Kiss of the Virgin Queen

by Sharon Buchbinder

  The younger man sneered. “She’s not like your thick-headed girl. This one does what I tell her to do.”

  As the old woman wailed beside him on the floor, the elderly man shook his head and sobbed, “Why, Sun God, why did you take my daughter from me?”

  Makeda’s heart twisted at the old man’s words, so like the plea of her beloved Baba. She fought back tears. Show no weakness.

  “Do not blame the Sun God. He is not at fault.” She pointed at the arrogant young man. “Seize him.”

  The waiting warriors jumped at her words and grabbed his arms. The expression of disdain turned into bewilderment. “I don’t understand.”

  Without proof of murder, a death sentence was unjust. Other options were at her disposal. High on the towering platform built for her throne, Makeda stood so the prisoner nearly had to bend over backward to see his ruler and receive judgment.

  “You are hereby sentenced to work in the stone quarry until you repay this man and his wife the value of his daughter and her dowry. It will not bring his child back, but it should help ease their old age as their daughter will not be here to care for them.”

  He grinned. “That will take a week. She was cheap.”

  The Chamberlain cuffed the side of the man’s head. “Do not speak to the Queen unless she tells you to speak.”

  A cold fury boiled in Makeda’s chest. “Each day you work at the quarry, you will receive as many lashes as the marks on this pregnant girl’s body.” Another thought occurred to her, as if whispered to her from on high. “I hereby send your wife back to her family, away from your ‘lessons.’”

  The young woman’s eyes grew wild, and she shook her head.

  Here she was giving the girl the gift of freedom and she was refusing it. Why would she want to stay with that beast?

  “What is it?”

  Tears trickled down the girl’s swollen cheeks. “My family is dead, killed in a raid. My village is gone.”

  “Ah.” Makeda turned toward the grieving father. “Bid your wife to rise.”

  The elderly woman leaned on her husband for support, and stood on trembling, stick-thin legs, her face ashen.

  “Embrace your new daughter.”

  Sorrow, surprise, then flashes of joy flew across the old couple’s faces like storm clouds fleeing before sunshine. The old woman placed her hands on the young woman’s belly and laughed.

  “Two heads! Double blessings from the Sun God!”

  The new grandmother clapped her hand over her mouth and glanced at the Chamberlain, who shrugged and favored her with a wide grin.

  “I know you cannot replace your child with this girl, but she needs a home, as do her babies. You are good people. Lean on one another for support, take comfort in the small things. Over time, perhaps you will grow to love one another, and become a real family.”

  The young man struggled against his captors and shouted, “You are nothing but a woman. You are not the king.” He spat on the floor. “I do not recognize your authority.” He stared up at Makeda, his face a mask of hatred.

  A blanket of silence fell in the cavernous room. Even the birds ceased their conversations. All eyes were upon the Queen. Unmoving, the old couple clutched the young woman’s arms as if to keep her from floating away. The waiting litigants shuffled and shot furtive glances at one another. The young man snickered, then erupted into shrieks like a hyena. He was laughing at Makeda.

  How dare he jeer at the Queen of Sheba?

  Her nursemaid had said she would be tested. She had prophesied well. If Makeda ignored the man’s outburst, simply had him taken to the quarry, it would be seen as a sign of weakness. Soon others would fall behind him, taking his lead, perhaps even overthrowing her rule. Her father labored long and hard to raise up his nation and his people. His kingdom would not be torn down by an animal such as this one.

  The Queen pointed at the smirking man with her golden scepter and said in a soft, yet strong voice, “Take him outside and kill him.”

  The man screamed all the way through the throne room. His curses echoed off the stone walls of the palace and continued in the distance, until, at last, after a final shriek, he was silent.

  Makeda sat down and observed the faces of her subjects as the Queen’s lessons sank into the silence.

  Be kind. Smile. Show no weakness.

  She inclined her head toward the elderly couple. “Go in peace. May you live long and happy lives with your new daughter and grandchildren.”

  The Chamberlain raised his eyebrows at the Queen as if to say, “Now what?”

