by Marc Graham
“When Tadua approached my city, I mocked him. I boasted even the blind and lame could guard these walls from the likes of him.” The old man raised a crooked hand and gestured toward his milky eye. “Such was the cost of my pride.”
“You are still high priest,” Rahab said. “Surely the gods still smile upon you.”
“We will see whether my position is blessing or curse as the cult of Yah grows stronger. The gods desire service, not sacrifice. They require justice and right-doing toward one another, not the blood of animals and blind obedience to law.”
“But it is the law that tells us how to treat one another,” Rahab objected.
“Do you need the law to tell you to respect your elders?” the priest demanded, his voice sharp. “To honor the marriage bed? Is it the law that keeps a man from killing another or from taking his property?”
Gad placed a hand on the old man’s shoulder. Abdi-Havah smiled sheepishly and waved his hand before his face, as though to dispel the air of contention.
“Forgive me, child. You gave no cause for me to speak so harshly. Quite simply, the gods have written the true law upon the hearts of man. They whisper it in the ear of all who would listen. The more laws we make, the greater the clamor and confusion. It will not be long before the din is so great that divine law will be drowned out and only the laws of man will remain.”
“But if just and holy men make the laws … ”
The priest smiled, though sadness clouded his eyes. “Should such a wonder ever occur, I am sure the gods will be happy to rest their voices.”
Silence settled atop Mount Morhavah. A slight breeze whispered through the leaves of the olive trees. Bilkis cocked her head as she tried to pick out Havah’s voice, but the goddess seemed to have nothing to say.
“If Tadua is so strong,” she finally asked the old man, “why did he flee? Why not stay in the city, fight from behind its walls?”
Abdi-Havah flashed a look toward Gad, shrugged, and offered a small grin, his good eye sparkling.
Bilkis clasped her hands and leaned forward.
“What did you do?”
“Tadua is a brigand and a war-chief, as well as a charmer and schemer. For more than thirty years he has coerced, cajoled, and extorted his way to power undreamed of. But with that power comes guilt. He is forever seeking the pardon and the will of the gods. Whosoever might give voice to the Old Ones will find a ready ear with Tadua.”
Bilkis studied the servant Gad, unremarkable save for a striking plainness. “He speaks for the gods?” she asked.
“He is their most favored vessel,” Abdi-Havah said with a grin. “Should he tell Tadua to fight, the king would scarcely take time to arm himself. Should he advise him to flee—”
“He would quit his city without so much as taking his wives,” Bilkis finished.
A shrug.
Bilkis smiled at the wily old priest and accepted a cup from Gad. She raised the wine to her lips, but her hand faltered as her stomach turned sour. She pressed her free hand against her belly and swallowed back the saliva that flooded her mouth.
“Are you unwell, my lady?” Gad asked as Rahab knelt by Bilkis.
“Sister, what is it?”
Abdi-Havah locked his black, all-seeing eye on Bilkis and she shrank back. The old man’s gaze softened and he gave an almost imperceptible nod.
“Gad,” he said, his voice soft, “go to my storeroom and prepare a bit of ginger root for the queen. You know the recipe?” The young man nodded. “Take Lady Rahab with you. It may take two pairs of eyes to find all the ingredients.”
“I know where—”
Abdi-Havah cut off the objection with a sharp flash of his eyes.
“Yes, Lord. My lady?”
“Go on, child,” the priest said gently. “Gad will show you how to prepare the tonic. Your mistress may have need of it in the future.”
Rahab looked at Bilkis, her eyes wide with concern. Bilkis smiled and nodded.
Abdi-Havah waited until the pair disappeared through a curtained doorway. “How long?” he demanded as he moved to sit beside her.
Bilkis’s eyes burned as her vision blurred with tears. She tried to speak but a sob clutched at her throat.
“Hush, child.” The old man gently squeezed her hands. “How long?”
The Queen of Yisrael drew a pair of stuttering breaths and blinked away her tears.
“My moon flow should have begun ten days ago.”
“Has it ever been delayed before?”
“Yes, but … This is no delay. I carry Auriyah’s seed.”
