The young man screwed up his face. “I don’t know . . .”
I did not have time for this! “If you don’t sell me a camel, the men who killed my momma will get away. They stole everything from us. They’re going to Ma’rib. I can’t walk there.”
He rubbed his nose and frowned. “Ma’rib is a three-day journey from here.”
I took his hand and pressed it to my breast. “I’ll do anything.” I stared into his eyes, my gaze ripe with meaning.
The young man swallowed. “Anything?”
Women possessed the most formidable weapon of all. Their bodies. I planned on using mine to get what I wanted.
He was almost handsome, his narrow face and long nose not yet grown into.
“Anything.” My hand brushed across his kilt.
The young man blushed. “Come with me.” He led me around the shadowed side of the house. “I’ve never….” He blushed.
“Me neither.” My heart leapt. A virgin. How wonderful! Now I would play the teacher. “I want to stay a virgin so…”
His cock poked out of his loosely tied kilt.
“It’s huge!” This charade made my cunt pulse. “With my hand or mouth?”
The young man leaned against the wall. “Both?”
I kneeled before him. “Tell me if I’m doing it right.”
“Is there a wrong way?”
Yes. Don’t suck on the cocks of men drunk on murder and wine.
I wrapped my fingers around his length. “Do I just put my mouth around it?”
The young man nodded. “Yes. Yes.”
The more I talked, the faster I would taste his cum. “Should I lick it?” My tongue slithered from base to tip.
“Oh yes, do that.” His hand rested on my head. “Just like that.”
“It’s so long. Should I lick your whole long cock?” I looked up at him and fluttered my eyelashes. “What about this?” I skimmed my tongue across the head.
“Oh,” he moaned. “That’s good too.” His legs trembled.
I felt the tension in his lean, hard thighs as my hand slid up to cup his rock-hard balls.
“Sweet Almaqah!” The young man smacked his hand against the side of the house to the quick rhythm that matched his hips.
My cunt pulsed, wet with want. But there was no time to fuck him properly. I must be content with his cum. “It’s salty.” I flicked off a droplet of precum.
The young man groaned, his hips moving in mounting pleasure to an eternal tempo. His breath grew heavy, sounds rumbling in his throat. His hands, which had been gentle on my head at first, pressed tight.
If I were not in a hurry, it might have been fun to tease this young man even more—to draw out his rise to bliss—but now was not the time to initiate him into all the glories of sex.
I undulated my tongue over his length until his head swayed back and forth, his mouth slack with sweet whimpers. He convulsed, arms jerking, hands pushing my head to consume his cock.
I swallowed his cum, a cupful of salty brine that filled my mouth. I moaned with unfulfilled lust as I sucked and sucked, until he pulled away and panted.
I licked my lips. “Was that okay?”
With glazed eyes, he rested his head against the wall. “Amazing.” He wiped the sweat running down his forehead.
I stood, shook the dust from my dress, dropped coins into his hand, and traipsed toward the old cow.
“Marry me,” the young man said, following close behind.
“Khhh.” My throat rasped as I tapped the camel’s foot. “Maybe when I come back.” The camel obeyed my command to cush. Momma once told me that most men were compliant after sex. I put her theory to the test. “I need a saddle.”
“Yes, of course.” The young man sprinted into the house, returning in moments holding a plain but sturdy saddle. “When will you be back again? I want Father to meet you. I want to marry you.” He bridled and saddled the old camel. In his lust-quenched haze, he forgot to ask for more coin for the saddle.
“Marry me? You don’t even know my name.” I patted the cow’s neck before swinging my leg over her.
The young man laughed. “Tell me your name so every day I can say, ‘I love you, I love you.’”
The cow, sensing my hurry, rose up, and let loose a loud, putrid fart.
“I don’t know yours either.” The camel swayed forward. “Good-bye and thank you.”
“Wait, wait!” The young man ran after me as the old cow loped away.
The old camel’s vigor surprised me. Perhaps Almaqah had whispered in her furry brown ear.
