With a bang she closed the shuttered doors and leaned against them. Only one lamp burned beside her couch. The corners of the room were dark, but through the open door came rays of light and the soft murmuring of her women. Her hands moved to clutch the jeweled scabbard of the short sword hanging from her girdle. It was made of iron, and the Jinn could not touch her as long as she wore it.
She had ordered a double watch at the dam and the priests would offer sacrifices and pray all night. The golden bull would stand in the midst of the temple and frighten away the evil spirits. “Najja,” she called and immediately heard one of the outer doors slam.
“Tomorrow the high priest will come for his answer,” she thought. “He wouldn’t press me so if it weren’t important. I must decide. There’s no one who can help me. I must decide what I’ll do. Surely it is only the Jinn and Afreet that would harm me, and Ilumquh can protect me from both.”
Bilqis slept poorly that night. She had experienced two frightening nightmares in which the great dam that supplied all the water for her city had burst. Dreams were often prophetic, and she could not afford to ignore a dream that could spell such disaster to her whole kingdom. Long before morning, she was up getting ready to ride out and inspect it for herself.
The High Priest and her tribesmen would all expect her to be at the temple to chant and fast, encouraging the moon to rise again by their sacrifice and prayers. However, that was just where she didn’t want to be.
The High Priest had said he would expect an answer today in regard to her marriage, and she hadn’t decided yet just what she would do. She felt cornered, trapped. There were no choices she could accept and yet she knew the pressure would mount until she made some decision. She needed to get away, escape, if only for an hour.
The ride to the dam was out across the fertile valley and far enough to require riding in the regal howdah on the back of a camel. She liked that. In the howdah she was alone and could think without interruption.
Once on the way to the dam, she settled back into the cushions and breathed a sigh of relief. No one but her guards and a few of her servants knew she was going.
Of course they would miss her at the ceremonies. If it seemed necessary she could tell them about the dream. No one questioned the importance of the dam.
Before the dam was built, this valley was always subject to drought. There were stories almost hard to believe of the people’s dependence on Ilumquh for every drop of water and even the food they ate. By their cunning her ancestors had built the dam and foiled the gods. She liked to think that in the same way she would triumph over this king who had set out to change the trade route.
This was her favorite hour of the day and her preferred way to travel. She loved to hear the jangling of the camel’s bells and the creaking of leather against leather as the howdah shifted and settled on its base. The gentle swaying motion gave her a feeling of peace, and she could enjoy the fresh breeze that blew through the fragile curtains of the howdah.
Behind her towered the jagged, rose-colored mountains that led off to the ancient city of Sana while before her were the familiar humped mountains of Balak Al-Kibli and Balak Al-Ausat between which stretched the dam. It had at first been just a huge bank of earth eighteen hundred feet long. Later one of her ancestors had made it more secure by facing the upstream side with stones set in mortar. Spillways and sluice gates for irrigation had been out into the sides of the mountains long before the dam was built.
The water was channeled out into what was known as the North Garden and the South Garden. She wondered briefly where the plot of land owned by the boy and his mother had been. How strange of Badget to say that Solomon would have ruled in favor of the boy.
The more information she gathered about Solomon, the more she found herself disliking him, but on the other hand, the more interested she became. He seemed to have an insatiable desire for women. Seven hundred wives was more than any other king or pharaoh boasted.
His palace was supposed to be splendid and his gardens magnificent. Kings gave him their daughters to wed and even Pharaoh thought him important enough to marry his own sister. More surprising was the fact that Pharaoh had sent his army up to take the town of Gezer so that he could give it to Solomon as his sister’s dowry.
No one said much about how Solomon actually looked. He was undoubtedly short and fat with a large semitic nose and puffy cheeks. Otherwise why would they talk all the time about his wealth, his wisdom, and his many wives but nothing really personal about him. “Solomon” meant “peace” and she had been told he loved peace. She had never heard of his fighting a war. He seemed more inclined to marry the enemy than fight him. She had to smile. If she were a man, that would also be her choice.
She was surprised to find that they had reached the dam so soon. She insisted on getting down and walking out on the rampart above the sluice gates. She loved this view from the dam with the early sunrise lighting the whole fertile valley below her. There were those who acclaimed the dam a feat as miraculous as the pyramids in Egypt. When anyone asked her how it had been built, she always told them it was the work of the Jinn and magic.
For just a short time she stood looking down at the valley. She loved this green oasis with its palms and fig trees bordered by hundreds of small irrigation ditches that circled off the Dahana River. Because of the dam, the river flowed all year and kept her valley green.
Down below her in the midst of her city she could see the great oval temple of Ilumquh, sometimes called the place of meeting, sitting like an open jewel box in the midst of oleanders and small bursts of bright flowers. Her eyes followed the royal avenue lined with palms up to the wall that almost surrounded her palace. From here the palace with its whitewashed walls and tall pillars marking the entrance hall seemed small and of little consequence.
She sighed. She supposed she had been wrong to make so few changes. Everything was old and familiar but dusty and worn. It was still a man’s palace with a man’s rougher tastes. Even her own rooms contained the furnishings her father had chosen.
