Queen of Sheba (15 page)

“Did she talk about gathering an army?”

“No, my lord, only about a friendly visit. You will see. The parchment will tell you everything.”

Solomon dismissed Badget and then opened the gold case and pulled out the parchment. To his surprise it was written in the square, boxlike
letters of his own language, and he could read it easily. It bore out all that Badget had said and no more. The queen of Sheba was indeed coming for a visit “to ask questions and see if all she had heard of his glory and greatness were really true.”

Solomon rolled up the scroll and pushed it into the golden case, then leaned back to think what it must all mean. It seemed obvious that this was some trick. A ruse. The queen was undoubtedly coming with her army, wanting to be the first of the coalition to attack. He had heard of such maneuvers before. A dignitary arrived as a guest with an army disguised as servants and traders and then rose up to slaughter the unaware host when he was least suspecting. “Well,” he thought, “I’m prepared. If she comes, I’ll be ready to turn any trick to her disadvantage.”

With that he tucked the golden case under one arm, called the monkey down from his perch, and waited for him to settle on his shoulder, then he summoned his guards. It was late and he was tired. Hopefully he’d get a few hours’ sleep before he had to make some important decisions. The trumpeter blew the staccato blasts that let anyone still awake in Jerusalem know that the king was finally going to his own rooms and to bed.

As he walked down the moonlit marble stairs past his pages, scribes, and councilmen, he paused for a moment in the shadow of one of the taller palms that shaded the lower part of the stairs. “I have very little doubt,” he thought, “about the purpose of this queen’s visit. I fear the worst. However, I do have a real desire to find out if it is true that she has the feet of a donkey.”

There was now nothing for Badget to do but go home. Somehow he would have to face Yasmit. He would have to tell her sooner or later that he had married another wife. Her anger would be terrible. She was an angel of light until she was offended, and then the darkest demons of hell could not equal her ability to make one suffer.

Most of his caravan was bedded down at his inn on Mount Olivet. He had ridden into the city on a camel loaded with gifts intended to appease Yasmit. He now hurried to reclaim the camel with its driver. He had left them just inside the great gate that led into the upper royal city and the temple area.

His own house, once owned by Eon the trader, stood behind a high wall with only the fronds of palm trees and the upper room visible from the street. There was a dim light burning in the one window and Badget shuddered. Yasmit’s spies had undoubtedly told her he was home and she’d be waiting for him. He wondered if they might also have told her of the woman he had left in Jericho. He sincerely hoped not.

He squared his shoulders, pulled his turbaned headpiece low on his forehead, and hurried down the marble steps to his front door. At one time when the house belonged to Eon it had been right across from the gate leading into the palace. Now Solomon had changed everything. Marble steps led to the area of the palace complex that included the pillared Hall of Judgment, Solomon’s private apartments, the palace of the queens, and that of the Egyptian princess. Beyond these rose the magnificent temple with its courts and gates opening in every direction.

In the city below his house everything was much as it had been all his life. Even the house called the House of Uriah across the open court from his own was left unchanged. Only now it housed members of the king’s guard and Badget suspected that when he was gone, Yasmit entertained various officers quite regularly. Since she always welcomed him enthusiastically and managed his house well, he had not bothered to question her.

At Badget’s bidding the camel boy knocked on the gate with his prod and in moments the small window in the door opened. There was the sound of orders given and bolts being undone before the heavy gate swung open. As usual Yasmit was nowhere in sight. “She’s probably at the window in the upper room watching to see if it is indeed her husband and if he has come with gifts or empty-handed,” Badget thought as he handed the reins to the boy and looked around the courtyard.

Everything was much as he had left it. The jars of rich-olive oil, bread wheat, and barley waiting for the right price before being brought out and sold. He was always fearful that Yasmit in a fit of ill temper would sell some of his hoard for bobbles and trinkets while he was gone. He breathed a sigh of relief. At least she had not taken revenge yet. Undoubtedly she had not heard of Terra’s existence.

There was the pleasant tinkle of bracelets and the swish of linen as Yasmit appeared in the doorway. “My lord,” she cried, as she hurried across the courtyard and graciously bent to kiss the hem of his garment.

“She has seen the camel laden with gifts for her and she is in a fine temper,” Badget concluded. “I’ll not tell her until tomorrow about Terra.”

Yasmit insisted on unlatching his sandals herself and then ordered one of the maids to bring the golden bowl reserved for visiting dignitaries to wash his feet. He watched as she herself poured the water that was comfortably warm. He noticed that it wasn’t cold as it would have been if he had really surprised her or if she had been angry.

He noticed everything as though for the first time. The deceptive, practiced sweetness of her voice when she wanted something. The heavy makeup that was artfully applied to disguise the wrinkles but only accented each line. Her eyes that squinted in the lamplight, making the kohl-darkened lids seem artificial and harsh.

