Confessions of a Sheba Queen

by Autumn Bardot

  I touched the rubies, their inner fire uniting with my own. “I will treasure his gift.”

  The line of about fifty harem women wrapped around the corner and spilled into the hallway. I welcomed them into the throne room.

  Most had a skill or trade. A few hours later, I had employed a royal weaver, animal trainer, goldsmith, several musicians, perfumer, frankincense expert, gardener, cook, brewer, and potter. Those without a skill asked to serve in my household or work as apprentices. By late morning, I found work for every woman in need of a job.

  The second to last woman in line shuffled forward. Her back was curved with age, her face crisscrossed with a hundred wrinkles, and her cheeks hollowed into gauntness.

  “You lived in the harem?” I asked with the kindness reserved for wise elders.

  “Bah!” She flapped her bony hand. “Hasan never took me to bed, although I am sure I would have taught him a trick or two.” She winked, her lively brown eyes exposing the youthful spirit dwelling beneath her aged skin. “I was a mother to his women.”

  I smiled sadly. I did not want a mother. No one could replace Momma. “Do you have a skill besides mothering?”

  The old woman tugged on her earlobes. “Listening.” She lifted her shawl over her face. “Invisibility. No one notices an old woman. No one sees me. People think we are blind, that our hearing is bad, and that our noses can’t smell. Not me, your Excellency. I have the vision of a hawk. I hear a lizard skitter between the cracks in the wall. I can smell sex—who had sex with whom. The gods have blessed me with otherworldly senses.”

  Such a skill might be useful. If a bit off-putting. I beckoned her forward.

  The old woman hobbled forward and sniffed. “You ate porridge with mint and pistachios for breakfast.” She sniffed again and leaned close. “And you ate a woman’s cunt the evening before.”

  My brows jumped to my hairline. “You’re hired!” I summoned her closer and lowered my voice. “I have a special task requiring your complete discretion. And, to be truthful, it might be dangerous.”

  The old woman’s wrinkled face creased with glee. “Palace life is rife with danger. I am old, my excitements few. A little danger will enliven my dreary days.”

  “Meet me in the courtyard after the noon meal.” Though I’d killed Hasan, I did not forget my vow to find the five men who murdered Momma. Who better to hear the rumors swirling about a palace than this old woman?

  I did not expect immediate results. The murderers were probably long gone, especially if they were hired mercenaries from another kingdom. But eventually someone would slip up. I refused to let Momma down. I would have my vengeance.

  “I look forward to it.” The old woman flitted her eyes at Fudu, the foul-breathed guard. “Besides drinking too much, that one is addicted to khat.”

  Eating khat caused excitement and intense pleasure. Whores used it and offered it to their patrons.

  “Good to know.” I had yet to meet the captain of guards. No doubt he feared for his life.

  The last woman in line was a young black-skinned, broad-backed woman with well-formed limbs. A head taller than the men, she had a pretty round face with high, wide cheeks, full lips, a short broad nose, and large brown eyes. Her face was all fragile innocence, and yet her body exuded robust strength.

  “Your Excellency.” Her voice was honeyed song. “I am Shani and I have a selfish request. Please allow me to stay in the palace. It is safer here.”

  “Safer?”

  “My appearance is deceiving. My body is unlike most people’s. Some say I am an abomination—cursed by the gods. Others exploited me. King Hasan claimed I was magnificent and brought me here. Even though he was a brute, I was safer here than anywhere else.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Shani clutched her breasts. “I am a woman.” She lifted her dress. “And a man.”

  My mouth dropped open.

  Shani pressed her ebony cock to her flat belly. “And a woman yet again.” She moved aside her compact balls. “I have a cunt and a cock.”

  “You were born with both?”

  “Yes and no. You see, the midwives could not identify my gender at birth, as I had a bit of both.” She leaned forward and whispered. “But I was bewitched soon afterward.”

  I patted my heart. “What are you here?”

  “Both. Neither divided nor blended. I desire women and men equally. I am more and yet less.”

  “Less? How?”

