The child stomped his foot and howled, “I want, I want.”
“You can want, but you may not hurt people. Apologize to the cook. As penance, you must wash pots and pans the rest of today.”
The child threw his shoulders back, put his fists on his hips, and glared up at his father with fiery eyes. “I don’t do women’s work.”
“Well today you do. Keep this up, and you’ll get a thrashing, followed by a day of pounding laundry on the rocks.” Solomon grasped his defiant son by the wrist and handed him back to Bathsheba. “Mother, please tell me I didn’t act this way when I was little.”
Her silver braid whipped back and forth. “I blame his mother, Naamah the Ammonitess. She allows him too many liberties. Mark my words, Solomon, this young one’s selfishness will be his undoing. He should not be your successor.”
“Despite my many wives and concubines, the Lord has not blessed me with another living son.” Solomon patted the unpleasant child on the head. “He’s the only one.”
“Then we’d better try to undo Naamah’s bad work while there’s still time.” She dragged the shrieking boy away. “Stop wailing, you’re not a baby anymore. Try behaving like a king instead of an evil jinni. Don’t make me use this stick on you.” Her scolding trailed off in the distance.
Solomon closed his eyes and shook his head. God, give me strength. If only he could manage his wives and children as easily as he commanded the jinnis. Sadly, his magic seals had no effect on his women and offspring.
“Oop-poo!”
“There you are, my friend.” He waved the jinnis, men, wolves, lions, and birds away, releasing them to return to their duties. “You worried me with your long absence.”
“I bring good news.”
Solomon motioned for the bird to hop on his shoulder. “Yes?”
“Tamrin, the merchant, told us the truth about his virgin queen. I traveled to the territory where he said his people lived. A beautiful woman rules over them. Tall, with a cinnamon complexion, huge green eyes, and hips and breasts to rival those of the largest Asherah in your kingdom.”
The king’s face felt as warm as if he sat in front of a blazing fire. “You make me hungry with your words, bird.”
Hoopoe inclined his head and ruffled his top feathers. “You taught me well with your seven-hundred wives and three-hundred concubines.”
“Is she as wealthy as Tamrin claimed?” He stroked the bird’s soft neck.
“Yes, even more than he said. She has a magnificent throne, made of ivory, gold and jewels, a marvel to behold.”
A kingdom that rivaled his in wealth. “Did you deliver my scroll to her?”
“Yes, but I must tell you more. The people worship the sun as a god, not our God, the All Knowing and Supreme Ruler.”
A problem, but nothing insurmountable. “They need a judicious teacher. What was her response to the summons?”
“I thought she’d throw the scroll at me after she read it. She summoned her counselors and conferred with them at length.”
Solomon stroked his beard. “The Queen surrounds herself with advisers. That is the sign of a good ruler, the mark of wisdom.”
“First she thought to send you an abundance of wealth in her stead. But our friend, Tamrin, told her that would only kindle your wrath. She argued with him and an old gray haired man. She called him Uncle. At last she sent them all away, picked up a reed, and wrote upon a scroll.” Hoopoe held out his leg. Where once the gold and silver tube had been, a solid gold one encrusted with red and green stones dangled in its place.
He laughed. “She sent me a much more valuable one than I sent to her. A subtle, but direct way of showing me how rich she is.” Solomon unbound the gem heavy message written in Aramaic. “With my deepest respects, I make preparations to meet you, King Solomon. Barring thieves and murderers, I shall be in Jerusalem in twenty-four moons. Makeda, Queen of Sheba.”
He held the paper to his nose and inhaled sandalwood, frankincense, myrrh and some unknown, mysterious aroma. Was that perfume, he wondered? Or was that her fragrance? His pulse quickened and his loins stirred at the thought of burying himself deep in the scent of this woman, a virgin queen who smelled like rain on parched desert sands. Was she the one who could give him a son to be proud of? Twenty-four moons. How would he wait? The only thing that could distract him that long would be the construction of the temple. Impatient as his rebellious son, Solomon prayed God would protect the Queen of Sheba and hasten her to his side.
