Read Wisdom's Daughter: A Novel of Solomon and Sheba Online

Authors: India Edghill

Wisdom's Daughter: A Novel of Solomon and Sheba (39 page)

BOOK: Wisdom's Daughter: A Novel of Solomon and Sheba
4.41Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads
When told his wife Naamah craved audience with him, Solomon sighed inwardly, for he had planned to spend the afternoon with Bilqis. But he smiled, and bid his servant let Queen Naamah enter. Naamah was his wife and entitled to his respect—and his time.
And it was easy to smile as she walked through the doorway and approached him, for Naamah was very beautiful, and plainly had prepared herself with great care for this encounter. Always exquisitely garbed, today she seemed even more flawless than usual.
Solomon held out his hand to welcome her. “You are truly lovely, Naamah; a work of art.” That compliment brought a faint flush of satisfaction to her cheeks; Solomon strove to praise each of his wives for what she most valued in herself.
“If I please my lord the king, then I am pleased.” Naamah bowed, graceful as grass swaying in the wind. “And if I please my lord, may I speak?”
I knew she wished some favor; I wonder if I can guess it?
Smiling, Solomon gestured to the stool beside his chair. “Do I not always listen? Speak as pleases you, Naamah.”
He watched, admiring, as she settled upon the stool and arranged her skirts in elegant folds. Then she looked up at him through her thick dark lashes; for an instant Solomon remembered his first sight of her upon their
wedding day, when she had looked at him with just such an intent, seeking gaze. Even as a young bride, Naamah had been perfection, flawless, adroit in all a woman’s arts … .
Yes, and she meant to raise that memory
. So, whatever Naamah’s request, she thought it of great import, worth the use of all her skills.
Well, I will not keep her waiting; let us see what she desires so greatly
,
“We have been too long wed to need tricks between us.” Solomon made his voice light, lest Naamah think him angered, or herself too blatant. “So do not hesitate to speak plain words; if I can grant your request, I will do so.”
Her lashes swept down, veiling her eyes for a moment. Then she looked up again and smiled. “Thank you, my lord; you are always so kind! But I come seeking favors not for myself but for another—or say, rather, for two others.”
“That is kind of you. But am I so terrible that you, a queen, must act as envoy? Who so fears to approach me?”
Naamah laughed softly. “I come not as envoy, my lord, but as a mother on behalf of her son.”
What has Rehoboam done now?
Solomon sighed. “Speak as a mother then; I listen.”
She glanced at him again, as if uncertain how to begin, then said, “I will not weigh my words, but say only what is in my heart. My lord, it does not seem so long ago that we two shared our first night together—but it is many years, and now our son nears manhood. He would marry, and I have come to you, his father, to speak on his behalf.”
This was unexpected; Solomon regarded her with more interest. “Rehoboam wishes to wed? Well, that is good hearing; perhaps the boy begins to steady.”
“There is nothing like marriage to settle a young man,” Naamah agreed, smiling.
“Has he chosen a bride?” Hard though it was to think of Rehoboam as anything but a heedless boy, Solomon knew years slid by too easily. Certainly Rehoboam was old enough to think of love—
But doubtless it is Naamah who thinks of his marriage!
Well, she was a woman; it was only natural she should wish to see her son well wed. Solomon smiled. “Or shall I say, has Naamah chosen a daughter-in-law?”
“Yes,” she said, and turned a broad gold bangle about her wrist; green fire
glinted from emeralds upon her fingers. “And I think my lord will find our choice good, when he has heard my words. But surely my lord’s wisdom has already named the bride?”
“Surely my wisdom has not,” Solomon replied. “Come, we need not play games. Who is the girl?”
The bangle stilled. Naamah regarded him guilelessly. “It is Princess Baalit. No, my lord, do not speak until I have done; you swore to hear me out.”
Baalit? His own sister
—Even as he shrank from the image, a memory from long years past rose to taunt him. His sister Tamar, his brother Amnon. Lovers in a garden. Lovers slain by yet another brother using the name of Law to cloak ambition.
And a voice whispering from that dead past that the king would smile upon their marriage, for they shared only a father … .
“Can this be true? Does Rehoboam so look upon his sister?”
“His half-sister,” Naamah reminded him. “They never shared a womb, never suckled from the same breast. There is no bar between them. Only think, my lord king—is it not the perfect match? Your heir and your only daughter wed?”
