“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.
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.”
The court was silent; Bilqis heard the soft insistent buzz of a bee against one of the alabaster windows as the insect vainly tried to fly free. Gauging the moment, she went on before any of her ministers could speak.
She smiled at Prince Jotham. “At Ilat’s command, I shall accompany you to see this golden city for myself—and to test the wisdom of King Solomon.”
She had too much experience ruling men and women to permit her audience a chance to consider her words, or to question them. A nod to her attentive eunuchs, and the leopard-skin curtain fell, concealing her from those in the courtyard. Bilqis rose, and stretched, and stopped as she saw her nephew waiting for her beside her throne.
“Is that truly our Mother’s answer? That you journey north with these
uncouth men?” Rahbarin frowned even as he held out his hand to steady her as she descended the steps from the ivory throne.
“Did I not say so?” Bilqis set her hand upon Rahbarin’s, and sighed inwardly. He was going to be difficult. For her nephew was nothing if not single-minded in defense of Sheba’s crown and queen, willing to protect her even from herself if necessary. Prince Rahbarin was strong, loyal, intelligent—if only he had been born a girl!
Yet even as Bilqis sighed over that useless wish, she knew Ilat had not erred in creating Rahbarin male instead of female. For Rahbarin also was gentle-natured and amiable, as good as a desert spring—and as transparent as that spring-water. Guile and subtlety he lacked. And guile and subtlety a ruler must have, to rule well and wisely. Rahbarin owned all the virtues of a good man; those very virtues would be disastrous in a ruler.
For a queen must be able to speak false as well as true, with no one the wiser.
To rule—to nurture a country and its people—a queen must veil her true nature, her true self. Only one thing must count with her: her people’s welfare.
Not her own wishes, or her own happiness
—
or her own good. Theirs.
And the pause to speak with Rahbarin had permitted others to gather. Now the court chamberlain, the chief steward, the vizier, and the chief eunuch stood before her, all demanding to know whether the Queen of the South had gone mad. Only the captain of the queen’s guard, Nikaulis, remained silent.
“O Queen, your vizier has heard not a word of this journey.” Mubalilat’s tone plainly indicated that he wished he had not heard a word of it now. “It is impossible—absolutely impossible—”
The chief eunuch interrupted him, only to continue the protest. “Of course the Lady of the Morning may do as pleases her, but to undertake such an endeavor—”
“It is too risky,” Uhhayat finished; the court chamberlain could be counted on to counsel prudence above all. “We know nothing of this king or his land; his emissaries are barbarians who never smile.”
Bilqis held up her hand, and her courtiers fell silent. “And the captain of my guard? Has my Amazon nothing to say?”
Nikaulis regarded her queen, eyes gray and hard as iron. “Only what others have said; that such a journey is folly. But I am the queen’s captain. What she commands, I will perform.”
This is the outcome of training officials to speak their thoughts freely, unafraid of reprisals if their ruler dislikes their words!
So thinking, Bilqis laughed softly, watching the puzzlement on her officials’ faces at her amusement.
“The queen has heard your words, and thanks you for your concern for her safety and the kingdom’s. But you must know that I go at Ilat’s bidding and at Her promise. From our land, I shall bring King Solomon gold and spices. And from his land I shall return bringing the queen who will wear Sheba’s crown of fire when I am gone.”
For a heartbeat they stared at her in silence. Then Mubalilat asked, “This is what the Sun of our Days revealed?” The vizier’s voice held an odd mixture of awe and doubt.
“Yes,” said Bilqis, “it is what She revealed to me. There will be a queen to follow after me; a queen granted us by Ilat Herself.”
“A queen from the north?” The chief eunuch, Tamrin, shook his head so hard a jeweled pin fell from his tight-curled hair. “How is that possible?”
Her most trusted and most loyal ministers stared at her, awaiting her answer. Only truth would serve; they deserved nothing less.
“I do not know.” Bilqis held out her hands, as if in supplication. “I only know that I humbled myself before our Mother and this is how She has answered my prayers. I ask that you trust Her, as I do. Now you have the queen’s permission to leave her presence.”
They obeyed, bowing themselves off with reluctance. Uhhayat and Tamrin walked together; already Bilqis knew they were forging an alliance whose intent would be to keep her here in Sheba. The chief officers of her court and the lesser dignitaries doubtless would spend the next hours grumbling to each other, unable to comprehend such an unheard-of journey.
Nikaulis remained, her iron eyes blade-keen, questioning. “My queen?”
“Speak, Queen’s Captain.”
“Cannot another journey north in your stead?”
Bilqis shook her head. “No. I must go myself. Who else can choose Sheba’s next queen?”
