But however scornful, the man at least was no fool; seated, he looked up, past her jeweled feet and silk-clad thighs, past the girdle of pearls circling her waist, the ropes of amber falling over her breasts, until he stared once more at her face. “I, Prince Jotham of Judah, thank you, O Queen, for this sign of your favor. May it herald a prosperous outcome to our journey.”
Very good, Prince Jotham of Judah. Many men had sat where he sat now, and some could not tear their eyes away from the sheer cloth clinging to her legs, the shadows hinting at the secret garden hidden between her thighs. She smiled again.
“May it herald prosperity indeed. Now tell us where your land may be found, Prince Jotham of Judah, and what men call it, and who rules over it—and you.”
“My land lies north, past the great empty desert. My king is Solomon the Wise, son of Great David, who rules all the land from Dan to Beersheba, and more besides.”
Much more, apparently; building upon his father’s conquests, King Solomon now ruled an empire—or so his envoy claimed. “No man travels between the Great Sea and the Great Desert, between Egypt and Damascus, without paying toll to King Solomon the Wise.”
King Solomon the Wise; a noble title. Is he wise in truth, or only in men’s flattery? One never could be sure; did not men still call her Bilqis the Beautiful? The true question is whether this King Solomon owns the wisdom to know he is flattered—or whether he is deluded by gilded words.
“A great realm indeed. And what does King Solomon the Wise wish of Bilqis, Queen of the lands of Sheba?”
“Her goodwill and her friendship.” Prince Jotham’s gaze never wavered. “And her spices.”
Unable to resist, she permitted herself to laugh. “Your king has sent an able advocate indeed! It has taken some men a month of audiences before they dared utter those words!”
For a breath, dismay flooded his face, then he shrugged. “What else does a man come to the land of Sheba to gain but her spices? Why not say so?”
“Why not indeed?” Her amusement encouraged her courtiers to smiles and low laughter at this brazen truth. “Tell me, Prince Jotham, does King Solomon the Wise desire nothing more of Sheba?”
This time he hesitated before speaking, but still his words were as blunt as before. “My brother King Solomon would enter into agreements with Sheba. Trade must continue, spices flow safe along the Incense Road. A pact between our kingdoms is what King Solomon desires.”
“And what does the king your brother offer that Sheba does not already possess? What does King Solomon own that Sheba lacks?” Something seemed to arouse her as she uttered the words; an intangible caress slid like perfumed smoke across her skin.
“I do not know,” Prince Jotham said, “but I have brought scrolls from the king, and a scribe who has memorized all the scrolls say. Doubtless my brother has thought of something.”
Does King Solomon know what manner of men carry his words? Still, such crude speech has saved us all endless hours of deference and debate before even beginning our bargaining. In exchange, I will turn a blind eye and a deaf ear to their blunt manner. For did she not also wish something of them—although they did not yet know it?
“Rise, Prince Jotham of Judah, and know you are Sheba’s guest. And know also that the Queen of Sheba will speak with King Solomon’s scribe, but the queen alone can promise nothing.”
As King Solomon’s envoy rose ungracefully to his feet, plainly baffled, she raised her hand. “The queen will consult our Mother Ilat in this matter; the queen will act as the goddess advises.” With that, she nodded, and the court eunuchs released the heavy golden cords; the curtains of leopard and embroidered silk fell before the ivory throne, hiding her from the court. A good ending, she thought, rising from the throne, and a decision no one could quarrel with. A decision that committed her to nothing.
Once more veiled from all but her intimates, she beckoned to the chief eunuch. And when he drew near, and bowed low, she smiled. “I have a task for you, Tamrin. Bring Prince Jotham of Judah to my garden.”
“At once, Sun of our Days.” But however humble Tamrin’s words, however deep his bow, Bilqis clearly understood his deep disapproval.
If the gods would grant me one wish—other than a queen for Sheba—I would ask for handmaidens and servants and eunuchs who had not tended me since before I grew breasts! Sometimes their care nearly stifled her—and their meticulous solicitude curbed most wild impulses almost before she uttered them.
