He thundered his orgasm, then rose off me, his human fuck throne, only to drop beside me and snuggle close. I fell into a dreamless sleep until the sun kissed my eyelids.
We stayed in Solomon’s secret sanctuary for two weeks. We fucked until my cunt was sore. He shared his wisdom until my mind burst with new ideas. We loved each other without restraint, without limits. We divulged all our secret longings, and made a pact to indulge each other’s decadent desires. We played, we taunted, we teased, we relished in the glory that came from an unquenchable lust born of true love.
The day we left was bittersweet. Neither of us wanted to leave, but obligations and duties waited for us both. From atop his camel, Solomon, his face browned from the sun, paused before the narrow fissured entrance to the real world. A world of obligations and laws and problems and promises.
“Marry me, Bilqīs. You don’t have to live in Jerusalem. Just give me the ultimate joy of knowing I am yoked to the most wonderful woman in the world.”
I took a deep breath. His offer was more tempting than he knew. Tempted me more each time he asked, which was every day. Solomon had other wives in far-off kingdoms he never saw, let alone lay with. It would be foolish not to wed such a powerful king.
My heart was torn.
CHAPTER 58
I heaved breakfast into a copper bowl.
Duvsha laid her hand on my forehead. “You don’t have a fever.”
“Someone poisoned her. A jealous wife, I’m sure of it.” Shani paced back and forth. “What did you eat last night?”
“I was with Solomon. He has food testers.” I wiped my mouth. “Send a servant to discover if he is sick.”
He was not.
I hurled both my morning and midday meal for the rest of the month. Gula the herbalist steeped all kinds of leafy concoctions to settle my stomach, but to no avail.
Duvsha and Shani worried it was some new kind of poison, a slow-acting toxin made from plants found only in Israel. I lost weight and felt sluggish, and even smelling my favorite meals made me gag.
“Your monthly blood is late,” said Duvsha one day, rubbing my back while I vomited my breakfast yet again.
I gasped. Could it be? I spun around, tears trickling down my cheeks. “Do you think . . . ?” I did not want to say the words aloud for fear of jinxing my good fortune.
“I dared not say anything. I feared there are a few who might give you the evil eye during this delicate time.” Gula handed me another herb-infused brew.
Duvsha’s eyes grew wide as her head bobbed happily. “I will make offerings to Almaqah and . . . the One God . . . for Solomon’s sake,” Duvsha whispered.
I did not tell Solomon until the second month had passed without my monthly blood.
I rested his hand on my flat belly as we lay together after sex. “Your child is within.”
“Praise be to God.” Solomon hugged me tight, buried his nose in my hair. “You’re going to leave me now, aren’t you?”
We had spent three years together. Too long. And not long enough.
“I must return to Ma’rib and to my people.” My heart ached double. It ached for my kingdom and for leaving Solomon behind. “I must give birth to our child in Saba.”
Solomon held my face in his hands. “Marry me.”
I closed my eyes, my heart heavier than the massive stone blocks used to build his palace. “I will not.”
“Why? Give me one good reason.”
I removed his warm palms from my cheeks, kissed each one. “You are the King of Israel, I the Queen of Sheba. Our names are carved in stone on numerous temples, our deeds carved into rock for all eternity. Our names will live forever. I do not want my name, Bilqīs, Queen of Sheba, to come after yours, a mere wife. I am enough on my own. I am powerful without you.”
Solomon breathed out. “Three years was not enough time with you, my love.”
“Our God thinks it’s enough.”
“Our God?” Solomon’s brows lifted with surprise. “What about Almaqah?”
“I like your god better. The Lord God is more powerful and more present in his follower’s lives. His ten laws are righteous. And achievable. I will take Him and His teachings back to Ma’rib. All I ask is that you send a few of your holy men to Ma’rib with me, so I may continue learning. But know this, I will not force Him on my people. I will offer Him as an alternative.” I touched my belly. “If your God is superior, His Will shall be done.”
