Ever since she had stood by her father’s side as a little girl in the great oval place of meeting, she had been overwhelmed by the appearance of Ilumquh. He was all of alabaster. A soft, glowing alabaster that was transparent in the blaze of the altar fires. His head was held high, and his horns tipped with gold glistened in the flaring light. None of this frightened her. Only his eyes, the glistening ruby eyes that fixed themselves upon her—they terrified her.
She had told no one. Her father would have been disappointed and the priests would have used it against her.
Now that she had chosen the god in place of a human husband, she had asked many questions of the High Priest and he had seemed evasive.
“Will Ilumquh come as the image in alabaster?” she asked.
“He may.”
“How can he father a normal son if he is of stone?”
“That is part of the great mystery. He is a god and can come in any form or shape he chooses.”
“Then he could come as a bird or a fish?”
“He could.”
“Will I see him?”
“It is more likely that you will hear him. The pavilion is dark.”
“Then we will burn tapers and place torches in the wall so I can see this god that is to father my son.”
“No, no, that is not allowed. He comes in thunder and smoke and you will be fortunate if you are not bruised by his horns.”
At first this disturbed her. Then she decided the priest was angry and wanted to punish her for not accepting her uncle’s son. She stiffened. “I’m not afraid of Ilumquh,” she said. “I’ll wear my short sword and breastplate I wore when riding in the Markab. Even Ilumquh cannot easily have his way with me then.”
“You shall come to Ilumquh with neither sword, breastplate, nor crown.” His voice was almost defiant. “You will come as a virgin princess and not the queen.”
She had been ready to protest, and then she remembered the alternatives and decided to go along with all that the priest had planned.
Each night she followed the priest’s instructions. First her maidens rubbed palm oil into her skin until it glistened. Then just as carefully they scraped it off with a rounded piece of conch shell. Next they bathed her in soured goat’s milk. This was so rancid she had to hold her nose and beg for a bit of linen soaked in oil of jasmine before she would sit another minute in the rock-walled tub. Finally there was the rose water and the combing and plaiting of her hair that took hours from her duties in the palace.
The special diet was even more repulsive. She, who had never eaten anything she disliked, now found that she must eat strange roots and the testicles of goats, drink sour beer and bitter wine. Each night she was given the sacred ergot so she might have erotic dreams.
When she summoned the High Priest and complained or refused any of these ministrations, she was shamed by being reminded that it was for the great god Ilumquh she had been ordered to do this.
Each night after her maidens had pulled the curtains on her bed, she rose and went out onto the terrace, where she could see the growing strength of the new moon. At first only his horns had been visible and then gradually his face began to appear. It was round and glowing like the alabaster idols in the temple. There were no ruby red eyes and she began to feel a strange attraction to this god that could light the whole dark earth with his countenance.
“I have done all that you commanded,” she whispered. She waited for some response, but when there was none, she tiptoed back to her bed and finally fell asleep.
The day before she was to be taken in to Ilumquh’s pavilion, she was ordered to take only the ergot drug. She was to eat nothing else. That night she went to bed as usual but was soon wakened by a bright splash of moonlight falling across the floor. It played on the softly blowing curtains of her bed and somewhere out in the night she heard a sound as of footsteps on the terrace.
With every nerve tense and every fiber of her body alert she rose from her bed and fell to her knees. “Oh great Ilumquh, forgive me for thinking you were cruel and ruthless. I see now that you are both gentle and brilliant and I will be your humble servant.”
She waited hoping to hear the footsteps again, but there was only the rustling of the wind in the palm fronds and the cry of one of the watchmen on the wall below the palace. She rose and walked out onto the terrace, where she felt instantly embraced by moonlight. In a sudden flood of some strange, new emotion, she raised her arms toward the moon. “Oh my beloved,” she cried, “to you and you alone I give my heart and soul. Only you are grand enough to be trusted with my love.”
When morning came, she was swept up in the last feverish preparations for the visit to Ilumquh’s pavilion. She could feel an air of excitement permeating the palace and was told that out in the city of Marib, tumult over the evening’s celebration had reached fever pitch.
The day passed quickly as she tried on various robes woven with gold threads or encrusted with precious stones and trimmed with golden embroidery. She patiently waited while some imported beauticians twined her hair with rare jewels and others decorated her hands with intricate, feather-like designs. This took the better part of the day, and all too soon it was time for her to ride down the avenue of light to Ilumquh’s pavilion.
Out in the city, tension mounted as the sun set and torches were lighted. People hurried to line the avenue leading from the palace and crowded onto the rooftops and along the great wall.
It was at this moment that Badget entered the local inn near the western gate. He proceeded to order his servants to bed down the camels and store his merchandise in one of the sleeping rooms. He was well pleased with his bargains. He had gone down to the coast to trade dye from the murex shellfish for incense and spices and was now on his way home. He had just settled down on a carpet beside a small fire built in the dirt floor of the inn when he heard the news.
“That’s ridiculous,” he said laughing. “I don’t know what the moon is, but it’s a sure thing it’s not going to come down for your queen or anyone else.”
