Fall of the King

By Christopher D. Carter

Ahab, the king, ruled Israel with an iron hand. Jezebel, the queen, murdered the prophets of Yahweh for sport.

Then along came one man, Elijah, who traveled to Samaria from Tishbe with nothing but the fur cloak on his back. Elijah knew the trip to the palace could cost him his life, but he carried a burden in his heart that could not be silenced.

Ahab, Jezebel, and Elijah. This is their story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christopher D. Carter
• Release date: May 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9781940451404

Christopher D. Carter

Christopher D. Carter is an engineer by trade. After spending many hours of free time drawing, painting, and writing, he decided to unleash a unique universe of characters upon the worlds of science fiction and comic book fandom.

Book preview

*

Tishbe, Gilead

Priest, you know the penalty for denying Ba’al his sacrifice, Zhohn, the leader of the marauding band warned Uzziah. Elijah and his younger sister Miriam lay hidden in a fox hole nearby, tucked away in a ridge. A cistus bush, the Balm of Gilead, was the only thing standing between the priest’s children and certain death.

I know who you want for a sacrifice, but you cannot have our children. They are arrows in our quiver, Uzziah said. "Soon, you will be the one who quivers, Sidonian."

Threats from the priest of a long-forgotten deity. Your god, where is he now, hmm? Give me something besides threats and empty words. Give us your children, and you may yet live, Zhohn said.

Never! Uzziah and Mary screamed together as one, and their voices echoed across the plain. Then the swords pierced them, and their blood ran over the rocks. The fire which came after sent their water heavenward.

Ba’al won’t be pleased without the bodies of their children, but the Lord of Storms has received a sacrifice, Zhohn said.

**********

Three hours later, Elijah fell at the foot of the iron stake and sifted through the ashes of his parents with his bare fingers. The Sidonian marauders who had captured Uzziah and Mary had tied them together to the post, tortured them to death, and then burned their bodies whole. As the gray ashes poured from his young hands and floated away on the wind, Elijah couldn’t utter a single word. He could only cry and replay the scene over in his mind.

The wind blew his way and the ashes drifted into his face. Elijah coughed and ran back to the fox hole. Miriam stuck her head out, looking up into the eyes of her older brother.

Where’s momma? she asked. He wanted to answer her, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. Instead, he put his finger to his lips for her to hush and climbed back into the hole, nudging her deeper into the shadows.

They’re gone, he finally said to her. Miriam grabbed him by the shoulders with her little hands.

Where? And when are they coming back? she asked, shaking and kicking him to get an answer.

But he couldn’t.

Chapter 1

*

Ten years later

Miriam beamed with the brightest smile, and her rounded cheeks shined. She stood on top of a hill, closed her eyes, and breathed in the fresh air of the fields of Gilead. The worries of war were left far behind in the dust. Tell me something, Elijah. Did you really think last night’s campfire was brilliant? the young girl asked her older brother as he guided the sheep with his staff. They had been out walking in the copper colored fields of Gilead all day long with a ravenously hungry herd, and they were headed over to the next hilltop to find a field of greener grass.

It was fine, he replied with a heavy sigh of exhaustion from the long day’s journey. Elijah put one hand over his eyes to block the light, and he looked down into the shaded valley below where a stream glistened in the failing sunlight. Miriam, can you please fetch some water for me while I set up the tent for the night? he asked, and she complied. She bounded off through the field of brown grass, and flits of dust flew into the air behind her every step. Elijah knelt down and snatched a blade of the dried up grass, and it broke off easily in his hands, crumbling into the wind. He sighed again, and he bent down lower and dragged his finger across the bare ground. The golden brown earth was so dry that a layer of powder floated on the surface of the hard ground beneath. He drew a circle in the earth with his fingertip. Then he reached behind his back, and took out one of the short tent poles and pounded it into the center of the dusty circle with a flat rock that lay nearby. Minutes later, the small leather tent was set up, just big enough for two people to sleep inside. About the time that he had finished, he spotted Miriam walking back up the hill with a skin of water at her side. She was a happy girl, and she liked spending time in the fields with her big brother. For his part, Elijah enjoyed passing time with her as well. She was good company, and he believed in his heart she would make an excellent shepherd someday.

Rest well tonight. We may have a long march ahead of us tomorrow. The grass here is so brown, and the sheep need better nourishment. Isn’t there any place east of the Jordan with green grass? he said to her as she handed him the skin of fresh water.

