She is always over-dressed and under-shaded. She seems forever excruciatingly warm, in need of a Slurpee, a strappy sundress and one of those wide-brimmed hats that bikini girls get photographed in on the beach. But no. She sat here for forty years, so they say, judging this and that and ultimately sending a king’s army into battle after a god whispered in her ear to make it so. I wonder though, if she was just tired of all those soldiers with their machismo and bar fights and belching contests. Maybe she just wanted some peace and quiet, to get inside take a cool bath and put her pajamas on. I could see that. Wars have been fought for lesser things.