Chapter 6

I have hurt my beloved princess and in her most needy moment.

My emotions rise from a man’s ecstasy feeling a gentle feminine hand only then to fall from the guiltiness for dishonoring her majesty with this familiarity. Hours pass. No words pass between us. Makeda does not withdraw her hand or alter her somber expression. I ignore any uneasiness emotionally or physically enjoying the touch of her hand in mine.

Finally, the spell breaks as my guiltiness returns when that servant girl who brought the tray requests permission to enter Makeda’s chamber. Without thinking, I jump to my feet and take a defensive military stance. Makeda pulls her hand to her lap folding her hands together there.

“Enter,” Makeda stays seated and shows no expression.

Did I detect a tone of disappointment in her voice? If so, is it because of my reaction or a verbal expression of her continuing depression?

“I come to retrieve the tray,” the servant glares at me wearing a look of puzzlement.

Makeda points to the tray, “Please retrieve and go.”

Makeda sits motionless for several moments after the servant girl leaves. I continue in military stance uncertain of what to do or say. Will I receive permission to speak as a friend and comforter, or will we return to propriety due to our stations in life? Makeda gives me no indications.

Trying to detect a sign of what is permissible, I watch her carefully. As I watch I see that her strong straight frame slumps in the chair. Shadows veil her once radiant face. Her honey-colored eyes have darkened. My heart aches. I must do something to bring back some of that overconfident air that I used to disdain.

“If you will allow me once again to be so bold, I request for you to follow me.”

Makeda looks up at me. Her eyes meet mine. She does not condemn it. She grips the arms of the chair but does not move for a moment. I offer my hand to help her up. She accepts it.

She rises to her feet, “Tell me where we will be going. We must keep proper decorum, or you receive reprimand. I must lead and you protect.”

“We shall go to the garden.”

Makeda’s eyes open into a look of anxiety and narrow like they do when she is about to instruct me. To my surprise, though, she leads out.

Her steps are slow and sluggish at first. Soon, they pick up into her normal rapid pace until we draw closer to the garden. She begins to shuffle her feet and then suddenly stops just short of entering the garden. She hesitates probably due to memories of the arrow incident. She musters courage enough to cross the threshold to the outside.

She stops in her tracks leaving me halfway in and half out. She looks up and then at me. She is surprised that it has become evening. She gazes back up at the sky once more. I detect a faint smile form on her lips and then her mouth opens slightly.

The sunset faintly glazes the sky, yet it is still dark enough to introduce an array of stars. I have seen this hundreds of times but am in awe each new time I view it.

Makeda shivers and crisscrosses her bosom with her arms. Emboldened by her compliance and reaction to the skyscape, I loosen my sash and remove my tunic. I carefully wrap the tunic over her shoulders.

Makeda turns around, looks me in the eyes, and smiles. My hands are still near her shoulders. I have never been this close to her before except when I lay atop her with an arrow in my back. My heart must be racing just as fast as it did then.

Makeda’s smile fades but her face takes on a look that I have never seen on her before. It is not sadness. It is not anger or anguish. It is not a look of surprise or fear. This look exudes tenderness. Her eyes are the most amazing I have ever seen.

My heart pounds so hard and rapid. I press my lips together to moisten them from the sudden dryness. I cannot lower my hands which are desperately wanting to clutch this woman. But she is not just any woman. She is “her majesty.” My mind tells me to back away but my body refuses.

Her body draws in closer, and I start to retreat until her hand touches my cheek. Her eyes close and her mouth still agape touches mine. My lips respond even before the mind has a chance to protest. My heart does not pound but purrs.

I press my lips against her lips, and her body falls into mine. I can feel the fullness of her soft rounded bosom. I can feel her hand against my cheek as her other hand touches my arm.

For one second or two, Makeda pulls her lips apart from mine. She stares as if studying something in my eyes. I think about pushing away and dropping to my knees to beg forgiveness and mercy but then she kisses me again and her hand on my arm clutches passionately the sleeve of my gown. Her wish becomes command, and I obey.