****
Makeda stood before her high throne and surveyed the residents of Aksum and beyond. Warriors, merchants, farmers, landowners, and messengers, everyone she needed to spread the word and give notice to their workers stood before her, awaiting her announcement. Anxiety weighed heavy in the room. Even the birds’ tongues were still. Grateful for her long white dress which hid her trembling legs, Makeda had to be strong for her country, for her subjects, for herself. Her kingdom had to be protected at all costs. No sacrifice was too large for Sheba.
“Listen my people,” she called in a voice she hoped sounded strong and confident. “The Sun God has heard my prayers for wisdom. Each time a dispute comes before me, I pray to him to give me the understanding and to show me the bright light that directs my heart to justice for my subjects. We are wealthy as a nation, yet I ache with the need for the priceless gift of wisdom.”
She took a deep breath and focused on her uncle’s face. She had practiced this speech with her father’s brother and Tamrin for days, writing and rewriting each word with care after each rehearsal. He gave her a warm smile and nodded for her to go on.
“My people, what I prayed for has arrived, at last. I have been invited to visit the king of Israel, the one who keeps our trade routes safe from bandits, the wisest of men, King Solomon.”
A woman wailed, “Oh, Queen Makeda, do not leave us. You are wise now, we need you here.”
The woman’s heartfelt plea touched Makeda. She recalled her words to Baba as he lay on his deathbed. She had begged him not to leave her, too. She thought of her father and his voice came to her, almost as if he stood at her side and whispered in her ear.
I am with you Makeda. Be strong my daughter, you are doing the right thing.
A well of strength, hitherto untapped, flooded her veins. “Do not mourn. I do not seek death, but rebirth. I do not go on bended knee, but standing straight and tall. I do not go as a servant, but as King Solomon’s peer. My duty is to serve our great nation as best I can. I will return with deeper understanding, for you.”
“We will all come with you, oh Queen,” shouted a merchant. “We serve you.”
“I cannot allow farmers to leave their animals and fields. No families will be uprooted to follow me on this quest. That road leads to the downfall of our nation. My feet will stay on the path of the bright and shining light of wisdom. It will lead me there and back to you.”
“The road to wisdom is surrounded by bandits who hide in the darkness of evil,” a warrior shouted. “We will come with you, to serve and protect you.” The legion of men standing behind him cheered and thumped their spears on the ground.
She was prepared for this. The fierceness of these men was matched by their unflinching loyalty to her. They adored her, but she did not wish to impose hardships on their families. Young men who sought adventure would be welcome on this trip. Married men would worry about the families they left behind.
“Of course, I will take warriors.” Women cast anxious glances at men. “We also need men to stay here and protect our kingdom. Those with wives and children shall remain here.” A collective sigh of relief rose in the room, giving support to her decision.
“I am working with my advisers to prepare for this journey. No hardships should be imposed on our nation because of this. If you receive an invitation to travel with me, you have the right to decline.” Not one of those called to serve would refuse. The list had been reviewed with care to ensure the selection of the right people for this del
egation.
Tamrin, planted on purpose in the back of the room, called out with his pre-arranged question. “Who will rule in your absence?”
“My Uncle will serve in my stead while I am gone.” A murmur of approval rolled through the crowd, transforming the mood in the room from mournful to joyful.
“It would give me pleasure if you would gather along the road and see me off when I leave. For now, please return to your homes and your work.”
The dispersing crowd’s chatter and laughter enhanced with bird song and parrot squawks, lifted Makeda’s spirits. Thank the Sun God that was done. She waited for the room to empty before she climbed down the stairs to stand alongside her uncle and Tamrin.
She inclined her head. “Your thoughts?”
A tear trickled down her uncle’s face. Makeda reached up and wiped it away with her thumb.
“Your father would be proud.”
“Baba spoke to me today.”
Uncle’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“I feared I would burst into tears, and he whispered to me to be strong.” She put her hand over her heart. “He is here with me now and always.”