  The green parrot fluttered into the throne room and perched on the arm of the Queen’s chair. “My Queen, I know where the necklace is and who the thief is, too,” he whispered into her ear.

  She nodded, and then called out, “Where are the women disputing over the gold chain?”

  Two women, one heavy set and short, the other tall and skinny, pushed their way through the crowd. After they threw themselves on the floor, Makeda bid them rise.

  “Who is the aggrieved?”

  Shorty glared at the other woman. “Me. She stole from me. I want my treasure back.”

  Skinny placed a hand on her chest. “I did no such thing. I’m an honest woman, with plenty of riches in my home.”

  Makeda placed a finger on her cheek. “Do you have children?”

  The women exchanged fearful glances.

  “Yes,” Shorty sputtered. “Five. I don’t want her child to add to mine.”

  The room erupted in laughter. Even Makeda had to smile.

  “I’m not saying she should give her child to you. I’m suggesting you need to search a little harder in your own home to find that necklace. Like in your little girl’s water gourd.”

  Skinny clapped her hands, and Shorty gasped. “How do you know this?”

  Makeda stroked the preening parrot. “A little bird told me. Now go home and speak to your child.”

  The two women rushed out of the palace, Skinny screeching at Shorty, “I told you I didn’t do it!”

  Thankful the last case had not required the death sentence, Makeda glanced out the window and saw the Sun God was at his highest. Unless they were at war, no one worked during this hour, even the queen.

  “It is time for our meal break and rest. We will reconvene when the shadows of the trees touch the ground. In the meantime, those of you who await judgment might wish to settle your spats among yourselves.”

  The Chamberlain banged his staff and ordered the crowd to disperse. A cloud of dust surrounded the throng as they made their way out of the palace in search of places to eat and rest. When the last of the bickering subjects left the Queen’s court, the Chamberlain approached Makeda, bent his knee, and bowed his head.

  “Permission to speak?”

  “Yes, please. I value your advice, dear Uncle. Tell me your thoughts.”

  He lifted his head and gazed directly into her eyes. “You were just and unflinching in your decisions with that renegade. You were magnificent. Your father would be so proud.”

  At that, a flood of tears released the tightly bound emotions she had held back all morning. “I wish to be half as good as my father. Serving my people requires strength.” She sighed and wiped the tears off with a flick of her fingers. “It also requires great wisdom.”

  A man’s voice boomed, “I bring you tales from afar, oh Queen.”

  “Tamrin!”

  As her childhood friend crossed the length of the room, once again her father’s counsel echoed in her head and heart. “Make Tamrin your adviser. He loves you and knows he cannot marry you. You must remain a virgin. A man, babies, take too much time. You could not be a wife and a good ruler.”

  Although dusty and weary looking, the broad smile Tamrin wore brought joy to her heart. She hadn’t seen him in over twenty moons. A rich merchant’s son, he’d joined the family business shortly after Makeda became queen. Invigorated by a young man’s boldness, the caravan had grown to five hundred and twenty camels
and over three hundred and seventy ships. Managing and increasing his wealth took him on long travels to faraway places.

  The Chamberlain nodded and stood aside to allow Tamrin to approach the throne.

  “Uncle,” Makeda called, “please do not stay on my account. I will dine with my old friend and hear news of his travels.”

  A short time later, after the giggling maid servants had washed the dust of the long journey from Tamrin’s face, hands, and feet, Makeda bade him to join her at a gleaming brown onyx table laden with enough food for ten people. He gulped down a glass of tej, honey wine, and reached for a roasted chicken leg.

  Makeda shook her head. The long journey had not dimmed her best friend’s love for royal repasts. “Did you go to your wife and child?”

  He shook his head. “I came to see you first, to tell you of the wonders of the grand city of Jerusalem. King Solomon judges cases each day, just as you do. He is a teacher, the wisest man in the world.”

  Makeda dropped a date pit on a gold platter and sat up straight. “Wise, you say?”

