Daughter Of The Sea.

Chapter 1

Her name was Itha-baal.   She lived in the coastal city/state of Tyre.  Every morning she would stand on the balcony and smell the sea.  She would breathe in deeply, savouring the salty air.  When she was younger she would run down to the beach below their home, and walk in the sea, splashing in the foam as the water disappeared in the sand.  Sometimes the next wave would break and catch her unawares, the water splashing against her legs making her screech with delight as she ran up the beach trying to escape the wash, biting at her heels.

Her home was the palace, overlooking the bay, with magnificent views of the ocean, in every direction.  The view from her window was like a painting that changed daily.  Sometimes it contained ships sailing by, other times it portrayed whales blowing water and air high into the air, or dolphins and porpoises as they danced in and out the water, in perfect harmony.  Oh, how she loved the sea!

Itha-baal stayed in a palace because her father was a king, the king of Phoenicia. As a father, he loved his only daughter dearly, but as a king he knew that she had to be groomed as a princess. She had to be taught in every aspect of running a country. Only a clever and astute princess could eventually be desirable by the monarchy of other countries, if ever such a union would be beneficial to her father, the king. Any deal that benefited the kingdom took preference over the future and personal desires of the princess.

There was one aspect of Itha-baal's life that nobody, including her father, could change. In fact it was her father who encouraged her, more than that, forced her into her curacy. She was now high priestess. Her position was important but her time in the temple had changed her. The teachings of Baal, Melqart, Astarte, Eshmun and El had become a way of life. She led the Baal worship with genuine passion not like the the other priests and priestesses. Her zeal and
unshakeable trust had quickly set her apart and high priesthood was inevitable. Nobody was going change her beliefs, no matter what her future held.

At 14 years of age Itha-baal stood nearly 1.8 metres tall. She had to look up to only a few men and down to most. Her posture made her look even taller. She stood and walked as if a plank had been strapped to her back. When she walked, it was as if she glided along without touching the floor. Itha-baal was not the most beautiful girl in the land but her striking features turned heads wherever she went and the regal aura that surrounded her left no doubt in anyone's mind that she was royalty.

In the royal stateroom, where her father entertained and met other heads of state and important visitors, she was of indeterminate age, but in her boudoir, where only she and her closest friend and confidant, her hand-maiden, Lucia, had access, clues to her age became apparent. The fluffy toys and pictures showed the presence of a young girl and not a high priestess or prospective queen.

One of her queenly and mature qualities was the way she handled both complimentary and rude remarks. She neither smiled or giggled like a teenager, such as she was, or showed any signs of irritation or disgust. She spoke very little when she was present at these meetings but when she did, her voice was commanding and her opinion or answer was such that even the most seasoned statesman or monarch would hold his tongue and listen.