CHAPTER 24

After bidding farewell to Me’acha with a few words in broken Sheban and a quick kiss, Eugene joined Jimmy and Cale’eb for the walk back to town. Before they could take five steps, however, Cale’eb pulled on Eugene’s robe and shook his head.

“What’s wrong with him?” Eugene asked, extricating himself from Cale’eb’s hands.

Jimmy began to blush. “It’s, uh…well, I’m a prince now, right?”

“Yeah…” Eugene waited for a moment, then realized the implications. “Shit, man,” he muttered, “I leave you alone for a couple of days, and you go and get royal on me. And what, I’m supposed to walk behind you or something?”

“Sorry, man,” he mumbled.

“Whatever makes you happy,” said Eugene, dipping into a theatrical bow. “After you, my liege.”

They followed Eugene’s instructions, heading back toward the market, then deeper into the underbelly of the city, through narrowing alleys and past dark storefronts. A few people stepped outside to watch them as they passed, a procession of a prince followed by two servants, one a stranger and one Sheban. If they wondered what a prince was doing in this part of the city, they did not show it. One old man leaned against his front door, chewing an unidentifiable wad, and spat a stream of brown-green juice at Cale’eb’s feet.

“Nice area,” Jimmy muttered, slowing to allow Eugene to catch up. “You sure you know where you’re going?”

“Kid,” he murmured, wrapping his arm around Jimmy’s neck despite Cale’eb’s protestations, “Of course I know where I’m going. Trust me,” he added with a light squeeze, “your humble tour guide knows quite a few places off the usual routes.”

“I thought that was limited to Addis Ababa.”

“Technically,” he shrugged, “but if you’ve seen one city, you’ve seen them all. The configuration’s always a little different, but the cast doesn’t change. I’ve been here before.”

Jimmy nodded, but kept his eyes peeled. “Don’t be getting metaphysical on me, Eugene. I really don’t like the look of this place.”

“That’s because you’re still a tourist,” he replied, steering Jimmy around a pile of excrement. “And sometimes, the best information you can get comes from the locals that tourists don’t like to see.” He paused before a run-down stable, a squat building with a stone roof that hemorrhaged dirty straw into the alley, and knocked on one of the porch’s wooden support columns. “Frederick? It’s Eugene, are you in?”

“Ja. In here,” a deeply accented voice called out from the shadows, and Eugene shepherded Jimmy through the open entryway. Cale’eb followed closely, looking about him cautiously.

The stable was dark, even at mid-morning, perpetually shaded by its thick roof and by the shacks on either side. Before Jimmy could get his bearings, Frederick stepped out into a patch of sunlight admitted by a hole in the ceiling and nodded. “He’s willing?” he asked, acknowledging Jimmy with little more than a dip of the chin.

“Ready and willing,” said Eugene, squeezing Jimmy’s neck again to discourage commentary. “I told him about your plan, and we think it could work.”

“I’m so glad you agree,” said Frederick, barely smiling, and nodded to Broosh and Alexey, who approached with a large, striped blanket that smelled of old horses. “Here,” he said, tossing it to Jimmy, “cover your fucking robes. You had to wear those?”

Jimmy wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, scrunching his nose at the odor. “It’s all I have,” he explained with a shrug. “They took everything else…”

“Maybe,” said Frederick, “but if they spot your fucking princely ass with us, we’re all going to be dead. Less talking, more covering,” he ordered, and then he noticed Cale’eb, who had moved forward to stand by Jimmy. “And who is this?” he demanded, turning to Eugene.

“Jimmy’s servant. He can’t understand any of this…”

“Good,” he replied, and glanced at Alexey, who quickly hit Cale’eb in the back of the head with a crude iron pan. The young man staggered forward, then fell on his face in the straw, and Broosh began to drag him away.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Jimmy cried.

Before he could finish, Alexey dealt him a similar blow, and Jimmy crumpled at Eugene’s feet.

“Jesus!” Eugene yelped, staring at the body on the floor. “The hell are you doing? That wasn’t part of the plan…”

“It was,” Frederick smirked. “Just not the part we told you. Get him loaded,” he said, turning to Broosh, who nodded and hoisted Jimmy to his shoulders.

“Come on, seriously,” Eugene protested, “the kid’s sick…”

Frederick stepped forward and grabbed Eugene’s robe, then pulled Eugene’s face level with his. “I don’t give a fuck,” he murmured. “That little bastard is our ticket out of here, and the only reason you’re still walking right now is because you brought him to us. But we can change that,” he added, slamming his fist into Eugene’s stomach.

As Eugene doubled over and wheezed, Frederick kicked him to the ground, then stepped on his neck. “Listen to me, tough guy. You want to make a deal? You play by my rules, and my rules say that you do whatever the fuck I tell you to do. Got it?”

“Got it,” Eugene croaked.

“Glad we agree,” he said, and released Eugene, who sat up and scrambled to his feet. “Now, if you do what I say, you’ll get out of this alive, and you can go back to your happy little whore. Give me trouble, and I’ll kill you. And if you’re thinking about running off and telling anyone about this, it’ll be your head because you brought the kid here in the first place, and you’re the one trying to help us escape. Understand?”

