Queen of Sheba (27 page)

No one spoke, but Tipti ducked her head and looked out from under her long lashes at Naamah and laughed. Naamah, feeling uncomfortable but sure of victory, tossed her head in the air and turned so the Egyptian couldn’t see her face. All the time she was rubbing the evil stone and thinking dark thoughts that would poison Tipti if the charm really worked.

The young girl returned with a reed basket and handed it to the Egyptian.

“See,” said Tipti pulling the pieces from the basket. “See, these are the ten tribes Jeroboam will rule. It has been prophesied.”

“You lie.” Naamah shouted as she tried to grab the pieces from Tipti. “You lie, no priest would tear his own robe.”

Tipti laughed a harsh, bitter laugh. “He did. He prophesied that Jeroboam would rule ten tribes.”

“Never, never, never.” Naamah shouted as she tried to tear the pieces from the Egyptian’s hands. “He’ll never rule even one tribe. He’s not of the house of David. It’s impossible!”

Tipti held the pieces high over her head and called for the guards to take Naamah to the door.

With one lunge Naamah missed the pieces but grasped the elegant black wig of the princess and pulled. The wig came off in her hand and the Egyptian stood with her head bare and shaved as befitted a princess of Egypt. “You ugly little snake,” Tipti cried as she charged after the quickly disappearing queen. “I’ll have you flogged for this, this insult to Egypt!”

Naamah turned at the door. “A queen, a queen of Israel you will have flogged?” Her laughter, high and bitter, rang after her down the hall as she retreated to her waiting palanquin.

Tipti turned just in time to see her maidens stifling a laugh. “Anyone who laughs will be punished,” she said. “Now go and bring me a new wig.” She pointed to one of the older maidens who went hurrying from the room. Tipti walked with all the dignity of a pharaoh back to her throne and sat down as though nothing had happened. “I’ll see that the queen from Rabbath Amman learns a lesson,” she said loudly enough for those nearby to hear her.

On reaching the harem, Naamah went straight through her rooms to the small, intimate courtyard. She was furious. She had not thought the Egyptian would dare be so bold as to mention Jeroboam. To think that she had also claimed this upstart had credentials from the priest at Shiloh was the final indignity. She paced the floor wringing her hands and muttering beneath her breath curses and threats. “I’ll ruin that woman,” she said. “I’ll make the name of Jeroboam so distasteful the king will have him killed and will banish her.”

Of course she would have to tell Solomon. This time he would listen. This was no game of jackals and hounds. It was deadly serious. She stopped and let the ecstasy of sure revenge sweep over her. Here at last within her grasp was the weapon that would finally unseat the Egyptian in Solomon’s heart. Moloch had given her the victory she had bought from him with the jewels.

It wouldn’t be easy to get to see Solomon. He no longer would answer her summons no matter how urgent, and his guards had orders not to let her near him. It would take cunning, bribes, and a clever plan, but she must see him. She herself must deal the blow that would forever tear the Egyptian from his heart.

She paced the floor deciding first on one strategy and then another but each time finding them inadequate.

She clapped her hands for the maid. She was ready to retire. Now she could rest knowing that everything was almost in place to bring about the defeat of Tipti.

The maiden came, and at the same moment another idea, both vengeful and malicious, dawned upon Naamah. While she waited to see Solomon, this evil trick would be most amusing. Impulsively she snatched up one of the baskets harboring her most dangerous snake and handed it to the girl. “Here,” she said, “take this to my chief eunuch and tell him to be sure it is delivered into the hands of the Egyptian queen with my compliments.”

As she settled down for the night she had to stifle a laugh. She hadn’t laughed in years, but she laughed now. Everything was going her way at last. Hopefully by morning the news would come that the Egyptian was dead.

W
hen Yasmit found the potion from the apothecary’s shop was of no effect, she devised another plan. It would cost a few pieces of her better jewelry, but it would be worth it. She was desperate. She had to do something, and this was her last chance.

She waited until Badget was off on another trip before trying to implement her scheme. She planned everything carefully. Terra must notice no change in the usual schedule and none of the servants must get suspicious.

When the morning finally came she rose early, lifted the loose tile in the floor of the storeroom, and reached down for a sandalwood box containing her most precious jewels. She pulled out necklaces and earrings, bracelets and hairpieces. Each item suddenly seemed too precious to waste on such a venture. One after another she put them back in the box, keeping out one silver necklace and a gold ring she had never worn.

She tied the jewelry in a small scarf and then slipped it into a deep pocket in her wide sleeve. She closed the lid of the box and put it back in its hiding place. She made her appearance in the courtyard just as Terra was coming out of her room.

She noticed with envy that Terra was already beginning to show evidence of the child she expected. She wanted to hate Terra, cut her down, make her life miserable, make her feel as bad as she herself felt, but Terra was too sweet, too trusting.

Terra came to her smiling, and gently led her to the shade of a grape arbor. “You are probably feeling nauseous,” she said. “I’ll have them bring you some nice fresh bread and barley gruel.”

“Nauseous?” Yasmit asked.

“I’m just getting to where I feel a bit better now,” Terra said. “It’s always that way at the first.” Yasmit began to understand that Terra was talking about her supposed pregnancy. It dawned on her that she would
have to learn all the symptoms if she was serious about carrying this deception to its conclusion.

“I have felt faint,” she said accepting the bread and earthen pot of gruel.

