Queen of Sheba (8 page)

Her death had marked the end of love and the end of real living. Later he had cluttered his life with women. Women from every country and from every prominent family. He had found most of them provocative and alluring for a time, but always he tired of their full pouting lips, their too-eager smiles, and their constant demands. He now realized that with each new bride he had hoped for a return of the heady effulgence he had experienced with Shulamit. It never happened. He was always disappointed.

“Vanity, all is vanity.” The words burned in his brain and he pushed the parchment down into the folds of his fur cover. That was a statement of poetic melancholy. In the past there had been a strange pleasure derived from such anguish, but now it was all too real. Tipti with her demands had destroyed his peace of mind. For the first time he was willing to consider seriously that she might be a spy for her brother. If it were true, it would be devastating. He had come closer to loving her than anyone since Shulamit, and he could not endure the thought that she did not mean all the charming things she had told him.

He thought again of her eyes looking at him with adoration, her lips hungry for his kisses, and her eager, responsive young body. She had taught him to experiment with strong drink, to dance, and to laugh at the risqué jokes of her jugglers. She more than anyone had urged him to forget Israel’s law and enjoy the freedom of fulfilling his own selfish desires.

He pulled the curtains of his bed closed, flung his arm up over his eyes, and deliberately tried to will himself to forget her. It was impossible. He couldn’t sleep. He rose again and paced the floor until the first cock crowed announcing the dawn. Only then was he able to fall across his bed and sleep for a few troubled hours.

A
ll during the early part of the month Bilqis spent time in preparation for the night of the full moon when she would be brought to the god’s pavilion. At first she had enjoyed the look of awe on everyone’s face, and then she had been excited by the mystery of Ilumquh. But now, as the day approached, she was apprehensive.

Ever since she had stood by her father’s side as a little girl in the great oval place of meeting, she had been overwhelmed by the appearance of Ilumquh. He was all of alabaster. A soft, glowing alabaster that was transparent in the blaze of the altar fires. His head was held high, and his horns tipped with gold glistened in the flaring light. None of this frightened her. Only his eyes, the glistening ruby eyes that fixed themselves upon her—they terrified her.

She had told no one. Her father would have been disappointed and the priests would have used it against her.

Now that she had chosen the god in place of a human husband, she had asked many questions of the High Priest and he had seemed evasive.

“Will Ilumquh come as the image in alabaster?” she asked.

“He may.”

“How can he father a normal son if he is of stone?”

“That is part of the great mystery. He is a god and can come in any form or shape he chooses.”

“Then he could come as a bird or a fish?”

“He could.”

“Will I see him?”

“It is more likely that you will hear him. The pavilion is dark.”

“Then we will burn tapers and place torches in the wall so I can see this god that is to father my son.”

“No, no, that is not allowed. He comes in thunder and smoke and you will be fortunate if you are not bruised by his horns.”

At first this disturbed her. Then she decided the priest was angry and wanted to punish her for not accepting her uncle’s son. She stiffened. “I’m not afraid of Ilumquh,” she said. “I’ll wear my short sword and breastplate I wore when riding in the Markab. Even Ilumquh cannot easily have his way with me then.”

“You shall come to Ilumquh with neither sword, breastplate, nor crown.” His voice was almost defiant. “You will come as a virgin princess and not the queen.”

She had been ready to protest, and then she remembered the alternatives and decided to go along with all that the priest had planned.

Each night she followed the priest’s instructions. First her maidens rubbed palm oil into her skin until it glistened. Then just as carefully they scraped it off with a rounded piece of conch shell. Next they bathed her in soured goat’s milk. This was so rancid she had to hold her nose and beg for a bit of linen soaked in oil of jasmine before she would sit another minute in the rock-walled tub. Finally there was the rose water and the combing and plaiting of her hair that took hours from her duties in the palace.

The special diet was even more repulsive. She, who had never eaten anything she disliked, now found that she must eat strange roots and the testicles of goats, drink sour beer and bitter wine. Each night she was given the sacred ergot so she might have erotic dreams.

When she summoned the High Priest and complained or refused any of these ministrations, she was shamed by being reminded that it was for the great god Ilumquh she had been ordered to do this.

Each night after her maidens had pulled the curtains on her bed, she rose and went out onto the terrace, where she could see the growing strength of the new moon. At first only his horns had been visible and then gradually his face began to appear. It was round and glowing like the alabaster idols in the temple. There were no ruby red eyes and she began to feel a strange attraction to this god that could light the whole dark earth with his countenance.

“I have done all that you commanded,” she whispered. She waited for some response, but when there was none, she tiptoed back to her bed and finally fell asleep.