Gilead is so dry these days, Miriam remarked. Then she combed back her hair as the gusty winds blew across the landscape. We’ve both prayed for rain, and still nothing, she said as she pulled a brown blade out of the dust and bit down on it. Thank the Lord there are no locusts this year.

Elijah guzzled a pint of water and handed the skin back to his sister. He wiped the drops from his chin and said, We have much to be thankful for, don’t we? After all, our herd is well fed and watered, he encouraged her with a smile. If the Lord sent us locusts, it would give us something else to eat besides mutton and grass, he added with a wink.

Oh! You and your bugs, she said and smacked his arm with the empty waterskin. He responded with a barrel laugh. The legs chew like sticks of wood! Blah! I don’t even want to think of such things. And you shouldn’t either, she told him with squinted eyes and lowered eyebrows. Elijah kept laughing until he lost his breath and tears of joy filled his eyes. His sister had been such a blessing to him since his parents had . . . well, since he found their campsite in ruins. Just the memory of that day dried up his eyes and ended his laughter. Saddened, he bent over with one hand on one knee and his staff in the other, breathing in deep and listening to the silence all around him. The earth was so dry that even the crickets ceased to chirp. As he looked down at the ground, he could see the many cracks that jig-sawed across the field just beneath the thirsty, brown grass. Despair rose in his heart, but he knew he could not let his sister see his hopelessness. He had to maintain an air of confidence as his father had taught him so that Miriam would know that there was still someone she could depend upon here on earth. With that thought, he turned his attention to their herd. One of the lambs ambled up to him and placed its head on his knee. Then it looked up at him with big black eyes.

They are quite the herd. Father would have been proud, he said, and he stroked the fur on the back of its head. The lamb rolled its eyes and licked his leg.

Mother, too, Miriam replied. Her eyes glossed over, and she suddenly looked blank, as if she had envisioned a dark memory from the distant past. Together, they grew quiet as they listened to the warm breeze and watched the windy waves of the tall grass. They counted each sunrise, and it had been three hundred days and nights since they had last seen their parents alive. They stood there together, and yet alone, and they mourned the loss of their parents once again.

When the clouds of sadness had dissipated from their minds, Miriam got up and gathered rocks from the field and helped Elijah prepare the campsite for the evening. They piled the stones high for the fire so as not to let the surrounding grasses ignite, and once the fire pit was ready, she took her turn watching the flock while he gathered sticks and wood for tinder. Elijah strolled down to the brook to get another drink of water and to wash away the dirt from the day’s journey. He took off his sandals and sat down on a smooth rock while the water cooled his feet. He closed his eyes once again, and he said his prayers as his father had taught him from the laws of Moses, which had been handed down through the generations.

Thou shalt have no other gods before me, had been the first commandment, and in his heart, Elijah thanked Yahweh for the setting of the sun on another good day. He had had his fair share of bad days along with the good, but always, the sun had risen and the sun had set. There had been food and shelter for him so that he would not thirst or starve. Life is good, he reminded himself, and he felt the nudge of a wet nose on the back of his elbow. He turned his head and found that the lamb had followed him down to the creek bottom for a drink and a little bit more attention. He leaned over and scratched its head, and it licked his face as he rubbed under its chin.

Bahhhh! the lamb cried out suddenly, and the lamb tensed and ran up the hill to join the rest of the herd. A forest rose up on a high hill on the other side of the creek bed, and Elijah looked up into the woods to see what had frightened the lamb. At first, he saw nothing in there, but as he scanned the dense dark brush, he saw two glowing eyes watching him. But were they really eyes? he asked himself as they shined in the shadows. When the eyes finally blinked, he had his answer. He quickly got out of the water and threw on his sandals while he picked up his staff from the rocks. Carefully, he backed away from the woods. The eyes watched him while he held the staff and walked backwards up the plain to join the herd. But whatever was behind those eyes, did not come after him. It simply observed, and he wondered if it was waiting for nightfall to make its move. He had come across several hungry wolves a few days before, but he had not seen any since. They almost always traveled in packs, whereas this animal seemed to be alone. Elijah figured that it was either a bear or a lion, and in either case, he knew that he was going to have to do his job as shepherd and defend the sheep he had in his company. He made his way toward the campsite, every once and again sneaking a look back at the woods.

