by H. B. Moore
“Here.” The patriarch pointed to the wall he’d been examining.
They all crowded in, shining their lights on a small drawing. “It’s an oil lamp,” Lucas said.
“ ‘Waiting as seven lamps still burn above,’ ” Omar quoted.
“Bravo,” the patriarch said. “There should be six more just like this one.”
The group examined the walls, the ceiling, the floor. Soon they’d found six more drawings of oil lamps.
“What do they mean?” Jade asked.
“If it means what I think it does, we’d better start looking for those devils,” the patriarch said.
“The what?” Jade asked.
“Djinns—or fiery spirits. They are made of fire,” the patriarch said.
“Why are they called devils?” Jade asked.
“A common misconception—and easily mistranslated over time and through different languages. Some interpret a djinn as a genie, but they are not the same. There are three classes of djinns: those who guard graveyards, those who can appear in any form, and those who are just plain evil spirits.”
“Let’s hope these djinns are the ones that guard the graveyard,” Alem said.
“So we’re looking for firelike creatures?” Mia asked.
“Something close to that,” the patriarch said.
The group separated to the walls and started looking again.
“ ‘Now the seven devils hide beneath the tomb,’ ” Omar whispered to himself. He shone his flashlight on the floor and slowly moved the flashlight to the left. He stopped the beam on a strange shape. Is it a cloud? Omar crouched to the ground and saw a rudimentary drawing of what appeared to be a thin, wavy set of lines. The fiery spirit of a djinn.
“I think I found something,” Omar said, and the others crowded around.
The patriarch clapped him on the shoulder. “I believe you have.” He traced the outline of the flame with his finger. “If the last three lines of the poem are accurate in any way, the queen of Sheba may possibly be buried beneath this floor.”
CHAPTER
52
Shisur, Oman
Twenty-four hours had passed since the patriarch had led them all into the tomb and found the seven lamps and the seven djinns. The work crews had labored without breaks throughout the night as they dug out a large hole in the floor. Each shovelful of dirt had to be analyzed before the next one could be removed. The process was slow and agonizing, and as each hour passed, Jade grew more anxious. Was the patriarch’s theory wild?
Lucas supervised the digging with Dr. Stein. At times they even pitched in to relieve the excavators. Jade rose from her perch on a low rock beneath a palm tree. The air was electric, tense, as if at any moment the place would burst with the media crews ready and the Omani military surrounding the oasis.
It was only when she could no longer keep her eyes open that Jade went to her tent to sleep. The media crews set up a mishmash of camps, keeping at least one member on alert.
Another day passed, then a third. More media crews had arrived, bringing with them supplies of food and water. It seemed the whole world was watching now. On the morning of the fourth day, Jade exited her tent. Alem, Omar, and Mia were all at the site, keeping a close watch on the progress. Lucas wasn’t among them, and Jade could bet he was inside with the excavators. She wasn’t sure if he’d even slept in three days.
She smiled as she watched her friends for a moment, their dark heads bent together, no doubt discussing something important. She walked up the small hill that rose behind her tent, giving her a view of the entire site. The sun hadn’t yet heated the land, and the air was almost cool enough to need a jacket.
For the first time since leaving Rhode Island, she thought about the day she would go home and about leaving Lucas and the others. She thought about leaving the arid desert with its flies, snakes, and deep shafts. She would miss all of it—the heat, the never-ending perspiration, the unpleasant smells, Luc’s easy smile and engaging eyes.
She turned and gazed at the endless horizon. Its vastness made her feel as though she lived in a world all her own. What would happen when she returned to the bustle of university life? She closed her eyes and let out a breath. Spending the last several days with Lucas showed her how different her life could be—how happy. Even if she never saw Lucas again . . . She opened her eyes, hating the possibility.
Jade looked at her mood ring. Orange. Daring. Just perfect.
