The Harbinger - Bethany College

Jenny PresTon
My Beloved
The woman in the window gazed out at the lush land of the Hula Valley.
The rolling hills swayed gently against the early morning sky and gave
way to rich farmland and large gatherings of water that glistened in the
early Middle Eastern rays. She tilted her sharp chin downward and flicked
her eyes to the neighboring pastures. Four horses were grazing peacefully,
the wind gently tousling their manes. The three mares were a rich
chestnut color that burned in the summer sun. They were small and finely
sculpted with dished faces and slender limbs. The stallion, standing a few
feet away from the mares, was pure and white as a virgin. He was larger
than the mares but arched an elegant neck and tossed his noble head into
the summer air. The woman in the window let her eyes bathe the stallion’s
body from his silk mane to his ivory hooves. His feet where rather large
compared to the mare’s dainty hooves.
The stallion turned his head to watch the man walk down the dirt road
towards the woman in the window. His sandals scuffed against the earth,
causing a cloud of dust to lay idle behind his steps. He stopped at the
edge of the house and looked up to his wife. She looked back, her dark
makeup shimmering in the sunlight. Her eyes were searching, curious, and
demanding so he quickly stepped inside before she could speak.
She pursed her lips, knowing the news couldn’t be good. When she
heard him enter the room, she stood and moved to sit at the table.
“He refuses, Jezebel, he won’t sell me the stallion. His stable hides in
the shadow of my palace, and I can offer three times as much as what
that horse is worth, and he still refuses.” The room was silent except for
clinking of jewelry as Jezebel shook her head. “He said to me he could
not sell the stallion because his blood line has been in his family for five
generations.” The man furrowed his brow; his dark eyes grew cold and
distant. “That stallion, Dodi , is only fit to be owned by a king. He has to
be mine. If I can’t posses him no one can”
Jezebel laid her hand on her husband’s shoulder to quiet him. Her gentle
touch softened him, and he relaxed his tensed muscles.
“Hush now, Ahab, my husband. I will take care of it.” Jezebel patted his
shoulder before stepping away to fix him his morning meal.
The evening was pitch black, the moon hiding her face behind a shawl of
clouds. Jezebel pulled her garments closer to her small frame and gingerly
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