Wisdom's Daughter: A Novel of Solomon and Sheba (19 page)

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Authors: India Edghill

BOOK: Wisdom's Daughter: A Novel of Solomon and Sheba
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But there was a man whose counsel he would need. Solomon laid the lion scepter upon the throne, dismissing his chief ministers.
I have heard all they have to say a dozen times. Now I will lay the matter before someone who will not simply recite to me what has always been done—as if that were reason never to do a new thing!
That King Solomon sought him out did not surprise Benaiah; the king ruled his willful subjects with prudence and care. Important matters he spread before his court officials, soliciting their views.
And once the court officers and the clerks and the priests had made Solomon a gift of their opinions, the king turned to his general.
All things pass beneath the sword blade, in the end.
Soon or late, diplomacy and marriage and alliances must be strengthened by force. And so, soon or late, the king whose name meant “peace” must summon war.
Rumors and whispers fled through the king’s palace as swiftly as swallows; by the time Benaiah looked down the walkway that crowned the city walls and saw the king pacing towards him, he had already heard the news of the arrival of the queen from Sheba a dozen times over. And with each retelling, the tale changed.
So when the king began to speak, Benaiah held up his hand. “My lord king, is it true the Sheban queen flew here upon eagle’s wings? That she has brought you gifts of forty shekels of gold and more gems than there are
stars in the heavens? That she is a djinn who has enchanted your master of ships, a sorceress who can shift her shape at will?”
At Benaiah’s dry recitation of the wildest of the tales he had overheard, the king laughed. “For all I know, she may own all those powers. I have not yet looked upon her. As for the gifts—doubtless she has brought what she hopes will please my vanity and incline my mind to her desires.”
“And what does this foreign queen desire?”
“That I do not yet know.” Solomon smiled. “Perhaps she truly wishes to test my wisdom. What do you think, Benaiah?”
“What do I think? I think no queen leaves her kingdom and journeys across half a world just to play games.”
“Perhaps this one has. Perhaps she finds time lies heavy in her hands and wishes me to amuse her.”
“Perhaps.” Benaiah echoed the king’s jest, even as he turned the king’s words this way and that, seeking truth. Of course the Shebans wanted something of Solomon—
Why else journey a thousand miles to a strange land?
What Benaiah could not guess was what prize the Shebans coveted. A prize so great that a queen set herself at risk to win it—
“I journey to Ezion-geber to greet her, to see this fabled queen with my own eyes. All my officers of the court have cried out against such an action—they fear for my honor and their own comfort. Now it is your turn to speak.”
Benaiah considered, unhurried; King Solomon waited patiently until his general at last said, “I think it a wise course, O King. Better to encounter a serpent in the field than in the house.”
“Wise Benaiah! I shall go forth and encounter this serpent upon the road, and you shall help me judge whether her fangs drip venom or honey.”
“When do we leave for Ezion-geber?”
“At once, for I wish to meet this venturesome queen while she is still new-come to this land.”
“As the king says, so it shall be,” Benaiah said, and Solomon smiled grimly.
“Yes, so it shall be—after each man who served my father has explained why I must not and how King David would have managed matters better and dazzled with his splendor besides. Perhaps I should ride to Ezion-geber garbed as my own messenger; judge her before she can judge me.”
“That prospers only in harpers’ tales.” Benaiah wasted no breath deploring such a scheme; King Solomon had no more intention of riding out alone and in disguise than Benaiah did of allowing such folly.
The court officials have been tormenting him again. Pack of idiots—can they not see badgering him’s no way to guide his steps?
Solomon stared to the south, as if his eyes could pierce the miles that lay between Jerusalem and the city in which the Queen of Sheba waited. “Harpers’ tales.” The king’s words were spoken so softly Benaiah heard them as a sigh on the hot summer wind.
Then Solomon turned again to Benaiah. “At tomorrow’s dawn, I ride out and travel the King’s Highway south to greet the Queen of Sheba at Ezion-geber. If the king’s officers and servants cannot be ready to do the same—why, then the king must ride accompanied only by those who best love him.”
“Are you going to tell them that, my lord king, or am I?” Benaiah asked, and Solomon smiled.
“Amyntor may tell them,” Solomon said. “That should ensure swift compliance with the king’s wishes.”
Yes, you’re Great David’s son, all right—and a credit to Queen Michal’s teaching.
But Benaiah knew better than to speak such words, although he often thought them. Such praises cut keen as a double-edged blade; King Solomon shunned comparison with his royal father.
And it was safer not to speak at all of the king’s mother—either of them.
I knelt beside a grinding mill, a mill whose upper stone was formed of bright gold and whose lower stone of dull iron. Bracelets broad and thick as manacles circled my wrists, heavy as stone. Time poured into the mill, hours brilliant as crystal, glowing as pearl. Golden chains bound me to the golden millstone; I turned the mill, grinding hours into sand that drifted away like mist. Hour after jeweled hour ground away; hour after hour I turned the mill, endlessly grinding … .
