Hadi cleared his throat in the palpable silence. I put my excitement on hold. “Speak. For it seems you will not leave until you do.”
Color filled my commander’s cheeks. He was not one most people spoke down to, but I found myself suddenly irritated with his obvious objections. “The journey is long, my queen. It will take many months, and certain sections of the highway can be perilous where bandits hide in the crevices of the rocks.”
“Then I expect we will need an army of protection to form a wall around my retinue and my gifts.” I crossed my arms, the scepter tight against my chest as I stood and drew closer to him. He did not move, as he knew I had not given him leave. “I am going to Jerusalem, Commander. Whether the journey takes months or years, I am going. I expect you can handle the preparations for all I will need?”
He dipped his head and gave a slight bow. “Of course.”
“Good. We will leave in one month, not a day more.” I dismissed him then and glanced at Najib. “I expect you can handle the kingdom in my absence.” He nodded.
I left the room, knowing a month was not nearly enough time to prepare all we would need. My servants would do what they must to make it work. And the kingdom would be in an uproar at my parting. But something in me would not shrink back, as though an unseen force beckoned me. Was this why Solomon had sent his ships to my ports? To draw me to him like some flighty princess begging for favors?
Solomon was in for disappointment and surprise if he expected that from me.
2
One month later, I watched from my latticed window overlooking the courtyard and found myself admiring Hadi’s ability to gather so grand a herd of camels and host of legionnaires. The palace grounds looked like they had been overrun with several traveling caravans selling expensive wares. Of course, that is exactly what we were about, for Najib and I had later agreed that my trip could also include the sale of some of our goods to cities along the trade route to Jerusalem. The gifts for Solomon would remain well hidden, but Najib had insisted the more normal we looked, the safer we would be.
I did not argue with him, for though excitement filled me at the prospect of this trip, I still carried a strange bit of anxiety over it all. Why had I determined this course? Why could I not simply be satisfied with my life as it had been planned for me, choose a child to succeed me, and rule the kingdom as my ancestors before me had done? What caused this restless spirit that could not stop the questions in my heart? Would Solomon be able to give me what I longed for?
My heart skipped a beat as I imagined our meeting. What did one say to a king whose god spoke to him? I straightened, willing myself to calm. In a few months, I would have my answers, or Solomon would prove to be nothing more than an overrated, wealthy, pompous monarch.
A motion to my right drew me out of my musings. My bodyguard, Jabbar, approached, and I turned from the window. He bowed as he always did. I nodded for him to speak.
“Everything is in order, my queen. The caravan will be ready to set out at dawn, as you requested.” He peered at me from beneath the helmet he wore.
I motioned for him to rise. Jabbar towered over me, his skin taut over dark, bare arms. His tunic moved with him as though it was part of his body.
“Is there anything else you would have me do?” Jabbar took care not to meet my gaze.
“No. Thank you, Jabbar. I will be ready and expect the camels to head out with the first light of day.” I dismissed him, then turned toward the sitting area of my chamber and sank easily onto the softest couch in the realm, its wool bleached nearly white like the sun.
In the adjacent chambers my maids were still busily packing my robes, tunics, sandals, hair clips, jewels, and several crowns that I would need for different occasions. Makeup and all of the applicators used to add kohl to my eyes and ocher to my lips, along with the scented oils and soaps, were packed separately, carefully, lest anything spill or be jarred by the bumpy, arduous journey ahead.
Anticipation filled me with a strange sense of excitement. I felt fifteen again, nervous and uncertain as I had the day my mother’s court pronounced me queen in her place. How young I had been! But naïveté had caused me to see the course my life had taken as a grand adventure. Now I had chosen an adventure that went against everything my advisors had taught me. The queen of Sheba did not leave her kingdom, not under any circumstances. Let foreign kings come to me, but I to them? Never!
Yet here I sat on the eve of a journey, and to what end? I closed my eyes, but I could not pray. Why am I here? Where do we come from? What happens after we leave this life for the netherworld? How does one discern truth from error? How is wisdom gained if not by experience and learning from our mistakes?
Questions, riddles, and all manner of confusion assailed me. I was not one to confide my dark musings to those around me lest they think me weak. But I often attempted to gain understanding from the soothsayers and wise men of my kingdom on the pretense of having something to advise the child I would adopt one day.
Those men always left me disappointed. I think I vexed them, though they dared not show it.
A knock sounded on my door, one I expected a servant to answer. I listened for a moment, then decided the one requesting audience must have wanted one of my maids.
Are the sun and moon gods? If they are not, why do my people think they are? Are you suggesting that my people are not as wise as you or your god? The imagined argument with Solomon went on for a moment in my head until Jabbar stepped into my sitting area once more.
“My queen, Hadi is here to see you.”
“Then do let him in, Jabbar.” My heart skipped another beat. Things must be ready—or a problem had arisen.
I straightened at Hadi’s approach. He entered the room quietly and touched one knee to the carpeted tiles.
“Is everything in readiness?” I motioned for him to stand, but he merely raised his head.
“Yes, my queen. We are ready to leave at the first light of dawn.” He paused, his look uncertain.