Ma’rib was a three-night journey. Enough time to catch up to the murderers.
CHAPTER 10
I rode through groves thick with date palms, their clustered fruit ripening like the ideas for revenge in my head. I rode past ancient myrrh trees, their thick trunks as twisted as my vengeful thoughts. I passed bulbous-trunked desert roses eager to bloom, pink-tipped buds stretching toward the sun. I imagined myself a bud, ready to flower, impatient to flaunt my revenge.
I thought of my Great Destiny while passing giant boulders at the base of a cliff. What force had sent them crashing to the ground? Was I sending my Great Destiny plummeting by riding after five murderers? Should I have stayed at home and waited for my Great Destiny to come to my door?
I rounded rocky ridges and wondered at the sun-saturated mountains touching the sky. Saba was a beautiful yet harsh kingdom that blew life’s lessons in the winds and drowned hopes with a deluge. Our nation was as old as the earth and as powerful as a sandstorm. I decided to listen to the lessons Saba taught.
Five figures on camels shimmered into sight far ahead. A mirage? I shielded the sun’s glare with my hand and stared into the distance. It must be them. It had to be them. The murderers had finally decided to rest. The harsh afternoon sun wilted even the toughest person.
I stopped in the shade of an overhanging ridge. “Don’t get too comfortable.” I patted the old cow. “I’m just waiting while they nap.”
Just as their forms faded into the mountain’s shadow, a plan for revenge struck! Though this plan was newly hatched, wobbly and frail as a baby bird, I would not be deterred. I urged the camel on, not stopping again until reaching a rock-strewn knoll. It was the perfect distance from the napping murderers.
The camel, sensing my unspoken request, kneeled down and let me off.
“Let me know when they leave.” I patted her neck.
The cow swung her head and spit. I took that as a yes.
My back against the warm rock, I closed my eyes. A quick nap, that was all I needed . . .
The camel’s loud, hoarse groan jolted me awake. I leapt up, my body shooting forward like a rock from a slingshot. The old cow shook her head and continued her throaty disapproval.
“Did they leave?” I blinked, rubbed sleep from my eyes, and stared into the shadows cast by the setting sun.
They were gone. I kicked at the dirt. So much for my plan!
I slung my leg over the saddle. Before I settled myself, the camel’s back legs straightened. She was off, galloping down the road as though she knew we had to catch up.
A waxing moon rose, with just a thin black crescent sliced off the perfect white orb. The night was bright enough, though, washing the mountains in dark shades of purple and blue.
In the distance, I made out five figures cresting a hummock. The murderers had only to look back to see me. I acted fast and hid under a cluster of acacia trees. A few minutes later I emerged from their wide canopy. The murderers were gone. My shoulders sagged with relief and I continued onward.
The camel’s gait lulled me into a stupor. I was neither awake nor asleep, but in a dull netherworld where the mind and body slipped into an easy languor.
Several times I startled, bolted upright in my seat, and stared down the road in search of the five murderers. The moment I spotted them, my spine curved back into weariness.
The sun rose fast, its fiery rays melting away the cool air. I sat
up, fully awake, thirsty and hungry.
The five murderers did not rest again until the trees cast no shadows. Had they looked over their shoulders they might have been able to see me, such was the rocky flatland of the terrain. Taking no risks, I cushed the camel behind a pink-clustered tamarisk thicket in bloom, which she eschewed in favor of munching on a nearby thorn bush. I crawled beneath the tamarisk, where I gulped water from the skin, cracked dry bread between my teeth, and chewed figs.
My eyelids grew heavy. Grief was exhausting; it drained mind, body, and spirit. And it scorched one’s will.
Momma. Momma. I slipped into a deep sleep.
At first I thought I was dreaming, but the slow, heavy glide across my belly was real. I held my breath and cracked open one eye.
An adder slid over me, its blunted flat head moving toward my feet. A single bite meant death. I prayed to Almaqah until the adder’s narrow tail slithered over me and into the tall grass.
