“I do not know what to say or how to respond to your god, to this.” I waved a hand over the area behind us. “It is beyond my comprehension and so completely different than the worship practices of my people.”
“Do those practices bring you peace and fulfillment and a sense of rightness when your worship has finished?”
How probing his questions! Even more so than mine.
I shook my head slowly. “No.” To admit such a thing felt treasonous, but it was the truth. “All my life I have wondered why I was born. Why am I here? What happens to us after this life? Are the moon and the sun really controlling our lives? Does it help at all to pray to them? I have asked them, and now I am here and feel as though your Yahweh has split open my inner thoughts and pierced my heart with his flames. I am undone by this city, your buildings, your wealth, your god . . . you.” I said the last barely above a whisper. “Everything I heard in my country about your achievements and wisdom is true. I didn’t believe what was said until I arrived here and saw it with my own eyes. In fact, I had not heard the half of it! Your wisdom and prosperity are far beyond what I was told. How happy your people must be! What a privilege for your officials to stand here day after day, listening to your wisdom! Praise the Lord your God, who delights in you and has placed you on the throne of Israel. Because of the Lord’s eternal love for Israel, he has made you king so you can rule with justice and righteousness.”
He took my hand and rubbed his thumb over my palm. “You are too kind, Queen Nicaula, and you ask many wise questions. I can answer them, but first I think it wise for you to return to your rooms or my gardens and pray to my God for these answers you seek. He has pierced your heart for a reason. Let Him finish His work and fill your mind with His truth. I will send my scribe to have some of the law read to you this afternoon. Then later we will talk again.” He kissed my fingers and placed my hand in my lap, pulling back from me.
His humility and the loss of his nearness left me empty, but the music behind us made me hungry, thirsty, longing for understanding. I wanted to know this god of Solomon’s. I nearly laughed at the thought. I really wanted to know this god Solomon spoke so much about. I wanted Solomon to tell me what it was like to hear him speak.
But I knew by his look that Solomon would say no more about his experiences or his knowledge of this god until I had made my own peace with him.
6
Hours later as I sat alone in the guest suite of rooms, a scribe appeared at my door, scroll in hand. He bowed low, and I allowed him to sit at a table to spread the scroll and read the words by the sunlight streaming through the window.
I sat opposite him, feeling as though I were a young student again in my mother’s palace, tutored by various men and women in the fine arts of leadership and poise and all things related to ruling a kingdom. I had learned of our gods in great detail and why certain festivals and sacrifices were made each year. But as the scribe read the words of Solomon’s god, I felt my heart stir in a way it never had before. Nothing in my tutelage had prepared me for the overwhelming sense of dread that filled me as he read of the blessings and curses Israel would suffer, as nations around them had suffered, if they did not obey these words.
Was my nation standing on the brink of destruction for lack of such obedience? Was I?
I shuddered at the thought as he spoke of sin and atonement and ransom for disobedience. My mind whirled with more questions than I had brought with me on this long journey as I at last bid the scribe farewell.
The sun had begun its descent as I allowed Fadia to dress me for dinner that evening. I assumed I would dine in the banquet hall with my retinue and Solomon’s other guests, but when a summons to attend a banquet in King Solomon’s private quarters came through one of his trusted guards, I felt my heart quicken and my anticipation grow with each step toward those rooms.
Solomon greeted me once his guard Benaiah allowed me entrance, and I blinked hard at the royal simplicity surrounding me. Where everything about his palace, the temple, his judgment hall, and his many chambers shouted wealth and extravagance, here the royal carvings remained but the intricate tapestries and mosaics and ornamented statues were missing.
“You came.” His comment caught me off guard, and I saw him nod to my attendants to follow his servant to an adjoining room.
“You asked me to.” I wondered why he had chosen to meet with me so privately.
He smiled, offering me his hand. I took it, aware of the differences in our skin, though my richer mix of ebony and cinnamon seemed to shine next to his swarthy good looks. My heart beat faster at his touch, and I think my color heightened at this familiarity. He seated me on a plush exquisite couch. A low table piled high with food sat before us. He took a similar couch opposite me and stretched his legs in front of him, crossing his ankles.
“Yes, but you do have the right to refuse. Just because you are my guest . . .” He paused. “You are a queen, Nicaula. I cannot expect you to come at my command as I would a servant.”
I studied him. “Why did you invite me here?” I motioned to his rooms. “We could have spoken as easily in the banquet hall.” Assuming he would have positioned me near him. New guests arrived daily, and they also demanded his attention. I could not keep him to myself for my entire stay, and in truth, I feared that I would outwear my welcome and the time would soon come for me to leave.
“I wanted the privacy,” he said simply. “I deduced that you would have questions for me now that you have listened to my scribe read our laws to you.” He plucked a date from a golden tray. “So, now that you have heard of our God and what He requires, what more can I say to help you understand?” He ate the morsel and spit the pit into a golden bowl.
I looked at him, at the casual way he sat so comfortably before me as though we were longtime friends. My heart quickened again at the look he gave me, for though I sensed it held respect, I also saw interest in his gaze. Interest no man had ever paid to me and I found quite intriguing.