The priest’s expression darkened. “I miscalculated my grandson. I had hoped he would serve the gods, serve the people, but he has proven himself a slave to his passions and a tool of his councillors. He has turned the nuptial couch into an abomination. Forgive me, my dear,” he added with a pat of Bilkis’s hands. “I do not mean to offend. He is still your husband.”
“What you say is true. He can be noble and generous.” Her thoughts flew to the night following their acclamation, and her cheeks grew warm. “But a king ought first to govern himself. Whether by cup or cock or council, Auriyah will ever be ruled from without. But what can be done? He is king.”
Abdi-Havah shrugged. “As was Tadua. As was Labaya before him. As was I in this city before either of them.”
“You would choose another?” Bilkis said, and her heart turned as sour as her stomach. She had been queen not yet a fortnight and was unwilling to relinquish her throne.
The priest rose and strode to the parapet overlooking the valley. “Tadua has many sons, born to the daughters of all the tribes of Yisrael, not to mention the neighboring kingdoms. Sadly, Auriyah was the best among them. It is a cruel trick of the gods that a nation’s finest example should be so sorry a man. There will be no new king, but neither must Auriyah continue to reign.” He spun back toward Bilkis and pointed a long, gnarled finger at her. “And neither must his heir be permitted to draw breath.”
Bilkis’s gut tightened and her hands moved to her belly. The thought of some crone’s stick rooting out her husband’s seed made her stomach churn again.
Abdi-Havah sat beside her and took her hands. “Fear not. There is a way to rid Urusalim of this king and for you and your child to be safe. Now, here is what you will do.”
20
Bilkis
Bilkis stood on the roof of her chambers. The servants had long since removed the pavilion and cleansed the defilement Auriyah had wrought here with his father’s wives. They could not, however, remove the humiliation with which he’d stained her, the new queen supplanted by her husband’s stepmothers.
She crossed her arms and clenched her teeth against the nausea that squeezed her belly. Abdi-Havah had laid out her course of action, but as the time neared, doubt muddled her reason. With a deep breath, she forced calm upon her heart, then followed the cedar-lined corridors to Auriyah’s chambers.
“Stand aside,” Bilkis ordered the Hatti guards who stood outside the doors.
“The king is not to be disturbed,” one of them said.
“A rider approaches from the east,” Bilkis said, “bearing the standard of Ayub. You will meet him at the gate and bring him to the king.”
She ignored the guards’ protests and pushed through the wooden doors. Thus far, Abdi-Havah’s scheme had worked. In private meetings with Abiattar and Ayub, priest and warrior had each confessed a lingering affection for old King Tadua and dissatisfaction with Auriyah.
“If Tadua could sire a proper whelp,” Ayub had declared, “he’d have my love and my sword. But his lawful sons are greater bastards than his bastards. And Auriyah is the greatest bastard of all.”
“What if Tadua had another son?” Abdi-Havah said. “A lawful son, one who could be raised and trained to become the king that Tadua should have been?”
When the old priest had finished laying out his plan, the three conspirators exchanged sandals, and all was done. Abiattar returned to the king’s coun
cil hall, and the next day Ayub had led the host of Yisrael to find the exiled king.
Now it was time for Bilkis to play her part. As the thick wooden doors swung open, feminine laughter pricked at her ears. When the doors banged against their stops, giggles turned to squeals. Auriyah’s youngest brides—a red-headed beauty from Hattusa and a yellow-haired goddess from the island empire of Alassiya—scrambled to cover themselves.
“Get out,” Bilkis commanded in a calm voice.
“Ah, my queen,” Auriyah said, looking up from between the legs of the Alassiyan. “Have you come to join us?”
“Your queen does not wallow in filth. I have come to remind you that you are the King of Yisrael, not a whoremonger. A rider comes under Ayub’s banner. If you would remain King, I suggest you greet him.”
“Nonsense.” Auriyah reached one hand toward a jar of wine while the other remained busy beneath the sheets. “Abiattar can deal with any dispatches. If my judgment is required, the Council will summon me.”
“The Council has fled the palace.”
Bilkis’s words fell hard upon the cedar floor. Auriyah over-tipped the jar and spilled the wine on himself.