For a moment Nikaulis seemed to hesitate, as if about to speak again. The moment passed, and the Amazon merely bowed her head, as if accepting the queen’s words as final. Then Nikaulis, too, retreated, leaving Bilqis alone with her nephew.
“You, too, may leave me, Rahbarin.” But Bilqis was not surprised when
he regarded her steadily and said, “I wish to talk to you, my mother’s sister, if you will permit it.”
Bilqis sighed inwardly; she had hoped to avoid an immediate confrontation with Rahbarin and his principles.
Still, as well now as later, I suppose.
Bowing to the inevitable, she permitted him to accompany her to her own chamber. There she sat before her dressing table, and Irsiya began to unpin her hair.
Rahbarin waited; knowing he would silently wait until next moonrise, if necessary, Bilqis sighed, and said, “Speak, Nephew.”
Rahbarin looked at Irsiya. “Send your maidservant away.”
“No; there is nothing either of us can say that is secret.” And a witness might prove useful; who better than the queen’s most intimate servant? “Now, what have you to say to your aunt and queen?”
Given permission to speak, Rahbarin hesitated, then said, “I know you have spoken with Ilat Herself, but—but to leave Sheba and journey north, to a far land none has ever seen—is this wise, Bright One?”
“Not wise, perhaps—but necessary.” She stared into the polished silver mirror; her face was still a fortune in men’s eyes. “Our Lady Ilat has promised me a daughter from the north; I cannot expect the winds to blow the girl across the desert into my arms!”
Rahbarin regarded her with that steadfast, stubborn devotion that made him such a good follower, and would make him an equally poor ruler. “It is too far, and too dangerous. Send me in your stead.”
“What, will you bear a child for me?”
“You are too old for that. Whatever the goddess means, She cannot mean you are to bear a child yourself! You would die birthing the babe.”
No one could ever accuse Rahbarin of empty flattery—always he would say plain truth, whatever the cost. “Who can say what She means? A daughter, She promised—and one of my own body and blood would be best. If I die bearing an heir to Sheba—why, I die. I trust you to raise my daughter up to be a great queen; she could have no better counselor or truer friend.”
“I don’t like it,” Rahbarin said.
“You don’t need to like it, Rahbarin; you need only obey. Her will is clear: I must go. And you must stay, and guard Sheba while I am gone.”
“And if you do not return, Aunt? Then what?”
Trust Rahbarin to spot each weak point and take careful aim. “Then,
Sister’s Son, you must consult Ilat for yourself, and act as She directs—and as seems best to you.”
Knowing that order could not be improved upon, Bilqis dismissed her nephew and braced herself to face her handmaiden; Irsiya was sure to be as disapproving as Rahbarin.
“You have heard what I told the prince. So you may begin packing, my Irsiya—we leave when the Israelite merchants sail north.”
Irsiya stared at her round-eyed. “The queen is serious?”
“Irsiya, do I sound as if I jest? Ilat has spoken, remember; I must obey, however far I must journey in Her service.”
“But to King Solomon’s court? That lies at the other end of the world—the merchants travel months and months only to reach the Silk Road, and Jerusalem is farther still!”
Bilqis laughed, deliberately making light of Irsiya’s protest. “Oh, Jerusalem is not so far as that. Damascus lies beyond Jerusalem, and yet our merchants trade often in the City of Roses. And the Silk Road, like the Spice Road, crosses many lands, including King Solomon’s. Be easy; I shall not waste half a year in travel.”
Not when the sea lay beside the desert, its waters a swift road to the north. By sea, the journey would last weeks rather than months. Bilqis smiled and patted Irsiya’s hand. “I shall journey north to King Solomon because our Mother Ilat bids me do so. I may trust Her to smooth my path.”
“Of course,” Irsiya said, but Sheba sensed her handmaiden’s pious agreement was less than wholehearted. But then Irsiya was a true daughter of her bloodline: cautious and conservative as a cat. Irsiya’s world was bounded by the golden sands ringing Ma’rib; her desires centered upon home and temple. So long as she trod a path laid out precisely for her careful steps, there was no better servant than Irsiya. But ask her to contemplate change, even in so little a thing as the colors of the flowers to be placed within a vase, and she became worried; worried, Irsiya became stubborn, clinging to the pattern she knew.
She will loathe journeying to unknown lands, but she is one of the queen’s ladies. I cannot leave her behind, for she would hate that quite as much. There will be no pleasing Irsiya in this quest.
But so long as she returned from King Solomon’s lands bearing Sheba’s next queen with her, Bilqis did not care who objected now.