Wisdom's Daughter: A Novel of Solomon and Sheba (36 page)

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Authors: India Edghill

BOOK: Wisdom's Daughter: A Novel of Solomon and Sheba
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“O Queen—” Khurrami slipped into the chamber in which Bilqis sat dictating messages to send home to Sheba; Khurrami let the gilded leather fall closed behind her. “O Queen, some of the king’s women have come to speak with you. Will you see them, Sun of our Days?”
Bilqis stopped, and she and the scribe both stared at Khurrami. “The king’s women have come
here
?” That could mean only trouble. “Who has come?”
“Queen Melasadne—she has brought only one dog, which she carries in her shawl as if it were a babe—and Lady Gilade. And Queen Ulbanu and Lady Dvorah have come also. And the Lady Leeorenda.”
An embassy from the queens’ palace, in fact
. Bilqis lifted two fingers, indicating to the scribe that she might go. “I will see them. Escort them to the garden—and have strong wine brought.”
“As the queen orders, so it shall be.” Khurrami eyed her swiftly. “Before she sees these women, will the queen garb herself more—”
“Royally? You begin to sound like Irsiya. No, plainly the matter is urgent or they would not have come at all. I will see them as I am.” As she walked through the Little Palace to the old garden, she tried to deduce what could have brought half-a-dozen of King Solomon’s wives to beg audience of their greatest rival.
Something dire, of course, to bring out so placid a lady as Leeorenda. But the Egyptian and the Cushite have not come
. Doubtless Pharaoh’s Daughter ignored whatever unpleasantness occurred, while Makeda—
No one with even half a wit would cross the serpent’s bride
.
Nor had Naamah come, nor the Colchian, Solomon’s newest-wed queen.
So, the battle lines are drawn. And I—I am to act as peacemaker between their warring factions and the king
.
By the time she walked into the garden, the rich wine she had ordered was being carried in; she smiled upon her unexpected guests. “I am honored. Please, take wine, and tell me how I may serve you.”
And let us pretend we are all equals and dear sisters here
. Bilqis allowed a slave to hand her a filled wine bowl; she lifted the bowl to her lips as if she drank. Encouraged, the others also took wine and drank, which would encourage them to speak freely. They had come to her in haste and distress; Lady Gilade’s hair hung down her back in unbound braids, while Ulbanu’s feet were bare. Tear-borne kohl smeared Melasadne’s cheeks, and the shawl in
which she clutched one of her tiny dogs was torn. The puppy itself peered out of the folds like a soft pearl, eyes and nose shining like polished jet.
“Drink,” Bilqis said again, and once more feigned sipping her own wine. Then she set the bowl aside and smiled; she moved forward and tickled the puppy’s chin and let it lick her fingers, took each woman’s hands and kissed her upon the cheek. “Now, sisters, tell me what troubles you, and how I may ease your hearts.”
All the women looked at Melasadne, who caught back a sob and then spread the tale before Bilqis. “It all started when Pirip ran off after Prince Caleb—Lady Dvorah’s boy—he is a fine boy, too, good with the dogs—”
Long years as queen and judge had trained Bilqis to extract a story smoothly; she understood what had happened even as she uttered soft queries and words of encouragement. Prince Caleb and the puppy had run off to play, and encountered Prince Rehoboam; Rehoboam had snatched up the pup and decided to present it to Queen Dacxuri. “She worships a god who demands dogs each dark moon!”
Of course Prince Caleb had fled back to his mother, who had hastened to Melasadne, who had braved Dacxuri’s courtyard to snatch back Pirip from the Colchian’s hands. The ensuing quarrel set Melasadne and her friends against the crown prince’s mother and her allies, and swiftly grew so bitter that no one within the queens’ palace could stop a battle that promised only to worsen. “And no one can force peace. If only Queen Michal still lived!”
From what I have heard, Queens Michal would have sewn you all into sacks and flung you from Jerusalem’s walls rather than permit you to trouble Solomon!
The thought brought a grim smile. But Bilqis said only “This is very bad, sisters. What would you have me do?” The women all smiled, relieved to have someone take command. Queen Melasadne cuddled the bright-eyed puppy to her breast and said, “Speak to the king. His heart loves peace above all things; he will put a stop to this.”
And how will he do that, sister?
Bilqis did not speak the words; instead, she nodded and promised to do what she could, a vow that sent Queen Melasadne and Lady Gilade away smiling. Bilqis sighed. A stranger’s meddling often brewed more strife than it quenched. But she had given her word; she would speak with King Solomon, and hope what she had to say did not grieve him too deeply.
 
