Daughter of the Nile

by Jill Eileen Smith

  I stood abruptly, shoving Abdukar to the floor. He arched his back as if in a huff, sauntered to the window ledge, and jumped up to watch the courtyard below.

  “He must have a good reason.” Akila moved behind me to straighten the pillows I had dislodged, but my restless legs would not sit again.

  “I am going to find him and make him tell me.” I was already dressed and ready for our meeting, but I glanced in the glass to make sure I looked my best.

  Akila hurried after me as I strode through the palace halls. Yet it was not Solomon whom I ended up seeking but his mother. I nearly bumped into her as I entered the court of women, where she had just come from the apartment of Abishag.

  I bowed at her approach.

  “Siti. How good it is to see you.” Solomon’s mother had a way about her that always made me feel at ease. Suddenly I realized that she could help me more with my frustration than Solomon himself, for he always ended up staying away until my irritation passed, and I usually found it impossible to gain an audience with him uninvited.

  “Thank you, my queen. May I have a moment with you?” I had learned enough of the Hebrew language in these two years to be able to converse with others besides Solomon. I glanced around, unsure where to suggest we go, as I did not want this conversation heard in a harem full of Solomon’s wives.

  “Of course,” she said, smiling. Were those new lines along her brow? “Come to my apartments. I will have Tirzah bring us cool refreshments.” She moved ahead of me, her gowns rustling with the faintest swish. Her apartments were closest to Solomon’s, whose rooms used to belong to his father.

  Bathsheba’s maid hurried to attend our needs, though I noticed the woman seemed to move slowly, a testament to her age. I looked sharply at my mother-in-law. When I first met her two years before, she had shown youth and strength in her bearing, in her gaze. She sank slowly to the cushions as if the action required more effort than it should.

  “Now, Siti,” she said as I took the seat opposite hers and accepted a cool goblet of mint water from her maid, “what can I do for you, dear girl?”

  I swallowed, surprised that the endearment touched me as it did. How did this woman manage to make Solomon’s many women feel as though they were the only one who mattered? And yet, that was how I felt in that moment.

  “I wonder if you can tell me why the king seems to always find a reason not to take me to see the building of the temple to your god. Nor has he kept his promise to my father to build a palace for me, where I can worship my goddess, Bastet, without angering your Yahweh.” I watched her brow furrow the slightest bit, and she clasped jeweled hands in her lap.

  She sipped from her cup before she spoke. I waited, watching her.

  “I do not understand why Solomon has offered to take you to the building site of our temple, Siti, but I suspect his reason for not doing so is because you are not of our heritage or our faith.” She met my gaze. “And I suspect that because the temple is such a palatial structure, he simply has not had time to divert resources or energy to your palace until the house of our God is completed.”

  I forced myself not to curl my lower lip into a pout. I was not a child, after all, but a wife of two years. “Are not the workmen of other nations? I daresay they don’t all believe in your god, my queen. Does the king fear I will somehow defile the place?” I could not keep the tinge of anger from seeping into my tone.

  Bathsheba shook her head. “No, no, my child. But perhaps he thinks you will not appreciate it for what it is. You are not a slave who is merely fulfilling a job. You are the king’s wife. I suspect he resists showing you because he fears you disdain our faith.”

  Her words sank deep, though I do not think she meant them to wound me. But it was clear to me that Solomon’s mother was privy to far more of his thoughts than I, probably more so than any wife, foreign or Hebrew, in the kingdom.

  “I do not disdain your faith, my queen,” I said slowly. “I will admit . . .” I paused, meeting her gaze. “I have often wondered if Solomon disdains mine. Perhaps this is a contention between us that will never be resolved.” I looked away, more frustrated than I was when I first sought her out. Did Solomon disdain my worship of Bastet?