Her words tempted, seduced; Solomon tried to weigh them without passion.
To have Baalit always here, to see her wed under my own roof, to see her children playing about me
—That was lure indeed. But was the lure a snare as well?
Knowing he must think carefully, Solomon said, “There is much in what you say, Naamah. But does the boy truly wish it? And my daughter? I had not thought they liked each other’s company overmuch.”
“Children’s quarrels,” Naamah said, smiling. “But they are children no longer. Their hearts have changed.”
“Truly?” Had Rehoboam and Baalit learned to love one another, as had Amnon and Tamar?
If they have
—If they had, he would find it hard to deny them.
And it would so ease my heart to have Abishag’s daughter with me always
—“Can this be true?”
Naamah smiled and patted his hand, a maternal gesture that seemed for once unpracticed. “My dear husband, a mother knows these things—and while I do not know the Princess Baalit’s heart, I have seen how she looks at my son. They are both hot-eyed for each other, my lord king.”
Solomon sat quietly, but his thoughts were jumbled, unclear. “I will think upon your words,” he said at last.
“That is all I ask,” Naamah said. “That, and my son’s happiness.”
“That is all any of us ask,” Solomon said. “Our children’s happiness.”
Naamah rose, and bowed again, and went away on quiet feet. Solomon sat and watched her go. She was right; such a marriage would be ideal. In many kingdoms, such a marriage would be the custom.
Once before in this palace, a royal brother and sister had wished to wed—only to have their love sacrificeci to another’s ambition.
Amnon and Tamar were long dead; sometimes Solomon thought he alone remembered them at all. Amnon, the golden hero who had tossed him high up into the air, never failing to catch him securely as he fell. Tamar, the fire-haired girl who fed him sweet cakes, who smelled of roses and sunlight, and who once had given him a painted toy horse … .
I will not have that past repeat itself.
Rehoboam and Baalit—
If they truly wish to wed, I will grant it. I will not drive true lovers to despair and death.
And perhaps their wedding would do honor to Solomon’s brother and sister, redeem at last Amnon and Tamar’s doomed love.
“Marry Baalit?” Rehoboam could not believe his mother serious. “She is my sister!”
“Half-sister,” his mother corrected. “You share only a father; that is no impediment.”
“And she’s a prideful, willful bitch. I hate her!”
“That also is no impediment to a royal marriage.” Now his mother smiled. “Remember, my son, that a man may do as he pleases with his own wife.”
These words silenced Rehoboam as the truth of this flowed through his veins, heady as hot wine. A man’s wife belonged to him; she was his possession just as was a horse or a lamb, his chattel. A wife owed her husband obedience. If Baalit were his wife, she would become his property, would have to do as he commanded.
My word would be her law. And if she disobeyed, I could beat her. Or have her
beaten; that would be safer … .
“Yes, smile.” His mother laid her hand on his cheek. “And remember to keep smiling, for we have not won the princess for you yet. You must convince your father that you yearn for her, that without her your life will be worth nothing to you.”
The lovely vision of Baalit weeping at his feet faded. Rehoboam glared at his mother. “My father won’t believe me. Baalit hates me as I hate her.”
His mother laughed. “Oh, my dear boy, all girls treat their brothers so. Children’s quarrels, soon forgotten.” She put her arms around Rehoboam and stroked his hair. “But you must put such childish things behind you now, my son. You must win Baalit’s heart—”
“She hasn’t got one,” Rehoboam muttered, and his mother tugged sharply on his hair, forcing him to look at her.
“You must
listen
to me, Rehoboam. Listen, and obey, unless you wish to chance losing all. You wish to be king, do you not?”
“I
will
be king. My father has said so.”
“Your father is not yet dead, and you are not yet king. Suppose he changes his mind? Suppose another gains his favor? He is king and may do as pleases him.”
Not be king? A chill slid over Rehoboam’s skin.
My father might change his mind, might name another son in my place, and I would have nothing—
“You had not thought of that, had you?” His mother folded him into her embrace; Rehoboam clung to her. “Never mind, my son; I thought of it long ago, and have never ceased to seek a way to ensure King Solomon keeps his word to you. And now I have found it.”
Rehoboam rested his cheek on his mother’s shoulder; the sweet scent of chypre rose from her skin.