Soon, the hand which poured out her passion moves to my chest and with a gentle pat separates our enmeshed bodies. I fear what must happen next but decide in my spirit that whatever it is, this moment is worth it.

I await her reaction as I slowly back away. She surprises me by looking skyward once more and gazing at the stars. She points to one part of the sky and looks back to see if I am looking at the stars or at her. I am looking at her with the same awe she gives the sky.

“That one seems brighter than all the others,” Makeda continues to point skyward as she pulls on my sleeve to force me to look with her.

I glance upward and must agree. I have admired these same stars many times yet at this moment, they all seem brighter and more amazing.

We both stand and stare skyward. No longer is there light from the sun. It has fallen beneath the horizon. The extra darkness that surrounds us only give the light of the constellations more brilliance.

“When I am filled with trouble or overwhelmed by loss, I can count on the stars, the moon, and all of Nature itself to never disappoint me.” The words tumble out before I realize I did not request to speak.

Makeda does not rebuke me. The wonder of the sky seems to have dissolved the human-caused hierarchy.

“Do you ever look at the sky above, the faithful rising and setting of the sun, or the stages of the moon and feel as if something or someone more powerful than humanity is in control?” I ask casually forgetting Isabel’s suggestion that I ask no questions.

“We educated Sabeans believe in One who created it all and controls it all,” Makeda shares knowledge usually restricted for those more intelligent and capable of understanding.

“Thank you, your majesty.”

“Tonight, I am Makeda. From now on, at least while you are my guard, when we are alone, I want to be Makeda.”

She pulls the tunic from her shoulders and hands it back to me. We start to leave the garden when Makeda stops.

“Maybe you should be in full uniform when we return inside the castle.”

I agree and pull on my tunic and tighten my sash. Makeda heads us back towards her chamber. We are trying to act as her majesty and her bodyguard, but I realize things will never be the same. I wonder if this experience will make me more devoted to Makeda. I wonder if she will think so. That is why she said, “while you are my guard.” Is she planning to replace me? Is it because of this unnatural but wonderful night?

We pass through the corridor to the garden. We pass the throne room, the doors leading to the king’s many chambers. During our walk down the corridor to the chambers of all the females of the royal family, Makeda looks back and gives me a look that I had not seen before. It is friendly with a touch of the same look while we were in the garden just before we kissed. It also holds a twinge of sadness like that of a mourner. I force a smile.

Once through the double doors, the room which is never used, and then the curtain to my chamber, Makeda says goodnight as she takes my hand and kisses me on the cheek. I long for more. Another taste of her soft lips and to hold her body next to mine. It is not going to happen. I wonder if I will ever again know that thrill.

Makeda holds on to my hand as she starts through the curtain into her chamber. My hope rises and then falls when she releases my hand with a sweet goodnight.

I wait as always for Makeda to pull the cord in her room signaling for her servants to help her remove her wardrobe. I watch as women bring in basins and pots of water for bathing and oils and perfumes for moisturizing and comforting the princess’s body. I take in the wonderful aroma. I watch as the women leave. I graciously thank the one who pours some water into my crude wooden basin hidden in a dark corner of my chamber.

I prepare my pallet between the two curtains as usual. I remove my tunic and woolen outer garment and lay my sword and sheath next to me. I neatly fold my sash and tunic and lay them together in a pile on a small rough hewn table – my usual routine. I then untie and unwrap the leather straps and take off my footwear. I remove my inner linen garment and begin to bathe myself from head to foot making sure my feet come last.

While bathing, I hear Makeda humming. I can smell the aroma of myrrh. This and the humming are new to Makeda’s bedtime ritual. I know some myrrh was used to help heal my wound. Did Makeda receive a cut or scratch some time today? I cannot recall where that would have occurred unless it was while she was alone in her chamber early on or just now.