I awoke with my blood pounding so hard it shook my skin. A dream; only a dream. Nor had the dream been so terrible that I must wake cold and damp with fear. So I told myself, and forced myself to lie quiet until my blood ran calm.
But after that I dared not sleep again; rather than lie awake staring into
darkness, I rose and walked out onto my balcony, moving softly so I would not wake Nimrah and Keshet, who slept peaceful as kittens in the other bed. When I was restless, I preferred solitude.
And of late, I was too often restless. Even I did not know what troubled me; I knew only that I suffered unquiet dreams. Tonight’s had truly frightened me, and I did not know why.
“It is only a dream,” I whispered. “It cannot harm me.” I stared out across the city to the eastern hills. Night paled there; dawn was rising. Sunlight banished dreams, both bad and good. Sunlight would banish the cold weight of dream chains upon my wrists.
Dawn’s promise warmed the air and soothed my fears; weary, I padded back to my bed and let sleep claim me once more.
 
 
Because I had sat awake from deep midnight until sunrise, I slept far into the morning. Because I was the king’s favored child, no one dared wake me.
And so by the time I rose and ate and dressed, and heard from my maidservants that my father had ridden south to greet the queen of fabled Sheba, it was too late to beg to join him. Too late even to follow after him and catch him upon the King’s Highway. My status as King Solomon’s daughter granted me command only in small things. In greater matters, I stood as powerless as any other girl. No man would risk obeying me were I foolish enough to order horses harnessed and a chariot prepared.
Like all the other women in my father’s palace, all I could do was wait.
Wait, and watch—and wonder at the thought of a woman who traveled the world as freely as a man.
King Solomon rode out from Jerusalem in royal state, attended by priests and warriors, accompanied by master of horse and master of treasures. A dozen cartloads of rich food and fine garb followed; pomegranate wine and mantles fringed with gold, quail preserved in honey and girdles sewn with pearls—provisions for the journey and gifts to welcome the visiting queen.
He expected to ride through Ezion-geber’s gate to find the Sheban queen still a guest of the governor’s, resting there after the sea journey from the Morning Land. To have his charioteer draw rein upon the crest of the last
of the hills beyond Sela and from that height to gaze down upon a bright splash of color that was the Sheban queen’s camp—that, Solomon had not expected.
Oh, he had seen tents before, and dwelt within them too, when he had ventured forth to visit among the tribesmen who roamed his empire. But those tents had been sturdy, workmanlike creations of dark skins and rough cloth. The Sheban tents formed bright rings of color, circled protectively about the central pavilions. Those shone brilliant as moonlight, their cloth bleached white as bone; above the largest stood a tall pole from which banners of leopard skin hung heavy under the hot sun.
“Colorful,” Amyntor said, and Solomon could only agree.
“A royal spectacle,” he said, and drew laughter from Amyntor and a slight smile from Benaiah. The rest of his entourage stared, solemn as judges, at the Sheban camp. “The Queen of Sheba awaits,” Solomon said. “Shall the King of Israel advance at once, or shall he await—”
“Developments?” Amyntor suggested, and Solomon laughed.
“An invitation?” Solomon countered. “Or shall I go forth to the queen’s camp in disguise, perhaps surprise her in her bath?”
There was a low cough from Elihoreph. “I do not think that would be wise, O King. We should send forth an emissary to announce the king’s presence, and await the queen’s petition.”
“Yes.” As always, Dathan, keeper of the scribe’s supplies, nodded agreement with the chief scribe. “Decisions must be made with due prudence and caution—”
Prudence and caution! If I await decisions from Elihoreph and Dathan, I shall wait until the stars grow cold.
Solomon held up his hand for silence. “I see no reason not to approach the queen’s encampment. She journeyed a thousand miles to meet me, after all.”
“But my lord king—” Elihoreph began, and suddenly Solomon could bear no more.
No more pomp, no more high state. No more men solemnly praising my most foolish word. No more women smiling upon my most graceless caress
—With that thought, Solomon caught up the reins from the startled charioteer. “My lord king orders his court to continue on to the Sheban camp. Solomon drives alone.” He glanced at the charioteer. “Get out,” the king commanded and, when the man hesitated, said, “Now,” in a voice that fell upon the man’s ears like
a whip. As the charioteer jumped off, Solomon signaled the restive horses; the matched stallions sprang forward, eager to run.
As the horses settled into a steady canter, Solomon risked one backward glance to see that even this most outrageous order was obeyed—by all but two men. Amyntor and Benaiah had ridden out of the king’s caravan and followed, each in his own fashion. Amyntor rode his desert-bred mare as if he raced the wind; Benaiah simply set his horse into a steady, ground-eating pace, knowing sooner or later Solomon must draw his horses to a halt.
I could know each man a league away, they ride as they live.
So thinking, Solomon turned his attention back to his team, coaxed the high-mettled stallions to a calmer pace that permitted Benaiah and Amyntor to catch up to him.
“No, I am not mad,” Solomon said, before Benaiah could utter the words.
“The king may be mad if it pleases him,” Benaiah said, and Amyntor laughed.