My mother loves me above all things; I can trust her.
She stroked his hair again. “Now listen, my son. You must marry your half-sister Baalit. Once she is your wife, your place as King Solomon’s heir will be carved in stone. We all know he favors her beyond reason; when you wed her, you will become Solomon’s favorite son.”
Rehoboam saw no flaw in her logic—but he also saw no clear path to the shining prize his mother dangled before him. “Baalit won’t marry me,” he said. “I told you, she hates me.”
“Then you must make her love you. For Solomon dreads losing the girl; he will grasp at the chance to keep her close, and what could be closer than wedding her to the next king? Oh, yes, Solomon’s consent will be easy to obtain—” Here his mother put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back so that she might gaze into his eyes. “But Rehoboam, he will not consent if Baalit speaks against you, if she refuses. So you must woo Baalit, persuade her to look upon you with favor.”
“And how am I to do that?” Rehoboam demanded.
“By keeping your promise to do what I say, when I say it. And you may start by speaking fair words to your sister, and showing her a kind, smiling face. Remember, she is only a girl. You are the next king, Rehoboam. What girl does not dream of a crown?”
Which all sounded very fine, but Rehoboam was less certain than his mother that Baalit could be so easily led. “But suppose she won’t listen to me? How will you make her obey you?”
“I do not need to make Baalit obey me; she will obey her father. He does not wish to lose her, and so will be pleased to see her wed to you. But you must keep your temper, Rehoboam—and you must smile when you speak of this to your father. Your father likes to see his children smile.”
To be summoned before my father was no new thing, but to see my brother Rehoboam there as well surprised me. I bowed before my father, and he bade me rise. I did so, slanting a glance at Rehoboam. My brother’s face was sullen; he plainly knew no more than I why we had been summoned together. Hastily I searched my heart—no, I had committed no sin against Rehoboam of which he might truthfully complain.
“My children, I have called you before me to learn what is in your hearts.” Our father smiled, all kindness. “Do not fear to answer truly.”
I began to worry at that. I never yet had feared to speak truth to my father. What could he ask that I would not answer?
“Hard though it is for me to think it, you both are almost grown.” He looked us over, as if seeing us for the first time, and sighed. “I do not know where the years have fled. You, my son, are almost a man. And you, my daughter, are almost a woman. There is a time for all things; a time to grow and a time to learn—and a time to love.”
His eyes seemed to look past us, into some long-ago time we did not share. Neither Rehoboam nor I spoke, I from reluctance to banish that wistful pleasure from my father’s eyes, and Rehoboam doubtless from boredom, for he had little patience with the dreams of others. I glanced at my brother; he hastily smiled, and I wondered what unpleasant scheme Rehoboam now cherished.
Whatever it is, I will not let him torment me—or Ishbaal or Abner, or Melasadne’s dogs or Nefret’s cats—
“And a time to wed.” My father’s voice called my attention back to him; he smiled at me and took my hand. “My children, I am told you both now think of marriage.” And as I stared at him, he reached out and clasped Rehoboam’s hand as well. “So you must tell me, is this true? Do the two of you desire to be more to each other than sister and brother?”
Rehoboam gazed at our father earnestly. “Yes, just as my mother has told you.”
“And you, Baalit?” my father said, and I found my voice again.
“Rehoboam? But he’s my brother!”
“Half-brother!” Rehoboam corrected swiftly.
“Such unions are not unheard of,” my father said. “So speak freely—is it true that you wish to marry—”
“Marry
Rehoboam
? I would rather die!”
Rehoboam’s eyes told me that he, too, would rather I died—long after, I made that hour into a song that always drew laughter. But as I stood before my father and saw the happiness die from his face at my words, I could have wept. Almost I wished I had claimed Rehoboam as my dearest love—or at least had agreed I wished to become his wife.
My father released our hands. “I see I was mistaken. Never mind, my children.”
“It was my mother’s idea,” Rehoboam said. “I told her it was stupid.”
“That is no way to speak of your mother, Rehoboam. She wished only to see you well married. Now run along, both of you—and do not tease each other over this. It is forgotten.”
Perhaps my father forgot it, but I could not—and neither could Rehoboam. We never had liked one another, but now he truly hated me and I—I had wit enough to fear him. Rehoboam was the sort to hide a scorpion in one’s bedclothes; venomous.