  “I trust you will be patient with him, Siti,” Bathsheba said, drawing my thoughts back to her. “His father, King David, detailed elaborate plans for the temple, and so much needs yet to be done. Besides the stone and the cedar and gold, there are utensils of bronze that he has commissioned. Then there are the carvings, and everything must be done with perfection to his father’s, and our God’s, specifications.”

  “But such a project will take years.” I hated the whiny quality that had seeped into my voice. “And then he wants to build his own palace, and so many more buildings and fortifications of cities, that it will take thousands of men and more time.” I sat straighter, setting my jaw. “He owes me a palace. It was part of his agreement with my father, part of why my father allowed him to wed me.” I left out the part about the city of Gezer that had probably mattered more to Solomon than I did. To admit such a thing—that a city that had eluded capture for so long should be more important than a wife—carried the edge of pain, like a knife pricking more than skin deep.

  “Would it help if I speak to him?”

  I looked up at that, surprised by her offer. “Would it change his plans?” Despite his mother’s power, I wondered just how far that power could be wielded.

  She lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug. “I am not the one to decide these things, my daughter, but I have had a little influence over him now and then.” She ran a finger along the rim of her golden goblet. “And if he made a promise, he should keep it. I see no reason why he could not set men to begin work on your home.” She looked at me curiously, probably to see if such a thing would please me. Did it trouble her that such a promise had been made to no other wife? Not even Naamah, mother of his heir, would live in a palace all her own. But Naamah had not come to him offering him Gezer. And Egypt was a greater power than Ammon.

  “If you can persuade him, I would be in your debt,” I said, warming to the thought. While I would have preferred to have Solomon’s ear more exclusively, it made sense to hold the good opinion of his mother.

  “I will see then what can be done.” She looked for a moment as though she would stand, then settled back again among the cushions. “May I ask you to consider one thing, Siti?”

  I nodded. “Anything, my queen.”

  “Allow one of our scribes to read to you from the book of our law. Learn the ways of our God. You might find the knowledge you gain there to help you understand my son better, and perhaps you might close that gap between the two of you.” She lifted her cup to her lips but did not drink. “My son cares for you, Siti. I see it in his smile when you walk into a room. Learn to understand his faith and you will better learn to know him.”

  The faintest uneasy flutter filled me at her words. I was not so sure I wanted to hear the words of a strange god, one that Solomon considered so much better than my beloved Bastet. But I nodded to appease. “Perhaps it would also help if you could convince Solomon to try to understand my goddess as well, my lady.”

  Her eyes widened at my boldness, but I felt a bit of that old rebelliousness fill my spirit. I was not the one who should give up everything for him. I had already given up so much, including that accursed wig that set me apart as Egyptian. I even dressed in the manner of the Hebrews much of the time.

  “I suppose you have a point,” Bathsheba said at last. “Though, forgive me, Siti, but my son already possesses a great knowledge of all the foreign gods of other nations.”

  She was referring to the wisdom his god had given him. Of course he did. And still he disdained Bastet. Didn’t he?

  I pondered the thought as Akila and I made our way back to my apartments later that afternoon. It troubled me that I could not answer my own question, for I did not know Solomon nearly as well as I should after two years of marriage. But I would fi
nd out. I would ask him the next time he came to me. And I would convince him to give me a place to worship Bastet, for he did not allow it here in his father’s palace.

  And I would move out of this city to a place of my own. Sooner than he wanted, even if it meant I must send word to my father to act on my behalf if Bathsheba couldn’t convince my husband.

  In the meantime, I would listen to their law. I would listen, and I would find out why Solomon placed it in such high esteem, making his god greater than mine. And perchance I would find a way to convince him that he was wrong.

  10

  “‘Only he must not acquire many horses for himself or cause the people to return to Egypt in order to acquire many horses, since the LORD has said to you, “You shall never return that way again.” And he shall not acquire many wives for himself, lest his heart turn away, nor shall he acquire for himself excessive silver and gold.’” The scribe had droned on for too long reading from this tired parchment, but when he read these words, I sat up, not nearly as bored as I had been.