She noticed the market was now almost deserted and the huddled houses of her loyal subjects seemed lifeless and empty. Almost everyone was at the temple. In a few moments everything would change. The people would pour back into the market and the eight gates of the city would be opened for traders. The traders all came from the south and the west or even the north but almost never from the east. To the east lay the great empty quarter and the dam that proved a discouragement to caravans.
For one moment she felt free and invincible. She was the leopard goddess of Sheba and no one, not even the High Priest, dared dictate to her. Then suddenly the troubling matter of her marriage became oppressive as she realized that her uncle and cousin with all the tribesmen were undoubtedly back at the palace waiting for her answer. If she didn’t agree willingly, they would manage to force her with omens, predictions, and foretellings that frightened the people. She was not as free and invincible as she had liked to believe and her time was short.
There was always the fearful alternative, marriage to the god Ilumquh. She could not imagine what that would mean, but suddenly it seemed a fair alternative. It would be only for a night. Marriage to her cousin would never end. She shivered thinking of it.
The sun was now high in the sky, and its warm arms were reaching out to every living thing. Dhat Hamym was the sun’s name. She was the lovely consort to the moon god, but they never seemed to meet. She wondered briefly if Dhat Hamym would be jealous to find Ilumquh had taken a human wife.
She raised her arms to Dhat Hamym and then bowed down before her. “Please don’t be jealous if the leopard goddess of Sheba chooses Ilumquh rather than a mortal.”
There was no answer. Dhat Hamym neither hid her shining face behind a cloud nor frowned. Instead there was the encouraging warmth of her rays. Bilqis waited, but there was no change and finally she said, “I’ll choose the god Ilumquh. It’s better I surrender to a god than to a man who will try to ta
ke my throne.”
She motioned to her Nubian eunuchs and immediately the howdah was brought and she was helped into it. She was not happy about her decision, but she was determined to end the frustration and this seemed to be the only way.
Back at the palace she was told the High Priest was waiting for her in her private reception room. She turned toward her own rooms. “Let him wait,” she said to the astonishment of those standing nearby. “It’s he that is doing the fishing, not me.”
“Bring the Egyptian,” she ordered as she entered her rooms, snatched up a brass mirror, and sank down onto an ebony stool.
The Egyptian came and with her all the women of the bed chamber. They had heard that the High Priest was waiting, and they were curious to see what Bilqis would do. “I will go to the priest in mourning wearing no makeup and no jewelry,” she said.
There was a gasp of astonishment that Bilqis enjoyed thoroughly. She tossed her head and glanced at them pleased to see that they were all cringing in awe of her.
When she finally appeared in the reception room, she was composed and sure of herself. She noticed with satisfaction that the High Priest could hardly recognize her. She saw his eyes travel over the black robes she wore and then linger on the lovely crown of Sheba. Again and again his eyes returned to her face, which was painted with the chalk white of mourning and to the veil that covered the lower part of her face leaving only her eyes free. This veil was worn usually when talking with foreigners or dignitaries of another tribe, and it was now meant as a quiet affront to the High Priest and her own tribesmen.
He, for his part, was dressed in his most ornate robes, and his long fingers were covered with rings. She noticed this because he kept fingering the fur trim on his robe and pulling at his short beard. His priestly turban sat well down on his forehead, making his nose seem enormous and his eyes protrude.
He was surrounded by dignitaries. Among them she immediately recognized her own chief counselor, her uncle, and her cousin Rydan, the young man they all wanted her to marry. She noticed that Rydan stood with his chin jutting out and a look of injured defiance about him. It was obvious they expected her to agree to marry him, and he was ready to accept her.
For a moment she stood with her head thrown back looking at the High Priest and he returned her gaze with an almost imperceptible smirk. There was no doubt that all of them had come to see how she would take defeat. They wanted to see her forced to choose the cousin she had rejected, and even the High Priest she had viewed as a friend was defiantly gloating over his power.
The High Priest raised both hands above his head and clapped for the scribes, who came running with their reeds, inks, and parchment. “We have the papers all drawn up your highness,” he said, as he bowed slightly and picked up one of the parchment rolls. “We need only the royal seal here.” The High Priest was pointing with one finger at a space near the bottom.
Bilqis looked down at the parchment and noticed only that the High Priest wore a ring on his finger fashioned like a snake with the eyes made of small red rubies. She was standing close enough to smell the heavy odor of stale incense that she always associated with the house of Ilumquh. She looked up into those intense, protruding eyes and realized he had not a doubt in the world that she would stamp the parchment with her seal and marry her cousin.
With one quick movement she reached out and snatched the parchment from the High Priest, then quickly rolling it into its original cylinder, dropped it into the scribe’s lap. “We’ll not need that,” she said. “I’ve decided against it. For many reasons it isn’t wise.”
At first there was a shocked silence and then an uproar. Everyone tried to talk at once. The High Priest finally raised his hands again and clapped for attention. “But the stars and the goat’s liver all agree. It is dangerous to go against such signs.”