Tamrin nodded. “He always knew how to calm you. And terrify me.”
Makeda burst out laughing. “That he did, my friend. Now, to our preparations.”
The next month Makeda relied on her childhood friend’s extensive experience with trade routes and caravans to equip her momentous journey. At last, the traveling city of warriors, merchants, cooks, animal tenders, servers, waiting girls, and Makeda set out with seven-hundred and ninety-seven laden camels, innumerable pack mules and asses. Bags of frankincense, myrrh, cassia, cinnamon, medicinal herbs, and other lightweight commodities needed were guarded by warriors. Timbers of ebony, the world’s hardest wood, impervious to termites and other insects, were loaded onto oxen-drawn carts in numbers sufficient to build a palace.
One hundred and twenty talents of gold, gathered from the tribes in the neighboring country of Sasu, were loaded on innumerable carts pulled by paired oxen. Makeda’s father had begun the tradition of trading with these people by sending merchants to exchange slaughtered oxen, chunks of salt, and iron for gold nuggets. Over the years, her father’s traders had brought back huge stores of the precious metal, enough to keep the kingdom in a strong trading position with the rest of the world. Once again, Makeda was grateful to her father for his foresight and wisdom.
Makeda rode at the head of the caravan, well aware of the complaints from the caged beasts they brought as tribute to impress the wealthy King Solomon. Despite her previous conversations with each animal, the black-maned lions roared their disapproval, the baboons screeched, the parrots shrieked and squawked, the cattle lowed, and the sheep and goats bleated. They hated the cages and the fact that they could not protect her as she rode in front, an easy target for bandits. At some point along the trip, she would have to speak with them again. Right now, however, she had to focus on smiling and waving to the cheering crowds that lined the highway as she rode out of Aksum on her favorite horse. At least the mare wasn’t complaining. Yet.
Makeda turned as they passed the city gates and took one last look at the only home she’d ever known. The Sun God rose behind the mountains she had climbed as a child, caressed the meadows where she had played hide and seek with the rats, and stroked the petals of the abundant purple flowers she used to perfume her clothing.
A sharp stab of longing shot through her, making her falter. It wasn’t too late to turn around, to cry out, and say, “I cannot do this.” Fears assailed her with each heartbeat. Would she ever see her palace again? Would the great King Solomon welcome her with dignity and respect, or would he treat her as a concubine, a subject to be ruled? Would she truly return to her people reborn with wisdom as she had told that woman, or would she die in her thirst for knowledge and good judgment?
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, praying for her inner resolve to turn from water to iron. Makeda blinked, looked up into the clouds and gasped. High overhead, an enormous eagle the color of a young antelope rode the wind, heading in the direction of Jerusalem. The color of the bird, identical to that of the angel she met in the cave years before, told her their caravan was protected by none other than the great and powerful angel, Metatron.
Chapter Seven
Summertown, Present Day
Throwing off her blazer, Eliana commandeered a computer in the command center room and scoured databases available only to those with the highest security clearance for information about Summertown. She needed to know more about the relationship between this geographic location and the jinni energy signature seen on satellite images just two days before the children disappeared. If she’d received the message sooner, she might have been able to arrive in Summertown in time to track the jinni, prevent the kidnappings, and killings. A moving target in a honeycomb of old mine shafts and tunnels complicated rescue efforts. Just as she was about to call her boss and fill him in on the latest events, the mayor strode in with Lowell Adalwolf at his side.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Mayor Schaeffer announced. “Effective immediately, we are putting a gag order on this series of events. Speak to no one outside this room about the details of these cases. Keep your speculations to yourselves. The hiker who found the body is aware of the need for silence and agreed not to speak to the media. There was no murder.”
Eliana snapped her mouth shut. Talk about overstepping boundaries. The mayor wasn’t a judge. He couldn’t issue a gag order. They paid for that hiker’s silence. She shot out of her chair.
“Homeland Security’s investigation is in progress. I hope you’re not telling us how to do our jobs.”
