Queen of Sheba (16 page)

Yasmit hid a smile behind her jeweled hand. “Of that I am sure,” she said rather coyly.

“I am not just an ordinary man but a man of some means.”

“Everyone in Jerusalem knows that, my lord.” She obviously thought he was simply wanting to brag a bit.

“A man of means can afford luxuries a poor man only dreams of.”

“That’s taken for granted, my lord. It’s late. You must hurry to the bathhouse and we’ll talk more of your adventures when you return.”

Badget opened his mouth and closed it several times but found that he could say nothing more. He couldn’t just tell her about Terra and then hope to leave. He would be in for days of recrimination and harangue. It was better to get one of his friends to break the news gently while he was gone. The friend could send a messenger to Jericho when she was ready to be reasonable. He would do as she had planned now but he would not return home. He’d go back to Jericho to wait it out.

He stood up and she clapped her hands for the serving boy. “Here, take your master’s clothes to the bath and make sure everything is ready for him when he arrives.” The boy nodded and darted off down the steps to the lower courtyard. Badget hesitated a minute. The whole scene was so peaceful and pleasant. He was a man who disliked heated arguments and accusations. He couldn’t stand to look at Yasmit sitting so proud and confident knowing how furious she would be when she heard about Terra. She was one who had always had her way where men were involved and wouldn’t adjust to competition peacefully.

At the last minute he found that he couldn’t even tell her he wouldn’t be home. He’d have to leave that for one of his friends. With one brief look around at the pleasant luxuries of his home and a glance at Yasmit, he turned, went down the steps and straight out the gate heading for the bathhouse. He breathed deeply of the morning air, laughed that a rooster should still crow after sunrise, gave a beggar the piece of bread he still had in his belt, and concentrated on how he could cut the bath and business short to get back to Terra.

There were only a few men left in the bathhouse, as most of them had hurried up to the temple for morning prayer. Badget had been gone
so long he had gotten out of the habit of going to morning and evening prayers at the new temple. He resolved to start again, maybe even offer a sheep some morning to assure the health of the child Terra carried. A quick wave of fright passed over him as he remembered hearing his mother say that any child born to a woman who hadn’t been to the Mikvah the month before she conceived would be cursed. “Yes,” he muttered to himself, “I’ll offer one of my sheep each month until the child is born.” As he had hoped, he met one of his old friends just leaving the bathhouse. The man had a reputation of bringing people together, settling arguments over land and women and showing a good bit of wisdom in the process. Badget insisted on his coming with him into the large, steamy reception room. “My friend,” he said, “I need your help. You’ll be well paid.” He proceeded to tell him that he had taken a new wife and his first wife must be told. The old man understood. He had officiated in such situations quite often. “You must remind her that she is still the first wife,” Badget urged. “She will, of course, control the house and the new wife. Try to show her that this could even be quite pleasant.”

The old man said little. Perhaps that was the secret of his success. He simply kept nodding and muttering, “I know. I know. I understand.”

Finally, when Badget was sure he fully grasped just what was involved, he bade him good day and hurried on into the bath. It had occurred to him that if the old man went directly to his house Yasmit would have time to gather her relatives and accost him before he was able to leave for Jericho. Only when he rode out the southern gate and was on the road leading over Olivet to Jericho did he breathe a sigh of relief.

The reunion with Terra was all that he had imagined. The innkeeper’s wife had been kind, but Terra had spent her days on the roof watching the Jerusalem road that wound up out of the valley into the mountains. It was obvious that she had been crying a lot, and Badget was immediately attentive and solicitous.

As they went to bed Badget knew he should tell her that Yasmit still didn’t know about her, but he couldn’t endure adding to her hurt. More than that, he didn’t want to spoil this night he had been eagerly looking forward to.

Terra was soft and warm and clung to him possessively all night long. He couldn’t remember ever being so happy before. He had tried to explain
to her about the lambs he was going to offer for the child’s well-being, but she understood nothing but that he loved her. “You’ll always love me and only me?” she asked bending over him just as he was dozing off to sleep.

“Only you my little round fig,” he said pulling her to him. Gradually his arm relaxed and he was sound asleep. Terra smiled. This was a good man, as her father had said. He would keep his promise.

T
he morning finally came when the queen of Sheba’s caravan was ready to leave. Drums were beaten, silver trumpets blown, banners unfurled on the turrets as though it were a feast day, while the walls of the city were quickly lined with people wanting to see the queen’s departure. It was rumored, and most believed the rumor, that her caravan included 797 camels, plus countless asses and mules loaded with gifts.

They pointed out Tamrin with several traders who would guide the caravan across the long stretches of desert to the few cities and welcome oases. They were surprised to see Il Hamd mounted and riding with the priests who carried the star charts. But most astonishing was the sight of the queen’s cousin Rydan leading what was said to be a thousand mercenaries who would guard the queen and her treasures.

Pulling aside one of the curtains and looking back at the city Bilqis was surprised to see her people, like small ants, crowded together, motionless, lining the walls. They were still there when the caravan entered a deep gorge that cut them off from the view of the city. It had been a strange sight, and Bilqis never thought of her city without remembering that scene. The banners flying, the people curious, almost envious, and her old uncle sitting in the seat of honor at the great gate holding her scepter.

At first the queen’s caravan kept to the highlands, where it was comparatively cool. Traders habitually avoided the Red Sea coastal plain because of the terrible heat. The water of the sea looked deceptively cool, but it was always tepid and salty and the torrid air settled down over the lowland like the breath of Hades.

