Elijah by William H. Stephens Page A

decision about seating at the king’s table is final.”
    “You speak candidly. You never have done that before. You will allow me, then, also to speak candidly. I will accept your new direction as being honest, but only to a point. I shall cooperate with you and help you so long as I can evaluate the results of your actions. You must know, however, that I shall watch you carefully, because I will not be a party to intrigue.”
    “There can be no other way.”
    Obadiah rose. More slowly now, he moved toward Zebul. He grasped the priest’s arms and kissed him on both cheeks. “I hope very much that this day will mark the beginning of a common purpose.”
    “So be it. One thing. What news is there of Elijah?”
    “There is none. He has vanished. The search has been thorough, and is continuing, but no man in Israel knows the land like Elijah. He probably is hiding in one of the thousands of caves in the wilderness.”
    “The search continues?”
    “The search must continue until it rains. If Yahweh controls the waters of the heavens through the mouth of his prophet, Asherah will lose face. If Elijah can be found, Jezebel will force him to end the drought. Then she will credit Asherah for forcing Yahweh to give in.”
    “There is much talk among the people. Elijah’s pronouncement has become widespread.” Zebul smiled, thinking of his visit to Ahijah. “It seems that Yahweh has found a champion.”
    “Elijah has caught the people’s fancy. This is why Jezebel is forced to place you at an equal table.”
    “Ah! She thinks such an act will temper the public mood.”
    “Yes.” The lines in Obadiah’s face hardened. “The queen will not like your answer, Zebul.”
    The fat priest chuckled. “So then Jezebel must make a move.”
    Obadiah did not return the smile. Solemnly, he opened the door and walked slowly to his chariot. Zebul watched as the governor turned toward Ahab’s palace.
     
    With a sharp clap of her hands Jezebel sent a messenger
    scurrying for Meor-baal. Obadiah, outwardly self-possessed as ever, inwardly fought for some way to fend off the disaster he knew was imminent.
    “My queen . . .” He addressed her quietly, careful to keep his eyes even. She whirled to face him. He noticed with surprise that her face appeared flushed, even under the olive complexion she so carefully cared for. “My queen, I speak humbly, but I am bound by my king to remind you of his command, which he repeated to me, that the prophets of Yahweh are not to be harmed, nor are Yahweh’s worshipers to be kept from their worship.”
    “How dare you challenge the authority of your queen!” Jezebel shrieked in her fury. Then, struggling to regain control of her emotions, she spoke more calmly, pausing between sentences, cautious of her precise wording. “Obadiah, Ahab has given to my hand complete control over the religious life of Israel. His command which you repeated to me did not cover the eventuality of a revolt.”
    “A revolt?” Obadiah challenged.
    “What else would you call the high priest’s refusal to sit where he is assigned?” Jezebel raised herself to her full height and spoke haughtily. “Never have I heard of such insolence in the court of the king.”
    Obadiah fought back the empty feeling that rose in his stomach.
    “Listen, Governor of the King’s House.” Jezebel stared down at him from the dais on which her throne sat. “Perhaps I should tell you something to impress on you how serious a matter your loyalty to Yahweh can be.” She paused, savoring the silent tension produced by her words. Obadiah retained his dignity. Jezebel watched for the slightest evidence of nervousness—a twitch about his eyes, a slight jerk of his shoulder, the fractional break of eye contact. He remained resolute. She reseated herself. “Your King Ahab offered sacrifices to Melkart and evoked his blessing when he went to fight Ben-hadad on the northern border.”
    Obadiah felt the muscles in his cheeks tighten