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Chapter 1
944BC
Princess Phoebe gasped when she first caught sight of the fortress city of Jerusalem, the enormous palace so different from her father's Nordic hall. “What do you think of your new home, Princess?” asked the king’s envoy, a middle-aged man who rode alongside her litter.
Phoebe couldn’t drag her gaze away from a semi-circular building, its domed roof held high by rows of columns.
“Magnificent,” she said, too awed to affect the stiff haughtiness expected of her station.
“You pass the armory and further to the right is the Hall of Justice. Many people gather to hear the king’s famous wisdom.”
“It will be an honor to be queen to such an esteemed king. I intend to make him proud,” she answered with the dignity her father had impressed upon her. She noticed the envoy give her a glance. Was that pity in his eyes?
Although something about him made her uncomfortable, she couldn’t fault his behavior. A trickle of perspiration started to build at her temple along the rim of the gold coronet she wore. She reached up and gently dabbed at her forehead with her handkerchief, then shifted her long blond hair from the back of her neck where it had started to stick. “I have heard that His Majesty’s other wife has the face of an angel,” she said.
“King Sol has built his favorite a palace. The king gives her everything she wants,” the envoy said.
It was an honor to marry a king and her family was proud of the match, but what if he only had eyes for his favorite? Although she knew that her marriage was an arrangement, she hoped that the king would grow to love her, like her father did her mother. “My mother explained that the men here can have more than one wife. Does…His Majesty spend all his time with his favorite?” She couldn’t bear to be alone, not when she was used to living with her eight brothers and all of her cousins in the hall.
Perhaps the envoy saw the concern in her eyes because his expression became guarded. “Rest assured, Princess, even his queen does not have eyes the color of the sky and skin of alabaster. I am sure the King will notice you.”
“Notice me?” For the first time uncertainty struck her, sending a shiver skating up her spine. “What do you mean? I am to be his wife.”
The man avoided her eyes. “Excuse me, Princess, we’ll arrive soon at the Women's Palace. I must arrange the gates to be unlocked.” The envoy rode off before she could reply.
She gazed around her as they entered into a densely-built part of the city. Merchants, farmers and peasants gathered on the streets to admire her and the cavalcade that passed through.
Although a swathe of fabric covered the top of her litter, the heat of her new land made her woolen dress cling to her body. Phoebe pushed her locks from her face. Why weren’t the people bowing as they should?
Instead, the women pointed and pulled their head coverings close so that all Phoebe could see were their dark eyes. Clearly these people were unused to the beautiful clothes of her country. She unhooked the gold brooch at her neck and let her cloak fall from her shoulders to reveal the linen petticoats and maize-colored dress that matched her hair color. Proud of her loose flowing hair she held her head high. In time, she would introduce the fashions of her people to these tightly covered women.