I leapt up from the underbrush. The old cow was waiting for me, her tail swishing impatiently back and forth. She growled and tossed her head as though chastising me for nodding off.
The five murderers were gone! Again!
I was about to mount the camel when a weeks-old leopard kitten sprung from the thicket. She mewled at me with imploring blue eyes.
“Where’s your momma?” I jumped into the saddle, urged the camel up, and swung my head around in search of the mother leopard.
The kitten mewled again. She looked hungry and bedraggled, not like a kitten fed and groomed by her momma. The kitten sat, her black and white tail curled around her, and glared at me as though my leaving was an insult.
The old cow kneeled. It was a sign. Even the camel felt sorry for the leopard kitten.
“Come here.” I patted my leg.
The kitten ran in small leaps and clawed her way up my dress, where she curled in my lap.
“We’re both orphans.” I stroked her white fur, which was dappled with black spots. “I’ll take care of you.”
I dribbled water from the water skin into her mouth. Leopards ate meat and I had none. I did have a slingshot though. I could kill something small.
I didn’t need to. Not long after we started off again in search of the murderers, the camel crushed a small lizard under her foot. I jumped down, scooped up the squashed body, and gave it to the kitten, who gnawed hungrily.
“I’m calling you Nasreen,” I said as the camel picked up her pace.
Nasreen didn’t care; her attention was fixed on tearing the lizard’s tough flesh.
We caught up to the five murderers a few hours later. Nasreen, who had been sleeping curled and sated in my lap all this time, woke and sniffed the air.
I stared ahead to where the road forked before curving uphill around a large rock outcropping. The narrower path was steeper, disappearing behind a grove of tall ghaf trees and bushes growing out of the sand. At the top of the wider road, five riderless camels waited in the sun. I figured the murderers had decided to rest until sunset.
“It’s time I knew my enemy better,” I told Nasreen.
She showed off her tiny row of pointed teeth with a wide yawn.
“Can you get close without all the complaining?” I asked the camel.
Her reply, for once, was silence.
I took the narrow path, the camel plodding soundlessly forward. I dismounted a good distance away and treaded up the path that became steeper and rockier with each step. Nasreen followed behind, darting between my legs like it was a game.
I reached the top and found myself on the backside of the rocky summit where the murderers slept.
If I climbed over I could steal the sack with Momma’s head. Or ram a blade through their hearts with their own swords. Or…
CHAPTER 11
Don’t be foolish, I thought. A single dislodged stone tumbling down would alert them to my presence. And then they would kill me. Or worse.
I climbed down and leaned against the rock. Heat seeped through my skin and melted my body, reminding me of Momma’s warm hugs. Comforted, I blazed with renewed purpose.
“Hey!” A raspy, low voice came from the other side.
“Get up, you lout!” It was the leader’s voice. “If we leave now we’ll make it to Ma’rib by nightfall.”
“I thought we were waiting until sunset.”
“I changed my mind. This head stinks worse than a human’s. It’s making me puke.” The leader mimicked gagging.
“It’s the smell of money,” said a third.
I choked back a sob. What I wouldn’t give to clutch Momma’s foul-smelling head to my bosom.
“What’s he going to do with it?”
I recognized the hoarse voice. It was the tall murderer with hawk-like eyes.
“Mount it on his wall with all the others.”
My back pressed to the rock, I inched closer. Who was he? Say his name!
“Did you hear that?” asked the leader.
The sounds of their leave-taking stopped. My limbs became stone, my heart seizing with dread.
“I don’t hear anything. You’re imagining things.”
Heavy footsteps plodded toward me.
I was as good as dead. There was nowhere to hide. Stupid, stupid, stupid! My mind whirled, despite limbs that refused to move. To have come all this way just to be caught!
Nasreen bolted out from behind me and disappeared around the bend.
“Eh, it’s just a baby leopard. Come here, kitty. I’m going to break your cute little neck,” the third murderer said. “You’ll make a nice stuffed toy for some nobleman’s spawn.”
