The Harbinger - Bethany College

made her way down the street. She had waited at the window until she saw
the figure of her neighbor, Naboth, make his way to the stable to feed his
precious horses.
Her small feet padded against the soft earth as she approached the entrance
of the stable. She stopped short and stepped off the path to pick up a
rock. It was heavy, and she used both her hands to hold it to her chest. She
sidled up the wall of the stable and listened for Naboth. She could hear
him cooing to his prizes, and the muffled sound of horses chewing their
evening meal. The sweet scent of horse and grain lapped gently against
Jezebel’s face.
She eased herself into the darkness and planted her hands firmly around
the stone. She stopped again to locate Naboth. She saw him before she
heard him. The moonlight poured through the stall door, and Jezebel
could see him standing next to his prized stallion, patting his shoulder and
speaking to him softly. His back was turned to her, and she took the opportunity
to slide into the open stall carefully watching her step. Her small
body never made a sound, and the air itself seemed to step gracefully out
of her way. She put her shaking arms in the air and waited for Naboth to
face her. She didn’t have to wait very long.
The next morning the whole town was in a frenzy. Naboth’s wife could
be heard wailing from the distant hills. People on the street whispered with
soft voices and worried eyes. The receiver of the news took a few, slow,
hesitant steps before racing off to find someone to tell.
“Ahab, my husband, you should go to the neighbor’s. It would mean
a great deal to Naboth’s wife if you did.” Jezebel was brushing her hair
slowly, letting the waves of ebony roll down her back. “Perhaps you can
have that horse of theirs you wanted so dearly.” She set the comb down
and went about the room like she did every morning. Ahab nodded and
after fastening his sandals, he stepped out into the hot sun.
The room in Naboth’s house felt heavy and pressing when Ahab arrived.
Naboth’s wife sat in a solitary chair, tears bathing her cheek along with
smeared makeup. Women stood off to the side, rocking back and forth on
their feet and throwing worried glances back and forth to each other.
“Dido was his pride, his pet, his joy. I never…dreamed he would kill
him,” the wife whispered to no one in particular.
“I must inquire what happened,” Ahab stated, still sore at the refusal of
his offer.
One of the women stepped forward and placed her hand on her chest
before speaking. “Dido turned on Naboth and kicked him. The side of his
head was crushed in grotesquely.” She struggled with the last word, unsure
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