“And what about your will to find the traitor in your court and your mother’s murderers? Will you be content with whatever God wills, even if you never discover the truth?”
“God made me a half jinn. He deprived me of their speed and strength for a reason. He trusts me to rely on the fire within to illuminate the darkness of men’s souls. The time has come to use that gift.” I laid Solomon’s hand on my belly. “You are a part of me, our blood and spirits forged together. You, me, God: how can I fail to triumph over evil?”
I stayed in Jerusalem another month. It took that long to organize all the farewell dinners, treaties, trade agreements, and plan the journey home.
Our caravan was weighed down with Solomon’s gifts of gold, silver, jewels, one trained hoopoe, and other treasures.
More valuable than any thing was the love and wisdom I had gained from Solomon. Of course, the most priceless gift of all was Solomon’s child growing in my womb. I made offerings of gratitude to God every day.
The journey homeward was dull. I pined for Solomon. I listened to opinions and reviewed reports. My entourage buzzed with excitement, eager to see family and friends in Ma’rib. The caravan traveled far each day, our pace dictated by heat and sun. I marked each day by the swell of my belly. I rejoiced each time I felt another kick.
During one afternoon stop for sleep and water, I decided not to postpone the inevitable any longer. I summoned the Magus and the Oracle.
I lounged on thick soft pillows, my burgeoning belly concealed beneath my loose dress, and directed my question to the Oracle. “Have you any new prophesies after our successful trip?”
The Oracle’s usually dazzling green eyes dimmed. “Your Excellency will not like it.” Her eyes flicked toward the Magus.
“I don’t keep you in my court to humor me,” I said. “And it is not for you to decide my opinion.”
The Oracle’s black brows bundled together and her refined features distorted with anxiety. She dropped her cane and sank to her knees. “You carry King Solomon’s son.” Her head touched the carpet. “He will bring ruin to our gods.” Her hands covered her head as though waiting to be beat.
The Magus clenched his fists and his forehead vein protruded. “Your Excellency must not let this happen. Almaqah, Athtar, Hawbas, dhāt-Himyam, and dhāt-Ba’dan will smite you! They will burn Ma’rib to ashes! They will bring a plague upon the land of Saba! They will undo all the good you achieved!”
My hands flew to my belly to protect the unborn babe within. “What exactly are you suggesting?” Summoning the gift of self-control, I kept my voice neutral, devoid of the anger blazing within. “Should I murder my own child? Cut out the disease before it spreads?”
The Magus considered it for a moment before shaking his head. “Children are a gift from Almaqah. We do not want to anger him. Send the child back to Israel after its birth. It is his property after all.”
All my muscles tensed. I hoped my anger was not written on my face. “Return Solomon’s child?”
“That is the only way,” said the Magus. “If word got out that the child will destroy our gods, the people would rise up against you.”
I turned to the Oracle, who was still on her knees. “How would Sabaeans hear this prophesy? Will you tell them? Who have you already told?”
“I told only the Magus.”
“Why?” My tone was no different than if I had asked why one preferred pistachios over walnuts.
“I . . . I needed his advice. The prophesy was…disturbing.” The Oracle grabbed her cane, used it t
o pull herself upright. “Secrets are like deep water wells. Eventually they bubble up through the sands or make it known by the green tree in the midst of the desert.”
“One cannot hide from the gods,” added the Magus.
I plucked an olive from a nearby bowl. “Tell me about your vision.”
Thumping her cane on the carpet, the Oracle grew tall, green eyes once again aglitter. “I saw a giant fish—larger than this tent—big as a palace—swimming in the deep blue. The fish opened its mouth—row upon row of pointed teeth bared—and a baby swam out—a tiny minnow no bigger than my hand. The giant fish fed her baby—killed other large fish for her—from all the sea’s bounty—from the inky depths to the sunlight surface. The baby fish grew and grew but it did not grow near as large as its mother, except for its tail, which was bigger and stronger than any fish in the ocean.” The Oracle swept her cane about. “That big-tail fish swam close to shore and flapped its enormous tail, which caused a tidal wave over the land. It drowned the people and swept away every temple, statue, and icon of our gods. Gone. All gone forever.” She thumped her cane on the ground.