I put my outer garments back on and prepare to lay on my pallet. I grab my sword and sheath as they lay next to me when I sleep. I don my footwear, again. My feet shod. My body protected. My sword and shield near enough to snatch quickly. I am the last line of defense should there be an attack. I am prepared.

Suddenly, I hear Makeda’s voice call my name.

“Yes, your majesty. Are you well?”

“I am fine, Emon and I give you permission to enter my chamber.”

I enter with sword in my hand wearing my tunic. I left my shield, and my seldom worn helmet behind.

Makeda approaches me dressed only in her inner garment. Her curvaceous figure is a visible shadow due to the candlelight shining through the silky material. I struggle to avert my eyes but fail miserably.

As she approaches, I feel guilt because I have dreamed this dream several nights.

“Tomorrow, King Abati will make an important announcement. Because it involves me and what happened the other day in the garden injuring you, I want to make you aware, now.”

“Yes, your majesty,”

“I’m speaking to you as Makeda, the woman.”

“Yes, Makeda.”

“So, now you know why I was so upset. I am ashamed that I was not as willing to do this for my kingdom. But I felt like a commodity, not a subject of the kingdom and especially not a valued member of the royal family because I am a woman and not a son.”

Makeda clasps both of my hands with hers. She gazes into my eyes with that unfamiliar look she had while returning to her chamber from the garden.

“That day of the garden attack, that arrow was only one of many arrows which rained down on the city as well as the castle. It was a warning to our kingdom of impending war.”

I know of Emperor Wainaba and his D’mt army. He is a dragon, an evil, cruel leader who demands human sacrifice to honor and strengthen him. I realize that it means I may never see Makeda once she is married to an emperor of a foreign nation. I also know as a soldier that an attack on a peaceful kingdom as ours makes me want to fight, not ally with a nation lead by a demon.

“Then I will soon be called back to active duty to prepare for war.”

“That could have happened, but King Abati decides to avoid a war and proposes an alliance with this other kingdom.”

I know I appear as confused to Makeda as I feel inside, “But that sounds like a good decision. Is the alliance unfair?”

“I felt it unfair but as I admitted to you, for purely selfish reasons. There is only one condition.”

“I guess I still do not understand.”

“The condition which will maintain peace and protect us from being destroyed by the most powerful army of the region, the D’mt. The one condition is that I marry Emperor Wainaba, the Serpent King.”

Her anger returns and I feel it burning into my heart. I recognize that my anger draws its power from selfish motivations as well. I know that I would never be deserving of marriage to a princess, but I could be near her and protect her. Now, this will one day soon be impossible.

“Goodnight, Emon.”

When she releases my hands, I boldly reach out and grab her arm. I pull her close and press my mouth against hers. To my amazement, she does not resist but throws her arms around my neck. After the kiss, we linger long in each other’s arms.

I want to pick her up and carry her to her bed. But I am a mere soldier, and she is still a princess worthy of being a queen. I do not want to treat her as a commodity or a common woman.

“Goodnight, my princess.”

When I release her and begin to return to my chamber, I see hurt in her eyes. Am I doing the wrong thing? I wish I were wiser. I am trained to fight but have learned so little about being a man.

She does not let go of my arm but pulls me deeper inside her chamber. She grasps the hand that holds the sword toward the top of a chest that rests at the foot of her bed and guides my hand and whispers, “Lay it down.”

I follow her to her bed led by the hand. I do not want to resist. Every fiber in my body wants her. We embrace once more. Lust and desire overtake me. She begins to remove my tunic.

In her arms, I resist, “Please, your majesty.”

With anguish in her eyes resembling hatred, she pushes me away, “Then leave my chamber if you must.”

I grab my sword and leave in confusion. I leave her sobbing. I have done the wrong thing. I have hurt my beloved princess and in her most needy moment. I feel ashamed and full of regret.

Categories: Arts & Entertainment Inspiration Princess of Sheba Romance

Tagged as: Fictional story Historical Fiction human nature preview of WIP relationships

Douglas Knight

Struggling to surrender “my right to myself” and identify completely with Christ.