 
She told the story as gently as she could, but there was no way to sweeten what she must say. And as she had feared, Solomon heaped the blame not upon Rehoboam, or upon the Colchian princess, or upon any of the women who had no better sense than to pour oil upon a hearth-fire until it blazed up as a holocaust, but upon his own head.
“Somehow I have failed them, Bilqis. Truly, I do not know what is wrong—I treat each woman fairly, favoring no one more than another. I treat all my sons equally. Why then is my house no more peaceful than was my father’s?”
“Oh, Solomon, my dear—” The word boy trembled on her lips; she ate it back, not wishing to remind him how young he was in her eyes.
“Bilqis, you are a woman, and a queen; enlighten me. Wherein do I err? Do I not deal with my household justly?”
“I would say that I am a queen, and a woman.” She stroked his arm, caressing away the tension beneath his skin. “As for where you err—perhaps you treat them too justly.”
“Another riddle, O Queen of the Morning Land?”
“No, or Solomon the Wise surely would know its answer.”
“Perhaps King Solomon is not so wise as his reputation boasts.” Solomon set his hand over hers; her skin was cool as morning. “How is it possible to deal too justly?”
She smiled. “My impartial love, my wise king, you have left them nothing to strive for. Or, rather, you have laid before them a prize none can win.”
“And what is that?”
“The king’s favor.”
“I will not exalt one and diminish the rest.”
“Once you honored a woman above all others.”
“That was long years ago; I was younger then.”
“And in love.”
“Yes. I was in love.”
Abishag
, he thought, and tried to summon her face. Vainly; Solomon closed his eyes, and rested his cheek upon Bilqis’s hair. Cinnamon scented her sleek tresses. Cinnamon, and roses.
The scent brought memories rushing like spring floodwater. Abishag waiting for him in the garden, sweet honey in sunlight. Abishag risking all to
warn him when his faithless brother Adonijah usurped the crown. Abishag standing upon the king’s balcony on their wedding night, clad only in starlight and her unbound hair. Abishag glowing like a golden pomegranate as her body at last nourished their child, the child that would kill her … .
Abishag
.
“You see?” Sheba’s voice was soft as night wind in his ear. “They struggle against a ghost, Solomon. And the dead always win.”
So I sat quiet beside a dying king and listened and learned. Listened as Prince Adonijah begged his father name him heir—“I am the eldest prince now; my mother was a king’s daughter! Who better, Father?”—and as King David smiled and uttered vague soothing words that sounded like promises yet meant nothing.
I looked on as the high priest Abiathar pressed Prince Adonijah’s cause, and the dying king swore all would be as Yahweh wished—which Abiathar was canny enough to know for no promise at all.
And I learned as I watched the king’s general, Joab, sit by his uncle’s bedside and speak plainly. “You should have chosen before, David. Now it is too late; others will choose for you.” So Joab said, and to my surprise the dying king laughed, a low harsh sound cut off as he struggled to draw breath.
“Will they, Joab? We shall see. I am not dead yet.”
“You will be soon,” said Joab.
“Soon,” King David said. “But not yet.”
Joab shrugged and went away again, but not before I had raised my eyes and found myself looking into his. Joab’s eyes shone hard as iron blades; blades that guarded his thoughts, shielded long years of memory. I do not know what he saw in mine.
“You tend the king well,” he said, and I lowered my lashes, veiling my eyes, and murmured that I did my best.
King David laughed again, softly. “Is Abishag not a treasure, Joab? A gift from my beloved queen, a gift chosen by my son Solomon.”
I sensed the edge of Joab’s gaze upon me; I kept my head bowed. But Joab said only “A wise choice. Wiser than your son Adonijah’s”before he went away again,
And after Joab had gone, King David beckoned to me; when I leaned close to him, he caught my hand in his. Dying he might be, but his thin old hand still grasped hard. “Yes, a treasure, a wise choice. I have looked into eyes like yours before, just as you will look into eyes like mine again. We know each other well, you and I.”
“As the king says,” I murmured; I knew better than to dispute with him. At my soft words, he smiled, his eyes fire-bright. “I have a gift for you, queen’s gift, so that you too may see what dwells in a queen’s eyes.”
He pressed something flat and hard into my palm, closed my fingers over cool metal. “Look,” he said, and I opened my hand and stared down into a shining silver circle.
Down into my own mirrored eyes.
But a few days later, Bilqis thought she had been wrong; perhaps, for once, the living heart had triumphed. The day dawned fair, and when the palace settled quiet at noonday, Solomon came to her, eager for once as if he were a boy still.
“A fine day,” she said, gauging his mood and matching it. “Since I came to this land, I have not seen so blue a sky.”
“Yes.” His eyes glowed, as if lit by fire. “A day for—”
“A king and a queen?” she asked, playful; testing.
“A day for lovers.” He smiled, apparently heedless of the fact that once again he had been tested. “A day for Solomon and Bilqis.”
Tested, and had not been found wanting. Still, she remained wary; the man seemed too perfect, as if he were more than human.
Or less. But he stood waiting before her, his hands held out for hers in patient supplication. And suddenly she was sick of wariness and of prudence, of weighing each word before she spoke it. Sick of constant quiet battle.
I spend all my days and all my nights tending others’lives, thinking of their good, creating their happiness. But for today
—
“Will Bilqis come?” Solomon asked, as if sensing her need of aid in crossing the last barrier, and reckless elation transmuted the blood flowing smoothly through her veins to hot pounding wine.
For today, the Queen of the Morning unlocks Bilqis’s chains. For today, the queen sets the woman free
.
Slowly, she lifted her hands and laid them in his; his fingers closed about hers in silent caress. “Yes, Solomon. For today, Bilqis will come.”
 