“Is something wrong?” I held his gaze until at last he stood and stepped back a pace.
He shook his head. “No, nothing is wrong. But the advisors requested that I ask you once more to reconsider.”
“We’ve been over this. I’ve made my choice.”
He clasped his hands behind his back and relaxed his stance but kept his distance. “You are not worried that the vizier will gain power in your absence?” His tone had softened, and he glanced to each side. One could never be too careful in royal circles, not even when speaking in the privacy of my chambers.
“I am well aware that he could try.” I too kept my voice low. “But I have my supporters, and I trust Najib. All will be well when I return.”
He nodded once, though lines appeared above his dark brows in a worried frown. “Perhaps if we waited a few days for you to choose an heir . . .” He left the thought unfinished at the shake of my head.
“There is no time, Hadi. I have examined every candidate this past month without satisfaction.” Though Najib had tried hard to convince me of one or two, there was something in my spirit that just could not choose, could not deepen the thinly veiled ache I glimpsed in the eyes of the mothers whose arms offered their children up to me. A noble gesture but, I had discerned, a costly one. I briefly wondered if under different circumstances I could have done what I was asking some woman in my kingdom to do. Despite the hefty compensation the family would receive, I had no stomach for the task—not after losing Azra.
“Very well then,” Hadi said, his voice resigned. “Once your maids add your personal items to the camels, we will begin our trek to Jerusalem.”
My heart stirred at the name of Solomon’s city. What drew me to that place, to this king? I felt as though an unseen hand was leading me there.
I shook the feeling aside and looked into Hadi’s strong, square face. “I trust that I can put my safety securely in your hands, Commander.” I said it to assure myself and to take his measure—espec
ially after his many attempts to get me to reconsider.
“You can trust me completely, my queen. And my men.”
“Good. I would not want to find a single cause for worry.”
“You will find none.”
I smiled slightly and gave him a dismissive nod. Hadi bowed again and backed away from my presence. Once the door shut, I rose and went to find my maid, Fadia, to make sure she had forgotten nothing, hoping Hadi’s assurances would prove true.
3
The courtyard buzzed with life even before the sun made its debut in the eastern sky. I accepted the help of a servant to settle into the curtained pavilion positioned on the camel’s back. The contraption resembled the one carried on poles by a litter of slaves, but its position over the hump of this gangly creature was not nearly as comfortable. The beast made my stomach lurch with the slightest movement. I squeezed my legs tight to the camel’s sides and held on to the horn of the saddle, forcing myself to look straight ahead and not down. The ground, even from the camel’s sitting position, seemed far, and when the servant climbed in front of me to guide the animal and bid it rise, I felt my head spin.
My grip turned my knuckles white, and I was glad for the curtain that hid me from the watching men below. Najib would find concern in my weakness, and I could not worry him—especially when I had left him without an heir. I would address the decision of my heir upon my return, I promised myself. Perhaps Solomon would be able to advise me on the best way to solve this dilemma that seemed to constrict my heart.
I straightened, placed one tentative hand on my middle, still gripping the saddle with the other, and peered through the slit in the curtain. The other camels were rising on command, and soon it seemed as though my entire courtyard and the area beyond the gates had been overrun by the beasts.
The camels moved forward into a definite rhythm, and as the sun rose higher in the sky, I felt the sway keeping time with my pulse and grew used to the pace. I had no choice but to do so, for the trek to Jerusalem was not like a simple visit to the Red Sea or even a short barge ride to the other side of my kingdom. No, we had months of travel ahead of us, and I told myself to get used to the discomforts and think ahead to what awaited in Jerusalem.
Weeks passed in unending sameness, with the only change being the view from the camel’s lofty height and the different faces I glimpsed as we passed through various cities. My retinue took over the barren landscape outside the towns, while the camel drivers carrying our wares for sale camped closer to the cities’ gates in order to trade with the merchants at dawn.
The sun dipped, suspended at its odd angle as it always was when night approached, and the lead camel came to a stop and lowered itself on knobby knees to the ground. My driver followed the rest of those ahead of us in our typical straight line and helped me gain my footing on the unmoving earth. I’d grown used to this pattern, but by day’s end I longed for my tent and my cushions and sweet wine and cheese and a place to lay my head. It took time for my servants to raise the tents and put everything to rights, so I called Fadia to my side and walked with her toward the shores of the Red Sea.
“Fadia, I grow weary of sitting every day with nothing to do. No cases to judge, no work whatsoever.” No queen did the tasks of a simple servant.
“How taxing it must be for you, my lady,” she said, keeping one step behind me. “If you wish, and if it is not too disagreeable to you, I could show you how to work the bone needles and stitch patterns while you ride.” Her voice dropped in pitch on the last few words.
I stopped and looked at her. Her face flushed dark in the glow of nearing dusk.
“Forgive me, my lady. I only thought to help.”