A shout echoed through the site, and Jade raised her head. The media crews that dotted the site in various camping spots scrambled to their feet, some climbing out of sleeping bags, others exiting tents. As a body, everyone hurried toward the tomb. Even the military edged closer, their intense guard temporarily forgotten.
Jade ran. She reached the edge of the gathering crowd just as Lucas emerged from the tomb. Dr. Stein and the patriarch already stood before the crowd, grinning. Dr. Stein raised his hands for silence, and the excited murmuring quieted. He motioned for Lucas to begin, but first Lucas scanned the group until his gaze stopped on Jade.
“Just a minute,” he said and pushed through the crowd until he reached Jade. He took her hand. “Come with me.”
Jade almost melted on the spot. Lucas pulled her to the front of the group, and they stood next to Dr. Stein. “We’re ready to reveal the results of our second dig,” Lucas said. He still held Jade’s hand, and it was as if fire pulsed between them.
“Thanks to Mademoiselle Holmes’s timely fall a few days ago,” Lucas said as a few chuckles surrounded them, cameras snapping like mad, “and His Holiness’s insightful interpretation of an ancient poem, we have made another discovery.”
The blood rushed to Jade’s head. Was it possible?
“There is indeed a second tomb beneath the treasury room,” Lucas said in a tremulous voice.
Jade looked at him and was caught up in the emotion herself. She swallowed against the thickness in her throat and squeezed Lucas’s hand. He squeezed back.
“Dr. Stein and His Holiness have some interesting observations to make,” Lucas said.
Dr. Stein waited until the excited buzzing dimmed. “We wanted to be sure, and we didn’t want to make the world wait a moment longer than necessary. So, with the help of the work crew, we opened the sarcophagus found in the second tomb.”
A collective gasp arose.
The patriarch stepped forward and withdrew a folded piece of cloth from his robes. “We found this on the preserved skeleton.” He held up a square of fabric and carefully lifted one side. Within the folds was a thick, gold chain. At the end of the chain was a large pendant.
Jade covered her mouth. The pendant held the Sheba symbol identical to the ring found in the Jerusalem tomb—the snake and the flower intimately intertwined.
Cameras snapped pictures as the patriarch rotated and displayed the necklace for all to photograph.
“We now believe,” Lucas called out above the murmuring crowd, “that Her Royal Highness, the legendary goddess known as the queen of Sheba, has been found!”
After numerous interviews, Lucas was free to speak with Jade. She’d waited quietly on the sidelines, her hand still burning from his touch. When he turned and caught her gaze, her heart leaped. He crossed to her and grinned.
“Let’s go see the queen.”
Jade inhaled sharply. “Are you sure it’s all right? I’m not an archaeologist.”
“Neither are the others. Mia, Omar, and Alem went down a few minutes ago with the patriarch.”
He led Jade down the ramp, and the light grew dimmer as they entered the tomb of Batal. When Jade shivered at the sudden temperature change, Lucas put an arm around her. “Come on.”
They climbed through the opening in the wall to the treasury room. Jade immediately saw the gaping hole in the floor. Light flickered in the dark pit. Lucas
called down to the others to let them know they were coming. Then he held the rope ladder steady for Jade to go first.
She put her flashlight back in her pocket and gripped the rope as she slowly descended into the musty air. Jade pulled out her flashlight and scanned around the space that was about the same size as the treasury room above. On the walls appeared several drawn figures, looking royal in nature.
“This is the antechamber, or the tomb entrance,” Lucas said, coming up behind her. He arced his beam of light along the wall. “Beyond this room is a second area that serves as the queen’s burial chamber. You’ll see there’s no other entrance. This tomb was completely sealed off after she was buried.”
“So the queen meant for someone to dig through the treasury floor to find her?”
“No, the queen meant for no one to find her,” Lucas said. “Just as the patriarch said, the poem was likely handed down verbally from generation to generation.”
“Wow.” Jade walked to one of the walls. “Who are these people drawn on the stone?”