“I’ve no intention of going against such signs or of bringing needless hardship on my people.” She paused for a moment to enjoy their look of puzzlement. They were obviously taken aback. Her uncle had wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve and her cousin no longer had the bored look on his face. Instead he had crossed his arms and lowered his head so that he looked at her through mere slits.
“I’ve decided to become the bride of Ilumquh.”
She stepped back and watched their mouths drop open with surprise, and then a look of awe took its place as one by one they fell to their knees. Most of them were afraid of Ilumquh. To them he was the raging bull with bloodshot eyes, pawing the earth and snorting fire. None of them would dare go near his pillared dwelling place. It was all they could do to stand in the oval of the great assembly and observe the offerings and sometimes add to the chanting.
It was obvious they could hardly imagine a frail woman like their queen being strong enough and fearless enough to invite an encounter with the god. What would happen they couldn’t imagine. She could lose her mind or be burned by his brightness.
Only the High Priest remained standing and showed no emotion. “The decision has been made,” he said in sonorous tones. “At the height of Ilumquh’s strength during the full moon, the queen will come to his pavilion. Let her make every preparation for her meeting with the great and terrible Ilumquh.” With that he turned and walked from the room.
Bilqis had enjoyed the whole episode. Seeing the High Priest’s puzzlement at her dress and then his sureness that she would stamp the parchment with her seal was exciting, but not half as exciting as seeing the horror and awe on her uncle’s face when she had said she would marry the god Ilumquh. And her cousin, he had looked bored and impatient when she entered the room, but he had been one of the first to fall on his knees.
She didn’t wait for them to recover their senses and rise, but lifted her skirt and hurried from the room with all of her women following behind. She had proposed something more daring than the bravest men of Sheba even imagined. There was no turning back now; she would have to go through with the venture.
Solomon had spent the hours after the early morning sacrifice sitting on the throne that projected from the eastern wall of the temple area out into the court of the women. The throne was originally built so he could watch the construction of first the temple and then his own house. It was a pleasant place with pigeons fluttering down to strut about on the pavement or settle on the king’s arm. He loved the openness and had been known to summon a pet raven by a simple gesture.
Now it was rumored that he came here to be closer to his people and deal with disputes more casually than was possible in the great judgment hall.
He had just settled the last case for the morning when one of the pages came pushing his way through the crowd and fell at his feet.
“My lord, your servant the builder Jeroboam must speak with you.”
“He knows where I am,” Solomon said impatiently. “Why has he not come himself instead of sending this … this message?”
“There is trouble at the house of the Egyptian princess, my lord. He dares not leave.”
“He is asking me to come to him?”
“There is trouble, my lord. It’s the princess.”
“And what does my builder have to do with the princess, my queen?”
“I don’t know, my lord.”
A look of frustration and then anger crossed Solomon’s face. They all knew he dared not ignore any hint of trouble that involved the Egyptian princess. Though he had built a beautiful, small palace for her next to his own and had indulged her every whim, there always seemed to be some unfortunate problem involving this beautiful woman.
First there had been the difficulty of her dress. The people of Jerusalem made a show of hiding their faces when she appeared with her scanty robes that left one breast bare. “Harlot! An Egyptian harlot!” they whispered at first and then shouted as they threw stones or spit whenever they passed her house.
Then there had been the shrine for her cat god, Bastet. She’d had it built beside the steps that led up to Solomon’s new temple. To make
matters worse, she had insisted on bringing fifty priests to chant and sing, rattle sistrums, and beat drums just at sunrise when the men of Israel were gathered in the temple courtyard for the morning sacrifice.
Finally, when it was realized that her priests and she herself faced the rising sun greeting it as a god, while the priests and men of Israel stood with their backs to the sun facing the Lord Jehovah’s sanctuary, there was almost a riot.
Solomon had been able to settle most of the disputes amicably. He loved this princess, with her dark twined hair and long fringed lashes framing the cool blue eyes that were so alien to her dark skin. He could refuse her nothing and took her side against all criticism.
“She’s a spy for her brother Shishak,” his brother Nathan had told him more than once. But he waved him aside impatiently. He found her both distracting and charming. He could not bring himself to believe she did not love him devotedly.
Now as he neared her small but exquisite palace he could hear screaming and crying as though not only the princess but all of her priests and servants were terribly upset. He quickened his pace. With such an uproar the princess herself must have somehow been hurt.
He hurried down the marble steps with his counselors, scribes, and pages following behind, all trying to keep up. Never had they seen Solomon so upset nor had they seen him throw aside his kingly dignity so easily. “He loves her more than all the others,” they concluded.
He found Jeroboam, his tall, handsome foreman waiting in the doorway. “My lord, I thought I should warn you. A terrible thing has happened.”
“Not the princess!” Solomon’s eyes were dark and questioning.
“No, no, not the princess. It’s the cat. Her sacred cat. The cat she and all her people worship as a god.”
“I know, I know, but what has that to do with the princess?”
Queen of Sheba Page 4