The little man he had been talking to glared his displeasure. “I didn’t say he would come down. We have his image in the temple’s pavilion.”
Badget laughed all the harder. “The queen actually expects to mate with that alabaster idol. I don’t believe it. She’s too smart for that.”
For the first time the man looked a bit bewildered, but he quickly recovered his poise. “It’s a mystery. The idol only represents the god.”
“The moon, the alabaster idol, or a real bull, it’s all foolishness. A trick of some kind I’ll wager.”
At that a small band of men gathered around him and raised clenched fists in a threatening way and swore dark oaths. Badget was immediately apologetic. He took back everything he had said and agreed to go along with them to the city gate. There they could climb to the wall and observe the procession that was already forming before the great pillars of the palace.
Badget’s curiosity knew no bounds as he saw the golden palanquin move down the street of light toward the large oval temple. He thought of the queen as he had seen her just a month ago and wondered why she was doing this. Could it be that he had really been right about her feet and no king or prince would have her? “So no one would marry your queen,” he half stated and half asked the man standing to his right.
“That’s not it at all. It is she who will have no one. At the last they pressured her to marry her cousin, but she’d not have him either.”
By this time the drummers and the dancers had reached the temple. They were followed by the queen’s own horsemen and after them came the golden palanquin carried by four strong, black Nubians. Amid a fanfare of trumpets and roll of drums, the queen stepped from the golden box and with great dignity mounted the steps of the small, delicately designed building. Badget noticed that she was alone and walked as though in a trance. Over her shoulder was thrown the leopard cape, but she didn’t seem to be wearing the short sword or the breastplate.
&nbs
p; Her maidens were not with her, and her counselors were left at the foot of the steps. The crowd grew deathly silent as she majestically stood in the torch light’s glow before the great door of the small pavilion. Then, as though summoning her courage, she moved forward into the darkness of the sanctuary and was lost to sight. The crowd erupted with a roar of approval. They clapped and stamped and even danced until the cobblestones rang with their enthusiasm.
At sight of the full moon rising over the distant mountains all eyes were leveled on the door of the beautiful little marble pavilion through which the queen had disappeared. “This is where the alabaster idol is kept and where the queen will meet Ilumquh,” the small man shouted over the uproar to Badget.
The processions were now forming and people who had been standing beside Badget began to scramble to get down from the wall. “Where are you going?” Badget demanded.
“To the place of meeting—the temple. We must dance and sing before the altar so Ilumquh’s seed will grow within our queen and the curse will be lifted.”
“Curse? What curse?” Badget was now totally caught up in all he was hearing and seeing.
“Never mind. You wouldn’t understand. Come along with us and you’ll see everything.”
Badget didn’t hesitate. He wanted to know more of what was happening and so he scrambled down from the wall and followed the crowd until he came to the great temple. He hesitated only a moment and then mounted the marble steps that led into the dimly lit sanctuary.
Bilqis stood for a moment in the doorway of Ilumquh’s small pavilion listening to the deafening roar of the crowd. They strengthened her resolve. Her people expected her to be brave and fearless and she was determined not to disappoint them.
Gradually her eyes became accustomed to the darkness. The room contained nothing but a long, low slab of alabaster raised only slightly from the floor. There was a strange, unearthly glow emanating mysteriously from its entire length. Flung across its surface was a fur spread. There was nothing else in what appeared to be a circular room.
Every nerve was alert and tense. Her ears were tuned to even the slightest sound. A vast silence surrounded her, broken only by the distant drumming and high, lilting voices of priestesses in the oval place of meeting.
Suddenly behind her the great doors through which she had entered closed with a resounding thud. There was a rush of stale air and then a sliding, clanging, metallic sound as a bolt fastened them shut. Voices of the mob outside faded.
For a moment panic seized her. Her hand flew to the leopardskin cape and she breathed a prayer, “God of the leopards, help your queen.”
There was no other sound. Gradually she relaxed and looked with fascination at the alabaster slab. It was undoubtedly intended for an altar, but there was no fire, only the mysterious glowing of the stone. She reached out her hand and found it wasn’t even warm, yet it continued to glow as though burning with some internal fire. “Come, Ilumquh must not be kept waiting.” The voice seemed to come out of the wall and echo round and round the room. There was no one in sight and yet the voice was distinct as though whispering in her ear.
“You must do exactly as I say and nothing will harm you.” A face, creased with wrinkles and outlined with gray wisps of hair materialized in the darkness. Bilqis saw that the old woman had evidently been there for some time, but she was completely dressed in black that melted into the darkness of the room. She held a lamp in one hand and a clay bowl in the other and it became obvious that the lamp had been covered by the bowl.
“This is your marriage bed.” Her gnarled hand moved over the marble slab and her eyes fastened on Bilqis in an almost hypnotic fashion. She set the lamp down and lifted braided cords from around her neck.
Bilqis backed away, “What is that? I’ll not be bound.”
The old woman continued to run the cords through her gnarled hands undaunted by the queen’s protest, “These are the cords of love that bind you to Ilumquh’s altar. It is an honor to be bound with these cords.”
“I am a queen, not just a woman. And I’ll not be bound.”