The mayor glared at her.
“No one wants a satisfactory conclusion more than I do—except perhaps, Mr. Adalwolf.”
Lowell Adalwolf nodded. “As of midnight last night, the ME ruled my grand-niece’s death a random attack by a wild animal. As many of you know, there are over eight thousand black bears roaming all across West Virginia. Her death is a warning to all that we can never be too careful in our state forests.”
The Medical Examiner declared it a bear attack? This wasn’t a TV show. No reputable lab could process the DNA that fast. The paw prints weren’t ursine. They were canine. This was a cover up. She made eye contact with the only other female in the room, the red-haired police chief who was convinced the girl was killed by a rogue were-wolf. The chief rolled her eyes as if to say what a load of bear shit.
The mayor declared the meeting over and departed, leaving a sullen silence in his wake. Adalwolf prowled through the crowded room and dropped a thick sheaf of papers in front of Ellie.
“Here are all the documents you requested,” he growled. “I doubt you’ll need them now we know what killed my niece.”
It took all of her training to keep from snarling back at him.
“Thank you, Mr. Adalwolf. We do need them. Did you visit your other grand-nieces, sir? They’re in pretty bad shape. Practically catatonic. I hope you haven’t forgotten them.”
He looked as if she’d just hit him with a rolled up newspaper. Adalwolf placed a hand on his chest. “I am deeply offended by that remark. I haven’t forgotten my nieces, or the seriousness of the crimes against them.”
“Good. I’m glad you feel that way. A black bear didn’t get them pregnant.” She tapped the blueprints. “Everyone in this room wants to find out who abducted the kids and where they’re hiding—before they can grab any other girls. And, by the way, I examined the paw prints. They weren’t bear.”
He glared at her. “They’re my family. I’ll do whatever it takes to find out who did this to them. We don’t need bad press right now. The county fair is one month away, mid-July. That, plus our summer destination weddings and wine festival, brings in tens of thousands of people and millions in revenues.” He lowered his voice. “Four weeks. We must find who did this and capture him. I’m telling you, no one in my pack would do this. Th
e ME caved in to the mayor, gave him what he wanted. Those paw prints were a ploy to throw us off. Werewolves are being framed. It’s a human.”
“A human? The girls are pregnant with four-footed fetuses. How could the father be human?”
“With so many intermarriages over the centuries, anything is possible. It could be someone who isn’t purebred werewolf.”
“Guess I need to learn more about Summertown genealogy.”
“Find him,” he growled. “Otherwise, this lovely little town will suffer a financial blow so hard, it may never recover.”
Adalwolf turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.
Hmm. Maybe the report overstated the cordial relations between the werewolves and the humans in this little burg.
She tugged at the long sleeves of her button down shirt and unrolled the mining plans. Lines and scribbles meant nothing to her. She needed an expert to decipher the blueprints and decide where it would be best to send in a robotic FINDER—short for Finding Individuals for Disaster and Emergency Response—a suitcase size smart device that emitted microwaves and could detect heartbeats and breathing. If a perp—human or werewolf—was hiding in those tunnels, the FINDER would track him down. A jinni? Well, that was a different story. Made from smokeless fire, a jinni body’s properties differed from humans’.
Where was her team? Twenty-four hours after her call and still no help? That wasn’t right. The engineer should be here now. She grabbed her phone to track down her expert, and dropped it on the desk when it began to roar like a lion. She swore she’d changed the ringtone to the default setting. She snatched up the snarling cell and found a text from Arta. His plane was on the tarmac. Early. Too early. He wasn’t due for another hour. She wasn’t prepared for him. Then again, would she ever be ready?
She texted him her ETA at the airport, an hour. A small lie. It was forty minutes if she drove like a little old lady who couldn’t see over the steering wheel. She needed time to collect her thoughts and calm down. She gulped down the rest of her tepid coffee, threw her jacket on, grabbed the blueprints and case file, and strode out to the parking lot.
Kiss of the Virgin Queen Page 7