Eugene nodded warily; he understood a trap when he saw one.

“Good. Now, if you play nice, you’ll get your little boyfriend back.” The Russians snickered, but Frederick cut them off with a glare. “I need the princess,” he continued, looking back at Eugene. “He’s the bait. She’ll come to rescue him, and when she does, we’ll make her show us the way out.”

“How are you sure she’ll come?” Eugene asked, keeping his voice low. “Jimmy said they’re not speaking right now…”

Frederick sighed in exasperation. “Come, now,” he said, switching to Sheban, and threw his voice into a mocking falsetto in an attempt to mimic Tamar. “‘He’s a fucking stranger among us!’ Of course she’ll come,” he continued in English. “Their Law demands safety for strangers. She’ll come, and as long as we have her, the Levites won’t touch us.”

“But what if Jimmy’s right and she still doesn’t know the way?”

“Idiot,” Frederick snapped, and slapped Eugene across the face. “What does it matter if she knows a secret route or not? As long as she’s with us, we can cross the Sambatyon in broad daylight, and they’ll just stand there, scratching their black balls.”

As he had been speaking, the other two had been tying Jimmy’s limp body to the back of a donkey, securing him with ropes and covering all exposed parts with rags. They nodded to Frederick, who looked back at Eugene. “You said this ‘Jimmy’s Place’ was unprotected?”

Eugene stared at the floor in silence.

“Then your directions had better be good. Take them to this fucking Jimmy’s Place and wait for me,” he said to his companions. “I’ll bring the girl.” He smacked the donkey’s flank to set it in motion, and Alexey led another donkey out behind it. “You can revive the boy when you’re out of the city,” he said, and walked off down the alley without another word.

Eugene looked around the stable, trying to decide what to do with Cale’eb, then noticed something shiny on the ground and picked it up.

Jimmy’s disc.

“Goddamn it,” he muttered, slipping the disc into his robe, and ran off after the caravan.

When the noise of the donkeys had faded, Cale’eb sat up and rubbed his head. The blow had been painful, but his fall had been staged—who, after all, would waste time on an unconscious man?

He staggered to his feet and leaned against the porch wall for a moment, waiting until the black spots cleared, then ran down the alley toward the center of town, pushing his way through the main squares without thought of propriety or politeness. People complained when he jostled them, but his errand was too important to allow him to stop.

Dazed, soiled, and sore, he finally panted up the steps of the Palace of the Scribes and rushed through the open doors. The other servants stood aside as he tore through the hallways, and the men standing guard outside of Ezra’s study admitted him without hesitation.

Cale’eb stumbled across the threshold and found himself facing Ezra and a heavily veiled woman he assumed was Tamar, who had been conversing over tea. He remembered his training and knelt low, touching his forehead to the ground, and tried to catch his breath as he waited to be bidden to rise.

He heard Ezra tell the servants to admit no one, then felt the old man’s touch on his shoulder. “Rise,” said Ezra. “What news?”

Cale’eb accepted the proffered wooden stool, but kept his eyes averted from the woman. “Men are taking Prince Solomon now into the forest, my lord,” he replied in perfect English being aware of the servants in the room. “Two beggar-strangers and his friend the stranger, Me’acha’s husband. They have two donkeys among them, and a third beggar leads them.” He paused, then added, “I believe they intend to cross the Sambatyon.”

Tamar sat stiffly in her chair and asked, “Is Prince Solomon a willing conspirator?”

“My lady,” he replied, bowing his head, “I fear ’tis so. He did agree to aid in their plan, though I believe they do not trust him, for they have injured him and, when last I heard him, he was yet unconscious. Forgive me,” he continued, keeping his eyes low, “but I was also attacked, and feigned a grave injury to escape their notice.”

“Thou wert wise,” she said softly. “Where do they go?”

“My lady, I know not its true name, but they speak of it as ‘Jimmy’s Place.’ And the dogs intend to hold thee captive for safe passage.”

She nodded, and Ezra folded his hands. “Well done, Cale’eb,” he said. “Go thou and speak to Malachi, and tell him to summon my physician. Treat thy wounds and rest.” Cale’eb rose and departed with a final bow, and when the door closed behind him, Ezra looked about his study, meeting his aides’ eyes. “Go,” he said in Sheban, “leave us for now. The princess and I need time.”

They left as a body, latching the back door, and Ezra looked at Tamar in silence. She slowly removed her veil, exposing her flinty eyes and set jaw, then said, “I’ll have to rescue him.”

“Let the Levites do their duty,” he objected. “I would not see a guest of my house come to harm, but if he willfully violates the Law, my duty to him ends.”

“No.”

“My dearest, it is the Law.”

“Not that,” she interrupted, shaking her hair free of its covering. “Not the Levites. I will do what I should have done days ago.”

He watched her face harden, then said, “You are not queen yet, Tamar. Better to let the Levites carry out the Law instead of taking it into your hands.”