“I find sin and atonement concepts difficult to comprehend. Your god is so exacting, so . . . perfect . . . and it is as though he expects men and women to be perfect as well. If they break his laws . . .” I looked away, ashamed to admit that some of those laws had brought conviction to my own heart. How could one possibly not covet? I coveted the life I longed for—to live with a husband and children, not relegated to the role of virgin queen all my days, never knowing love.
“You find that you have broken those laws,” he said softly, as if he could read my thoughts. “As have all men. And women. Our God gave the law to our ancestor Moses to show us what it would take for us to return to the place we were created to be, the place of perfection, of Eden.”
“What is Eden?” I had heard tales of this fabled place of beginnings.
“The name of the garden where Adonai Elohim created the first man and woman. But when they broke His law, everything changed. The first sin destroyed His perfect creation, and it has never been the same since. So God provided sacrifices, as you saw today at the temple, to atone for those sins so that we could be forgiven. But it is an ongoing process that waits for a time when sin will be fully atoned for. That time is not yet.”
“How do you know these things? How can the blood of an animal remove the guilt of one who covets?” I could not imagine I would ever stop longing for what I could not have. No animal dying in my place could change how I felt on the inside.
Solomon accepted a goblet from a servant and I did the same. He pointed to the food, and I allowed the servant to fill a small plate with lamb and fish and bread and an assortment of vegetables. He sipped his wine, studying me a moment. Neither of us tasted the food.
“We place our hands on the animal before it is sacrificed and ask our God to forgive our sins. We confess them. If we have wronged someone, we make restitution. Then the priest spills the animal’s blood, which acts as a covering for that sin we have confessed. We accept the forgiveness and then try not to continue to commit th
e same sin over again.” He smiled slightly. “Of course, by the next year we will have committed an entirely new set of sins.”
“In other words, what I covet today might be forgiven, but tomorrow I might covet something else. Must I wait an entire year to be forgiven then?” The process was starting to make sense, but at the same time it seemed overwhelmingly impossible to keep such laws.
“Yes and no.” He touched the bread on his plate but still did not eat. “We are allowed to bring sin offerings to the temple whenever we are convicted of sin. But more important, God has given us prayer. We can pray toward the temple anytime, no matter where we are. It is the prayer of a humble heart that God hears. He tests the hearts and minds of His people. He does not care about our sacrifices. He cares about our hearts.”
“Now you have most thoroughly confused me.” I laughed, and he joined in. “Why do you bother with the temple and sacrifices if a simple prayer will suffice?” Who was this god who heard and answered prayer? Did he hear the prayers of a foreigner who did not know him?
“May I tell you a story?” His probing gaze caused a strange stirring within me.
“Yes.” I leaned forward. I loved a good tale.
“There are two, actually.” He picked up his plate and we began to eat. “The first king of Israel,” he said after a long pause that made me wish to hurry his words, “was a jealous man named Saul. My father married into his family and later took over, by God’s design, as king. Saul would not have lost the kingdom if he had obeyed the Lord, but he offered a sacrifice without waiting for the prophet Samuel to do so for him. Saul, as king, was not a prophet or priest. Even the highest office of king cannot simply do as he pleases in Israel under God’s law. So because of his disobedient act, God tore the kingdom from him and gave it to my father.”
“How unfortunate for Saul, but a blessing for your father. Still, could he not have been forgiven? Could Saul not have prayed, as you say, offered the proper sacrifice, and been restored as king?” Why on earth would a king not have done so if that was what his God required? The question burned in me as I waited for Solomon to answer.
“Saul’s heart was not right,” Solomon said, meeting my gaze. “He was more concerned with what the people thought of him than what our God thought of him. He did not repent of his actions or pray to be restored. He continued to make things worse as time went on. He grew jealous of my father and tried to kill him, until my father had to flee for his life. He ran from Saul for over ten years.”
I covered my mouth, stifling a startled sound. “How horrible!” I could not imagine having to look over my shoulder every moment for who might want to kill me.
“Saul also consulted a medium instead of praying to the Lord. That is why the Lord allowed him to die in battle and gave the kingdom at last to my father.” Solomon sipped his wine and set the goblet on the table.
“So sacrifice alone is not enough.” I looked into his handsome face, wondering what sins Solomon had committed that he had to atone for, but the thought quickly passed as I again recalled my constant coveting of what I could not have.
“No,” he said, his tone wistful. “And prayer does not always give us the answers we seek. Though God may forgive, He does not stop the consequences of our actions.”
“I sense the second story about to be told.”
He smiled. “The second is simply that my father was a good king, the best of kings, but even he had his weaknesses. He was grieving the loss of a beloved wife and let his grief rob him of his ability to do his work. He fell into sin with the woman who became my mother. My father had her husband killed when he discovered she was carrying a child.”
I pointed at him, a question in my eyes.
“Not me. A brother before me who died seven days after his birth. My father had lived with the guilt of his sin for many months until a prophet confronted him, and he repented and prayed and fasted, begging God to let my brother live. But God had told him the son born to them would die, and he did.”
