The Desert Princess (7 page)

I did not want to wait! Though he had not spoken of love, he clearly wanted me, and I him. But I nodded at his wisdom and tamped down my excited desire as best I could. “Yes. You are probably right.”

He took a date from a nearby tray and touched it to his lips, then held it out to me. Our fingers brushed as I took it from him, slipped it beneath the veil, and touched it to my lips in return. A delayed kiss. A promise of sweetness to come.

“We dare not awaken love before it pleases,” he said softly so only I could hear.

I smiled so that he could see it in my eyes. “We dare not,” I agreed. “Though I fear love has already opened both my heart and my mind.”

He grew thoughtful, his smile serious. “I am glad. I feared it was only I who carried such feelings.”

My heart soared at his declaration. The girlish part of me wanted to jump up, take his hands, and dance gaily around the room to the music of harps and drums and sistrums. But I listened to the wisdom of maturity and let the dance remain inside of me.

For now.

We left the meeting room, escorted by a guard, to walk the gardens and halls of the palace, and Solomon showed me views of the valleys and mountains and told me stories of his people and this place I had not yet known.

“I do not know why my father waits to name me his heir,” he admitted as we stood on the palace roof overlooking the Kidron Valley. “He has raised me to rule, and yet the people do not know it. Court gossip tells me that Adonijah expects to be named co-regent, and I fear he has the backing of some of my father's leaders.”

This news clearly troubled him, and my heart yearned to offer him comfort. “Perhaps your father will include your coronation with our wedding day. Surely there is still time for this?” I touched his arm and felt the muscles tense beneath my fingers.

His gaze swept mine, his look intense, longing. For one heady moment, I waited for him to lift my veil and kiss me deeply, but the footsteps of the guard caused us both to take a step away from each other.

“I will pray that Adonai gives you this blessing, Solomon.” I leaned slightly closer. “But I would marry you whether you were a king or a poor man.”

Solomon looked at me, and my pulse quickened at his smile. He glanced at the moon. “I pray Adonai hears your prayers.” His breath fanned my face. “If my father does not act soon, you may be a widow before you are a wife.”

“Surely not!” I blurted, my stomach dropping as one struck.

“You have always known of the danger surrounding me, Naamah. I would not lie to you about this now.” His sober look weakened my knees.

I drew a breath to calm my racing heart. My hand sought his, needing the comfort of his reassuring touch. “We must trust Adonai that this will not be. Surely He will work all things out for your good.”

Solomon nodded, his look still pensive, but at last his gaze softened. He squeezed my hand and his smile held genuine warmth. “It is time I let you rest.”

He bowed to me then and released my hand. I did not want to let him go but knew I had no choice.

J
ERUSALEM
, 974 BC

The morning of my wedding day dawned with the soft light of pink and yellow hues, and the dew tickled my feet as I stepped out of my tent to look on the glory of Jerusalem. The year since our betrothal had been excruciatingly long and yet had flown on eagles' wings, barely allowing me enough time to finish the final preparations for all of the items I wanted to bring to my new home with Solomon.

Solomon.
How I loved the sound of his name on my tongue! My heart skipped a beat, and my heightened nerves sensed every movement, every soft rustle of tent curtains and the murmur of voices throughout the camp.

We had traveled from Rabbah for the past three days, and as we had done with our first visit to Jerusalem the year before, we stopped outside the city to rest. Soon Inaya would help me into my colorful bridal gown, and I would climb atop a jewel-bedecked camel and ride beneath a tent-like covering with fifty guards running before and behind, a sign of our elevated royal status.

My pulse jumped as I imagined the rest of the ceremony and all that was to follow. There had been letters between us, though time did not allow many, and several months had passed since our last correspondence. Did Solomon long for me as I did for him?

I placed a hand to my heart and sighed, allowing myself one last moment to dream of my life with Solomon. Despite my father's warnings, I dared not imagine sharing my husband. The law of Solomon's God instructed men and women to cleave to each other as one, not with two or three or more. All I had to do was be everything Solomon longed for in a wife. I would meet his every need, and he mine. Nothing would pull us apart after this night.

I turned, jolted by the sudden parting of the tent flap behind me.

“Did you sleep at all, my girl?” Inaya said as she came up beside me.

I shrugged. “A little.” I faced Jerusalem once more as the sun rose and touched the edges of the limestone houses and the glistening gold plating along the palace towers.

“It is time to begin our preparations,” Inaya said.

I glanced at her and saw the thick linen towel and my day robe draped over her arm. She held a piece of hyssop along with a small clay jar of olive oil in one hand and a skin of goat's milk in the other.

I nodded and mutely followed her to the place beyond the tents, down the embankment to the Gihon Spring. Inaya searched for a secluded place where the trees overshadowed the water and anyone looking down from the walls of Jerusalem would not be able to see my ritual washing.

Inaya held the towel like a curtain as added protection, and I dipped a toe into the bubbling waters. The shock of cold made me pull back.

Inaya chuckled and I glared at her.

“It was your idea to wash in the Gihon instead of the heated mikvah in the palace.”