  “My womb is barren and my cock spews no seeds of life.”

  “That does not make you less, Shani. You are magnificent.” I drummed my fingers on the chair. As appealing as Shani was, keeping someone for sex repulsed me. “What skill or talent do you have?”

  Shani dropped her head. “I have none.”

  One of the harem women stepped forward. “That’s not true. Shani is skilled with kohl and pigments.” She fluttered her fingers over her face. “She works magic on our faces.”

  “None of us,” said another woman, “went to King Hasan without Shani’s skilled hand.”

  Shani shrugged. “Is applying pigments a skill?”

  “Enhancing one’s natural beauty is an art,” I said. “You may stay here. In fact, you will start now. I want to look like more than a queen when I meet the Serdar. He returns with his troops this afternoon, and I want to look like a goddess.”

  Shani grinned. “That will be easy, your Excellency. You are already the image of perfect beauty.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Shani walked around me as I sat on the raised chair. She examined my profile, my head shape, my neck length, and the curves of my face. She studied me as a farmer might his fields, or a goldsmith his creation.

  On a table beside me lay the tools of Shani’s trade—pots of pigment, kohl sticks, various brushes, and assorted creams.

  “You’re already as beautiful as a goddess, but even a goddess can use a bit more divine enhancement.” Shani flashed me a wide grin.

  “I hope you share the secret of your brilliant white teeth.”

  Shani’s face lit up. “I will make you some of the pumice paste tonight.” Her dress tented below her slim hips.

  I paid no attention to her arousal.

  “How did you come to be in Hasan’s harem?” I asked as she dabbed a cool soothing lotion on my face.

  “It’s a long story, your Excellency.”

  “Give me the short version.”

  “I was born in Ethiopia, and on the day of my birth, when my sex could not be confirmed, Father told Mother to take me to the forest and leave me to die. Mother refused. Their argument raged for a month. And then, by and by, a witch traveling through our village paid a secret visit to Mother. The witch promised to make me the person ‘I was supposed to be.’ And here I am. With both parts.” She shrugged. “Who knows? I like to think the witch saw into my heart and made me whole. Mother refused to give me her opinion on the matter. But I think Mother did not want to decide my gender without first knowing my heart.”

  “Mothers like to keep some things to themselves.” I shook my head, after all, my own mother never told me who my father was.

  “That’s true, because my mother never explained why she eventually raised me as a girl. I wore girl clothes. Played girl games with the other girls. But Father could not forget what the witch had done. One night Father crept into my room with a knife. We fought.” Shani touched her eye. “He gave me a black eye so I broke a few of his ribs. I ran away and days later came upon a caravan headed for the kingdom of Saba. The leader let me go with them . . . for a price.”

  “They mistreated you.”

  “Some of the men, yes.” Shani’s mouth twitched with the memory. “But no matter what they did or made me do, I didn’t let them take my spirit.” She pressed her fist to her heart. “One of the men liked me and treated me kindly, and it was with him that I first enjoyed my sexuality. I eventually learned that one man’s abomination is another man’s prize. I stopped being ashamed and
started being proud of who I am.

  “When we arrived in Ma’rib I walked straight to the brothel. I didn’t have enough coin for a single meal, but I knew men would pay for the privilege of being with me. The madam practically salivated when I showed her my cock.” Shani shuddered. “The brothel was filthy and the hours ridiculous. Almost immediately, there was a waiting list to fuck me. I made the brothel more money than all the girls combined. But the madam claimed she lost money on me because I ate more and my clothes required more fabric. Imagine! I was busy night and day, every day of the week. I told her I was leaving. She claimed I owed her money and threatened to have me arrested.”

  “So you had no choice but to continue working for her.”

  Shani sighed. “Only until King Hasan demanded I be delivered to his harem.”

  “Was it any better there?”

  “Sometimes. He liked to beat me, but I got my revenge whenever I slammed my cock into his tight ass.” She paused to gauge my reaction, then, seeing I did not balk, gazed at me with new appreciation. “I’m glad you killed Hasan. He did not respect me . . . or women . . . or even most men.”