  “What did you say?” I interrupted.

  The man raised his aged head and lifted a thick white brow.

  “Please read that part again.”

  He nodded, seemingly pleased.

  I listened with a sharply attuned ear. Solomon had not obeyed this at all. I glanced at my reflection in the glass and stood, dismissing the man, though he extracted a promise from me to come again later in the week. I was too distracted to argue with him. Why had King Solomon disobeyed such commands when in everything else he seemed so devoted to his god?

  It had taken months of listening to the do’s and don’ts of many insignificant laws before the scribe had come to this one—months that had shown no change in Solomon. I had seen little of him during that time, and though Bathsheba assured me that she had spoken to him, he had yet to find time to speak of Bastet or take me to choose the right land for my palace.

  “Something has riled you, my princess. Were you disturbed by the words the scribe read today?” Akila entered from a side room where she had discreetly waited during the reading.

  I looked at her, my mind whirling. “Only that I am more confused than I was before he came.” I touched my chin, then glanced at my reflection again. “Akila, I want you to make me up in all my Egyptian finery. It is time I had an audience with Solomon, whether he wants it or not.”

  An hour later, I strode into Solomon’s audience chamber and knelt at the edges of wide blue tiles that circled the area before his gilded throne. Six white, gleaming steps, each with a single golden statue of a lion guarding the edges, stretched from where I knelt to where he sat in royal splendor.

  “Siti.”

  I lifted my head, and he beckoned me with one hand. I started forward, bowing one knee on each step, until I stood before him.

  “What are you doing here like this?” His voice was low, allowing only his ever-present guards flanking him to hear. He looked me up and down, and I saw his lips twitch as though he intended to hide a smile. “You have come to bewitch me, my love.”

  “I have come to speak with you, my lord,” I said softly. “My husband has been absent too often of late.” I offered him my most beguiling smile and swayed my hips just enough to remind him of the many dances I had performed for him.

  “Your husband needs to remedy that then,” he said, his smile broader now. He extended a hand to me, and I bent to kiss his signet ring, but he clasped my fingers, preventing my attempt. “Go to the antechamber.” He inclined his head to the right. “Wait for me there.”

  “Will I be forced to wait long, my lord? I fear my husband too often loses track of time.” I held his gaze, narrowing my own.

  He chuckled. “You toy with me, my love. A king has many obligations.” He glanced toward the side where a long line of men of Israel stood waiting for judgment. I had waltzed right past them.

  “Send them home until tomorrow,” I said, squeezing his hand. “Surely a king has power to do as he pleases.”

  He tilted his head, flicking his gaze toward the priests and scribes and hundreds of courtiers who also sat at court, waiting to hear the lesser cases or present their own issues before him. “Siti,” he said, his voice soft, almost vulnerable, “tell me you did not come simply to remind me of the things I have not yet done.”

  Guilt pricked my heart, and with it frustration that he could so easily read me. “I came because I have missed you, my lord. I came because I have questions that only you can answer.”

  He gave a slight nod. “Very well. You shall have your answers.” He released my hand and clapped. A servant appeared—his court recorder. “Send the people away, Jehoshaphat. I am finished for today.”

  He stood, taking my hand in his, and walked us out a side door, down the corridors to his private chambers, not mine. My heart beat fast as I recognized the lion’s head carved into the door, a door I had not walked through during my entire stay in Jerusalem. A guard opened it for us, and Solomon drew me into the large sitting area. He set me carefully on a cushioned chair, then removed his royal robe and crown and sank carelessly onto a plush couch near me. I noted that he did not choose to sit me beside him. Why?

  I cast the worry aside. I had gotten him this far. There was no going back now.

  “All right, my love, tell me what it is you seek, other than the palace I promised to build for you. I may not have told you, but I have had architects drawing plans for it for the past few months. We should be ready to show you preliminary designs within the next few weeks.” He folded his hands, his gaze taking in my full appearance.