“Let it be.”
I heard scuffling and grunts.
“Fast little fucker.”
“Let’s go!” growled the leader. “You want to wrestle with an angry mother leopard?”
“But—”
“Get mauled then. We’re leaving.”
“I can catch a jinni but I can’t catch this damn pussy.”
“You can buy all the pussy you want when we get to Ma’rib.”
They were leaving, their mumbles and hurry ups mixed with camel farts and growls.
“Nasreen?” I whispered when all I heard was the wind whispering through the ghaf trees. I rounded the rocky corner. “You saved my life.”
Nasreen raised her head from the meat scraps the men had left behind—goat by the smell of it.
“Guess you don’t need protercting.” I sighed, disappointed she didn’t need me, sad to leave the comforting ball of fluff behind.
But Nasreen was right behind me when I mounted the camel.
“Are you sure you want to go to Ma’rib? It’s a dangerous place for a defenseless kitten.” I nuzzled her.
Nasreen purred. I took that as a yes.
We continued onward. The late afternoon light angled into the wide valley that slowly changed from rocky tan to fertile green. Acre upon acre of straight rows and squared plots flourished with einkorn wheat, fenugreek, melons, onions, garlic, and leeks. In between the fields, groves of towering walnut trees and pomegranate trees spread their shade in long shadows. Clusters of stone houses stood among the fields.
Surely, Ife, the woman from Ma’rib, had been mistaken or lying. Ma’rib was a prosperous paradise. In the midst of all this bounty, I noticed small stone temples with intricate carvings of griffins, bulls, and lions above their doors.
In the lavender distance lay the city of Ma’rib, its grandeur rising with each step forward.
I reached the massive dam by dark. I recalled my architecture teacher telling me its dimensions. Fifty feet high and two thousand feet wide. When I told him I could not imagine such vastness, he told me it was as tall as ten of me stacked head to feet and four hundred of me laid across the desert floor. At the time, I had laughed at his exaggeration. Now here it stood before me, bigger than my mind ever conceived. No wonder it irrigated four thousand acres.
Ma’rib was awash in the moon’s glow when I arrived. The town appeared men
acing. What had looked majestic at sunset now loomed like a specter in the dark.
I drew a shawl over my head and sat tall in the saddle. I did not want to attract the attention of the people camped outside the city walls, so I rode among the merchant caravans, shepherds, peasants, nomads, grifters, and beggars. A lone woman was not safe here.
I thanked Almaqah for the darkness, but cursed my stupidity for not thinking about the folly of a nighttime arrival. Thieves might steal my camel and rob me of all my possessions. I had to get inside.
I looked up the road. The gates were closed. There was no way in.
CHAPTER 12
The old cow knew something I did not. She plodded away from the gate, away from the people, and followed a narrow path by the wall. She stopped at a tall tower and let loose a throaty growl.
It was a deserted spot, all the people and livestock waiting at the main gate.
A lone guard stood atop the tower and stared into the distance.
“Hello,” I shouted.
The guard hung his head over the wall. “Who’s there?”
“A woman traveling alone. Let me in.”
“No one enters at night. King Hasan’s rules.” His voice was youthful but brusque, a young guardsman trying to sound intimidating.
I looked into the distance. I could hide in a field for the night. Or find some dense scrub to disappear into.
“I’m afraid.” I hoped my confession inspired pity.
“Not my problem.”
I pulled my shawl away. “We’re about the same age. I could be your sister.”
“I don’t have a sister. Go away.”
“Kind sir, I beg you. Let me in.”
“Do you see a door? No? That’s because there isn’t one. How am I supposed to open a door that’s not there?”
I refused to believe there was only one door in and out of Ma’rib. “Then why are you up there?”
“I’m a lookout. Go away!”
“What do you look for?”
“Invading Minaeans or Egyptians or the Qatabanians.”
Confessions of a Sheba Queen Page 5