I turned my back to her, suddenly wondering at the wisdom of washing in the river this time of year. I poked my foot from toes to arch into the water. Solomon had told me that the Gihon was held in high regard. His father planned to have Solomon anointed there—if his father ever decided the time was right to do so. The connection made it seem like a wise place, even a romantic place, to prepare for my wedding day.

I gritted my teeth, dunked my head, and popped up, gasping, then grabbed the hyssop branch and rubbed it over my skin. The roughness of the hyssop brought out smoother skin, and before long I got used to the chill. But I also drew a breath of relief when at last I returned to the bank and worked the goat's milk and oil into my glowing skin.

Inaya spent the rest of the morning painting patterns in henna on my feet and hands. She drew perfect lines along my eyes with the blackest kohl freshly ground from galena and dabbed frankincense on the throbbing pulse at my neck and along my wrists.

Servants brought us sweet cakes and tea to eat while Inaya and my other maids worked to fix my hair with three gold and ivory combs, then fitted my veil over them just so. At last they draped the multicolored robe over my shoulders and hung sparkling jewels from my neck and ears.

I peered in the silver mirror Solomon had sent as one of his many gifts to me, admiring the effect of my reflection. “Will he think me beautiful, Inaya?”

“He will think you the loveliest of all women, my daughter.”

I whirled, nearly tripping over the extra length of robe at my feet, to find my father standing in the tent's opening.

“You are stunning, my child.”

I came toward him, and he held his hands out to me. “Thank you, Abba.” I looked into his dear face and touched his cheek, where the lines of age had caused deeper grooves than had been there the year before. “I will miss you.”

Moisture filled his eyes, and he made no attempt to wipe it away. Instead, he kissed my cheeks, careful not to mar the makeup Inaya had so carefully applied. “Be happy, dear girl. Make friends with Solomon's mother and tend well to Solomon's household.” He held me at arm's length and looked at me a long moment. “And when he is too busy with his duties and the glory of your young love fades, forgive him.”

I pulled back at his words, their truth arrows that threatened to pierce the assurances I had built around my heart. “That won't happen, Abba.”

He stood silent a moment, then slightly shook his head. “Forgive me, my child. I do not wish to worry you, today of all days.” He smiled and took my hands again in his.

I shoved aside the nagging worry his words had evoked and lifted my chin. “I will make sure our love never fades, Abba.”

He nodded and kissed my cheek once more and released me back into Inaya's care. But as I rode the camel through Jerusalem's streets, I could not help wondering if Abba knew something I did not.

The rest of the day passed in a dream.

Ten maids preceded me into the king's receiving chambers. My father signed the final agreement with the king, and I stood before Solomon, my heart beating too fast, my senses filled with the scent of his spikenard. He seemed taller than he did a year ago, and his waves of dark hair fell to his shoulders beneath a golden groom's crown. When he looked at me, I smiled beneath the linen veil, glad that he could not see the way my lips trembled.

He opened his brightly colored woven robe and draped its corner over my shoulder. My pulse jumped at his touch, and it took all of my strength to listen to the blessing pronounced by his father. We shared the cup of rich wine together in a goblet of shining gold. But as the king lifted his glass and consecrated our marriage, I glanced at my new husband, sensing his slight tension over what was not said. This was a wedding feast only, not a coronation one.

“I am sorry he did not choose this moment to also name you king,” I whispered as I sat beside Solomon on the wedding dais, greeting well-wishers.

“He sees no need to rush things.” Solomon spoke low in my ear, his arm grazing mine, again heightening my senses at his nearness.

“Perhaps soon, though,” I said, hopeful.

We were interrupted by too many guests to say much after that, and the feasting lasted long into the night. I could eat little, and my gaze followed Solomon's movements about the room as I listened for his voice. I had just taken a goblet of wine from a servant when I felt his touch on my shoulder.

“There is better wine in our tent, beloved.” His breath touched my ear, and my skin tingled with the heat of his words. “Come.” He took my hand and I stood, grateful for the support of his strong arm beneath me.

The bridal tent sat surrounded by palace rooms yet secluded in the central courtyard, and the music of the wedding feast grew muffled, distant. He lifted the flap, and we entered to the glow of soft lamps and the beauty of gold-laced white fabric over the canopied place where we would share our love.

My breath caught at the beauty, and my pulse quickened as Solomon turned me to face him. He slowly traced a line along my cheek, then undid the clasp that held the veil keeping me from him.

His own breath caught as the veil fell to the earth. “You are more lovely than I remembered.” The words were soft, a caress. He bent his lips to mine, softly tasting of love's first kiss.

“How long I have wanted to hold you, Naamah!” He lifted the crown from his head and removed his bejeweled robe, then helped me remove mine. He faced me again, and I could see the pulse jump in his neck, a match for my own racing heart.

He took my face in his gentle hands. His second kiss sent tingles through me, and after he removed his tunic and then mine, his arms
came around me once more. I wrapped my arms about his neck, our bodies melding.

We were one at last. I was his and Solomon was mine.

“Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth—for your love is more delightful than wine,” I sang two weeks after our wedding week. Solomon stood looking out of the large window in my chambers, watching the sun emerge from its nest. I placed a hand on his back and leaned close to his ear. “Pleasing is the fragrance of your perfumes; your name is like perfume poured out.”

He turned to face me and clasped my fingers in his own, pulling me close. “How beautiful you are, my darling! Oh, how beautiful! Your eyes are doves.” His kiss was ardent, passionate, and I melted against him.

Silence was a blanket, bringing us warmth. I didn't want to break the feeling, but at last I lifted my head from resting on his shoulder.

“Take me to see the outer gardens today.” I gave him one of my most alluring smiles. “I will ask one of the servants to pack food for us, and I will feed you beneath the almond trees.” I stroked his soft beard and pulled his head closer to mine.

He laughed, and I thought the sound joyful, certain he would give in to my wishes as he had done every day since we had wed. Scarcely a moment had passed that we did not spend in each other's company, and I was nearly drunk with love for him.

I pouted the slightest bit when he did not immediately respond, and wrapped my arms around his neck. “You know you want to,” I purred in his ear.

He kissed me again and I knew I had won, but a moment later he held me at arm's length and settled me on my feet away from him. “I can't.”

“Why not?” He had never refused me, and though I knew this day would come, I resisted.

He looked at me, and I tried to read the thoughts behind those dark eyes, but his gaze was shadowed as it often was. He did not share his heart with me, not as I longed for him to do. I wanted to know him, his thoughts, what he felt about life, about me. But while
he spoke of many things and laughed and loved freely, he did not share the places in his heart where I knew his deepest feelings lay. I desperately wanted to draw him out, but I had tried and failed in this one thing from my first attempt until now.

“My father has bid me to return to court. I have duties, my love. You know this.” He touched my cheek, and I stepped closer, trying to coax him once again into my embrace.

But he gently pushed me back and shook his head. “I can't,” he said again. His look was apologetic, but he made no more attempt to kiss me or to touch me. He turned, donned the robe he had worn to my chambers, and stopped once he reached the door. “I will return when I can.” He smiled and winked at me in his usual endearing way.

I stayed where he had left me near the window, trying to understand why my charms had failed and why my heart felt so weighted. What could be so important about court that he could not take a few hours to walk with me in the gardens? Even if he had not stayed the whole day, he could have given me part of it. But he had made no offer to appease, and I feared that he actually wanted time away from me.

I sank onto the bed we had shared every night these past weeks and faintly wondered how long it would be until he returned to me. Tears threatened, but I scolded myself as I knew Inaya and my father would do. This was to be expected, a part of palace life.

After all, a wife could not expect her husband to be with her every waking moment. He would return to me this night, perhaps sooner if he could get away. Surely he would realize how much he missed me.

In the meantime, I would dress and perhaps seek an audience with Solomon's mother, as my father had suggested I do. Perhaps Bathsheba could give me insight into Solomon's thinking, to help me better wind my way into his heart.

I found Solomon's mother in her sitting room mending a garment for one of her children. She rose gracefully as the guard allowed me entrance and kissed my cheeks in greeting.

“Naamah, how good of you to come.” She motioned for me to sit on a cushioned seat opposite the one she had occupied. I obeyed and waited as she gave instructions to a servant to bring us water from the spring and some of her famous date and honey cakes. At last she settled again across from me and set her mending aside.

“I assume by your presence here that my son has finally left your side and returned to court?” Her eyes held sympathy.

I nodded. “I tried to coax him into staying, but he insisted he must go.” The hurt in the admission surprised me, and suddenly I felt like a failure.

Bathsheba gave me a thoughtful look, her smile knowing and slightly pensive. “It is hard to see the first weeks of marriage come to an end and life return to normal.” She glanced beyond me, and I wondered where her thoughts took her.

“I only wish,” I said, filling the sudden silence, “to be all that he needs. I want to share everything with him, and he with me.”

She looked into my eyes, but I studied the soft folds of my robe, unable to hold her gaze.

“You will never be all that he needs, dear girl,” she said, and I looked up, disturbed by the words. “Only God can give us all that we need. Only He can feed the hungriest places in our soul.” She smiled again, and I was touched by her serenity. “Do not try to force Solomon. Give him time, my daughter.”

“It is just . . .” I could not finish and yet knew I must. “That is . . . I wish things were different for him. I wish he didn't have so many worries.”

“I know.” She patted the seat next to her, and I reluctantly rose and sat on the edge. She took my hand as I imagined my mother might have done, though the memories of her dear face had long since faded from my mind's eye.

“If Solomon reigns as king as his father has intended, he will need you to be strong, to raise a son to rule after him. This is where you must place your focus and your love, my daughter.” She coaxed me to look at her. “This is how you will best show Solomon your love.”

My hand moved of its own accord to the place where a child might one day lie. A child of the love Solomon and I shared.

Did he share it?

I pondered the question and his mother's lack of solid answers that night as I lay alone in my bed for the first time since our marriage. Would Solomon call for me again? How soon would he take another wife, and worse, how would I bear it?