“We’ll be able to figure that out in time. But first, I want to show you something.” Lucas led her to the next room just as Mia and Alem exited. They greeted each other in hushed tones. Then Jade followed Lucas into the burial room. A huge sarcophagus took up most of the space.
This was it.
The final resting place of the queen of Sheba.
Jade stepped forward and touched the cold stone coffin. A shiver traveled through her entire body. She walked around the sarcophagus, trailing her fingers over the ancient rock.
Her stomach flipped with disbelief and excitement at the same time. Lucas stood back, letting her take her time as she examined every inch. After a while, he joined her, saying, “I have something else to show you.”
He guided her to the closest wall and fixed his light on the lettering. “The most incredible find so far is the amount of Aramaic writing. The author apparently knew the queen quite well, as the writing chronicles her life.” Lucas pointed to a series of words. “Here her story begins.”
Jade listened in awe as Lucas translated. “Her father died when she was in her fifteenth year, and that’s when she took the throne.” He moved his beam along the wall.
“ ‘Death began your journey,’ ” Jade quoted.
“Exactly.” Lucas moved his light. “Her journey north to Jerusalem.”
“And she met Solomon, just as it says in the Bible?”
“Yes. But look at this.” He pointed to a drawing of a man who looked as if he were ready for war. “See the name?”
She nodded, but couldn’t decipher the lettering.
“Batal.”
A wave of understanding passed over her. “He was the one she truly loved.”
“The one for whom her ‘heart melted . . . like incense spread gold upon cherubim.’ ”
Lucas’s body heat seemed to radiate toward her, making her heart pound and throat grow dry.
“It’s a love story like no other. ‘Until your desire became as bright as precious stones against your bed of spices, O Queen of the South,’ ” he whispered.
The poem is about me, or any woman who has ever forgotten herself for a man. Jade folded her arms, pressing them tightly against her chest, as if she could calm her thudding heart. “So she didn’t marry Solomon?”
He moved a few steps away. “Not according to this. Here are two women: one, the queen, and another named Azhara.”
Azhara.
“It seems that the queen bestowed some royal honor upon this Azhara woman. I’m not exactly sure what it all means yet, but the woman left the queen and traveled southwest . . . possibly to Abyssinia.”
“Modern-day Ethiopia,” she breathed, looking at the drawn figures. “Amazing.”
“But then something tragic happened.” Lucas moved his beam along the wall. “The final portion of her story begins here . . .”
CHAPTER
53
Ubar
959 BC
Nicaula stood in front of the polished metal, staring at her appearance. She was no longer a girl of fifteen—as she’d been when she had first met Batal.
She smoothed her tunic over her breasts and stopped her hands when they reached her narrow hips. Looking at her reflection in the metal, she imagined Batal standing next to her, his strong arms encircling hers. “Soon,” she whispered. “Soon I will be joined with him.”
The sky had turned to violet, making Nicaula even more impatient. In a few hours, she would be with Batal. A servant brought in a meal, but she couldn’t eat anything.
She paced.
But she did not doubt.
At midnight, she left her rooms and found her way to the stables. There she readied her horse, whispering soothing words. Moments later, she was riding full speed to the west.
She saw him standing at the top of the hill near her father’s tomb, illuminated in the moonlight. Nicaula spurred her horse forward, breathless, laughing. He was waiting for her. He met the horse and helped her down, his touch almost singeing her skin.
Before she had a chance to speak, he swept her in his arms, nearly crushing her against him.
“You came.” He pulled away, staring at her.
She laughed, but it was suddenly a breathless laugh.
His face turned serious, and he reached for her hand. Without a word, he led her to the entrance of her father’s tomb. Together they knelt in respect and paid homage to the king of Sheba.
Then Batal rose to his feet and extended his hand toward Nicaula. “Are you ready?”
She grasped his hand and rose to her feet. “I am.”