 
 
When I left my father, I fled to the Little Palace; never once did it occur to me that I should not tell Queen Bilqis all that had passed. Nor did it seem odd to me that she saw me at once—she was as a mother to me now, and a mother’s arms are always open to her daughter. She smiled and kissed my forehead, and said I looked troubled, and I poured out all that had happened that day. By the time I had finished, my whole body trembled as if I
had just escaped great injury—which I suppose was true enough. I do not think I would have lived long, as King Rehoboam’s wife.
“And then my father told us to run along—as if we were small children! To run along and forget. Does he truly think Rehoboam will forget?” And then, to my horror, I began to weep.
The queen closed her arms around me and rocked me against her breast. “No, but you may forget it, Baalit. Weep, and forget, and then listen to me, for there is something I must say to you. A question I must ask.”
I dried my eyes, and then she sat me beside her and held both my hands in hers. I managed to smile and waited, curious, for her to begin. And for the first time since I had met her, I saw the Queen of Sheba hesitate, as if she were afraid to speak—or as if she were afraid of what might come after.
At last I said, “What is it? You know I will do anything you ask.”
“Do not be so swift to make that vow, Baalit. Listen, and think—and only then answer.” And then, speaking slowly, as if she found it hard to choose her words, she told me why she had truly come across the world to the court of King Solomon the Wise.
I heard how she had watched her sisters die, and her mother, and then her daughter and her daughter’s daughter. “I alone remained—I alone, and too old to bear another daughter. I tried, I truly did.”
And then, when she thought all lost, she had gone to Sheba’s greatest Temple, and there received a promise. “A promise of an heir, of a daughter for Sheba. Of a queen from the north. A queen to sit upon the Sun Throne and tend the Morning Land when I am gone.”
I stared at her, and all I could think to say was “So you did not come to bargain with my father over the spice routes?”
“Any of the officers of my court could have done that. I came north to claim a greater prize than trade agreements. I came for a queen. I came for you, Baalit.”
Fire flowed through my blood; exultation soared through me until I felt as if I could spread wings and fly.
“You were born to be queen—”
“So you truly meant it, when you said I was fit to be queen? To rule?”
“Yes, my daughter. I truly meant it. You are the queen our goddess Hat promised us.”
“And you did not think I would come with you? Of course I will!” To Sheba, to freedom. To a shining future—
The queen held up her hand. “Wait, Baalit; there is more. Do you think I have remained half a year in Jerusalem judging you? I knew you were ours the day I set eyes upon you, fire-child.”
“Then why did you not ask me before?”
“Because I am not all-wise, Baalit, nor all-patient. I am not Ilat Herself, only Her Mirror on Earth. And so I erred.” And then, very gently, she told me how she had asked my father to grant me to her—and he had refused.
“I will conceal nothing from you, Daughter; when he denied what I asked, I set myself to claim his heart so that I might then gain you as his gift. But—”
I smiled. “It is all right; I know. All Jerusalem knows. How could you not love him, or he you?”
She seemed to stare into a world I could not see. “How indeed? But once set that spindle whirling, and only the gods themselves can spin its thread smooth and true. And now—”
And now you dare not ask for me again, lest you lose his heart.
I caught her hands in mine. “And now I know. And I will come with you to Sheba and learn all you can teach me. And someday—” Someday Bilqis would die, and Baalit would take her place as queen. But I did not have to think of that today.
Today is a day to rejoice in sun, not to mourn tomorrow’s night.
I lifted her hands and kissed them. “I will come to Sheba; I swear it. My father will not stop me.”
The queen’s gaze returned to me; the shadows vanished from her eyes. “You will find Sheba strange, Baalit. But you were destined for the south—I think you will be happy there. And your father is truly almost as wise as any man can be; sooner or later he will see the truth, and let you go.”
BOOK: Wisdom's Daughter: A Novel of Solomon and Sheba
4.41Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

The Demon Lord by Morwood, Peter
Crashed by Robin Wasserman
The Vorbing by Stewart Stafford
Mistress of the Stone by Maria Zannini
Liz Carlyle - 06 - Rip Tide by Stella Rimington
Forbidden by Lori Adams
Guarding a Notorious Lady by Olivia Parker
Uncle Dynamite by P.G. Wodehouse
The Thursday Night Club by Steven Manchester
Let Me Know by Stina Lindenblatt