  “It seems he respected the Oracle.”

  “Respect? No. He feared her prophecies, which was not unfounded because you are here and he is dead.” A tiny makeup brush in her hand, Shani stood back to admire her artistry. “I enhanced the color and shape of your eyes, although they already glow with the light of divinity.”

  “You are too flattering.”

  “Oh no, your Excellency, I am not. Your eyes shine with truth.” Shani dabbed a creamy gloss on my lips. “I do not envy you though. I think a queen faces challenges that a king does not.”

  “Like what?”

  “A king can be an ugly immoral scoundrel and no one is shocked. A queen is held to a higher standard. One, I think, tied to her beauty.” Shani held up a large copper mirror. “Look like a goddess and they will hail you as divine.”

  I stared, amazed by the reflection. Bilqīs, the girl was gone. A majestic Sabaean queen looked back. “Shani, I’m stunned. I look . . . ”

  “Like a benevolent half-jinni queen who transcends mere mortal beauty.” Shani’s brows lifted to a proud height.

  Duvsha walked into the room. “Bilqīs?” She gasped. “You are radiant, dazzling as the sun.”

  “Will the Serdar have to shield his eyes to see me?” My lips twitched with playfulness.

  “I guess we’ll find out. He’s here now.”

  My stomach fluttered with fretful anticipation. I needed the Serdar to have absolute confidence in me. Without an obedient general, I stood to lose Saba as quickly as I had taken it. The Serdar had only to march into Ma’rib with his league of soldiers and capture the palace.

  Even more unnerving, I realized the Serdar traveled through the night to get here, a sign of either his curiosity or his intended swift retaliation.

  Duvsha helped me into an indigo dress. “You must surround yourself with armed guards. The one named Ameen is already besotted.”

  “And look like I am afraid? No, I must never convey fear.”

  “One accurate arrow is all the Serdar needs to kill you and proclaim himself king.”

  Protection was a good idea. It just needed to look like pageantry.

  CHAPTER 27

  Ameen led the procession. Another guard walked behind me. Two others walked beside. Each was a sword’s length away. Yes, an arrow could fell me. So too could a slingshot’s stone. But that could happen to any ruler.

  I entered like a queen. No . . . I entered a queen and sat on the fur-draped throne.

  I wore no jewels, no adornments. I was the jewel, and I let my inner light shine.

  The Serdar was a middle-aged general whose kilt, metal-plated leather breastplate, and shin-high boots barely contained his thick muscled limbs. Powerful hands removed his tall conical helmet. He kneeled. “My queen.”

  A good start.

  I beckoned him forward. “Your swift arrival is noted and appreciated. We have much to discuss. Give me a full reporting of our military activities.”

  The Serdar did not mince words. He told me the Sabaean army safeguarded the incense trade routes from rebel tribes; crushed Aswan and Nashan aggressors; kept peace at the port towns; and defended our Roman and Parthian interests.

  I asked him many questions, and after each one, more of the skepticism faded from his eyes.

  “I believe in power through strength,” I said. “A strength made stronger through trade. Wealth will make Saba strong and our people prosperous. When all citizens have the ability to thrive, the outlying insurrections and rebellions will decrease.”

  The Serdar stiffened, and even the scars on his arms and thighs, of which there were many, appeared to intensify. “You want to reduce the military?”

  “Not at all. War is costly, both in gold and human lives. I want an expanded military presence along the trade routes.” I shifted in my seat. “There is another matter . . .”

  The Serdar squared his shoulders. “You hesitate. Do not. No one is above criticism, not even me.”

  “It is a private matter. Let us finish our discussion in the courtyard.”

  A few moments later, the Serdar and I sat in the courtyard, my four palace guards out of hearing by the entrance.

  “Who is the captain of the palace guard? Who chooses the guardsmen?” I asked.

  “You are, and you do, your Excellency.” The Serdar flicked his eyes at the guards. “I used to, but Hasan preferred to choose and train his own royal guard.”

