She was a sloe-eyed woman with black hair and a wide, sensuous mouth. There was a lewdness about her that pleased King Jokab well. Suddenly voices rose outside the door, and the king sat up, not releasing his hold on the woman. When he saw the commander of his army enter, he scowled. “What do you mean bursting in like this, Zanoah? I could have your head for this.” Zanoah was a stocky man with bulging muscles and a scar pulling the right side of his face down. He was a fighter not a diplomat, and even though he knew it might be at the cost of his own life, he ignored the king’s angry shouts. “Sire,” he said, “I have evil tidings.” King Jokab glared at his commander. “We’ll talk about it at the council meeting.” “I think it’s something you should know now, Your Majesty.” Roughly Jokab shoved the woman aside and got out of bed. He put on a silken robe and then turned to face the stocky commander.
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