‘Lijah, what’s wrong? Wolves again? Miriam asked him. She had noticed the change in the herd’s behavior, and she looked at him with doubt. Elijah broke his eyes away from the forest, and he took out his flints from his coat and started working on getting the fire going. It would soon be dark, and he would want the protection that the fire would give the herd. It is wolves then, isn’t it? she pressed him as the sun went down over the hills, leaving them in the shadows.

He had been reluctant to answer her, but he realized that there was nothing to hide and no point in remaining silent. Ahh, well, I don’t think it’s wolves tonight, sister. And it doesn’t amble forward like a bear. It just sits in the cover of the trees and watches. I fear that it may be a lion, he explained, and the look on her face reminded him of why he had considered concealing the truth from her. Miriam was very afraid of lions, as she should be. Not the worst fear to have, but her fear of big cats was all-consuming. At the news, she tensed up instantly and gripped the staff in her hands so tightly that her knuckles cracked. Elijah had not believed it best to hide the truth from her, but now that he saw the results of his honesty, he regretted having mentioned it to her at all. Yet, it had to be him; there was simply no one else in her life but him, and he had to protect her. As they sat in the shadows with the herd, Elijah fanned the flames of the fire with one hand and held his sister close while she shivered in fear. As they huddled together by the fire, the herd became increasingly unsettled and restless. He would have to let go of his sister very soon and tend to the herd.

Are you okay? he asked. She trembled.

No, she said.

We have to remember the sheep, he explained, and though she was afraid, she pushed him away. He stood up in the flickering fire light and took his staff in both of his hands, holding it like a woodsman might wield a sharpened ax for chopping down the largest of trees. I will gather the herd, he told her. Stay here by the fire.

She grabbed his leg with one hand before he could go.

What if the lion gets you?! What if you don’t come back?! she asked pleadingly. The reflection of the firelight glistened against the tears in her eyes. There was nothing he could do for her fear, he knew, and with the welfare of the herd in jeopardy, he could not let her stop him.

Have courage, Miriam. Remember, the sun rises, and the sun sets every day, no matter the circumstances. Our Lord has not forgotten us, he said, and he placed his hand gently on the side of her face. He was not sure whether he believed his own words or not, but he was all that she had in this world, and it fell on him to encourage her. Be strong and keep your staff close by. The fire will protect you, he reassured her. Then he went out headlong into the darkness of the plain to gather the sheep. At first, his eyes had to adjust from looking at the bright yellow light of the campfire. After a few moments though, the white fur of the sheep began to crop up in his sight. The herd was frightened and clearly shaken by the looming predator, though the lion had been quiet as it stalked them in the cover of the grasses. Elijah held his staff up at his side as he ran, and one by one, he gently touched them on their sides with his staff, a feeling that gave them comfort. The staff let them know that their master was nearby to protect them, and Elijah was able to persuade them one at a time to follow him over to the campfire where Miriam stood guard with her own staff at the ready. Within a few minutes, he had corralled fifteen of the sixteen sheep, and there was only one remaining somewhere out in the nearby field.

That was not so bad, she said when fifteen sheep had been nudged around the campfire by the tent. "Looks like we are going to survive the night, though there is one missing," she added with a nervous smile.

A lamb, he told her, and with all the bustling and ‘bah-ing’ at the campfire, he was unable to hear the last one. Stay here and don’t be afraid, he said, and she reached for his furry robe. It was made of hyena fur, another predator which had followed them once before, but somehow her brother had managed to kill it with just his staff and his wits. Though they both carried sharp blades for cutting brush and for shearing wool in their provisions, Elijah had never been one to live by the sword. Rather, he had always roamed freely across the plains with a dull and brutish staff as his sole means of protection.

Remember, the staff is a comfort to the herd, he had told her many years ago. Tonight, she trusted him as her guardian, and she watched him leave the protection of the fire and venture into the darkness of the Gilead night.