  “Hasan chose poorly.”

  The Serdar grunted with a winning grin.

  “I return the honor to you. Assess every guardsman. Dismiss those you find lacking. Train those with potential.”

  The Serdar lowered his head in deference. “Thank you, your Excellency.” He looked up and gave me an appraising look. “When the messenger told me an unarmed young woman entered the palace and killed Hasan, I was stunned. You accomplished what no other dare, and this impresses me.” He cleared his throat. “I have never served under a woman though.”

  “Will this be a problem?”

  The Serdar rubbed his immense chin. “Not if what I saw today is any indication.”

  “Explain.”

  “When last I was in Ma’rib, despair and hopelessness clung like mud to the townsfolk. Today, they dance in the streets and proclaim you a gift from Almaqah.” The Serdar lifted his solid chin. “I am no killer of divine providence.”

  Shani blotted my face with a cool damp cloth. “I am stronger than most men. Why can’t I be a palace guard?”

  “Because you’re the queen’s makeup artist.” Duvsha placed a plate of sliced cucumbers before me.

  “Actually,” I said. “It’s a good idea. You could be my personal bodyguard. But only if you meet the Serdar’s qualifications.”

  “Bodyguard and makeup artist to the Queen of Saba.” A beaming Shani dropped to her knees. “I finally have a purpose that fulfills me. I am overflowing with happiness. How can I show my gratitude?”

  My hand cupped the back of Shani’s head as I gazed at her lovely dark features. Her body intrigued me. I wanted to bask in it. Yet I knew a lifetime of being sexually misused had left her fragile. I wanted Shani to come to me willingly, not because I demanded it, but because she desired me. “Let’s see if you meet the Serdar’s requirements and pass his tests.”

  “Oh, I will. I promise.” Shani pressed her large hands to her heart.

  Our eyes met and lingered too long.

  The crowd of merchants packed the throne room, each itching to tell me their qualifications for the minister of trade position.

  Fortunately, I did not have to sort through their lies and embellishments myself. My tribunal consisted of the Serdar and Kepha.

  Hours later, only one merchant stood out. A middle-aged widow named Faiza, who after tripling her deceased husband’s sales, had become the wealthiest merchant in Ma’rib.

  “Keep the
money that comes with the title,” said Faiza. “I don’t need it. Seeing Ma’rib and Saba prosper is reward enough. Think of it! We will be a wealthy nation where anyone—man or woman—with enough nerve and grit will prosper.” What her unassuming appearance lacked in charm, her enthusiasm made up for. “I have a seven-point plan for increasing revenue and trade. The first,” she lifted her finger. “Traders must be allowed entrance at night. Second—”

  A merchant with both a vision and a plan! I had to stop myself from squealing with delight. Kepha and the Serdar looked equally impressed.

  I held up my hand. “Thank you, Faiza. I look forward to hearing your plan in its entirety after all the candidates make their pitches.”

  I sat through the remainder of the candidates but none came close to Faiza’s exuberance and success. “Tell us your plan,” I said after dismissing everyone but the Serdar and Kepha.

  Faiza’s plan was brilliant, achievable, and simple.

  For the first time since proclaiming myself queen, I felt my vision for the Kingdom of Saba was in my grasp.

  After the Serdar and Faiza departed, I leaned back against my throne and smiled wearily at Kepha.

  “Can I get you something? Food? Wine?” he asked.

  “Lock the doors.”

  Kepha’s brows shot up, but he crossed the throne room and drew the bolt across the doors. “Anything else?”

  “Your queen requires your expertise.”

  He walked toward me, his lips curled into playfulness. “Business or pleasure?”

  “The business of pleasure.” I stood, removed my dress, and untied my sandals.

  Kepha grinned and his tunic tented with desire. “I’ve never serviced a queen.” But instead of walking toward me, he veered away, walked to the far end of the throne room, and knelt down. “Tell me what to do, your Excellency.”

  “Come to me.” I opened my thighs and hooked them over the arms of the throne.

  Kepha crawled slowly toward me.