“Oh, it need not be at once,” she said, restraining her desire to remind Tamrin that she, not he, ruled as Queen of Sheba—even if he had served her mother. “But I must speak with him—I wish to learn more of this King Solomon than I shall hear in a public audience. And whatever you can learn …”
“Of course, my queen. You may trust me for that.”
Smiling, she laid her hand softly upon his bowed head. “I do. I trust you to bring me words that tell what sort of man King Solomon is—or at least, the sort of man his subjects think him.”
Pleased still to be of such import, Tamrin bowed even lower, lifting the tassel of her girdle to his lips. “Light of our Eyes, you shall have what you desire. My slaves will glean knowledge from those uncouth barbarians until even King Solomon’s own mother shall know him less well than you.”
In some acts, haste never prospered; if a Queen of Sheba mastered nothing else as she trained for the day the sun-crown would rest upon her hair, she learned to command patience.
Fools battled life’s hungers, and in the end lost all.
So Bilqis had been taught; so she ruled her own life. She had waited three full days, and now she would learn what sort of man King Solomon had sent to plead for him. And I will learn what sort of man King Solomon is—or seems to be to his trusted servant. She smiled, and spread the peacock feathers of her fan across the bench beside her. For this meeting, she had chosen to seem what men of other nations called womanly, and displayed her body like a prize. A gown rich with gold fringe wrapped her; sheer cloth molded the curves of breast and hip and thigh. A dozen bracelets adorned each wrist, chimed with each movement of her hands. Carmine painted her mouth, so that her lips flamed hot and red.
Unless this man from the north is dead, or a eunuch, he will succumb. A man dazzled by a woman’s charms was a man easier to bargain with.
Prince Jotham of Judah seethed with impatience; his mouth was set in a thin line and his body moved stiffly, like a clay doll’s. Bilqis smiled as he approached, and extended her hand, palm up, so that her hennaed skin glowed rose in the sun.
“The Queen of Sheba greets King Solomon’s emissary. She is eager to speak with him again.” Swiftly gauging his temper, she added, “No, do not kneel; you may sit before me.”
Plainly Prince Jotham had not even thought of bending his knee to her; her careless dismissal of that protocol seemed to startle him into noticing he should pay her more homage than a scowl. “Thank you, Highness,” he said. “But I will stand.”
Bilqis laughed softly. “Stand then, but I fear you will grow weary, for I long to hear all you have to tell me of your land and your king. So when you tire of standing, I give you leave to sit at your ease so that we may talk as friends.”
King Solomon’s emissary regarded her cautiously, as if she were a venomous serpent he had found drowsing before him. Again Bilqis smiled; faced with a woman of power, this man of action found himself at a loss. “Now,” said the Queen of Sheba, “speak to me of King Solomon.”
“What do you wish to know?”
“Why, whatever you wish to tell me, of course. That he is a great king, wise and powerful—that I will grant. Are not all kings so described?” She lifted the peacock fan and began slowly waving the brilliant feathers, creating the smallest of breezes across her skin. “And that he wishes to gain my spices—that too is common to all kings.”
“Then what can I tell you that you do not already know?” Jotham demanded. “Your ministers have read the king’s scrolls by now. Have they no
t told you what they say?”
Gently, Bilqis lowered the peacock fan, rested it across her thighs. Plainly Jotham of Judah prided himself on blunt speaking and held women in light regard. Time, Bilqis thought, to invoke the Mother to rule him, bring him to heel.
“I have read the scrolls, young man, and yes, I know what they say. Now I shall give you some advice, Jotham. It would be wise of you to remember that you are here not for yourself but for your king. And it would be even wiser of you to remember one thing more.”
“And what is that?” he asked after a moment, filling the silence, as she had known he would.
She noted with satisfaction that his face had flushed with chagrin and rising anger. Ah, and now he expects me to fling my power in his face, to threaten. She smiled, and once again lifted her peacock fan.
“That not only am I a queen, I am old enough to be your mother—or at least your aunt,” she added, laughter rippling beneath her words. “Now come and sit before me, Jotham of Judah—there, upon that cushion—and tell me what I wish to know.”