As soon as possible she excused herself saying she had to go again to the apothecary for more herbs. No one noticed that unlike her usual trips to the various shops she took no servant with her but went alone and seemed to be in a great hurry. Yasmit knew well the neighborhood she was heading for. She was familiar with every twist of the lane, each door that led into the cramped courtyards, and most of all the smell. It was not only the smell of grime, dirt, and unwashed children but the bitter smell of souring milk and aging cheese.

She had grown up in abject poverty and she hated the necessity of setting foot in this old section of the city. It was in the southwest corner not far from the Dung Gate and was called the section of the cheese makers. The odor proclaimed the occupation long before one reached the crumbling walls and moldering courtyards.

Yasmit’s younger sister lived here as the second wife of the son of one of the cheese makers. She had eight children and was now pregnant with the ninth. She had wept when she realized that it would mean one more mouth to feed, one more child to crowd into the room she and her husband shared with the rest of their children. Yasmit had already broached a solution, but her sister had assured her that her husband wouldn’t agree.

Now Yasmit was desperate and ready to implement any plan or strategy. The facts were evident, she needed a child and her sister had too many. The answer was simple. She would go with her sister to visit a distant relative and when they returned, the child would be hers. With enough gold all this could be accomplished without too much objection from the rest of her sister’s family.

She let the wooden knocker down with a dull thud and then pulled the latch and let herself into the courtyard. Almost at once she was surrounded by a swarm of children. Several chewed on rounds of bread, but others looked hungry. They were all barefooted and wore scanty, moth-eaten tunics. The smaller ones wore no clothes at all and were covered with flies. Their hair was stiff with dirt.

Yasmit pulled the end of her mantle up over her nose. “Where’s your
mother?” she demanded sharply of one little boy as she pulled her skirt out of his grubby hand.

Several of the older children disappeared and returned with Yasmit’s younger sister. Yasmit was shocked. It had been some time since she had last seen her sister, and she looked old and tired. She wore no kohl around her eyes or henna on her hands and feet and her hair fell loose under her mantle. There was no jewelry, and it was obvious to Yasmit that though the cheese business was good, it couldn’t support adequately the needs of two wives and all these children, let alone the other brothers and their wives. She was at first appalled and then encouraged. Surely her sister would give up this child she carried for the jewelry she had brought.

There were at least five rooms around the courtyard. Yasmit knew that each of the brothers had a room for their wives and children and there was one room for the parents. The men slept on the roof in good weather and in bad, moved into the small storeroom which was also on the roof.

Yasmit followed her sister into her dismal room. She noticed the sleeping mats were neatly piled along the wall, and in the various niches there seemed to be a few articles of clothing. “You know why I have come,” she said as she rejected her sister’s offer of a mat to sit on and bread fresh from the outdoor oven.

“Yes, I know. I’ve been expecting you. Those potions from the apothecary seldom seem to work.”

Yasmit ignored her remark and got right to the point. “Will your husband let you give up the child?”

“I must tell you truthfully. He doesn’t want to agree, but he said that if you offered enough, I was to take it.”

“And you, what about you, how do you feel?”

“You’re my sister. Since I was a little girl I’ve always given you whatever you wanted.”

“Then you’ll agree.”

“Just satisfy my husband and the child is yours.”

Yasmit was ecstatic. “You must tell me everything. All the signs. I will have to appear to be pregnant.”

“First, you have to remember not to take to your bed with the monthly flow.”

“That’s easy. I was past that a year ago. What else.”

“At times you must appear nauseated, have strange yearnings for certain foods, and feel weak and exhausted.”

“All of that is easy.”

“But how will you appear to be getting larger?”

For a moment Yasmit looked puzzled. She looked down as her hands flew to her stomach and she compared her size to that of her sister. “Don’t worry, I will manage. Perhaps my garment maker can be of some help.”

“Don’t trust her. You can’t trust anyone.”

“You’re right. I’ll think of something.” She was about to turn toward the door when her sister reminded her.

“Nothing can be agreed on without my husband’s consent.” She held out her hand and Yasmit reached into the pocket of her sleeve and pulled out the bit of cloth holding the jewelry and untied it. She put the necklace into her sister’s hand.

It was not enough. She added the ring. “Will this convince him?” she asked.

“He’s very greedy. He thinks all the time of when his sons grow up and support him so he doesn’t have to work. He thinks this will be another son and is very reluctant to give him up.”

Yasmit hesitated. Her sister was gentle and sweet but the husband was a different matter. He was known to be a sharp bargainer. Quickly Yasmit took off three of her gold bracelets and then added her golden earrings. “Tell him I have given you even my own personal jewelry and that is all I have.”

She could see that her sister was pleased. She waited while she stuffed the small treasure in one of the empty clay honey jars on a shelf and then went out into the courtyard. The odor of cheese and urine mixed with that of poverty and filth was almost stifling. She hurried to the gate, said a quick goodbye, and then breathed a sigh of relief as she heard the big wooden door close behind her.

She paused only a moment. “I must not lose Badget,” she thought. “Without him I’d be right back here crowded into a corner of that ugly room. I must make this succeed.” With that decided she hurried up the crooked, narrow streets to her own front door.

It would be easy to fool Badget, and Terra was too sweet to even imagine such plotting. As she figured it now, she and Terra would both
have a child at the same time. What good fortune it would be if Terra’s turned out to be a girl and hers was a boy. Then she would not only be the first wife in name but in fact. Everything would be like it used to be before he married Terra.