Tears filled my eyes as I recalled Azra’s passing at only five years old. “How hard that must have been for both of your parents.”
Solomon nodded. “It was. But when my brother died, my father rose, washed, went to the place where the Ark rested, and worshiped. He knew he could not bring my brother back. He would go to him, but my brother would not return to them. Months later, God blessed them with me and chose me to reign after my father.”
“So prayer brought forgiveness but did not stop the consequences. Would a sacrifice have made a difference then?”
Solomon shook his head. “Sacrifices alone do not please our God. But a broken and contrite heart He will not despise. He forgave my father and promised to make his name great, and He kept that promise despite my father’s sins. My father died knowing he was right with our God.”
I nodded. “And he expected to join your brother who had died before him. To be with your god? My people—I—could not imagine spending our afterlife with the sun or moon.”
Solomon laughed again, and I found myself drawn to him. “Nor could I. But the sun and moon are created heavenly bodies. They are not beings and they are not gods.”
“I think we will have to talk more of this.” I did not want to admit it, but the conversation had me questioning not only the history of my people but whether to trust this impossible, powerful god of Solomon’s.
“And I will tell you then what it was like to hear Him speak to me.” He pushed the food aside and stood. “But before you go, come walk with me.” He extended his hand and pulled me up, placing my hand on his forearm. We stepped out of his rooms and into a large adjoining garden-like courtyard.
My heart betrayed me yet again as I smelled his spikenard and felt his arm beneath my hand. How close he was, and how much a man! What kind of child would come of a union between us? But of course, we could not marry. Why was everything so utterly impossible?
“What do you covet, Nicaula?” he asked, jolting me out of my thoughts. I was not in the mood to talk of my sins to him, and I thought our discussion of his god had passed.
“Why do you ask me this?” I could not keep the hint of irritation from my voice.
Stars glittered overhead, and the leaves moved like whispers in the trees above. Perfumed flowers left their scent on the breeze, and I found even the night beauty of the place enchanting.
“I want to know why the queen of Sheba has traveled for months to visit me and has finally admitted to me that she covets something she cannot have. I know that as king I can have anything my heart desires as long as I do not break the laws of my God, but even then I know if I repent I can be forgiven. Yet you are queen of a vast realm but cannot have the thing you most desire? What is it you desire, Nicaula? Is it something forbidden or something not available to you in your country? How can I help you to achieve it?” He stopped at a bench, and we sat facing each other.
I could not look at him. “It is too personal a longing,” I said at last. “And no, you cannot help me achieve it.” Though he could. If I could have asked him. If there had been a way for us to marry.
Yet . . . I could ask him to simply give me a child outside of marriage.
But he had just told me of what his parents had suffered for adultery. I shivered. On the other hand, I was not married, so would it still be considered adultery in his god’s eyes? The questions haunted me, but I knew that I, a queen, could not simply give myself to a foreign king without legal benefit. It was impossible.
He studied me for the space of too many breaths. “You want to marry.” His voice was a mere whisper, his breath near my ear. “Tell me I am wrong.”
I shifted away from him. He leaned back. Silence fell between us. How much should I trust him? I had not shared this desire with anyone in my kingdom.
He took my hand in his. My pulse jumped. He trailed a line from my thumb up my arm, causing shivers to work through me. Was this how he wooed those many women he had married? I jerked away.
“You
are not wrong.” I stood. “And there is nothing to be done about it.”
He stood as well and faced me. “There are always solutions to problems. There is always a way.”
“Not always.”
He cupped my face, leaned forward, and placed the slightest kiss on my cheek. “Yes, always.”
He walked me back to my rooms, leaving me shaken.
7
I found sleep that night nearly impossible. I paced the guest rooms while Fadia and the servants slept nearby. I had no desire to keep anyone awake, for my heart was too full to share with another. I stepped onto the balcony and looked up at the orb of the moon. The clouds had descended, first blocking the moon, then shifting and allowing me a perfect view. How often had I stood gazing at this heavenly body and silently praying for wisdom? But none had ever come.
My people would wonder what had happened to me if I returned with new beliefs. Some in my council might even suggest me unfit to rule over them. Could I convince them that Solomon’s God was true and that years of ancient history among our people, our worship of sun and moon and stars, was not? Did I believe this enough to change my thinking?
I shivered, stepped inside to get my cloak, and slipped through the courtyard door that led to the gardens. Guest rooms rimmed the perimeter. Mine was only one of many in Solomon’s vast guest palace, though the opulence did not move me quite as much as it had now that I had seen Solomon’s private quarters. I sensed that the extravagance he displayed was to impress the foreign dignitaries, but I wondered if deep down he disdained it. He was a wise man if he did not allow the wealth he owned to rule him or make him long for more.
What did Solomon long for? I had not thought to ask him such a question when it was he who had probed my own longings. And was a child, a family, really the one thing I wanted most? Or was I missing something more, something deeper?
The Queen of Sheba Page 4