horses.  The rider, as he approached, was ordered to fall back in the rear of Jehu’s force.  Another rider was sent, with the same result.  But Joram, discovering that the one who drove so rapidly must be his own impetuous captain of the host, and suspecting no treachery from him, ordered out his own chariot to meet Jehu, accompanied by his uncle Ahaziah, king of Judah.  He expected stirring news from the army, and was eager to learn it.  He supposed that Hazael, then king of Damascus, who had murdered Benhadad, had proposed peace.  So as he approached Jehu—­the frightful irony of fate halting him for the interview in the very vineyard of Naboth—­he cried out, “Is it peace, Jehu?” “Peace!” replied Jehu; “what peace can be made so long as Jezebel bears rule?” In an instant the king understood the ominous words of his general, turned back his chariot, and fled toward his palace, crying, “There is treachery, O Ahaziah!” An arrow from Jehu pierced the monarch in the back, and he sank dead in his chariot.  Ahaziah also was mortally wounded by another arrow from Jehu, but he succeeded in reaching Megiddo, where he died.  Jehu spoke to Bidkar, his captain, and recalling the dread prophecy of Elijah, commanded the body of Ahab’s son to be cast out into the dearly-bought field of Naboth.

In the mean time, Jezebel from her palace window at Jezreel had seen the murder of her son.  She was then sixty years of age.  The first thing she did was to paint her eyelids, and put on her most attractive apparel, to appear as beautiful as possible, with the hope doubtless of attracting Jehu,—­as Cleopatra, after the death of Antony, sought to win Augustus.  Will a flattered woman, once beautiful, ever admit that her charms have passed away?  But if the painted and bedizened queen anticipated her fate, she determined to die as she had lived,—­without fear, imperious, and disdainful.  So from her open window she tauntingly accosted Jehu as he approached:  “What came of Zimri, who murdered his master as thou hast done?” “Are there any on my side?” was the only reply he deigned to make, as he looked up to a window of the palace, which was a part of the wall of the city.  Two or three eunuchs, looking out from behind her, answered the summons, for the wicked and haughty queen had no real friends.  “Throw her down!” ordered Jehu; and in a moment the blood from her mangled body splashed upon the walls and upon the horses.  In another instant the wheels of the chariot passed over her lifeless remains.  Jehu would have permitted a decent burial, “for,” said he, “she is a king’s daughter;” but before her mangled corpse could be collected, in the general confusion, the dogs of the city had devoured all that remained of her but the skull, the feet, and hands.