The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want, Elijah sang and prayed the psalm his father had taught him when he was a child. His father had been a priest in their far-off region, and he had taught both of his children all that he knew of Yahweh’s deeds and wonders. The old man had been in Jerusalem in his youth, but his thirst for solitude had led him to take his wife out into the quiet wilderness of Gilead to live and to work. Being the only son, Elijah had known that he would be expected to follow in his father’s footsteps someday, and he had memorized as much of his father’s teachings as he could around the campfire at night. On this particular night, he walked into the darkness as if it were expecting him, and when he had gotten half-way to the stream, he stopped and listened intently to the sounds on the evening air. The cool breeze coming over the Jordan River had picked up across the grassy plain, and he listened between whipping gusts for the sounds of the one missing sheep. Bah’s came from behind him where he had left his sister and the fifteen other sheep, but where was the missing lamb? He couldn’t hear it, but he couldn’t possibly leave it out there alone for the night with a lion lurking nearby. It was not the thought of losing a sheep that bothered him the most; it was the knowledge that the sheep might suffer a terrible fate because he had been negligent in his duties. True, there would someday be the planned sacrifice which was commanded in the teachings of Moses, but even then, he would feel a degree of guilt at having to slaughter an innocent lamb . . . .

He shrugged the thoughts away. Sin had its price, and there was nothing that could be done about it, but at least he could be merciful to the sheep in its last hours. This lion that stalked them would not be so merciful. It would chase the sweet lamb down, nearly scaring it to death, and then it would clamp its jaws around its neck and wring the life from it. Slowly. Elijah slammed his staff into the dirt while the brown grass whipped his knees, and he determined that the lamb would not die this night under his watch. He marched bravely out into the grass and away from the campfire, and he listened for the sounds of the stream. Something inside told him to go to the stream, and he plunged on ahead. When he had made it to the cracked mud of the creek bed, he heard the faint bah-ing of a lamb nearby. He turned his ear up to the sky, and he waited until the sound came again. It did, and this time, he realized that it had come from across the other side of the waters. In the forest.

How did you get over there? he asked. He started wading into the stream to the first rock that he could see in the dark, and he climbed up on top of it. The next rock was at least ten feet away by the looks of it, and he knew he couldn’t jump that far. When he had sat in the edge of the stream before, the waters had not been that deep, but he now realized that he was going to have to wade all of the way across. With that in mind, he took his staff and held it at the top with his fist, and he lowered it into the water to measure the depth around the rock where he stood. As he lowered it down, he found that the staff kept going until his hand went beneath the surface. Unfortunately, he had discovered the stream was much deeper than he had guessed, and wading was not going to be an option. He would have to swim across, just as the lamb had apparently done. He knew that if it were still daylight, he could find a way across the stones without swimming. But it was nighttime, and a big cat was stalking his herd of sheep, so there was no time to search around in the dark for a better way across. He could not delay and let the one lamb perish while the others were safe; he was a good shepherd, and he would not abandon even one of the animals under his care. If he was going to swim, he could not take his staff with him any further. He flung it out onto the dry shore of the creek, hoping he would not meet the lion when he swam to the other side. Then carefully, Elijah sat down on the stone with his legs in the water, and he swung his body forward and kicked off the stone with his feet, propelling him to the next rock that protruded out of the stream. He made it with just a few strokes in the water, and he grabbed hold of the cold stone with his hands and dragged himself out of the water. He wiped the water from his eyes and blinked the rest away until he could see clearly enough, or at least as clearly as possible in the dark, and he strained his eyes to see if there was another rock nearby. Luckily, there was another one part of the way across, and he sat down again and dipped his legs down into the water as he had before, and he threw himself forward with his hands and feet. He swam in the water toward the stone, but the current was moving much faster in the center of the stream, and he missed the stone entirely. He kept swimming until he felt his ribs brush up against something hard and slippery just beneath the surface. It was not the perfect place to stop, he thought, but it would have to do. With his midsection pinned against it, he was able to keep his head above the water and catch his breath. The current was strong, and he tried as best he could to hold onto the rock with his hands, but he could not manage a better grip. The rock was too slippery to hold for long, and he would have to let the current push him past it and hope that he could find something else to climb onto downstream. He heard the soft bah-ing of the lamb on the other side of the stream, and he would have to keep moving if he were going to succeed in saving it from the lion. He wiggled his midsection against the stone and scratched himself for his efforts. He flinched, and the strength of the water’s current tugged him away from the stone. All might have been lost had he not swam the rest of the distance to the far shore of the stream. Exhausted and cold, he crawled up on the drying shore and sat up on his knees, thanking God that he had made it across alive. His ribs and side ached from the scratch and were sore to the touch, but otherwise he felt well, and it was time for him to find the lost lamb and return to his sister. Elijah got to his feet and listened for the sounds of the lamb moving in the woods. He waited. There was nothing to hear and he he began to doubt whether the sheep had even strayed to this side of the river. Then he heard the hooves clattering around in the pine needles and underbrush nearby. With a grave urgency, he ran as fast as he could toward the sound in the dark, calling for the lamb and trying not to stumble as he went. Minutes later, he had the lamb in his arms where it could not get away, and he stepped down onto the drying and cracked shoreline of the stream to the water’s edge. This time, he would have to find a way across that did not require swimming. He scanned the dark surface of the creek, and his gaze was drawn to the reflection of the campfire that he and his sister had built. The waters rippled the mirrored image, and he thought he saw something there that unnerved him in the reflection. His eyes were drawn up the hill. He could have sworn that he saw the tail of the big cat pounce and disappear behind the fire, but he could not be certain from this distance.