On the mountain stretches there were thorn, acacia, and Tolok trees for shade, while here and there were clear running streams in which they sometimes bathed and from which they were able to get additional water to fill their goatskins. It was spring. The rains had already begun and could be depended on for at least two hours of each afternoon.

Bilqis found every new phase of the trip exhilarating. She wanted to linger on the mountain passes to look out over her country, which stretched as far as the eye could see. When they camped near a village, as they often did, she yearned to be free to visit the well with the other women or see inside the houses that were sometimes of a different construction than any she had seen before. It was at the village of Saada on the northern border of her kingdom that she was the most tempted.

Here the houses were built entirely of mud, packed tight, making thick walls with large beams forming the roof or upper floor. The wall that ran around the entire village was also of thick layers of dry mud. There was even a walkway at the top, and she could see people crowded together, pushing and shoving to get a look at their queen.

She didn’t pull the curtains of the howdah, as she was inclined to do, but tried to look as dignified as possible while all the time taking in every detail of this strange town. Finally, as the ancient wooden gate in the south section of the wall swung back to let them enter, a little girl standing on the ramparts tossed flowers down to her. She was entranced.

They would be entertained that night in the house of one of the rich merchants, and she found herself looking forward to being once again inside something more permanent than a tent. The merchant was handsome and had a ready wit. He informed her that fifty sheep had been slaughtered for the feast in her honor, and twenty bakers had been summoned to bake the bread and honey cakes.

The feast was held in the walled courtyard before his house, and Bilqis was shown where she was to sit under a linen canopy. “I’ll sit upon my own throne,” she said to her host’s amazement. Without another word being said, four huge Nubians came carrying a covered object that was so heavy it had required two camels just to transport it.

When the throne was in place, she asked Najja to bring her crown and commanded one of the guards to summon the trainers with her leopards. In a remarkably short time her throne room back in Marib was reproduced in the courtyard of her astonished host. Standard bearers, guards, pages all took their places before she majestically invited her host to come sit beside her.

He was obviously impressed. With a clap and a nod he signaled his men to open the gates for the invited guests. They entered bowing and
whispering words of respect and devotion, then settled on mats placed around the wall. Excitement mounted as they waited eagerly for the jugglers and musicians who were to perform before the meal would be served.

As the evening came to an end, Bilqis was suddenly shocked to find her host looking at her in a practiced, calculating manner that made her uncomfortable. She briefly wondered if she had been foolish to enter this man’s home and put herself and her entire company at his mercy. She glanced around and saw that the lamps were now flickering and would be out if the oil was not renewed. The moon was bright and full and there was the fragrance of costly incense being burned. It was a magical night. She felt foolish to even suspect the motivation of her host.

“My queen.”

She was startled to find that he was speaking to her.

“My queen,” he said, and his voice was soft and enticing. “You are a beautiful woman. Far too beautiful, if I may be so bold to suggest, to be without a husband.”

She saw that his eyes were no longer cold and businesslike as when she had first seen him. Now they were warm with a hypnotic quality that terrified her. She tensed and ran her fingers down the leopardskin cape she wore across her shoulders. “I have no need of a husband,” she said. “I am not as other women. I have a kingdom that is husband and child, father and mother to me. I’ll never marry.”

She had expected her hauteur and crisp reply to silence him as it had others in the past, but he seemed not to notice. “My queen, I have footmen, camel boys, guides, camels, treasures beyond any of the kings that have asked for your hand. I have three beautiful wives, but I am ready to divorce them tonight if you’ll have me as your consort.”

She had become calm as his tone of voice lowered to a whisper but increased in intensity. She found it almost humorous that he should presume to think his small treasure would tempt her. She wanted to laugh. “Wealth has no appeal to me,” she said with her chin in the air and her eyes suddenly hard as chiseled stone.

“But love. What of love? I am ready to offer you such love as you can’t imagine. I’m not a man to brag, but women have been ready to die for my favor.”

“Then let them die,” she heard herself saying, “but I’ve no use for love.
I’m married to this, my throne and my crown.” She firmly patted the armrest on her throne and motioned to her pages that she was ready to retire.

“I hope you are not offended,” he said kneeling before her as she stood to leave.

Quickly she tapped him on the shoulder so that he looked up. “I have no need of love, but friends I’m ready to accept. A queen never has too many friends.”

She swept from the courtyard and followed her page up the winding stairs to some rooms that were to be hers and her maidens’. They were outfitted in a garish display of wealth. Heavy sandalwood incense rose from an assortment of brass bowls trimmed in gold and fitted into oblong niches in the thick walls. Layers of strangely decorated carpets covered the hard mud floor. The one window set in the mud wall had shutters that had once been finely carved teak but now sagged and were ill fitting. Several chests stood against the wall with their lids open to display the wild assortment of bobbles and strange weapons mixed with lengths of cloth done in curious design. Worst of all the walls had been decorated with a crude imitation of Egyptian art.

She was tired and ready for bed, but Najja stood in the doorway waiting to be recognized. She obviously had come with some message that needed attention. “What is it now Najja? I’m tired and have no time to see anyone.”

“But my queen, it is Il Hamd. He’s very upset and insists he must see you immediately.”

Bilqis took off her crown with great deliberation and stood holding it as her eyes became hard and her mouth firm. “I’ve no intention of seeing that man. He brings nothing but trouble.”

“He says it’s important. There’s some bad omen. All the camel drivers are frightened and your own tribesmen are ready to turn back.”