  I swallowed. “Why did you not tell me? I would have liked a say in the plans.”

  One dark brow lifted. “And so you shall, my love. These are simply preliminary. Later I will take you to the place where I think it best to build.” He studied me, his look more intense than I had ever seen it. “But that is not the only reason you came to me dressed like we were back in Egypt.”

  I lowered my lashes, lest the flash of irritation be visible to this man who seemed to be reading my thoughts. “I have been listening to your scribe read the law of your god to me. I would like to understand why the king of Israel, who is so faithful to his god in building his temple, is not faithful to the law regarding kings.”

  His mouth thinned with the slightest tightening of his jaw. “If you are speaking of the law regarding horses, gold, and wives . . . yes, I am aware of it.”

  “Then why do you break it?”

  “I do not break it.”

  I stared at him. “You have done all the things the law says not to do in abundance, my lord. How is that not breaking it?”

  “The horses were gifts, and since we wed, I have fed Egypt’s coffers by allowing my men to continue to purchase them from your father. It was part of our agreement when I married you.” He stroked his beard. “As for the gold, I never asked for gold or silver from my God, yet every foreign king who comes to pay me homage or simply visit comes bearing great gifts. My wealth has not been sought, Siti. It is a gift from my God.”

  “I suppose the many wives are gifts from him too?” I couldn’t deny the kick of jealousy I felt when I thought of the women continually pouring into his harem. A harem I did not want to share—ever.

  “That law was written with good purpose—lest a king’s many wives turn his heart away from his God.” He gave me a slight smile. “That is not going to happen to me, Siti. These are political arrangements. I am wholly devoted to Yahweh, and I will not allow any woman to turn my heart away. Wisdom has taught me that would be indeed foolish.”

  “So these laws do not apply to you.” I did not want to believe he thought so, but I wanted to hear him say it.

  “Of course the laws apply to me. But I have not broken them of my own accord or for the wrong reasons. Why does this trouble you, my love? Surely you pulled me from court for more than this.”

  Was he mocking me? Suddenly all my reasons to see him seemed simple and futile. “I want to
set up a shrine to Bastet,” I said, lifting my chin with a slight show of defiance. “You have denied me these past two years, yet you are free to worship your god however you please. If I had a house of my own, I could have already made a place for her. Instead, her image remains hidden in a basket, out of sight, even outside the city gates. What if your guards look away and someone steals her? Her image is of great value and should be guarded in the king’s house. Better, her shrine should be in a room near my own. Yet you do not allow it.” I had never complained when he refused me initially, but I was weary of his changing moods, his changing plans, and my feelings of homesickness that made me long for the familiar, for Bastet.

  He studied me for too long, and I began to regret my outburst. But the words were said, and I could do nothing but wait for an answer.

  “I cannot allow you to place an idol in my father’s house.” He looked away. “My father was faithful to our God, and it would be a dishonor to his memory.”

  My heart twisted at his expression at the mention of his father. “I would not wish to dishonor your father, my lord, but you dishonor my goddess by hiding her away.”

  “If your goddess had power, Siti, she would have risen up and forced her way into this place. She would not have allowed herself to remain hidden.” He leaned forward. “Do you not see? She is not powerful. Only Yahweh has such power. And He has kept her hidden.”

  I am not sure why anger bubbled so swiftly to the surface, but his flippant answer, his assumption that only his god was worthy or powerful, sent a wave of bitterness through me. “Egypt is powerful, and we have been around much longer than Israel,” I said, wishing the words did not sound like barbs that I flung across the room. “Egypt’s gods have proven their power over and over again. Does not Ra rise from the dead every dawn? Does not the Nile inundate our land to cause it to be the richest soil on earth? Did we not capture Gezer when your country could not?” I stood, restless. “How dare you suggest that my gods are less than yours.” I walked to his window, shaking.