“What are you saying?” he demanded, ignoring the blood-red stain on his chest.
“I mean the king has no adviser but his queen,” Bilkis said coolly. “Unless you count these children.”
The young queens were of an age with Bilkis, and probably knew more of palace life and court intrigue than she, but those points did not merit mentioning. Nor did anyone seem willing to contradict her.
“Go,” Auriyah said to his bedmates. “Get out,” he shouted when they were slow to move.
He shoved the Hatti away and kicked the Alassiyan onto the floor. The girls tugged at sheets to cover themselves then ran from the chamber, simpering and huddling together as they went.
Auriyah rose from the bed, wrapped a woolen kilt about his waist and strapped on his sword belt.
“A messenger of General Ayub, my king,” one of the guards announced.
“Send him in,” Bilkis said before Auriyah could respond.
The rider entered, road-worn and breathless. His tunic was soaked with sweat and clotted with dust. He dropped to his knees then stretched out on the floor toward Auriyah.
“May the king live forever,” he rasped.
“Rise,” Auriyah said, his voice tremulous. “Speak.”
“The word of Ayub, servant of the king, Prince of Yehuda, Captain of the Host—”
“I know who he is,” Auriyah shouted. “What is his message?”
The rider shuddered as he took a deep breath and swallowed. “The army is lost. The forces of Tadua have taken the field at Machneh and crossed the fords of the Yarden. Even now they march on Urus—”
He almost finished the last word.
At mention of the defeat, Auriyah stalked toward the man, drawing his sword as he went. The messenger hastened his words when the king’s blade hissed from its scabbard. His voice rose in pitch as Auriyah raised the sword over his head. The final words were a scream as the blade sliced through the man’s neck and across his chest.
Bilkis ignored the blood that fountained from the man’s wounds as Auriyah continued to hack at the corpse. She laid a hand on her husband’s shoulder.
“Come. We must leave the palace.”
With a feral cry, Auriyah plunged his sword into the man’s chest. The blade sank into the wooden floor and the enraged king had to use both hands to pry it free.
“Find Manapa,” he shouted at the guards, referring to the chief of his Hatti warriors. “Tell him to secure the palace gate.”
“My lord sent Manapa to lead his warriors against my lord’s father,” one of the guards replied.
“Then you do it,” Auriyah screamed, and flung his sword at the man. It bounced off the doorpost and clattered to the floor. “Bring what food and wine you can from the upper city, then seal the gates. No one enters the palace.”
“Yes, Lord,” the men said, already backing out of the king’s presence.
“We cannot stay here,” Bilkis said, her voice calm.
“We have food and wine and water.” Auriyah paced as he spoke, his words soft as though he spoke to himself. “The gate. The gate is the only way in. Protect the gate, keep the palace.”
“My lord. Husband.” Bilkis stepped in front of Auriyah and placed her hands on his cheeks. “You heard the message of your war chief. The army is lost. Tadua comes.”
“We are safe in the palace,” Auriyah protested, his voice like a child’s.
“Tadua took this city, took this palace once before,” Bilkis reminded him. “And with fewer men than he now commands. We must flee while we can. Come.”
She held out her hand to the king, but he shook his head.
“Come,” she repeated, her voice firmer.
Auriyah’s eyes were pleading now, but his shoulders drooped and he took Bilkis’s hand. She led him to the door, stooping to take up his sword as they passed. The corridor lay empty, though panicked shouts sounded from deeper in the palace.
“Where are we going?” Auriyah asked when Bilkis led him into her quarters. “There is not time for this.”
Bilkis said nothing, but led him to one corner of the room. With her toe she pressed against a section of wooden trim Abdi-Havah had revealed to her.
“What is this?” the King demanded as a hidden door sprang open. “How do you know of this?”
“I caught one of my serving girls returning from a tryst with her lover.” Bilkis took a lamp from beside her bed and entered the passageway. “The tunnel leads beyond the wall, to the slope above the Gihon Spring.”
She took a few steps into the tunnel then turned around when Auriyah held back.
“Brave husband,” she said, and offered Auriyah a sad smile. “Will you stay to defend your crown? Then I will stay as well. Let it not be said that Auriyah and his queen fled like mice into the walls. Rather, let songs be sung of how we chose death over shame.”