“That’s my choice to make,” she snapped, and folded her arms as she looked into the far corner of the office. Ezra sat quietly, waiting as she composed herself, and then Tamar said, “He betrayed me. I trusted him—I went into Mamgorot itself for him—and then he broke my trust.” She laughed once, ruefully. “I had almost forgiven him for bringing his weapon out of Mamgorot—perhaps it was wise of him to do so. He did it with noble intentions, this I realize, and I am grateful that he would try to help me. But this,” she said, slamming her fist against the carved arm of the chair, “this is inexcusable.”

She said nothing for a long moment, and Ezra reached over to pat her knee. “Tamar, dearest…”

“I wanted him to be Solomon,” she murmured, continuing as if he hadn’t spoken. “So badly. I so wanted him to be the one.”

Ezra nodded slowly. “And he is not?”

“He’s a stupid boy,” she replied, “and that’s all he’ll ever be. A stupid boy who doesn’t give a damn about anyone but himself.”

Ezra hesitated, then said, “Perhaps my eyes deceived me, my dear, but I believe he looked upon you with love.”

“Love?” she laughed. “Love! Uncle, you yourself taught me the difference between love and lust, and that…that dog…”

“So why, then, do you still want him?”

“Why?” she repeated softly, and when she looked at her uncle, he saw that her face was wet. “Why, Uncle? Because I don’t want to die. Nothing more than that.”

He stood and embraced her, muffling her sobs against his shoulder, and when they broke away, Tamar wiped her face with her discarded veil and smiled sadly. “I’m as weak as he is. I try, but…”

“But it is a heavy burden we have placed upon you,” Ezra interrupted, “and you are wise enough to know how precious life is.” He hesitated, then said, “This burden…you do not have to carry it. I will love you no less if you relinquish it.”

He stared at his niece and watched as she gradually collect her dignity and slowly transformed herself back into being Princess Tamar, the next Queen of Sheba.

“Your destiny,” said Ezra, taking his seat, “is yours to choose, Tamar. The queen must be perfect.”

She shook her head. “There is no such thing as human perfection, Uncle. Beauty is fleet and fades, and wisdom bows to the heart’s whims.”

He nodded and smiled gently. “Well done, little daughter. But we pretend, don’t we? For if we allow ourselves to admit that our leaders are anything but perfection embodied, then we would realize we are led by fallible beings no better than the least of us. And this would call the very Law itself into question, would it not?”

“Yes.”

“And so you have a choice, child. You can accept the burden that has been thrust upon you and carry it as well as you can, or you can turn your back on this path and forge your own. But if I may, I will give you one word of wisdom.”

She leaned forward, waiting.

“Remember,” he whispered, taking her hands, “that the great queen herself crossed the Sambatyon. She went into the world beyond, and returned wiser and enriched.” He squeezed her hands and released her. “Now, enough wind from an old man. What will you do?”

Tamar thought for a moment, flexing her fingers against her knees, then looked up at Ezra and said, “He intends to use me as a hostage, does he? A token for his passage? Very well, I’ll play his game.” She stood and smoothed her robe. “And when I have won, he will beg to die.”

“As you see fit,” said Ezra.

Tamar hugged herself, but met his eyes. “This burden has been given to me,” she said, “and it is mine to bear. I cannot, in good conscience, reject it and thereby sentence some other woman to death. No,” she said, shaking her head, “I will be queen, and I will do what must be done. That includes punishing those who would use me to break the…”

She was interrupted by a knock at the door, and one of the servants stepped inside, bowing low so as not to look upon Tamar. “My lord, princess,” he said, “a man waits in the corridor, seeking an audience. He claims to carry a message from Prince Solomon.”

They looked at each other, and Ezra gave the servant a curt nod. “Send him in.”

Tamar took her chair and waited, and a moment later, a beggar entered the room, covering his head with a dirty blanket and shuffling slowly toward them, as if cringing before an attack. He chanced to lift his head, then saw Tamar’s face uncovered and cowered again, kneeling on the bare marble floor.

“Your name?” Ezra asked, his mouth a thin line.

“Frederick, my lord,” he said in his accented Sheban, keeping his face down. “I am but a humble stranger in your land, grateful to live among your people and follow your Law…”

“Your message,” Tamar interrupted.

“A word from Prince Solomon,” rasped Frederick, “The prince asked me to bring you to him.”

“And why should I be your hostage?”

At this, Frederick looked up, all pretense of humility cast aside. “Why, princess? Because if you do not, the Levites will find his mutilated body on the outskirts of the city. Eyewitnesses will testify that you killed a stranger with your own hands, and the High Priest will wipe out your tribe.” Turning to Ezra, he said, “All we ask is safe passage. Let us leave unmolested, and she will return to you just as perfect as she is now.”

Before her uncle could answer, Tamar stepped forward and glared down at Frederick. “I make my decisions, slave, not my uncle. I will join you in a minute.”

“Wise decision, princess,” said Frederick, and, not bothering to bow or show any ceremonial decorum, he left the room.

As soon as the door was closed, Tamar headed to the back exit, but turned briefly to her uncle. “Send a messenger to Yael, she’s the commander of the best platoon of my women. Inform her in details of these dogs’ scheme.”

“I’ll do it myself, Tamar,” said Ezra, but Tamar was already gone.