  “I sat in his court room for days. He is gracious, kind to his seven-hundred happy wives, three hundred satisfied concubines, and servants beyond count. If someone errs, his corrections are gentle.”

  Intent on hearing Tamrin speak, Makeda slid forward on her purple seat cushion and placed her elbows on the low table, her chin in her hands.

  Happy wives. Satisfied concubines. Gracious. Kind. Gentle. Wise.

  “Tell me more.”

  “A dark-haired, handsome man, he strides among the common people, those who work on his temple. He asks the quarrymen and carpenters probing questions, not to abuse them, but to learn from them. His thirst for all manner of knowledge is like that of a camel at the end of a long desert trek.”

  Breathless, she nodded encouragement to her friend.

  “Solomon’s pronouncements come in the voice of his invisible god. A prophet among men. No dispute, no quarrel, no riddle is too hard for this king to solve.”

  Her heart quickened, and her face felt as warm as when she gazed up at the Sun God.

  “What does he sound like? Is his voice deep? Soft? Rough?”

  “His normal voice is like that of any other man. But when his god speaks, it is like the roar of a lion. Your legs shake and you fall to the ground in fear of this power.” He shook his head. “I would have stayed there forever, just to be near King Solomon, to hear him teach. Oh, if only I could be here and there, that would be true happiness. I would have stayed and served him as a man servant, even worked as a slave on his temple, had it not been for my love of my queen and country—and the fact that he commands the devil jinnis to construct his Temple.”

  Commands the jinnis?

  Tamrin’s words catapulted her back to her father’s deathbed confession. Baba had called her to his side and had told her to sit next to him on the bed.

  “I must tell you a secret about your mother,” he said. “I was out in the desert a year before your birth and saw a white snake locked in combat with a black snake. I killed the black snake. A gust of wind blew sand in my eyes. When my vision cleared, where the snake had been, a tall man stood instead. He thanked me for saving his life and said he would repay me.” Her father shook his head. “He was a jinni. I told him I needed nothing.” He had taken a deep shuddering breath. “The jinni brought his sister to me here at the palace the next day. She was a luminous being with green eyes, cinnamon complexion, long, straight black hair. She speared my heart with her beauty, and I desired her. He gave her to me to be my wife. Your mother was not banished from my kingdom. She went back to her people in the world of the jinnis.”

  If what Baba had said was true, then that meant—

  A servant dropped a platter, bringing her back to the moment with a start.

  “What do you mean he commands the jinnis? What manner of sorcery is this?”

  A pomegranate seed lodged between his teeth, Tamrin took his time picking it out before responding. Fingers interwoven to keep them still, Makeda wanted to shake the words out of her friend.

  “Not sorcery. A gift from his god. I saw the great seals on his hands. They give him the power to control the devils, keep them out of evil doing, and force them to work on the temple. One strong jinni can carry the same load in a day that it would take a dozen men to transport to the high place.”

  Makeda took a deep breath and blew it out through pursed lips. She was half-jinni, half-human. She was not evil. Nor was she completely jinni. Solomon’s ring held no power over her—or did it?

  “Tell me about the temple? Did he plan such a glorious thing?”

  “His father designed it, but did not live to see his drawings become buildings. King Solomon carries on his father’s vision. His needs are many for this marvel.”

  Makeda seized the opportunity to avoid distressing thoughts about this king and his jinni-commanding seals. “We can trade with the king for many of our exports, frankincense, ebony wood that resists termites, cinnamon, reeds for writing. What does he offer us in return? Olive oil? Wine? Slaves?”

  Tamrin motioned to a hovering servant for his glass to be refilled, took a deep gulp, and shook his head. “He gave me much gold this trip. It is almost as if the streets and houses of Jerusalem are covered in gold and silver. What we need is protection.”

  Breathless with the audacity of the proposal, she fell back on her cushion. “What do we need defenses from? The mountains are treacherous to outsiders. Our warriors are well trained with weapons, horses, and chariots. We can defend ourselves.”

  “Not our land. Our trade routes.”