Auriyah’s wine-blotched cheeks went pale. “Let them sing what they want,” he said, and grabbed the lamp from Bilkis. He pushed past her and led the way through the tunnel.
Bilkis closed the hidden door and followed him.
The lamplight reached a few paces ahead of Auriyah’s long stride. Bilkis had traversed the tunnel twice before, led by Gad to the exit and back. She’d been safe in his company and hadn’t noticed the spiders and bats and droppings that fouled her path as she followed Auriyah’s shadow.
“Which way?” Auriyah asked when they reached a fork in the path. His voice echoed from the rough stone walls and surrounded Bilkis, crushing her with the pressure of his demand as his body had so often done before.
Bilkis clenched her hand about the hilt of the sword. Her heart settled its rhythm. She took a deep breath and found her voice. “That way,” she said, and pointed along the left-hand path.
The sword’s hilt pulsed in her hand, as with a heartbeat all its own. It seemed to Bilkis the blade shone with inner light as Auriyah raised his lamp and continued upon the path.
Before long the darkness within the tunnel began to fade. The walls and floor became visible outside the lamp’s glow. The king hurried his pace, and when daylight finally burst upon the cave, he ran toward the opening in the hillside.
Bilkis raced after him. She did not stop when he reached the tunnel’s mouth. She did not stop when he braced himself against the cave wall and peered down what she knew was a sheer drop. Only when she was three paces behind him did she slow. Only when the sword’s tip met the small of his back did she stop.
“What are you doing, woman?” Auriyah said, a growl in his throat.
“You will shame me no more,” Bilkis vowed. “You will—”
Auriyah spun about with the speed of a serpent. He grasped the blade, wrenching it in Bilkis’s hand. She wrapped the other about the pommel to secure her hold. Blood pooled between Auriyah’s fingers as he tightened his grip and p
ulled Bilkis off balance. Instinct told her to pull back lest they both go over the edge. Instead, she ran forward. The king’s eyes flashed with rage as, with a cry of fury, Bilkis drove him back. When his body teetered over the precipice, she released her grip and Auriyah plunged from view.
With the sword went her strength. She fell to her knees beside a pile of stones that, until two days earlier, had blocked the cave’s mouth. Her stomach heaved, but the bitterness could not overcome the sweet taste of victory.
“You faithless bitch.”
The words rose feebly to her ears, and the bile grew stronger on her tongue. Bilkis crawled to the cave’s mouth and peered over the edge. The hillside dropped sharply away but grew shallower as it neared the valley floor where thickets huddled around Tsion’s base.
Auriyah sprawled amid the bramble. Blood streaked his chest and legs from the slash of thorns. Twigs snagged his unkempt hair, but he seemed otherwise unharmed.
“When I get my hands on you,” he hissed, his voice filled with venom, “I’ll run my sword from your cunny to your gullet.” He fought against the bramble’s grasp, his thrashing slowed by the clutch upon his hair. Bilkis tried to stand, but her strength betrayed her. She rose only to fall again, her hand landing hard upon the pile of stone. Of its own volition, her fist closed about a small rock. Her other hand pulled her to the tunnel’s mouth. Before she could form a thought, she watched the rock fall toward her husband. It plunged through the brush two hand-breadths from Auriyah’s head.
A smile spread across the king’s lips.
“I shall plow your every furrow,” he called up to her. “You will know my wrath throughout your entire body. When I’ve finished with you, I’ll give you to my men for a whore. And when you beg me to let you die—”
Another stone fell through the air and crushed the words from Auriyah’s chest. Bilkis’s scream flooded her ears as she cast down a third. That one missed, but a fourth struck the king in the middle of his kilt. The fifth, a rock about the size of a bread loaf, took him full in the face.
Auriyah’s struggles stopped then, but Bilkis continued to hurl stone after stone until her attack reduced the bed of thickets to stubble. The king’s battered body fell through the hole in the bramble, but his flowing locks remained caught in their snare. Like a rabbit from a hunter’s staff, the King of Yisrael hung suspended over the Valley of Kederon.
