Daughter Of The Sea.

Chapter 2

The Phoenician empire was vast and prosperous, its naval fleet unequalled by any other nation. Their sailors were experts in the art of navigating the open sea, resulting in trade with many far-lying countries.

Many landlocked countries or countries whose treacherous coastlines afforded them little or no geographical locale to build harbours of their own, tried to trade with Tyre with the hope of being able to use and share in Tyre's maritime expertise.

It was to this end that the envoy of Gadara in the landlocked state of Perea, one Grouche de Petru, a short obese man who always had sweat running down his face and neck, paid another visit to Tyre and sought an audience with King Ithobaal. The bearer of Ithobaal's very elaborate, ostrich feathered fan, knew from previous experience that when Grouche came to court, he would direct his oscillating fanning movements from the King to the visiting envoy in a vain attempt to cool the visitor and divert the resulting repugnant odour that emanated from the sweating, short emissary.

Itha-baal glided into the large stateroom having being summoned by her father. She had wondered why her father hadn't given her the reason for requesting her presence. The moment she entered the hall, and espied the envoy, she shot her father a look that expressed both disgust and confusion. The look lasted only a few seconds and went unnoticed by the emissary, who's focus was immediately directed towards the princess as she entered. His gaze didn't reach her face. It danced up and down her figure silhouetted against the light streaming in through the window. She always stood in front of the window having been so instructed by her father. The sly King knew the image of his daughter, her slender form, visible against the light, her sheer silken garment offering no blurring of the outline of her body, would distract any visiting dignitary's concentration,  thus giving the Phoenician king a definite advantage during any negotiations.

The exasperated look that Itha-baal gave her father on entering was due to the fact that during past encounters with Grouche, Itha-baal's normally calm, almost stoic demeanour, had been sorely tested. The fat little disgusting envoy, as the Princess described him, had on their first meeting overstepped the mark when he not only accepted the offered hand in greeting but in a very forward, rude and definitely undiplomatic manner, had accepted the proffered hand only to use his other hand to stroke Itha-baal's body, starting at her breasts and dropping down to below her stomach. Suddenly, his head had jerked up as he realised what he was doing, he stepped back as if coming out of a stupor, the lustful gaze disappearing from his face.

The only indication the Princess gave of the envoy's impropriety was the widening of her eyes, which only lasted a few seconds. Her training as Princess-Royal, and how to present herself in the company of dignitaries, stood her in good stead.

The king, normally very relaxed and having complete confidence in his daughter's royal-born qualities, did however let his hand slide down to the dagger he kept hidden at his side when Grouche started his very unexpected exploration of his daughter's torso. His countenance broke into a broad smile, not because Grouche had finished his groping, but his daughter's composure pleased him greatly and was evidence of the success of his years of instruction and grooming. When the envoy finally looked his way, the King again had his business face on.

When Grouche left, Itha-baal pleaded with her father not to include her in any further discussions with the disgusting emissary. Hence her surprised look when her father summoned her, only to find herself again in the company of her not so favourite visitor. Again she rose to the occasion and except for not standing in front of the window, she stood silently and erect.

They were only a short while into their discussions, when the court page entered the room and running up to the King, whispered in his ear. The King smiled broadly and turning to Grouche, quietly informing him that their discussions would continue after he welcomed a very important guest.

At that point, the tall ornate doors of the stateroom opened and the mistery guest entered. Itha-baal kept her pose but her eyes scanned the stranger from top to bottom. He presented a very strange picture which she couldn't quite decipher. He had a youthful appearance but the sun had done a good job of disguising his age by creating permanent lines on either side of his face, due to squinting against the sharp rays of the sun and darkening of his complexion. His muscular build also did not escape the princess's gaze, especially his arms. She shook her head in a physical attempt to break the daydream as she imagined being held close with those strong tanned arms squeezing her tightly. Her faced flushed slightly and she looked around quickly to see if anyone had seen her embarrassment. The princess felt as if her thoughts had been publicly displayed on a big screen.

Regaining her composure she continued to examine the figure standing before her. The next part of his body she found interesting was his legs. They were muscular, in keeping with the rest of his body, but that was not what caught her attention. His legs were covered in scars. Some were quite recent and still in the process of healing, evident by the red puffy skin surrounding the white mark of the wound. This intrigued her and piqued her curiosity.

His unruly hair hung to his shoulders. The kink in the hair that ran round his head just above the neckline was evidence that the hair was regularly tied back with some sort of cord or something similar. The next attribute nearly caused Itha-baal to lift her hand and hold it under her nose. The strong smell, bordering on a stench, had suddenly hit her nostrils. Her mouth gave an involuntary twitch, as the smell slowly engulfed her. She was not alone. A quick glance of the King to his fan-bearer and a nod of acknowledgement from the same, had the movement of the feathered fan suddenly increase in velocity.

The princess racked her brain. She had smelt this smell before... but where? Suddenly it came to her. When she walked past the stables, the same or similar smell had wafted from the stalls. She knew then exactly what the smell that now permeated the air and hung round the young man was... horse! It was mixed with sweat and leather but predominantly it was a horse smell.

Rough though his appearance was, the way he walked and presented himself, Itha-baal knew this was someone important. Her supposition proved correct when her father rose from his seat and with a courteous bow announced, "Welcome King Ahab, welcome to Tyre. My court is privileged to have you visit us. It is truly an honour to entertain the King of Israel."