Queen of Sheba

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Queen of Sheba Page 1

by Roberta Kells Dorr




  © 2013, 1990 by

  ROBERTA KELLS DORR

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Interior design: Ragont Design

  Cover design: Brand Navigation, LLC

  Cover images: iStock #9216951/14559153/453506, Fotalia #42310292, Shutterstock #74913688/93812500

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Dorr, Roberta Kells.

  Queen of Sheba : a novel / Roberta Kells Dorr.

  pages; cm.

  Includes bibliographical references.

  ISBN 978-0-8024-0958-4

  1. Sheba, Queen of—Fiction. 2. Bible. O.T.—History of Biblical events—Fiction. 3. Queens—Sheba (Kingdom)—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3554.O694Q44 2013

  813’.54—dc23

  2013004373

  We hope you enjoy this book from River North Fiction by Moody Publishers. Our goal is to provide high-quality, thought provoking books and products that connect truth to your real needs and challenges. For more information on other books and products written and produced from a biblical perspective, go to www.moodypublishers.com or write to:

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  Printed in the United States of America

  Contents

  Introduction

  Bilqis

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  Epilogue

  Sources

  Introduction

  Though the story of the Queen of Sheba’s visit to Solomon has captured the imagination of artists, poets, and historians from time immemorial, there is little factual information available. Most of the story has to be drawn from the few lines in the Bible, the Jewish historian, Josephus, the Ethiopian history of its kings (Kebra Negast), the Qur’an, and from the Arab historian Ibn Ishaq, from which al Tabari gathered his information.

  In both Yemen and Ethiopia there are numerous legends, some of which appear to be rather bizarre until one begins to peel away the fantasies to find the kernel of truth they undoubtedly hold. It is by putting together these legends with the factual information available and the customs of the people that I have attempted to discover this fascinating queen’s story.

  For instance, the Hoopoe bird mentioned in the Qur’an that carried messages back and forth from Marib to Jerusalem, must have been the nickname of a trader. Also in the Qur’an we are told that the queen worshiped idols, used the power of Jinns (demons) to work magic, and had her palace at Marib in Yemen.

  From the Arab historian Tabari, we are told that she was thought by Solomon to have the feet of a donkey, that she married Solomon and was converted to his faith. It is from Arab legends that we also are told of the white Arabian horse named Zad el-Rukab that the queen brought as a gift to Solomon.

  The Ethiopian legends found in the Kebra Negast give us more information. Tamrin is mentioned as a trader-emissary for the queen, and the guide for her caravan, which boasted seven hundred ninety-seven camels plus countless asses and mules all ladened with gifts. We are given the added bit of information that she stayed six months in Jerusalem.

  It is from the Ethiopian legends that we learn how Solomon put the queen’s bed in his room, ordered her food heavily salted, so he could claim her when she drank his water. We are also told in these legends that he gave the queen a ring for the son that would be born from their union and about the son’s journey back to Jerusalem on a visit to his father.

  We are told just where the son was born in Ethiopia and how the city of Axum on the coast was built as the queen’s new capitol.

  The references to the Egyptian princess and the worship of the cat god Bastet are based on Egyptian history. Shoshenk, the pharaoh during Solomon’s reign was the first king of the 22nd dynasty. He belonged to a Libyan family. Their capitol was at Bubastis, in the Delta, and the cat god, Bastet, was the object of their worship. They had temples built to this god and all cats were sacred. The princess from Egypt who married Solomon would have been from this family and this part of Egypt.

  The information dealing with Bilqis’s long journey from Marib in Yemen to Jerusalem was gleaned from various sources plus my own travels in the Sinai. I have ridden through the narrow Siq leading into the fortress of Petra and have climbed the steps to the High altar. This altar, minus the golden platform, looks just as it must have looked centuries ago. The steps are still there winding up the face of the cliff and ending at the pinnacle of rock from which the altar was fashioned. Sheep and bullocks were the usual offerings, but in times of extreme crisis or when favors were requested of the gods, children or captives taken in battle were sacrificed.

  Living in Yemen and visiting Ethiopia often, I was able to explore the new discoveries made by archaeologists at both Marib in Yemen and Axum in Ethiopia. I have seen the pillars of Bilqis’s temple to the moon god Ilumquh, which now lies half buried in drifting sand. I have studied the layout of her city with its lovely palace and have walked on the impressive ruins of her dam. I have run my hand over the remains of an alabaster bull’s head that to her would have been the earthly embodiment of the moon god she worshiped.

  Most exciting of all, I came upon the remains of an alabaster throne in the Sanaa museum. There were only the armrests and the two front legs. Upon examining it closely, I discovered the legs terminated in the very realistic hooves of a bull. For me, the legend of the queen having the feet of a donkey suddenly became understandable. With long robes covering her feet, it is entirely possible that visitors might see only the hooves and imagined them to be her feet.

  Bilqis began to take shape as I pieced together the bits of legend, studied the culture, and retraced her steps wherever possible. She was no longer a remote personage in a history book but a vital, intriguing woman who begged to have her story told.