So easy. Bilqis continued to smile as King Solomon’s brother capitulated, sitting upon a cushion at her feet as if he were her son, or her harper. Obtaining obedience from men was a skill; like any other craft, it must be not only learned but honed with constant practice.
“Never utter an order you know will be disobeyed, Bilqis. Never give a man a chance to disobey, to show less than respect. Grant him what he does not yet think of taking.” Her mother’s voice whispered down the years to her, imparting women’s wisdom. Yes, Mother, Bilqis replied silently, I remember. See how this proud hard man now bends before me, and does not even know he has surrendered.
As she had anticipated, once he had begun to speak, Prince Jotham gradually revealed far more than he thought; certainly far more than he had intended when he strode into her presence. The chance to boast of the virtues of his monarch and the greatness of his kingdom inspired him to long-winded praise.
And if I believed even half of what he says of his wise king, I would have to fall down and worship Solomon! To hear Jotham of Judah tell it, King Solomon was more god than man.
“Handsome, generous, and wise in everything; your king is a true paragon of all the virtues.” Smiling, Bilqis plied her peacock fan, sending a warm breeze over Jotham’s sweat-damp face. The movement of the heavy air carried the scent of her perfume to him, a tantalizing fragrance of frankincense and roses. She noted that, without realizing it, Jotham leaned towards her, instinctively seeking to draw nearer.
“Solomon is a great king indeed—almost as great as his father, King David. Do you know how exalted our king is, in what regard he is held by the kings of all the world?”
“In most high regard?” Bilqis asked the question lightly, as if she jested; Jotham sprang to his ruler’s defense.
“So high his wives are kings’ daughters—yes, and his concubines too. Even Pharaoh gave a daughter to King Solomon, and sent her to him with the city of Gezer as dowry.” Jotham spoke as intently as a suitor seeking to impress his beloved’s mother.
And although she revealed no emotion other than amused interest, Bilqis was impressed. Royal Egypt did not grant its daughters lightly. To send a Daughter of the Two Lands to an alien kingdom to wed an outlander king had been unheard of—until now. That King Solomon could be granted such a wife spoke more clearly of his influence than an hour’s effusive praise by his loyal brother.
“King Solomon is favored by the Lord as well, for all his wives bear him only sons.”
The poor man! Bilqis lowered the peacock fan and ran her fingers over the iridescent feathers as if to smooth them. “Nothing but sons? How unfortunate.”
King Solomon’s emissary stared at her, plainly baffled; she laughed softly.
So, Prince Jotham, you have forgotten that, in Sheba, it is the mother who weighs heaviest in the scales. It is good to know I can still bedazzle an outlander. I am not yet useless.
“So great, so favored a king—with so loyal a servant, so faithful a brother. And so astute a king; did you not speak of him as Solomon the Wise?”
“So he has been called since he became king. On his first night as king, Solomon prayed to the Lord our god for wisdom to rule well and justly. And the Lord was pleased with Solomon, for he had not asked for riches or power for himself. And so the Lord granted the king the wisdom he had desired. Solomon has ruled wisely as king ever since that day.”
How pious—and what a clever tale to plant; what sweet fruit it produces! Perhaps this Solomon is truly wise.
“So now I know something of the king who desires Sheba’s spice.” Bilqis regarded Solomon’s advocate with a tolerant smile. “A wise man born under fortunate stars. It must be hard to refuse such a king anything he might desire.”
“Why refuse? Grant King Solomon what he desires, and he will repay you with friendship.”
“I have not said Sheba will refuse—but Solomon will need to give more than friendship for Sheba’s spices. Does he offer nothing more, this god-favored king?”
Before Prince Jotham could summon an answer, Bilqis laughed softly to assure him that she had taken no offense at his words. “No, do not answer; this is not the time or place to discuss trade and treaties. Come walk with me in the gardens and I shall display our finest flowers to you—and you, Prince Jotham, shall tell me how our blooms compare to those of Solomon’s kingdom.”