Where is Miriam?? he asked himself aloud, and the lamb bah-ed in reply.

With the glow of the campfire as a guide, he ran up and down the stream side, looking for the dark spots on the water’s surface, knowing that these had to be stones. Elijah quickly found a trail of stepping stones that the sheep must have taken to get across. With the lamb still in his arms, he hopped from one stone to the next to get across. About midways, he made the mistake of looking up at the fire and taking his eyes off of the stream, going a little faster than he should have to the next stone. His foot slipped on the wet rock, and he and the lamb fell into the dark water. He quickly moved the lamb under one arm and swam on his side where it could breathe above water, and he pulled himself through the water with one arm. After several long minutes, he and the lamb found their feet on the dry shore of the stream.

Thank you, Lord, Elijah proclaimed as he shook the cold water from his body. He looked down, and the lamb that had wandered away earlier in the dark was at his side. That’s my good lamb, he said and patted it on the head. He then searched for his staff in the dry weeds. He found it laying where he had set it in the weeds and nudged the lamb up the hill with it. The lamb stayed with him at his side, hopping and kicking its way along as if they were playing a game with one another. Soon they had reached the campfire, but Miriam was nowhere to be found. He searched inside the tent, but she wasn’t there.

Miriam! Miriam! he called out into the night air. There was no answer. Miriam! he called again, and then when he listened carefully, he heard something. It was the purring growl of the big cat just beyond the light of the fire. Fear and anger jarred his nerves, and when he went to fetch his shearing blades, he found that one of them was gone. Miriam must have taken one to protect herself while he was searching for the lamb. He took the other one in his right hand while he held his staff in his left. Then he trudged slowly out into the dark, being careful to follow the trail of flattened grass that the big cat had made. Thoughts raced through his mind, thoughts that he could not control. Thoughts of his parents, who had been slaughtered as a human sacrifice by the worshippers of Ba’al. Despair shook his concentration.

This isn’t happening, he whispered to himself. Please, Lord.

When he came upon his sister’s unmoving feet, his eyes followed the line of her body to her face. She was tranquil and motionless, eyes wide open. Her neck had a twist to it that seemed unnatural. Elijah dropped his staff and blade and fell to Miriam’s side. He braced her head with one hand and her midsection with the other. Tears streamed down his face. His only thought was that he could not leave her here for the lion. He lifted his sister from the ground and hugged her lifeless body to his own. He began to cry aloud into the night, and he was unprepared when the big cat leapt out of the dark at him. The lion hit him head on with its mouth wide open and roaring. Elijah blocked the lion’s mouth with his arm, and everything was a blur as he was pummeled onto his back, but he kept his wits about him enough to quickly twist onto his hands and knees. The lion roared, and Elijah was ready to fight, but he was defenseless. The shearing blade, only a few steps away, shined in the fire light. He thought that he could get to it quickly if he tried, but as soon as he crawled one step, the lion roared behind him again. Instead of looking back, he leapt onto his feet in a full sprint and grabbed the blade with one hand when he passed by it. He brought it up in front of his face just in time for the lion’s second pounce. It had watched him warily, but with murder in its heart, it was intent on killing the man who had picked up its kill. The lion swiped at the blade with its front paw, and the blade dug into the pink skin of its sole. The lion backed away, and with its injured paw held up off the ground, it roared a deafening growl at Elijah. Then miraculously, it turned tail and ran off into the dark toward the streambed. He heard a splash, and a few minutes later, a roar came from the cover of the forest.

Then all went silent.