  Bilqis

  It was the annual dry season and the first of the caravans had arrived in Jerusalem from the south. On hearing the news, Solomon with his son and a few of his friends retired to the more casual, tentlike quarters built on the roof of his new palace. This was an ideal place to view the varied assortment of bobbles and oddities with some real treasures brought from distant lands.

  The traders would go on to Hazor and then Damascus, where they sold most of their wares, but in Jerusalem they had always found Solomon to be one of their best customers. He knew quality and was not reluctant to pay high prices for an item he happened to like. However, now that his ships had made a successful trip down the Red Sea to Punt, the traders were afraid he would no longer buy from them.

  Old Badget, sometimes called “Hopoe” in jest, was the leader of this particular caravan. He was a Jew from Jericho who was known for his cunning and astute bargaining ability; more than that he seemed to have a penchant for finding real treasures.

  When the king was finally seated on the golden pedestal with his newly acquired monkey perched on the armrest, Badget nodded to his men. “You see,” Badget said, craftily keeping his eye on the king and waving his hand over the assortment that began to be piled on the plush red carpet, “I have brought you the best. You and your men shall have first choice.”

  Dus
t billowed from the trader’s coarsely woven cloak as he quickly picked up first one unique treasure and then another for the king’s approval. He had gained the name of Hopoe from just such bobbing up and down. It was true, he did resemble the bird in many ways and never more than when he was eagerly trying to find just that special buy that would interest his customers.

  The king was his major challenge. He had such exquisite taste. He liked only the best. Any bit of shoddy workmanship or flaw was easily spotted and the piece discarded. Badget held his breath as the king’s eyes traveled over the rich assortment and rested on a small box of ebony. Quickly old Badget pulled it from the pile. He blew the dust from it. Then he polished it with the end of his cloak before handing it to the king.

  The king shook his head but passed it to the sallow-faced, rather bored young man on his right. “Here, my son,” he said, “This is what our ships will bring us and we’ll no longer be at the mercy of such pirates as old Hopoe here.”

  “My lord,” Badget protested, “it’s more than the ships you’ll need. Not everyone can recognize a treasure.”

  Solomon laughed. He loved the wit of this man. In fact, he had learned much from just such men as Badget. They had drawn maps of the trade routes, pointed out the unique treasures of each country, and brought back the gossip of other kings and kingdoms.

  “There, that polished horn,” Solomon said, suddenly pointing to where the monkey had obviously spotted the gold band on the object and was struggling to get it lose.

  Badget had known the king would be interested in this piece, and so he had carefully placed it where just the tip and glitter of the gold band could be seen. He took it from the monkey and handed it to the king then stood back, his feet planted wide apart, arms folded, and a gleam of triumph on his face. He was not disappointed.

  The king’s jeweled hands traveled over the smooth sides of the horn as he bent to look more closely at the decoration on its two gold bands. “I have seldom seen such delicate work. Is there a base?”

  “No, my lord,” Badget said. “It was made for a rich man who would always have a servant standing by to hold it.”

  “Where is this rich man who can commission such a cup?” the king demanded.

  “Unfortunately the cup was never called for. The man who had ordered it died quite suddenly. I arrived at just the right time and was able to buy it.”

  “But who was the man? A craftsman works, but usually to the design of his master.”

  “He was a great king. He loved fine things as much as yourself.”

  “But, my wily Hopoe, who was this man?”

  “Why, my lord, he was the king of Sheba.”

  “You are right. The king of Sheba is dead, and I hear that his youngest daughter now rules.”

  “He had no sons to inherit his throne.”

  “With such a rich country it won’t be long until it is quickly swallowed by some of those vultures that live on either side.”

  “Maybe not. Bilqis, the old king’s daughter, is as strong as any man, or so the gossip goes.”

  “How can a young girl hope to hold the throne of a rich country like Sheba? It’s foolishness. I can’t believe it’s true.” The king was definitely interested, and Badget loved to lead him on with a good story.

  “My lord,” Badget said, rolling his eyes, “you have never seen a woman like this. Before the old king’s body was moved from his bed, one of his counselors seized the crown and had himself proclaimed king. But within the year the army with Bilqis at its head stormed the palace and slew the usurper. Then, without wasting time, she took the crown, placed it on her own head and had the priests formally recognize her as queen on the portico of the great temple of Ilumquh.”

  “It’s easy to put the crown on one’s own head, but to keep it there is another thing.” Solomon put the horn cup down beside him on the cushions and the monkey immediately started examining it. “See? My new pet has the taste of a king,” he said laughing.

  Badget chuckled and then returned to the discussion of Sheba’s queen. “She’s held the throne for three years now and everyone’s pressing her to marry. Her uncle’s son has first right. He’s an ambitious fellow who would aim to marry her just to get her throne. His father’s behind it all. She’s a brave one. They won’t outsmart her if she has a chance.”

  “She may be more foolish than brave,” Solomon observed.