  “So in exchange for our tribute, he will continue to protect our merchants? Do you think this is a fair trade?” Tamrin was her one true friend who never let her win a game as a child just because she was a princess. She loved him like a brother, trusted him with her secrets and life. Now she needed his honest advice before she placed her country at the mercy of the King of Israel. What would be next if she acceded to this command? Would he wish to annex her nation? That would never happen.

  “Without Israel’s protection, our goods can’t make it to the Red Sea, much less to the shore of the Great Sea. We passed a caravan on our way to Jerusalem less fortunate than us. Every single man butchered, or left to die of thirst. Camels and goods stolen with no recourse, no king or queen to turn to for justice. Our lives and livelihoods in exchange for things we can spare? Yes, this is a fair trade.”

  Smile. Be kind. Show no weakness.

  She nodded. “We will show this king we are not some weak nation, easy to be conquered, our bones picked by his buzzard troops. When we send our tribute, we shall do it with abundance and strength.”

  Tamrin grinned. “Of course.” He glanced out the window. “The tree shadows are almost at the ground. You need to get back to your court proceedings, and I need to go home.” He began to rise and stopped. “With your leave, of course.”

  She waved him away. “Give your wife my greetings. Take some dates for your boy. I know he loves them.”

  Tamrin bowed low, stuffed a handful of the sweets in his pocket, and exited the queen’s dining chamber.

  Makeda leaned back and closed her eyes. Part of her was tantalized by the stories Tamrin shared about King Solomon. She imagined drops of honeyed wisdom falling from his lips. If only she could gather his knowledge and bring it home to Sheba. She sighed. If Jerusalem were closer, she could go there herself, not just rely on Tamrin’s eyes and ears. Six moons to cross halfway. Such a long journey. Who would rule her nation in her stead? Who had the respect of her people? And what about the evil jinnis? Would the devils recognize her as half-jinniyah and share her secret with the handsome king? Would he command her with his seals? What would he order her to do? Would he force her to come to his bed? That would never happen. She could never be with a man. She needed to be a virgin queen. She promised her father to protect and serve only her nation, never a man, not even one as great as King Solomon.


  Above all else, you must seek wisdom. That is your destiny.

  Did she need to travel to Jerusalem to learn wisdom? Was this the true meaning of Metatron’s prophesy?

  “Oop-poo!” The call of a bird startled Makeda out of her reverie. On the inside edge of the window perched a hoopoe bird with a gold and silver filigreed tube tied to his leg.

  She approached the striped creature. “Well, hello, my little friend. What is that?”

  He cocked his orange head and gazed at her with dark, intelligent eyes.

  “A summons. Your royal highness is commanded to appear in the court of King Solomon.”

  Chapter Five

  Chevy Chase, MD, U.S.A., Present Day

  Throat tight, heart attempting to jack hammer out of his chest, Arta whispered, “I thought I rid the earth of your ‘Ifrit stink two years ago in a jail cell in Arizona. What are you doing here?”

  The girl’s face shifted and contorted as if a million insect larvae burrowed beneath her skin. The evil jinni struggled with Nur for control of her tongue and won.

  “What kind of a hello is that for an old friend?” She coughed in his face, and acrid fumes singed Arta’s nostrils. “I gave you a terrorist, you gave me an eviction notice.”

  Eyes stinging, he jerked his head away from the sulfurous stench. “You forced that young man to become a bomber. He had no evil inclinations until you whispered into his ear.”

  “La, la. No, no, my friend, he always dreamed of becoming a martyr to the cause. I just helped him get there sooner.”

  Feet kicking the underside of the bed, Nur choked, trapped in a power struggle for her own body. Arta had to get the ‘Ifrit out before the girl asphyxiated. He hated having to speak to the jinni, it only encouraged him. Now the creature had a real audience, someone who recognized him and his power. The evil one was in no rush to leave. He was having a good time.

  “Release this girl. She’s a mere child, no player in your game.” While Arta worked at putting force into his voice, his mind whirled with questions and memories. How had the ‘Ifrit survived? At the time of the incident in the desert, he was sure the jinni was gone.