He poured a goblet of wine from the wineskin he’d brought. Then he set it on a nearby rock.
Looking at Batal in the moonlight reminded her of the first night they spent tracking the marauders and the sacrifice he made to defend her.
He wrapped her hands in his. “Nicaula, Queen of the South, will you take me as your husband?”
Her voice was tremulous as she spoke. “Yes.”
He smiled and squeezed her hands.
“Batal, will you take me as your wife?” she said.
“With all my heart.”
Batal released her hands as he reached for the goblet. He took a sip from the cup, then handed it to Nicaula. She sipped and then put the goblet back on the rock.
Nicaula removed the ring of Sheba from her hand. “With this ring, we are consecrated together.” She slipped it on his finger in reverence, her throat constricting with emotion.
She circled him seven times, then stopped in front of him.
Batal removed the cloak from his shoulders. His torso was completely bare, and his skin shone a deep gold in the moonlight. He wrapped the cloak around her shoulders, transferring what was his to include her. “What Yahweh hath brought together, let no man put asunder.”
He pulled a scroll from his waistband. “I have the marriage contract, although nothing is written on it yet.”
Nicaula smiled, her pulse thudding. “We can do that later.”
Batal tossed the scroll onto the rock, where it landed and rolled next to the wine goblet. Then he turned back to her.
His gaze drew her in, and she forgot to breathe. He reached for the cloak that hung from her shoulders, but instead of removing it, he pulled her closer and bent his head until their lips touched.
Her heart thundered as their bodies melded and his mouth moved against hers, slowly at first, then deepening. This time Nicaula did not need to worry about propriety. This time he was her husband. She slipped one hand around his neck, her fingers gripping his curls. The other hand trailed along his shoulder, his chest, his stomach.
At her exploration, Batal moaned. She slid her hand around his waist, cinching him even closer, accepting the very heat of his body flushed against hers. But it was n
ot nearly enough. She wanted him closer; she did not want anything to come between them. She pulled off her headdress and let the cloak fall from her shoulders, then moved her mouth to his neck, kissing the warm, pulsing skin.
Batal let out a soft growl and slid his hands beneath her thighs and in a swift movement, lifted her. He set her on the rock behind them, and she wrapped both arms around his neck, then cradled his waist with her legs. She tugged him against her, finding his mouth with hers for another long, slow kiss, not caring that the goblet of wine fell over at the movement. Batal lifted his head as the scarlet liquid splashed across the rock.
“Leave it,” Nicaula whispered, pulling his head toward her again. Kissing him and feeling his warm, strong body pressed against hers was better than a thousand dreams combined. She thought she might faint if he weren’t holding her upright.
“I love you,” he breathed in her ear. “Always.”
She was about to reply when he jerked away, his expression confused.
“Batal?”
He released her and stepped back, looking down.
Then she saw it. A cobra.
Before Nicaula could react, Batal snatched up the snake and flung it out into the desert.
Nicaula took a deep breath, trying to calm the panic in her heart. “You could have been bitten doing that.”
Batal turned toward her, and she saw the pain in his eyes. With horror, she looked down. Two rivulets of blood ran along his left shin.
No.
Not this.
She exhaled, her heart beating wildly. Then, somewhere, deep inside, a strange calm overtook her. “Sit down on the rock.”
Batal wordlessly obeyed.
Nicaula grabbed her headdress from the ground and tied it just above the puncture wounds, cinching the knot as tight as possible. Batal handed over his dagger. She took a shaky breath, then made a quick incision above the wound. The blood flowed dark and fast, and Nicaula had to steady herself against the ground.
Batal sucked in his breath and closed his eyes with a moan. She hoped the incision would be enough to release the poison; it had to be enough. She lifted her eyes to his, and the sight of his pale face made her stomach clench. She stood and pulled him into a fierce embrace. He was warm, solid, breathing, and she needed to keep him that way. “Batal,” she said against his neck. “We must get back to the palace.”