The day before she was to be taken in to Ilumquh’s pavilion, she was ordered to take only the ergot drug. She was to eat nothing else. That
night she went to bed as usual but was soon wakened by a bright splash of moonlight falling across the floor. It played on the softly blowing curtains of her bed and somewhere out in the night she heard a sound as of footsteps on the terrace.

With every nerve tense and every fiber of her body alert she rose from her bed and fell to her knees. “Oh great Ilumquh, forgive me for thinking you were cruel and ruthless. I see now that you are both gentle and brilliant and I will be your humble servant.”

She waited hoping to hear the footsteps again, but there was only the rustling of the wind in the palm fronds and the cry of one of the watchmen on the wall below the palace. She rose and walked out onto the terrace, where she felt instantly embraced by moonlight. In a sudden flood of some strange, new emotion, she raised her arms toward the moon. “Oh my beloved,” she cried, “to you and you alone I give my heart and soul. Only you are grand enough to be trusted with my love.”

When morning came, she was swept up in the last feverish preparations for the visit to Ilumquh’s pavilion. She could feel an air of excitement permeating the palace and was told that out in the city of Marib, tumult over the evening’s celebration had reached fever pitch.

The day passed quickly as she tried on various robes woven with gold threads or encrusted with precious stones and trimmed with golden embroidery. She patiently waited while some imported beauticians twined her hair with rare jewels and others decorated her hands with intricate, feather-like designs. This took the better part of the day, and all too soon it was time for her to ride down the avenue of light to Ilumquh’s pavilion.

Out in the city, tension mounted as the sun set and torches were lighted. People hurried to line the avenue leading from the palace and crowded onto the rooftops and along the great wall.

It was at this moment that Badget entered the local inn near the western gate. He proceeded to order his servants to bed down the camels and store his merchandise in one of the sleeping rooms. He was well pleased with his bargains. He had gone down to the coast to trade dye from the
murex shellfish for incense and spices and was now on his way home. He had just settled down on a carpet beside a small fire built in the dirt floor of the inn when he heard the news.

“That’s ridiculous,” he said laughing. “I don’t know what the moon is, but it’s a sure thing it’s not going to come down for your queen or anyone else.”

The little man he had been talking to glared his displeasure. “I didn’t say he would come down. We have his image in the temple’s pavilion.”

Badget laughed all the harder. “The queen actually expects to mate with that alabaster idol. I don’t believe it. She’s too smart for that.”

For the first time the man looked a bit bewildered, but he quickly recovered his poise. “It’s a mystery. The idol only represents the god.”

“The moon, the alabaster idol, or a real bull, it’s all foolishness. A trick of some kind I’ll wager.”

At that a small band of men gathered around him and raised clenched fists in a threatening way and swore dark oaths. Badget was immediately apologetic. He took back everything he had said and agreed to go along with them to the city gate. There they could climb to the wall and observe the procession that was already forming before the great pillars of the palace.

Badget’s curiosity knew no bounds as he saw the golden palanquin move down the street of light toward the large oval temple. He thought of the queen as he had seen her just a month ago and wondered why she was doing this. Could it be that he had really been right about her feet and no king or prince would have her? “So no one would marry your queen,” he half stated and half asked the man standing to his right.

“That’s not it at all. It is she who will have no one. At the last they pressured her to marry her cousin, but she’d not have him either.”

By this time the drummers and the dancers had reached the temple. They were followed by the queen’s own horsemen and after them came the golden palanquin carried by four strong, black Nubians. Amid a fanfare of trumpets and roll of drums, the queen stepped from the golden box and with great dignity mounted the steps of the small, delicately designed building. Badget noticed that she was alone and walked as though in a trance. Over her shoulder was thrown the leopard cape, but she didn’t seem to be wearing the short sword or the breastplate.

Her maidens were not with her, and her counselors were left at the foot of the steps. The crowd grew deathly silent as she majestically stood in the torch light’s glow before the great door of the small pavilion. Then, as though summoning her courage, she moved forward into the darkness of the sanctuary and was lost to sight. The crowd erupted with a roar of approval. They clapped and stamped and even danced until the cobblestones rang with their enthusiasm.

At sight of the full moon rising over the distant mountains all eyes were leveled on the door of the beautiful little marble pavilion through which the queen had disappeared. “This is where the alabaster idol is kept and where the queen will meet Ilumquh,” the small man shouted over the uproar to Badget.

The processions were now forming and people who had been standing beside Badget began to scramble to get down from the wall. “Where are you going?” Badget demanded.

“To the place of meeting—the temple. We must dance and sing before the altar so Ilumquh’s seed will grow within our queen and the curse will be lifted.”

“Curse? What curse?” Badget was now totally caught up in all he was hearing and seeing.