It was a fishy tale about a fish tail.
“Most disturbing.” I concealed my suspicions with a distressed frown. “Who witnessed your vision?”
“I did.” The Magus lifted his haughty chin.
“Your visions have always been accurate. I have no reason to doubt you. I value your candor.” I dismissed them both and spread my fingers across my belly.
I recalled Solomon’s advice. Know your enemy. I did not trust the Magus or the Oracle, but did that make them my enemies?
I had much to ponder for the remainder of the journey, including deciding how to share the riches Solomon gave to me.
Some ministers advised throwing coins when I entered Ma’rib, their idea of distributing the wealth. I said only the bullies gained. Those most in need would be pushed aside or trampled. Others advised hoarding it in one of our secret cave vaults and saving it for a time when the rains did not come and we had no food. Hoarding benefits no one, but preparing for misfortune was a good idea. Several suggested investing in new and old business, funding schools, feeding the poor, and building new temples in outlying areas. I listened to everyone’s suggestions, weighed the good with the bad, and decided on them all, except for throwing coins, which only encouraged unruliness.
Despite the Oracle’s and Magus’s advice to keep my pregnancy hidden, I entered Ma’rib showing off my huge belly. I wore a tight white dress and waved to my people. They cheered and blessed me. I knew they would. I had given them an heir. A promise of righteous rule and continued prosperity.
I’d received favorable reports from messengers during my three-year absence, but it wasn’t until I saw for myself all of the new buildings in Ma’rib that my worries dissolved like honey in warm water. Many homes had added another story, the streets were clean, and the people happy.
Although I would have preferred dismounting from the camel in private, I knew my people needed to see me walk into my palace. Several guards helped me from the howdah. Belly thrust out, I waddled to the raised platform and waved to the crowd. “I love Ma’rib. I love the Sabaeans. It is good to be home!”
They cheered and threw flowers.
“I don’t feel well,” I said as to Duvsha as the guards helped me from the platform. “My belly is as hard as a rock.”
“Your time is near.”
Hundreds of people crowded around me in the palace, but I had time for only one.
I took Kepha’s hand. “My kingdom thrives because of your excellent leadership. How may I repay such loyal devotion?”
Kepha beamed, dropped his gaze to my belly. “Your fruitful return is reward enough.” He looked up, his eyes twinkling with pride. “Although I’m not against you heaping praises upon me.”
I squeezed his hand. “I will and I shall. And more.”
I should have held court, should have gone to my throne room and spoken to each advisor who had served the kingdom of Saba during my absence. I did not. A strange weightiness cramped my womb.
“Tell them to meet me in the throne room at first light tomorrow,” I whispered to Duvsha. “This belly has suddenly grown so heavy all I want to do is lie down.”
Lying down did not help. Needing water’s buoyancy, I stripped naked and waded into my pool in the middle of the garden courtyard. Duvsha sat on the side, her feet splashing the water.
“Duvsha . . .” I grabbed my belly.
“Would you like something to drink, your Excellency?”
“It’s…it’s happening.” My whole body stilled as my womb squeezed with a tightness that stole my breath.
“The baby is coming?” Duvsha jumped into the pool and splashed toward me. “Get the midwives!” she screamed into the air. “Get the midwives!”
The handmaids took off running.
“Let me help you get to the side of the pool.” Duvsha clasped my hand.
“I can’t move.” My feet were planted, rooted by a weighty pressure I could not control. “The baby is coming.”
“No! Not here! The child will drown. You must get out!” Duvsha craned her neck and yelled. “Help! Someone help! The queen’s child comes!”
CHAPTER 59
I grabbed Duvsha by the shoulders. My nails dug into her skin. I stared at my petrified best friend as the weight of the earth bore down upon me.
