on something else.
“New boy among the musicians?” the scribe asked, taking a stool next to Tuval. Had I not seen him change out of his fine garments, I wouldn’t have recognized him.
“This is Lev,” Tuval said with a nod. “He’s one of us now. Lev, this is Amram.”
“Aren’t four musicians a bit much for the Throne Room?” Amram asked.
“We won’t be four for long,” Tuval said, “just until Lev finds his place. But if you ask me, even one is too much for the Throne Room.”
“I won’t argue with that. It was hard enough catching the King’s words when I didn’t have to hear him over music. Twice he had to repeat himself today with the four of you playing at once.”