The old woman shrugged. “Ilumquh will not be pleased.”
Bilqis sat down cross-legged on the glowing slab, “Let him come. I am ready.”
The old woman seemed a bit taken aback by her daring. She picked up the lamp, put the clay piece over it, then hesitated. “Ilumquh does not speak. He will come with smoke and fire and you must not move or he will be displeased that you are not bound.”
Bilqis was now less frightened. Her eyes had grown somewhat accustomed to the darkness. She saw that there was no furniture, only niches in the walls and a huge door in front of her. The idol’s niche was empty.
The old woman headed for the door and then hesitated. She set the covered lamp on the floor and returned with the cords. “Here,” she said laying the cords in Bilqis’s lap, “let this be on your head not mine. It is no business of mine if you have untied the cords.” With that she turned and fled from the room as though in a great fright.
No sooner was the old woman gone than Bilqis noticed a strange odor that seemed to rise and float around her. It was sickeningly sweet and made her feel groggy. She was just steeling herself to resist the lethargy when she heard a distant rumble. The slab she sat on trembled and smoke billowed in under the closed door. The rumble grew louder and closer. The door shook and the room seemed to tilt and fill with puffs of smoke.
Now in real fright Bilqis clung to the alabaster slab and watched the dark outline of the door. She gasped for breath. She tried to remember that she was the leopard queen and nothing could harm her, but it did little good. The door shook and bent under the blows that now rained down upon it.
Suddenly it burst open with a loud, resounding crash. Light flashed, smoke flared and billowed, and in the midst there appeared the face of a jackal. The eyes protruded and the hair of the brows was stiff and brittle, the nose sharp, and the teeth were terrible teeth that glistened in the flashing light.
Bilqis stifled a scream. Never had she imagined Ilumquh to take such a hideous shape. He wasn’t the soft, glowing light she had worshiped but rather a raging bull of an animal, and she was terrified. Never before, even in the heat of battle as she rode in the Markab, had she been so frightened.
She felt the beast’s claws grasp her arms in a tight grip and she smelled the stale, sickening odor of Ilumquh’s sanctuary. She began to struggle with the beast, her terror lending her strength. For a moment the beast seemed to waver as she kicked the cords off to one side. She thought she heard a curse as the beast’s head bent over her, his hot breath sickened her so that she thought she would vomit. She felt his body pinning her to the slab and she grew wild with terror.
With one awful wrench she tore at the beast’s red, glaring eyes. There was a ripping, tearing sound. The beast’s ugly face was in her hand and an angry, human face stared out at her from a fur hood.
With almost superhuman strength she pushed him from her and jumped to her feet. She towered over him for only a moment before snatching up the lamp left behind by the old woman. With a flick of her finger she sent the cover flying, and holding the lamp high she looked at the beast.
She gasped in surprise. She saw first the carefully clipped beard, then the cold eyes, and finally the serpent ring on his finger; it was none other than the High Priest. “You, you!” she panted. “You meant to fool me. You meant to fool your queen.”
At that the creature seemed to wilt. He let the fur robe slide from his shoulders and sat before her stunned and submissive. The blood dripped from his cheek where she had scraped him with the mask. He reached up and felt his cheek then looked at his hand. “You have wounded me,” he said with growing indignation.
“And you have deceived me. For a whole month you have had me bathing in sour goat’s milk, eating bitter roots and testicles of goats.” Her mouth grimaced in memory of the awful ordeal.
“You suffered no special affront. We ask that of everyone.”
“Ohhhh! How could you? Why should you ask that of everyone? It’s not Ilumquh; it’s you. Everything is false. Everything’s a trick. It’s all the ergot drug and your clever manipulation. There’s no Ilumquh. Admit it old man—there’s no Ilumquh!”
For a moment the High Priest looked stunned and then he collected himself. “Who is wise enough to know if there is an Ilumquh. If there isn’t, there should be. If he doesn’t speak, he should speak. It’s not our fault if we must at times speak and act for him.”
“Stop! Stop! This is unbearable.” Bilqis was walking back and forth pausing only now and then to glare at the old High Priest. “You were going to pass yourself off as Ilumquh and be the father of my child. How could you dare to be so bold with me?”
The High Priest rose to his feet and tugged at the skins he wore around his waist, “It was all for you, all for you. A little deception, but what does that matter? You would have had the heir you need and stopped the people’s complaint but now …”
“A little deception you call it. It’s a little thing that you have robbed me of my god. Cheated me, lied to me.”
“But, but don’t you see it was for a good cause?”
“Oh,” Bilqis exploded, “truth means nothing to you.”
“Nothing if it is inconvenient, my queen, and this was very inconvenient.”
“Don’t you think I would rather deal with the truth than to depend on a lie? Truth is everything. Without truth the whole world has gone mad.”
The High Priest looked stunned. It was evident that he had no idea why she was so angry. “You are upset that I left you out of the plot to gain an heir for Sheba.”
“Yes, yes but more. I am upset that you lied to me.”
The High Priest fell to his knees and pleaded. “It was just a little deception and it would have solved all our problems.”
Queen of Sheba Page 6