"So far I doubt she has caught the sound of my footfalls. I edge closer, advancing stealthily along the shadow, a seemingly endless shadow cast across the flat surface of her roof by my tower. Never once do I stop to remind myself that such behavior is unbecoming of a king.
And who can blame me? In her presence I am reduced to a boy.
I must find a way to impress her. Which is why I brought my crown along, even though it sits somewhat uncomfortably on my head. It is a bit too large for me, and too heavy, too.
On my way I leap across a staircase, leading down from the roof. On a railing, here in front of me, hangs a large Egyptian towel, as if to mark a barrier. I tell myself, This isn’t right. I should stop, stop right here and whatever happens I should cover my eyes, avoid taking a peep at her... Shall I turn back?
And immediately I answer by asking, What? Stopping midway is nothing short of a sin...You’ll never forgive yourself... To which I say, stop talking to yourself already! Are you out of your mind?
Behind the towel I can see a puff of steam rising. Bathsheba must have poured boiling water into her tub only a minute ago. One kettle, set down by the claw-foot of the thing, has been emptied, the other—still full, waiting for its turn. Now, out of the swirl of vapors, her shoulders start to take shape."
This is my watercolor painting of Bathsheba. I am thinking of using this painting for the cover of my next book, Bathsheba (The David Chronicles.)
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