With her jewelry jingling pleasantly she clutched at his sleeve and pulled him into the bed chamber. By the light of the lamp that she held in one hand he saw her plainly. “She’s old and faded,” he thought with surprise.

He had always seen her before as the temptress he had first fallen in love with when he was just one of Eon’s boys. He found himself wanting to pull away, hurry from the encounter she had obviously been planning for his homecoming. He thought he would vomit if she removed her linen robe to reveal her sagging breasts, flat belly, and boney knees. He wondered if she had changed so much in such a short time or was it that the memory of Terra, plump as a sweet fig, smooth as a melon, had spoiled his taste for such as Yasmit.

The rich rosewater perfume with which the bed had been saturated stifled him. He knew what she expected. If he lacked in ardor or attention, she would know that someone had replaced her. It was all evident to him now. This was part of a careful plan to keep him in check, to ferret out any rivals or any loss of her own power over him. With a sigh he reached for the lamp and crushed the glowing wick between his thumb and forefinger. He would try to act the part she expected of him, but he could not manage it with any light.

The next morning he lay with eyes closed, trying to remember where he was and what had happened. He heard the pigeons cooing and the familiar
call of hucksters outside the wall and slowly he began to remember everything. He was in his own bed and his own house in Jerusalem. Still with his eyes closed, he stretched and was relieved to find he was alone. Like a bad dream, all that had happened came back to him. He had succeeded in playing the part, in making Yasmit feel his ardor was as hot as ever, his yearning for her unquenched. But now he was in danger of her returning at any minute and starting the whole miserable business over again.

He leapt from the pallet and hurriedly donned his clothes, not waiting for the clean linen she surely had prepared for him. The dust billowed from his cloak as he pushed his arms through the armholes. He hoped she wouldn’t insist on his changing. That too could be a ploy in her arsenal of tricks. He had to get out of here somehow; think of some business, something that needed his attention.

She met him leaving the room and he noticed that she was indeed carrying clean linen. “My lord,” she said running her fingers down his arm in a seductive way. “I’ve ordered your servants to heat water and to alert the bathhouse that you will be there today for a few hours. Your accountants and managers for your storehouse will meet you there and conduct their business so you can be back and spend the rest of the day here with me.”

Badget was appalled. He’d gone to the bathhouse in Jericho, and that was more scrubbing than he was used to in the ordinary run of things. He had stopped at his warehouse and had even checked with the merchants that were waiting for his wares so he would be free to return to Jericho as soon as possible.

He was hungry. He told Yasmit he had time for some fresh bread and a few dates and then he must be on his way.

He noticed that she drew back and bit her lower lip while her eyes grew pinched and calculating. He hated that look. It meant she suspected something, and when that happened he was in for a long harangue. He turned from her and strode out to the courtyard, where an old woman was squatting over an inverted clay bowl that was cleverly placed over some glowing coals so that bread could be baked on the top.

“Welcome, welcome home. The bread is here in the basket waiting for you.” She pushed the basket out with her foot and continued to throw the soft dough back and forth from one hand to the other until it was large
and round ready to fit over the clay dome.

Badget loved this bread that the old woman made fresh every morning. He snatched up a few rounds and tucked them under his arm. “Now all I need is some goat cheese and a flask of my best wine.” Though he seemed to speak this out into the air, it was only minutes before three servants came bringing just what he had ordered. He started to sit down on some cushions under the palm tree but just at that moment he saw that Yasmit was still standing in the doorway holding the clean linen with the questioning look on her face.

“My lord, I had planned a lovely time alone with you on the roof. I wasn’t going to send you off without something to eat.” Her voice was sweet, and yet there was something about the way she watched him that still made him feel uncomfortable.

He shrugged and smiled. This was always his best defense with difficult customers. It was obvious he couldn’t tell her about Terra here in front of all the servants. He would go with her to the roof and there he would tell her.

Badget loved food, and on the long caravan trips he felt deprived. Now he was determined to enjoy the bounty of his own house before he told Yasmit anything. He had almost forgotten how perfectly Yasmit managed everything. She had a way of getting the best and though she undoubtedly paid dearly for it, still Badget knew he often ate better than the king himself.

He lingered over the last of the dried fish and gulped down more wine as he tried to think of a way to break the news. It was going to be more difficult than he had imagined and finally he knew there was no easy way. He would just have to blurt it out and prepare for the storm that would follow. Even Yasmit couldn’t stay angry forever. Surely she knew that sooner or later this would happen. Most of the other men of equal means had already taken several more wives.

He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and leaned back in the cushions. He noticed that Yasmit was impatiently running her fingers over the clean linen she still held in her lap. He knew she was anxious as always for him to finish and get on with her plans for the day. “Yasmit,” he said, looking
out over her head at the green, ripening grapes on the vine that covered this part of the roof, “I’m a man and …”