 
She had no idea what Solomon planned—and neither did he. Or so he said; she doubted that, for even a king’s impulsive acts must be ordered,
devised with care.
But I will not spoil this day with questions. Today is not a test of his wisdom and my cunning
.
Today was freedom. So she merely smiled, and followed where he led her.
Once again, Solomon surprised her; expecting him to carry her to some secluded spot beyond Jerusalem’s heavy walls, she found herself instead following him through narrow corridors to a tower with a stairway curved about it.
“Up here,” he said, and led her up the narrow stairs.
At the top they stepped forward into a blaze of pale pure light, and she stopped, dazzled by what lay before her.
Surely we are atop the world!
But after a moment, she realized they merely stood atop the king’s palace, upon its highest roof. From this coign of vantage, all Jerusalem seemed spread before them, a golden haze dreaming under the summer sun. Beyond the city walls lay valleys silvered by rows of olive trees, beyond them mountains rising to the north and to the east. To the west, the land sloped green and golden down towards the restless sea. And to the south—to the south Sheba lay waiting.
But I am no goddess, to see beyond the world’s rim—nor am I a queen to trouble myself over a land beyond my eyes. Not today. For today
—
“Beautiful, is it not?” Solomon released her hand and slid his arm about her waist, as easily as if they were in truth free young lovers.
“Yes.” She turned into his arms, setting her back to the south, and her duties there. “Once again you have surprised me, Solomon; surely an ardent lover takes his beloved into the secret hills for a tryst such as this?”
“Trust me, the hills have no secrets—not for us. If I so much as ask for my horses to be harnessed, half the palace will know where I go and why, and the other half will know before I pick up the reins. And if I go abroad with a beautiful woman—” He laughed and lifted his free hand to her cheek. “We might as well be an army with banners!”
“So you brought me here.” Now she saw how well-appointed this rooftop was; a pavilion shaded half the roof; beneath the pavilion’s stripes of purple and gold, carpets woven to resemble desert gardens blanketed the hard stone. Cushions lay piled upon the rugs, promising even more comfort when the time was ripe. A table set with wine and fruits, bread and cheese; flowers in bright-painted pots—
Truly he has labored long to create this garden for us. How does he keep this secret?
“So I brought you here,” he agreed. “As any man might bring his beloved to the housetop.”
“And as any might come with her beloved. I am my beloved’s and he mine—for this span of time. So many love you, king of my heart.”
He smiled; she had not thought he could look so world-weary. “Oh, I am loved, Bilqis—but dutifully. I am loved because I am a just man, and a gentle king, and because I do not trouble the people with things they do not wish to understand.
“But I am not well-loved. Not as they loved my father David, no matter what sins he committed, no matter what burdens he laid upon their backs. Him they loved for no reason other than that they loved him.”
She slid her fingers through his. “Forget the people, Solomon; their love is not important. Their welfare, their happiness, their safety—those you give them freely, because you are their king, regent for their god upon this earth.”
“Yes. But it would be pleasant to be well-loved, despite my faults.”
“Or because of them?”
“That, too.”
She laughed, trying to entice him back to sweetness. “Then you are lost, for you have no flaws, my dearest love.”
“Then I wish I possessed one.”
“I am wrong; you do own a fault.”
“And what is that?”
“You are too gloomy, my heart. Come to me; forget your ungrateful subjects for an hour.”
“They are grateful enough; they give me all their obedience and respect.”
“And their daughters, too, when you will have them. You are too moderate, Solomon—a lesser monarch would have a harem of a thousand beauties to cheer his nights.”
“Moderation—is that a fault?” He shrugged. “Perhaps it is. I am moderate, and tolerant, and am called Solomon the Wise. Solomon the Just.” His eyes studied the city below them. “But this city—this they still call the City of David.”
“That will change—”
He shook his head and turned from the city below. “No, it will not. A thousand years from now, they will still call this King David’s City.”
There was a dull weariness in his voice that chilled her; as if he had abandoned a long-held hope. She did not wait for him to embrace her, but gathered him in her arms as if he were a hurt child.
“Never mind, my love,” she whispered in his ear. “Never mind that. I tell you that a thousand years from now King David will be remembered only as the father of Solomon the Wise.”
Solomon pulled back and took her face between his hands. “Beloved, your wisdom is as strong wine—and you lie like a queen.” Before she could deny this, he bent and kissed her. “And your kisses are honey on the tongue. Come to me, my fair one, my only beloved—”
“Only? How many have climbed those tower stairs with you? I ask as any woman might ask her beloved, whose housetop seems so well-prepared.”
“How many do you think?”
“I think—only one other.” For a heartbeat she thought she had erred.
Free or not, I should have weighed my words thrice over before reminding him of his lost love!
But he did not cool, or withdraw. Instead, his eyes softened, glinted crystal-bright. “Only one other, and since her, no one.” His hand slid into the soft coils of her hair. “Until you, no one.” His fingers sought and found the first of the jeweled ivory pins that bound up her heavy hair.
He drew the pin free so gently she knew it was gone only when she heard the gem-studded ivory chime against the hot smooth stones beneath her feet. “No one at all.”

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