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

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.”

“I bet the King hates repeating himself,” one of the workmen said.

“No one likes it,” Amram said, “but the King never objects—he wants the record right. The Queen on the other hand…”

There was so much I wanted to know. “So what do you do if you don’t hear her right?”

Amram leaned in close and lowered his voice, like one sharing a secret. The others halted their conversations, so all still heard. “If it’s not important, or you’re sure the mistake won’t be noticed, let it go. No reason to draw her anger for nothing. But if you’ve missed something important, if you value your head, you’d better ask her to repeat it, even at the cost of drawing her ire. Two scribes have already been flogged for missing a command.”

Amram shoved a last bite of bread into his mouth and got up to go. He still wore his woolen tunic, and carried his linen one carefully folded over his arm.

I left the palace soon after dark and headed straight back to the musicians’ quarters. Had anyone been there, I would have been stuck, but it was empty. I stowed my kinnor in a corner, changed back into my woolen tunic, and ran off.

I slowed my pace when I reached Ovadia’s street, walking calmly so I wouldn’t attract attention. Seeing the alleyway empty, I knocked on the gate, four hard raps followed by one soft one.

The gate swung open, and I found myself facing Ovadia himself. His eyes flashed wide, and he gestured me inside. He looked into the alleyway before locking the gate behind us.

Batya and Tamar kneaded dough in the kitchen. Tamar scrutinized my newly cut hair and sniffed at the air. She turned away without a word.

“Are you hungry?” Batya asked.

“I ate at the palace,” I replied, wondering if that had been a mistake.

“Excellent,” Ovadia said. “I want you eating there whenever possible, both the morning and evening meals if you can.”

“I understand.” I pitched my voice so Tamar would hear. “Better that my portion of bread should go to a prophet if I have another source.”

Ovadia waved this away. “I don’t want you in the kitchen for the sake of your stomach. You eat the Kohen’s portion in any case. I want you there for your ears. You’ll often learn more from a meal in the kitchen than from a day in the Throne Room. The servants will speak of matters in your presence they would never mention in mine.”

“Is the kitchen to be trusted?” Tamar didn’t look up from the dough. “Is the information he learns worth him eating impure food?”

“Idolaters may eat from the Queen’s table, but that does not make the kitchen impure,” Ovadia replied. “One of the only times I have seen Ahav stand up to his wife was when her soldiers caught a wild boar, and she wanted to serve it at the royal table.”

“He bows to her gods, why should he not eat their beasts?” Tamar asked.

“King Ahav insists all should be welcome at his table. He’s uncompromising on the sanctity of the kitchen. I would feed the prophets themselves from there.”

Ovadia drew a stool opposite me. “Now Lev, tell me what happened today in the Throne Room.”

“I arrived late as I had to wait for my garments.”

“Did the Queen notice you?”

“She looked up when I started playing, just for a moment, then went back to reading her scroll.”

“And the rest of the day?”

“She never turned my way again.”

“Excellent. That means nothing about you caught her attention. It was wise of you to get your hair cut. You’re young for a musician, but otherwise, you don’t appear out of the ordinary. If she paid you no mind today, she’s unlikely to notice you again. Did you hear anything notable?”

“No. Six petitioners spoke before the King, all commoners, but I was only able to hear two of them over the music.”

“The commoners concern me little. They only petition the King once the chief matters of the day have been heard. Tomorrow you’ll start the day at the beginning and hear more.”

“What do I do if I hear something important? Come find you?”

“Oh no.” Ovadia held up a finger in caution. “Remember, we must never be seen together.”

“I thought I’m to be your eyes and ears?”

“You are. But if a connection between us is even suspected, you’ll no longer be invisible. Even coming here tonight was foolish.” He waved away my protest. “It was my mistake, not yours. I should have realized you’d want to come.”

“So what do I do if I hear anything important?”

Ovadia thought for a moment. “Come tell Batya. As long as I’m not home, I don’t think anyone will be watching the house. Batya can come find me without attracting attention.”

The next morning, I found the servants’ area of the kitchen deserted. A bit of cold bread and the remnants of a chickpea mash were all that remained.

I hung my linen garment on a hook and sat to