The Lamp of Darkness by - (most recommended books TXT) 📖

didn’t just speak in front of the King—certainly not to interrupt such an intimate conversation.

The King turned to me, and for the second time that day I had the impression that I was being examined. But while the nobleman’s gaze penetrated to the heart, the King seemed to be weighing my value. “You look familiar,” he said at last.

I dropped my hand from my mouth but didn’t reply.

King Ahav’s eyes held me. “You may speak.”

“Thank you, my King.” I bowed my head, avoiding looking him in the eye. “I am a musician. I played at the King’s wedding.”

“Ah yes, I remember.” Ahav leaned back with the satisfied smile of one who has made a good purchase. “Yes, the curse. When Joshua conquered Jericho over five hundred years ago, he declared, ‘Cursed is the man who will rise up and build this city Jericho. With his oldest son he will lay the foundations, with his youngest son he will erect its gates.’”

Hiel and his wife both started to wail. I shrank back against the wall—I shouldn’t have asked.

The King turned back to the couple on the floor. “It’s so strange that the curse would come true,” he said, a tone of pleading in his voice, but their sobbing only grew louder. “Who would imagine that the curse of the disciple would materialize, when the words of his master failed?”

“And what does that mean?” The air in the room pulsed as the nobleman with the fiery eyes stepped forward, his frame expanding as he stalked out of his corner toward the King. The hard tone of his voice sounded familiar. I’d heard such a tone once before—from Yambalya.

The King snickered. “Come Eliyahu, you know the story better than I. Moses pronounced a curse on the people that if they worship idols, there will be no rain. Go on, recite it for us.”

Eliyahu’s nostrils flared as Ahav waved a hand for him to speak, but he did not argue with a command from the King. He drew his mantle tightly around him and declared: “Guard yourselves, lest you turn your hearts and serve other gods and bow down to them.” Eliyahu’s voice shook with rage. “Then the wrath of the Holy One will blaze against you. The heavens will be restrained, there will be no rain, the ground will not give its abundance, and you will be lost from upon the good land the Holy One gave you.”

I’d known these verses from the Torah since I was a young boy, but this was the first time they made me tremble.

The King appeared unmoved. “You see,” he faced the bereaved couple, “it makes no sense that this curse would come upon you, my dear Hiel. Look around you. The people seek the Baal more every day, yet in my entire life, I never remember the rain being so plentiful. So why should the curse of Joshua cause your family so much misery, when the curse of his teacher Moses has foundered?”

Eliyahu stepped closer to the King. He would have towered over Ahav even if the King hadn’t been sitting. Had the guards been in the room, they surely would have removed Eliyahu to a respectful distance—but they were outside. For the first time, the King shrank as he stared up into Eliyahu’s fiery gaze.

I could barely breathe—the air grew heavy, like a gathering storm. Eliyahu’s voice was barely above a whisper. “As the Holy One, the Lord of Israel, before whom I stand, lives…there will be no dew nor rain during these years except by my word.”

A shudder ran down my back. No one moved as Eliyahu locked eyes with the King. The silence pressed down upon us all. Then Eliyahu spun and strode out of the room, his mantle flying behind him like a banner of war.

Both guards rushed in. They couldn’t have heard his declaration but must have been alarmed by the fury on Eliyahu’s face. “Is everything well, my King?”

“Fine,” the King rasped. Clearing his throat loudly, he shook himself and added in a commanding tone, “You may continue to wait for me outside.”

The guards bowed and left, and the King turned back to Hiel and his wife. “Always been unyielding, Eliyahu has. He’s quite wise, really, but once he gets an idea into his head, there’s no reasoning with him.”

“Well, he has certainly gone too far this time,” Hiel said, no longer crying.

“Nonsense, he’s harmless enough. With people like that, it is best to just let them be.”

An awkward silence descended on the room.

“And how is the King finding married life?” Hiel asked.

“Ah.” Ahav’s posture relaxed with the change of subject. “Izevel has been doing wonderful things with the palace. For my father it was a symbol, you know, and for me it’s just a home. But she insists that a palace should be a place of devotion. She brought down a beautiful Ashera tree all the way from Tzur to plant at the gates. Are you men leaving?” The two brothers had stepped forward, and the King gestured them ahead, pausing to allow them to take their leave of Hiel and his wife.

I thought this was a good opportunity to slip out as well, and stepped forward once the brothers turned to leave. I leaned down toward Hiel and his wife and repeated the line Uriel made me memorize before I left. “May the Holy One comfort you among the mourners of Israel.”

Hiel and his wife both lowered their heads. I bowed to the King the way the farmers had, and respectfully backed out of the open door.

I peered up the mountain trail once outside the city gates. The return trip would be more strenuous than the downhill journey had been. A roof of black clouds hid the mountain tops, and I hoped the impending rain wouldn’t prolong my ride. The distance from my master suddenly felt daunting.

I kicked Balaam into a trot, and we were soon back among the date palms again. The patchwork shade upon the ground made the field a blend of light and darkness. As I watched the trunks flow by, a flash of red caught my eye. Eliyahu’s mantle was crumpled at the base of one of the trees. Its owner lay beside it, head between his knees, gripped by the spirit of prophecy.