  “My lord,” Badget leaned over and spoke in a confidential tone as though his words were meant for the king alone, “she’s proven her bravery. Before becoming queen she took the virgin’s place and rode in the Markab right into battle with the troops. It was a sight to see. The camel decorated with gold and jewels while she sat tall and proud with the side curtains pulled back and her hair black as a raven’s wing and full …”

  “I’ve heard of this custom. The Markab is like our Ark, only instead of tablets of stone and the ten commandments, it’s one of their fairest maidens that rides in it. They say a whole army will die before they let the enemy capture their Markab. I would say it does take bravery. So she is brave? Is she also beautiful?”

  Here Badget drew back and seemed to fidget with the hilt of the short dagger he wore in his belt. “My lord,” he said, “it is not proper to carry tales, and if I hadn’t seen it myself …”

  Solomon knew that the old scoundrel was eager to tell any news, but lest he offend he had to play the role of being reluctant. It was this very kind of news Solomon liked best. Smiling, he looked around at his men to see that they also were intrigued. “Come, come Badget,” he said. “Let’s hear the scandal. It must be bad to have an old harpie like you hesitating.”

  “My lord, the woman is beautiful beyond anything I have ever seen, but she has one terrible flaw that spoils everything.” Here again he paused as though dreading to tell what he knew.

  “Come, come, we’re waiting to hear it,” Solomon urged while his son Rehoboam and the other men insistently joined in.

  Badget, being a salesman first and a storyteller second, held up his hands for quiet. “First let me serve you. What do you wish to buy. When you have bought what you want, then I’ll tell you of the flaw.”

  Knowing Badget, Solomon quickly declared his choice. “I’ll take this goblet of horn. I’m sure there’ll never be another quite like it.”

  Once the king had made his choice and declared that was all he wanted, the others quickly picked out items, and within the hour, Badget was waving to his men to pack up all that was left.

  “Now, the Hopoe will tell us of the flaw in the beautiful new queen of Sheba.” Solomon was absentmindedly twirling the glowing horn in his right hand and holding the monkey with his left so he couldn’t reach it. Badget came and knelt before the king. “It’s late, my lord, my camels are waiting at the Fountain Gate.”

  “Then tell it quickly.” There was a note of impatience in the king’s voice, and Badget was not one to trifle with such a tone.

  “If I had not seen it with my own eyes, my lord …”

  “Yes, yes, we have heard that before. What did you see, Badget?”

  “My lord, I am just a poor merchant. I was brought before the queen because they said I had slipped by the guards without paying the usual tribute …”

  “We don’t need to hear all the details of how you saw the queen. I’m sure you would be one to slip by without paying tribute if you could. What is the flaw?”

  “My lord, she was sitting on a throne of alabaster. Her hair fell down beneath her crown like the waterfall at Ein Geddi and her hands were like small jeweled fans, but as I raised myself from kneeling, her gown lifted slightly and I saw her feet. My lord, they were hooves like a donkey’s feet. The queen has the feet of a donkey.”

  A loud gasp of astonishment went round the room, and in the confusion, Badget flung the last pack over his shoulder and disappeared.

  The palace of Bilqis, the queen of Sheba, was nestled in among Tolok trees and palms. It rose out of this greenness with its stone wal
ls and pillars whitewashed to a startling brilliance. The broad steps were of alabaster, as were its floors and rounded openings. Some called it the Alabaster Palace.

  Formal gardens filled every space within the walls that surrounded the palace. These gardens were kept constantly green by the steady flowing of water through the irrigation ditches. The same water poured out of ornate fountains and spilled over into pools cut in the hard rock. Peacocks furled their plumes as they strutted picturesquely under the trees, and tigers and panthers glowered from cages fastened into the walls.

  Inside the palace one was first impressed by the soft light pouring through the fretted openings of alabaster. It rested at various times of the day on different portions of the dusty old tapestries, gleamed from gold javelins and shields, and spilled out over worn rectangles of alabaster that formed the floors. This was made even more striking by the general darkness of the whole interior. The palace seemed to be filled with huge, unwieldy storage chests, screens, and oversized, rusted brass incense burners.

  Even the throne was enormous and ugly. It was raised off the floor by a series of tiers covered in black ebony. Tradition said that it had been carved out of alabaster at some far distant time by workmen who first worshiped the bull-shaped moon god. A bull’s head with red ruby eyes glared from its back while each armrest was the bull’s foreleg and ended in crudely carved hooves.

  In short, the palace still bore the firm imprint of the old king. It even smelled more of musk and stale beer than of the rose petals the queen had ordered strewn across the floors. Her own rooms and bed chamber were oppressive. The huge bed with its curtains, the carved chests for the royal robes, the old wooden stand with openings stuffed with documents, and the ever-present scribe’s desk took up most of the space.

  The Egyptian maid complained that she had only large baskets in which to store the queen’s cosmetics, and the collection of gold shields that had been the old king’s pride left no room for the silver mirrors that she had brought with her from Egypt.

  The one redeeming feature was the bank of latticed windows that let in the fresh breeze and opened onto a balcony shaded by some ancient vines. On this day the shutters were open, giving a lovely view of the distant mountains and the stonework of the great dam that made the greenness of this valley possible. It was a lovely sight, but it was completely wasted on the queen.

 

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