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While her sister mixed dried herbs with liquid from yet another flask, Alina began her story with the same prologue Shiraza recited to start her tale.
“Praise and glory be to the gods. There was once a good and wise king named Menelek, ruler of a vast realm far away from here, given to him by his father, the most exalted King Solomon himself. Menelek had a twin sister he loved dearly, the beautiful Rahina. She, too, was destined to be the ruler of a great land, the rich and powerful kingdom of Sabatea. When their mother Shaitar left this world on her journey to the gods, Rahina was crowned the new Queen of Sheba. Her brother King Menelek sent her his most prized possession in tribute – his faithful servant and bodyguard Raheem. In his goodness and mercy, the king allowed Raheem to take his wife Azeen and their two little daughters, Alina and Yesha.”
Yesha chimed in. “Praise and glory be to the gods. Our father’s pleasure in life has been to serve the children of the great Queen Shaitar. We in turn have been granted the honor of spending our lives serving you, my lady – the Queen of Sheba, beloved child of Shaitar’s child.” Alina and Yesha fell to their knees and bowed in Bree’s direction, their foreheads touching the thick carpet covering the desert sands.
So these women, and their father before them, are slaves, given away at the whim of the master they serve.Bree was appalled at the very idea of owning slaves.
“Please, rise and join me in this meal,” she urged.
The women exchanged nervous glances but did not move from their subservient position.
Bree sighed. “Very well, then. Iorderyou to rise and sit with me. Let us share this meal as sisters. Our journey will be long, and it would amuse me to spend the hours chatting as friends.”
Reluctantly, Yesha sat up, leaning back on her heels. Alina followed. Bree reached for a handful of dried fruit, gesturing for the women to help themselves. “Remind me – do you live in the palace?”
She drew out the women, asking questions about their daily lives and soaking up the replies. She’d been presented with the opportunity to find out details of ancient life no amount of digging in the sand could ever reveal.
“No, my lady, we are not permitted to have suitors.” Alina giggled in response to one query. “Although there is a handsome royal guardsman whose gaze lingers on Yesha every time he is in her presence.”
Yesha shot her sister a reproachful glance. “We serve at the pleasure of the high priestess, our queen. If it be her desire,yourdesire, to watch one or both of us celebrate the sacred rite with a male of your choosing, we will be honored to do your bidding. Until then, we remain untouched.”
“You said ‘one or both of you.’ Do Sabatean men have more than one wife at a time?”
“Those who are wealthy often have several wives, and some women have several husbands. There is a rhyme we learned as children when we came here.” She began clapping her hands and recited in a singsong voice. “One to cook my dinner, one to guard my gate, one to pray at the temple, and a pleasing one to mate.”
Alina nodded. “A man takes a single wife when he is young and handsome…and poor. If he becomes rich in his later years, he may hunger for a nubile young body to satisfy him when engaging in the sacred rite. In her position as first wife, the woman, now growing old as well, often purchases a young acolyte from the temple, bringing him or her into their home as a gift to her husband. In some households, the young man or woman pleasures both husband and wife, singly or together. These temple acolytes have high status in the household, sometimes inheriting all the wealth and taking an attendant of their own from the temple.”
Prostitution in the name of religion, socially accepted ménage-a-trois. The customs of the Sabateans sounded like they’d been torn from the headlines of a scandal sheet. Bree’s head was spinning. The only difference from their modern-day counterparts seemed to be that these ancient people were more accepting of such behavior.
After their meal and a nap in the sweltering heat, Hassan packed up the temporary shelter, and Bree and her companions mounted their camels. Late afternoon turned into twilight, and still they plodded on. Bree pulled the curtains aside to gaze at the nighttime sky and the stars twinkling overhead. She knew their guides at the head of the caravan would study the map of the sky to plot their route for the next day’s journey.
The evening was similar to the ones Bree had spent on the dig. It was nearly dark when they finally stopped. A hot meal awaited them and larger tents had already been pitched near a welcoming fire. That night she fell asleep, to the haunting melody of a flute, played by a lone guardsman as he stood watch outside her tent.
Bree soon fell into the rhythm of life in a caravan. Days and nights flowed seamlessly together, each broken by a few hours of sleep. The landscape never varied – hot, dry, brown. Every few days, they stopped at one of the wells the guides had mapped on previous journeys. Camels could go as long as five days without water, but even they would die of thirst if the caravan did not find the next well.
One day they made camp early, stopping at an oasis where an underground river rose through the sand to the surface, creating a large pond. After days of staring at shades of brown, the bright blue water dazzled her eyes. Hassan put several privacy screens together to make a large enclosure in the shallows. Bree and her attendants welcomed the luxury of bathing and washing their hair, laughing and splashing each other like children.
A narrow circle of green surrounded the oasis, with robust date palms and wild grasses growing along the water’s edge. Beyond lay sparse vegetation – waist-high bushes studded with thorns to protect the grayish-green leaves they bore. Occasionally they caught a glimpse of an animal disappearing into its burrow. Hassan pointed out footprints of larger creatures in the damp sand around the pond.
Suddenly a cry rang out. One of the guides had spotted a small herd of zebra galloping toward the distant mountains. A guardsman leaped onto his camel and raced after them, bringing one down with an arrow. That night, the feasting went on for hours, with everyone eating and drinking their fill.
Once they got underway the next morning, the combination of oppressive heat and the lingering effects of a flask of wine she’d shared with Alina and Yesha over dinner lulled Bree into a state that was half-awake, half-asleep.
Screams and shouts jolted her into awareness. Tearing open the curtain, she was confronted with the sight of a lioness snarling and roaring as it tried to bring down one of the camels. Its hapless attendant let out a bloodcurdling shriek as another lion dragged him away by one foot.
More lions surrounded the caravan. Camels frantically kicked and bucked, straining to get away. A few of their handlers panicked, giving up their attempts to control the beasts and running away to hide in the brush.
One of the royal guards galloped toward them, drawing his bow. Before he could get off a shot, another camel slammed into his as it fled, knocking him to the ground. A lion was on him in an instant.
“Balik!” Hassan screamed, dropping the reins of Bree’s mount and running to his aid.
As they sat by the fire one evening, Bree had drawn out Hassan, asking him about his life, Hassan pointed out his younger brother Balik. He told her how eager Balik had been to set out on such an adventure and how, before they left Mahrib, he had sworn on the soul of their dead mother that he would watch over her youngest son on the long journey.
Hassan raced toward the beast, drawing a knife from the sheath at his waist. Sensing danger, the lion turned and sprang at him. He drove his knife into the creature’s chest just as it sank its teeth into his neck. Bree watched in horror as he collapsed on the ground.
The wounded lion picked up Hassan’s limp body in its massive jaws, shaking it like a dog. Then, enraged by pain, the beast leaped forward…straight at Bree’s camel. With no one holding the reins, her mount bolted. All she could do was hang on for dear life to the leather straps securing her chaise to the camel’s back.
The terrified creature took off into the desert. Within a few hundred yards, the lion abandoned the chase, heading back to the easier prey all clustered together. But her panic-stricken mount kept going, galloping into the barren wasteland.