Elijah stood with the blade in his hand, frozen like a statue, waiting for whatever came next. But the lion did not return that night. The lamb that he had rescued from the forest came up to him and butted its head gently against his leg. Elijah let the blade fall harmlessly to the ground. Then he turned around to see his sister’s lifeless body lying on the ground, and he went to her, embracing her limp body to his own. And he cried. In his grief, the rest of the night slogged by slowly for him, and he was startled when the sun rose over the hill side. He had nodded off for a time in his sorrow. He did not know how long he had lain there and he was alone. Almost. The lamb that he had rescued had curled up by his side and kept him warm during the night. He looked around the smoldering coals and counted the sheep. There were sixteen in all. Everyone had been saved from the lion. He got up and stretched his sore and weary bones, and as sadness swept over him, he cried again. When he was ready, he walked down to the stream and searched the banks for a sharp triangular stone which he could hold with two hands. When he found what he was looking for, he spent the rest of the morning digging a grave for Miriam.

Chapter 2

*

Samaria

Place the Asherah pole next to the altar, Benjamin instructed the servant.

But my lord, this is the altar of Yahweh. It is not for me to correct your word or your order, but if we place it there, are we not in violation of Yahweh’s first commandment to our people: Thou shalt have no other gods before me . . . ? Nahor the servant asked his priest. Benjamin considered the servant’s observation with care. He walked around both sides of the altar as if he were gauging the question with all seriousness. Then he came around to the front of the altar again and motioned with his fingers to move the pole to the right.

Good point, Nahor. I knew I had you here for a reason. A cubit to the right should be sufficient, he commanded. The servant looked at him questioningly, as if he didn’t understand exactly what the priest was telling him. Then Nahor moved the pole where he had been told and stood beside it, waiting for his master’s appraisal.

Are you sure that this will be okay? Nahor asked again as he glanced at the altar. There was fear in his heart that he could not hide.

"Oh, of course. The commandment said, and I quote, ‘. . . before me.’ Look at the pole and tell me that it is not in front of it."

"Well, no, it is not, but . . ."

"No buts, Nahor. To the letter of the law, that pole is not before it. It is beside it, you see? That was very clever of you to point out my mistake, but it is fixed now. Thank you, Benjamin said and wiped his hands clean of the matter. Figuratively and literally. Now, follow me. We must be on to more important matters," he said and walked out of the chamber of the temple and into the blistering sun. There had been few clouds in the skies of late, and the sun toasted the earth everywhere that it touched. Benjamin headed out into the street and up the chariot road to the palace.

Where are we going, master?

Benjamin licked his dry lips. His parched tongue was unable to quench the dry cracking of his mouth, so he strode over to the well nearby. Nahor released the mechanism to drop the bucket to the bottom, and then he cranked the wheel to lift the bucket of water where they could drink. The wooden bucket was little more than damp on the bottom, dry from the lack of rain over the last month, but Benjamin drank what he could from the pail. After Nahor lowered and raised the bucket three more times for his master, it seemed that the priest had finally quenched his thirst. Or at least wet his lips enough to relieve the cracking at the corners. Then the priest handed Nahor the bucket and let him take his turn next. After all, he was his servant, and he could not let Nahor accompany him to the palace looking dirty and dehydrated. The very sight of a sickly servant would lessen Ahab’s opinion of Benjamin in the king’s court, and he could not let that happen. While Nahor drank from the drying well, Benjamin looked at the statue of Ba’al that stood beside the community well, how the chiseled image of the god, formed by a master artisan’s own hands, pointed with one hand to the sky and with the other to the drying well. It occurred to him ironically then that both directions which the god of rain pointed were as dry as a desert. The city of Samaria had not seen rain for several months, and no one understood why Ba’al had chosen not to answer their fervent prayers.

Nahor finished drinking and rinsed the dirt off his face and hands. Then he sat the bucket by the foundation of the well, and he dropped in behind Benjamin as they marched toward the palace. The gates were as tall as two men in height, and armed guards stood at the top of the stairs at the entrance. Benjamin stopped at the bottom step with Nahor behind him, master and servant, and he bowed gracefully to the guards. When he straightened up, he spoke to the guards.

I have been summoned by King Ahab, he said. The armed guards looked him over from head to foot and said nothing. It was clear that they knew him by sight, yet it was their task to make sure that all visitors were unarmed before entering the palace.

Hold out your arms over your head and turn around, one of the guards instructed them, and they did as they were told. Then the guard came down the steps with his sword drawn, and he patted them down to see if they had anything hidden beneath their robes. Even the priest must be searched. Such were their orders. The guard found nothing as