I gave in to the pressure. Gave in to the pain. And with a mighty push, the infant emerged from my womb and into the pool. Wide-eyed, the babe floated upward. I lifted the child from the water.
A boy!
I pressed him to my bosom and sobbed with joy. A healthy son! The boy let loose a lusty wail.
In moments, the midwives were helping me from the pool, counting toes and fingers, running their fingers down his spine and bones, and feeling the shape of his perfect head.
Dazed with joy, I let the midwives lead me out of the pool and onto the grass, where they cut the babe’s cord of life. They settled a soft blanket over my shoulders and escorted me to my chambers.
I held the babe to my breast. He latched on, greedy for milk. “Hello, little Menelik.”
“Menelik?” Duvsha arranged a pillow under my arm.
“It means son of a wise man,” said Shani. “It is the perfect name for King Solomon’s son.”
“I must tell Solomon.” I stroked Menelik’s warm head as he nursed. “Give the message to the hoopoe.”
Duvsha, the midwives, and my handmaids all attributed my swift, easy birth to my jinn half. It seemed I had Momma’s speed and strength for childbirth. Everyone marveled at my recovery.
My first order of business was a meeting with Kepha. I was glad to hear the weight of his responsibilities had not dampened his sense of humor, nor swelled his ego with conceit.
“It’s easy to manage a kingdom when the queen employs only the best,” he said.
I knew better and rewarded him richly, lavished him with praise until he blushed, and made him Exalted Guardian of the Kingdom of Saba.
By day’s end I met with those advisors and ministers who had been attending to affairs of state during my three-year absence. From the bed, and while cradling my son, I listened to their reports. I was not weary. Far from it. I wanted to run, to jump hurdles, to sing and dance. Energy coursed though me, ignited my body, mind, and soul.
“What have you heard while I was gone?” I asked the Old Woman Who Listens the next day as I walked through my palace.
“The usual boring drivel; cheating husbands and wives.” She wiggled her withered finger into Menelik’s fist. “Oh, what a grip. Very strong.” She tore her eyes from my beautiful child and shook her head. “But, your Excellency, a strange thing happened after you returned to the palace. I smelled dirt. Freshly dug dirt.” She tapped her nose. “Ears may hear lies, but the nose always knows.”
“Dirt.” I chewed on my lip. What had Solomon said? Explore every nook and cranny of your palace. I had done this.
The guards had searched every chamber. But had they been thorough? Was Momma’s head concealed in a place too clever to be found in a hurried search? “From what part of the palace?”
The Old Woman Who Listens lowered her head. “Forgive me, your Excellency, I did not follow my nose.”
“There is nothing to forgive. Your job is listening and smelling, not tracking.” I lifted her puckered chin. “Next time…”
“I will, your Excellency.” She brightened and nodded vigorously. “I promise to follow my nose and ears.”
Dread gnawed at my bones. My court had a rat. It was time to drive that rat out of its hole and into the light. “How long have you lived in this palace?”
The Old Woman Who Listens counted on her fingers. Twice. “Twenty years.”
“Tell me about the Magus.”
“He was loyal to King Hasan. Too loyal. Too loyal for a magician.” She grimaced, her face wrinkled as a dried fig. “The Magus claims it was his magic alone that summoned the rain that watered the crops.”
“Is he from Ma’rib?”
“No, he comes from . . .” She scratched her head. “Shabwa, I think. From a wealthy family. Ah, yes, now I remember, his people are rug merchants. At least, that was the gossip in the harem.”
“What do you know about the Oracle?”
The Old Woman Who Listens frowned. “She worries about the future. Not the future. Her future. King Hasan did not like her prophecies. She told him things he did not want to hear, like that it would be a jinni who would be his undoing.” The woman lowered her head deferentially. “And here you are.”
“Has she ever been wrong?”
The Old Woman Who Listens shrugged. “Not that I know. They say—”
“Who are they?”
“Everyone who knows her. They say her power comes through a conduit to the gods and that a talisman directs her visions.”
Confessions of a Sheba Queen Page 27
