Elijah (10 page)

The door opened and a guard stepped aside quietly. “King Ahab, my Queen Jezebel awaits your pleasure, sir.”

Ahab nodded his approval.

Jezebel entered quickly, leaving her entourage of attendants outside.

“You already have heard? Ahab asked.

“With such commotion, one needs only one ear, my husband and king.”

“I am glad you came. You understand these matters of religion better than I. Come sit beside me.”

Jezebel’s feel fell quietly on the rich pastel-colored Persian rugs as she made her way to a smaller throne beside Ahab’s.

“You really are worried then, Ahab?”

“I am aware of Elijah’s reputation.”

The color drained from Jezebel’s face. The playful smile disappeared. “It was the hairy one who spoke?” She used the epithet with a sense of awe.

“It was Elijah.”

“Then you can be sure, Ahab. He does not speak flippantly.”

Ahab stared at his queen for a moment. He had not known whether to take the threat seriously or not, but with Jezebel’s alarm, all doubt was gone. He spoke slowly.

“I know the ways of men, Jezebel. I can war with kings and armies, but I cannot do battle with gods.”

“Then let a god fight a god.”

Ahab’s brow wrinkled. Jezebel continued. “Evidently Yahweh is angry at what he considers Melkart’s invasion of his domain. All you need do is call the priests and prophets of Melkart and have them call on Baal to intervene.”

“Since you take the threat so seriously, I truly am concerned. I shudder at the strength Yahweh has shown in the past. I should never have allowed you to build that temple.”

“It was a mistake, Ahab, if Yahweh is stronger than Melkart. But if Melkart is stronger, then your decision was wise. Would you not rather serve the stronger of the gods?”

Ahab was silent.

“All right,” Jezebel continued, “what are your alternatives?”

“Alternatives?”

“As I see it, you can do one of three things. You can ignore the warning and take the chance of a drought, since Melkart will not help you without your seeking his help. Or you can heed Elijah’s threat and banish the prophets and priests of Baal, in which case you will rupture our relationship with Phoenicia and incur the wrath of Melkart.”

Ahab frowned. He was not nearly so concerned, however, with incurring Melkart’s wrath as with rupturing the treaty with Phoenicia, a matter he could understand better.

“Or you can give Melkart a chance to prove his strength against Yahweh, which will accomplish both our ends.”

“Meaning what?”

“The Israelites will embrace Melkart when Yahweh goes down in defeat. Then our two countries will move closer together.”

“You have a way of wording the alternatives, don’t you?”

Jezebel shrugged. “After all, my dear king, Asherah is the Goddess of Fertility. She assuredly has more power over the rains that fall on the fields than does Yahweh. Yahweh must be foolish indeed to challenge our Baal in such a way.”

Ahab smiled, surprised. He had not thought of the contest in such clear-cut terms. He clapped sharply for the door guard. “Send a courier for the wise men of Melkart.”

Elijah ran toward a grove of olive trees near the base of Samaria’s hill. He caught a gnarled branch to slow his speed, flung himself to the ground, and pressed his ear to the rocky earth. No sound of running horses. He cautiously rose to his knees, his chest heaving, and peered between the dense tangled limbs up toward the city. Sentries moved on the walkway atop the walls, searching in every direction. He could not underestimate Ahab.

Bethel or Jericho would be natural places for him to seek help amid their congregations of prophets. His friends would hide him, but Ahab was certain to seek him there first.

The grove offered only temporary security. He dared not wait even for nightfall. He must escape before Ahab could organize his search properly. The surrounding terrain was too open. He could not long escape a search.
Bethshean
, Elijah thought excitedly.
Rejab will hide me there
.

The plan grew rapidly in Elijah’s mind. He would leave the olive grove in a dead run. The guards on the wall would see him head south toward Bethel. When Ahab received word, he would direct his search there, while Elijah circled back toward Bethshean. Obadiah—if he entered the search at all—would consider the prophet’s earlier reference to the Jordan as a ploy.

Elijah moved to the edge of the grove, adjusted his mantle into his girdle so to leave his legs and arms as free as possible, and broke into a run across the rocky hillside. He heard a shout and knew he was seen. His powerful legs thrust him with surprising speed over the open space toward a dry wadi. His strides were short, but his legs pumped rapidly. He watched for loose rocks, and with an eye practiced from years of shepherding, his feet landed each step solidly.

Once into the wadi he realized that it was too shallow for adequate protection. A glance toward the wall revealed the excited scurry of guards who obviously knew where he was. He decided to convince them further of his escape to Bethel. With heaving chest, careful to breathe through his nostrils so as not to sear his throat, he ran east, upstream, toward Samaria’s north-south road. Once there, he turned south, again knowing that he would be seen.

Within a quarter mile the road turned sharply east around a hill abutment. Elijah rounded the hill, then, out of sight of Samaria, he left the road to climb up a small, upward-rising valley. The steep climb would tire him, but the hill was covered with vineyards and olive groves. He was safe so long as he did not slow his pace. Before the search could be organized effectively, the prophet had to cross the main north-south road that ran along the mountain ridge. It was there he must exercise the greatest care. Then he could make his way carefully down into the Jordan Valley.