But by the time the sun rose towards midmorning, Bilqis abandoned the attempt to stroll the garden paths with the visitor. The man plainly cared nothing for gardens and even less for spending an hour discussing flowers. Alone, she bent and cupped a small fragrant rose between her hands and closed her eyes to inhale the blossom’s dark perfume.
What manner of men does King Solomon rule? Harsh men, rough and much burned by sun. What sort of land breeds such men? What sort of king rules such fierce subjects?
A king owning all a man’s virtues and all the world’s wisdom. Has he no weakness, then?
No man lived free of fault; the trick was to divine that defect, to turn that weakness into a weapon. A weapon held in reserve, perhaps a weapon never wielded. But a weapon nonetheless.
Opening her eyes, Bilqis stared into the rose’s crimson heart. Can any man be so great, so wise? Perhaps, a voice seemed to hiss, the word echoing silently in her ears, perhaps you should go and see for yourself … .
A command. An answer. A promise.
Bilqis straightened; her fingers slid over the velvet petals of the rose. At last she saw a path, a bridge to Sheba’s future. A road that led north.
North to the court of King Solomon.
Rahbarin
“I do not like these men from the north. They—” Rahbarin hesitated, seeking the right word to describe the unease troubling his mind. He stared into Ilat’s eyes, hoping to find inspiration in their jeweled depths. “They are—rude,” he said at last. “They lack respect. I do not like the way they look upon my mother’s sister. I do not like the way they look upon Your Mirror on Earth. Can she trust them, and their king?”
The alabaster image never altered; the goddess’s lapis eyes glowed serene in the lamplight, gold flecks glinting in the deep blue like stars at midnight. Rahbarin did not know whether that meant Ilat did not listen, or that She did not care. An idol was but an image; a form the goddess could inhabit, if She chose. This evening, She did not choose to reveal Herself. The statue remained merely a mirror in which to reflect upon the goddess it portrayed.
Rahbarin set another nugget of incense into the crystal bowl at the idol’s feet, bowed, and backed away. Tonight he would receive no answer. I must ask again later. Another time, he might elicit an answer from Ilat—or he might not. If She and the queen already wove a net of their own devising, neither would reveal as much to him.
That thought forced him to admit what he had been denying, that his aunt plotted something—something she knows I will not approve. And if that were true, he had a better chance of coaxing an an
swer from his goddess than he did from his aunt.
Bilqis
I must go north. That much was clear enough, goddess-granted. How she was to achieve this journey, and explain it to her councilors and her subjects—that apparently was to be left up to her own ingenuity.
But like any good ruler, Bilqis possessed a bountiful store of cunning. The answer came swiftly; she would announce that Ilat Herself had spoken, had commanded the queen’s obedience. That she must submit to Ilat’s wishes concerning the northerners and their king’s desire to trade with Sheba. All know I have consulted our Mother in Her Inner Court. Now I need only proclaim Her commands.
She kept King Solomon’s men waiting for a week before summoning them again to her presence. During those days she spent many hours praying before the public altar within the great Temple, for she had no intention of there being the least doubt that what she would do was the will of Ilat Herself So when the leopard skins were drawn back, revealing her upon Sheba’s throne, she smiled upon Solomon’s emissaries and told them she had carefully weighed their words, and those of their king.
“I have laid your words before our goddess Ilat. You are fortunate men; our Mother smiles upon you and your king.” Bilqis noted that Prince Jotham’s expression reflected distaste; she shrugged inwardly and continued. “Sheba will grant King Solomon’s request—and the queen herself shall carry this word of our Mother’s favor to him.”
A low susurrus of whispers began among her courtiers; Bilqis raised her hand for silence. “You all know I have dared the Inner Court to receive Ilat’s wisdom. You know that I have spent the last seven days in prayer and fasting. I have been granted knowledge of Her wishes; I will not dispute them.”
She glanced around the court, noting who looked shocked, who disapproving, who pleased. Then she turned her attention back to King Solomon’s embassy. “You have told us much of your king, and of his wisdom, and of his golden city. Now I will travel north with you, that your king and I may come to agreement together.”
Wisdom's Daughter: A Novel of Solomon and Sheba Page 4