I studied this woman who had spent more time at my side than my own mother and yet in all my childhood years had never once offered to teach me such a thing. My mother, of course, would have never allowed it. Princesses could learn to draw and paint and create intricate mosaics and even play musical instruments and write poetry, as most of my people could read and write our native tongue. But princesses and especially queens did not spin or weave or work with flax or wool—or worse, with goat’s or camel’s hair. Even intricate needlework, artistic though it may be, was left to the artisans and the peasants.
“Your offer is not one you would have made in Sheba.” I looked into her plain face, but she would not meet my gaze.
“No, it is not, my lady.” She clasped her hands and kept her head bowed, for despite our closeness, my servants rarely spoke freely with me—a tradition long-standing in my realm and one I sometimes despised. How I longed for a companion of my rank! But in Sheba’s borders, sovereigns were above all others.
“We have many restrictions. But of course, you know this.” I turned to continue walking and Fadia followed, as I knew she would.
“Yes, my lady. I know it. But these seem to be circumstances that warrant change, and I thought . . .” She paused.
I glanced back at her. “You thought well, Fadia. I would like to learn this skill of which you speak. I feel as though my hands have become imprinted with the saddle’s horn, and though I look now and then through the curtains, the landscape changes little. I find myself counting the movement of the sun across the sky, and even it moves faster than we do.” I was complaining, but I did not care.
I looked behind at the guards who followed us—another custom I’d lived with every day of my life. They were as much a part of my existence as Fadia, though they did not come so close. On this trip, I knew they wished I would stay near the confines of the camp. Most of the time I did so, just to ease their anxious minds and to escape Hadi’s concerned lectures—as though he were king and I his underling! Sometimes he came close to insubordination, but I allowed it simply for someone to talk to who honestly cared for my well-being. Even queens who are loved by their people are still alone and often misunderstood at the end of the day.
“Would you like me to begin showing you tonight, once the tents are raised?” Fadia’s tone had taken on an air of excitement, and I wondered how often she too had longed for someone with whom to share her skills or the things that brought her joy.
We stood now on the shores of the Red Sea, listening to the rhythmic lapping of water against the sands. I glimpsed my guards flanking us at a slight distance on either side.
I glanced at Fadia. “I would like that,” I said, satisfied with the smile that suddenly wreathed her face. “After we dine.” I turned to look out at the water then, and she simply stood behind me and waited.
I gazed up at the display of colors spread like fingers across the darkening sky. Soon stars would fill the landscape, and the place where the earth and sky kissed would be so black the two would be indistinguishable. A perfect time and place to share such beauty with a beloved.
A stirring in my heart awakened my senses. How different life would be if I found someone to love as a man loves a woman. If my lot had fallen in places that allowed me such a thing. Why had I been so chosen? Why was I, a queen of such a vast kingdom, denied the most basic of pleasures?
My heart ached as I looked down at the crab that scurried past near my toes. I stepped back a pace and watched it bury itself in the sand. If I could hide my intentions as easily as the tiny animal hid its body, perhaps I could come away different after this visit with Solomon. Would his wisdom fill the longing for purpose I craved?
Yet his wisdom, no matter how great, could not undo the traditions of my people, the histories long past that had set these rules in place. Rules that allowed me my own sort of wisdom to guide my people but also kept me prisoner within the confines of my realm, my safely guarded world.
Until now. The thought came unbidden, and yet . . . hadn’t I embarked on a journey of change, upsetting the status quo of all that my people understood and had abided by for centuries?
I glanced heavenward once more, caught the last splashes of color dripping from the heavens to the waters below. The sun god had taken his journey to a place I could not go, a
nd soon the moon would rise to guide us. But somehow even my gods did not bring me the direction or comfort they once did. Even they seemed to sense the change stirring within me.
Jerusalem could not come soon enough.
4
Four Months Later
I glimpsed the gleaming walls of Jerusalem long before the camel’s gait slowed in the trek upward. The city was set high on a hill that made a defensible fortress. Walls lined every side with gates along various points, obviously meant to accommodate certain types of travelers.
Our camels drew along the Kidron Valley to the east of the Gihon Spring. My driver had informed me that we would enter through the Water Gate, check in at the armory, and then enter Solomon’s city to the north. The southern part of Jerusalem, I was told in my talks with Hadi, had belonged to King David’s rule.
I parted the curtains with one hand as we rode past the smaller capital that had once belonged to the famous David, whose kingdom stretched much farther than this singular city. It is said that David was the one who had conquered his enemies and lengthened the borders of Israel from the north near Syria to the Negev wilderness in the south.
As my camel crossed the narrow brook to approach the Water Gate, I could see that Solomon had built his city to be more than twice that of his father’s. How much more, then, the vastness of his kingdom?
“With so many foreign wives, my lady,” Hadi had said the night before we entered Israelite territory, “Solomon’s kingdom stretches even beyond that of King David’s. No enemy remains, for he has married the daughters of all opposing kings.”
He’d chuckled at the thought, and I smiled in response, despite my earlier consideration that such a practice made Solomon a fool. I thought the whole thing completely ludicrous. How could a man build palaces, let alone rooms, for so many women? Hundreds, they said. I shook my head. I longed for one man to love, and Solomon had his pick of a different woman every day.
The Queen of Sheba Page 2