A wide, merciless ribbon of jungle grew along the riverbank. It was the Pride of the Jordan. The Jordan River coiled and twisted like a sluggish serpent through the center of the tangled mass of thickly-branched and almost leafless juniper trees, bushes, and wild growth. Elijah struggled through canebrakes and rushes along the edge of the Pride, then met the fury of the infinite thorn branches that grabbed at his clothes and scratched his skin. He dropped to his knees and crawled slowly to avoid the sharp thorns, now and then slithering on his belly under dense undergrowth. Even if Ahab’s searchers knew where he was, they could not reach him; but he knew the net would tighten quickly. Though Jehu was a Yahwist, he was a loyal soldier and methodically thorough.

Elijah reached the muddy Jordan at last and dropped from a low ledge into the water. It barely covered his knees. His feet sank in the slime and, with each step deeper into the water, the mud sucked at his sandals. At waist depth, he leaned forward to swim at a slight angle upstream in order to offset the current’s flow. When his hands touched mud again, he regained his feet and waded toward the rank vegetation of the opposite bank.

He massaged his temples to ease the ache already starting to grow from the fatigue and thirst. His throat felt raspy and harsh. He scooped water into his hands from the Jordan, muddy as it was, and drank slowly, fighting off the impulse to gulp the warm liquid.

He forced himself into the twin jungle of the river’s east side. It was not as wide here as on the west side, but every bit as thick. He walked when he could and crawled when he had to, brushing away insects, watching for snakes, listening for larger animals. By the time the jungle abruptly gave way again to canebrake, darkness had come already to the west side of the valley. Elijah stood erect, his hands on the back of his hips, and leaned backward to stretch the ache from his spine. The act helped but little. He plunged haphazardly through the last reeds and onto the greasy bank.

The east bank was a gray marl, covered with the debris of the spring flooding. Dead wood covered with sun-dried and whitened slime lay in a tangled pile against an uprooted tree. Elijah pulled himself onto the ridge road and, ignoring the limestone filth, sat down to watch the shadow of the western mountains climb higher up toward the crest of the eastern cliffs. He could rest for only a few moments, for the deep valley would be dark even with the moon full.

The prophet continued his journey only long enough to find a gravel bar, which would be relatively free of sandfleas and other insects. It would be a miserable enough night at best.

Just as the sun was early in its setting, so it was late in its rising in the Pride of Jordan. Elijah was awake before the sun found its way between the mountains. There was enough light, though, for him to search for figs, apricots, and berries.

As he ate, a sense of uneasiness began to grow within him. More rested and thinking more clearly now, he recalled the excitement of Ahab’s court. Ahab knew that Yahweh would not send either rain or the dew that lay each morning like a heavy mist until the prophet of Israel’s God announced an end to the drought. The king had no choice but to find God’s prophet and force him to end the announced famine. The intensity of the search would grow in step with the drought.

Elijah knelt by the river. He picked up small pebbles and tossed them absentmindedly into the water. He thought of Rejab. Their friendship was known to many people. Rejab’s house would be watched. Soldiers would search everywhere. Rewards would be offered, so that no matter where he tried to hide, sooner or later someone would report his presence.

He placed his face on his knees and for a long time remained in the praying posture. Vultures circled overhead, their silence an ominous contrast to the loud call of ravens. The chattering of cranes and swallows, the loud chirp of locusts, and the occasional buzz of a bee went completely unregistered in Elijah’s solitude.

Finally he rose. In his inner being the awareness of a message was so strong that the prophet was certain God had spoke out loud.

The Brook Cherith would be his home for a time. The wadi was so insignificant that he himself never had explored its narrow recesses. The ravens would feed him. The implausibility of the promise did not occur to him.

The Brook Cherith was not far away. His trip in the main had been correct, except that he should have turned south instead of north after he crossed the river. He retraced his steps along the gravel bank until he came to the ugly marl that marked his crossingpoint of the night before. The valley narrowed even more. Above him the western cliffs rose so close, separated from the riverbed by little more than the width of a road, that he could hear the rock pigeons fluttering nosily in and out of the caves that pitted the limestone. The vale was ugly, with mounds of gray sludgy clay and damp sand. Gnarled trees, limbs, and bushes that had been torn from their footings by the spring rains were tumbled together in wild heaps, now covered with white, dried mud. The cobra-like asp was a constant danger, and Elijah was careful to skirt the piles of rubbish and watch for holes in the sand. The dank, rotting vegetation and the oppressive heat of the narrow valley made the air heavy and unpleasant. At times, Elijah was forced into the water by tangled masses of thornbushes to struggle against the swift current.

Finally the prophet arrived at his destination. The Brook Cherith cut a channel from the eastern cliffs and across the narrow plain into the Pride of Jordan. He looked in disbelief. The spring rains long since had dried up. The brook was no more than a dry wadi. He looked up the dry bed that cut such a narrow cleft between two mountain ridges. The ever-present oleanders caked with dried mud promised a hard fight to anyone who might attempt a journey up the bed.