“Sometimes it is wisest to be a little mad.” Amyntor stroked his mare’s sweat-slick neck. “But it’s even wiser to keep your friends close—”
“Do not say ‘O King,’” Solomon warned. “I am weary of the words.”
“Ah.” Amyntor and Benaiah exchanged a glance that Solomon understood very well indeed; a glance that said,
Our king plays the fool; it is our task to humor him and keep him safely out of mischief.
Solomon sighed. “No fear, I promise I will do nothing rash—nothing more rash than this, at any rate.”
“I don’t see what you hope to gain.” Benaiah’s eyes scanned the hillside, alert as a falcon to any shifting shadow.
Amyntor grinned, teeth flashing white. “Disguised as a humble charioteer, Solomon the Wise hopes to come upon the Queen of the Morning and win her heart—”
“You should be a harper, Caphtoran. My lord, we should go on; the horses need care.” Benaiah nodded towards the road that led down into the narrow valley and the Sheban’s waiting camp.
So much for my freedom!
Sighing, Solomon urged his horses onward, more sedately this time. Escorted by Amyntor and Benaiah, he drove down the dusty road. As the hillside eased into the valley, a dry streambed opened onto the path. Suddenly Benaiah urged his horse forward, barring Solomon’s way as a moon-pale beast flashed out of the gully.
The animal checked at the sight of them, stood regarding them with grave eyes the shape of almonds and the color of sloes. It looked back, as if seeking command, and a moment later three riders cantered out of the wadi, dark-garbed figures on light-boned, sun-sleek desert horses. Seeing Solomon and his escort, the riders halted.
Two of the riders were plainly attendants, guardians of the third. And all three were women—
Two warriors, and a queen.
Solomon knew beyond doubting that he gazed upon the woman who had journeyed so far to meet him.
Who else would ride guarded by Amazons?
He had heard of the warrior women, but had never before seen one for himself. The queen’s warriors caught his eyes, more intriguing at the moment than the queen herself.
The silence was broken by Amyntor’s easy laughter. “Welcome, ladies! It seems, O King, that the Queen of Spices owns no more patience than the King of Israel. Neither can wait to set eyes upon the other.” Amyntor regarded the Sheban’s gaudily-adorned horses and raised his eyebrows. “Such riches; one would almost think the Sheban queen sought to impress Solomon the Wise.”
“And is Solomon the Wise so foolish that mere gold will dazzle him?” The voice was rich as sun-warm honey; laughter rippled beneath the mocking words. Solomon looked into eyes bright as sun-spangled amber. All else was concealed by a veil that fell to her waist in front and below her hips behind, sleek black cloth resting in folds upon her horse’s rump.
All else, save her hands; rosy with henna, they held the reins lightly, easily; the fine southern horse she rode bowed unresisting to her will.
Solomon looked upon her, and smiled. “No, he is not so foolish as that, O Queen of the South. But he is dazzled nonetheless.”
“Take care with your compliments, King Solomon—for you have not yet seen my face.”
“I do not need to; are not all queens beautiful?”
“And all kings wise?” she countered, and Solomon laughed.
“Of course. Is your king as wise as his queen is beautiful?”
Now it was her turn to laugh, low and soft behind the veil that hid her face. “No king rules Sheba, Solomon the Wise.”
No king—
“You?” he said.
“I. Yes, I rule Sheba.”
Bred to run, the stallions shifted, restless; he knew they would not stand long. “This is not how we were meant to meet—”
“—but you could not bear another solemn exhortation, another dire caution. No more could I, and so we find ourselves here, playing at freedom.”
“Great minds think alike,” said Solomon, and she laughed, softly.
“And fools seldom differ.” She held out her hand, snapped her fingers; the pale hound trotted to her horse’s side. “The King of Israel and the Queen of Sheba will meet before their courts, as is proper. Solomon and Bilqis have met here.”
She lifted her gilded reins and her horse wheeled and sprang away, back down the narrow wadi. The Amazons followed, and it was only then, as sunlight flashed from their metal-sewn tunics, that Solomon realized he had forgotten the warrior women as soon as he heard the Queen of Sheba’s voice.
“You have royal luck, my lord king.” Amyntor, half-mocking, shook his head. “Now, when I drive out, do I encounter veiled beauties and Moon Maids too? I do not. I’m fortunate to meet an ancient goatherd and his smelly flock.”
“You might see more if you spoke less.” Benaiah’s words fell dry and hard. “We should go back, my lord king. It grows late.”
The words seemed to warn, to caution; Solomon glanced quickly at his general, but Benaiah’s face revealed nothing. Nodding, Solomon relaxed his iron grip on the reins, and the team leapt eagerly forward. He did not need to look to know that Benaiah and Amyntor followed.
So I have met the Queen of Sheba.
And seen what? Laughing eyes and painted hands; nothing more.
I have not even seen her face.
But Solomon knew that did not matter—just as he knew that no matter what warning Benaiah’s words might have carried, it was too late to turn back.

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