The steam rose, but it could not touch the chill that had settled deep in Obadiah’s bones, a chill left by King Ahab himself. Submerged to his neck in the palace baths, he could still feel the phantom grip of the new king’s guards on his arms. While his father had been content to let the cult of Baal fester in the shadows, Ahab offered no prayer to Jehovah during his own anointment. Obadiah sank deeper, letting the hot water envelop him. How was he to serve a man who did not see him as a steward, but as a relic to be discarded?
He floated on his back, closed his eyes, and became lost in his thoughts as he listened to the white noise of the water.
No, he thought. He had never dealt with anyone like Ahab. This was the first time a king of Israel would perform one of Baal’s rituals right there in the palace.
The sound of muffled voices brought him out of his musings, and he lifted his head out of the water to listen. They came from the cooler pool, located in a room off to the side. He recognized one as the voice of Rabah, Baal’s chief priest.
Obadiah heard triumphant laughter. “At last, we will be rid of these priests of Jehovah. She has finally convinced him to approve their executions.”
Even though the water was very warm, a chill went through Obadiah. Rabah hadn’t seen him floating in the main pool; the priest must have thought himself alone to speak of murder so easily. Obadiah fought against panic. After their encounter that morning, if Rabah thought Obadiah had heard of this plot, he would murder him on the spot, and there would be no one brave enough to ask any questions about one old man’s death.
Slowly, he moved through the water toward the pool’s steps, timing his movements with their conversation so they would not hear him.
Suddenly, the voices grew louder. The sound of splashing water told him they were leaving the pool. He drew as deep a breath as he could and plunged under the water. He reached for the stone floor, seeking a handhold to keep himself submerged, but the slimy stone caused his fingernails to slip. In desperation, he slowly let some of the breath out of his lungs until he lost his buoyancy and settled against the bottom. He lay there motionless, the pressure in his chest building into a tightness that spread into his throat and jaw. The urge to breathe was becoming harder to resist, and the darkness behind his closed eyes had begun to pulse with a dim, rhythmic light that he knew meant little time remained.
When he had pushed himself as far as he could, he raised his head out of the water and tried hard not to gasp for air. As he drew life-giving oxygen into his lungs, his head throbbed and his heart pounded, creating a thunderous roar in his ears.
He held his breath, straining against the pounding in his ears. Silence. He opened his eyes. A figure stood motionless in the humid air of the pool room, watching him.
When he finally realized it was the bathhouse janitor, Obadiah closed his eyes with a sigh of relief.
“Have you seen Rabah?” he asked quietly.
“Sure, he just left. Do you want me to call after him?” The janitor turned toward the exit.
“No,” he whispered forcefully. “I was just… just.”
Obadiah stood up from the bath. “I have been meaning to talk to you about your work. In all my years, I have never seen the bath kept so clean. My compliments to you.”
The janitor beamed with pride and forgot all about his question concerning Rabah’s whereabouts.
“Keep up the good work.”
With that, Obadiah hurried naked from the bath. He grabbed a clean robe from a nearby shelf and rushed to his private quarters, where he closed and locked the door. “What an awful day,” he thought, feeling safe behind his locked door. However, the feeling of security was fleeting as Obadiah began to think of Jehovah’s priests, many of whom he knew well. These were good family men, like him.
He saw their faces in his mind: the old priests who had taught him scripture and the young ones with families like his own. He could not let them be slaughtered. But how could one man stand against the king? His thoughts raced, grasping for some hope, any advantage. Then it surfaced, not a plan but a place he had kept secret for ten years, a place no one even knew to look for.