I gasped for breath as I entered the hall, which was entirely reserved for the elders and chieftains. They had set up a podium in the center, where Hamdan ibn Riyan and some other chieftains were expected to speak. They were clearly discussing the "ineligibility of a woman ruling without tribal or religious oversight." I nearly joined them at the podium, as the expected role for me, as the High Priest, would be to demand clarification from the queen regarding the legitimacy of her authority and her sudden absence.
I had hoped just as I had thought before to steer the discussion towards making the "temple" the spiritual authority that takes precedence over any unilateral decision made by a woman who, in my eyes, was unworthy of the sun's grandeur.
But the astonishment that appeared on the faces of those present pulled me back a step. One of the close priests whispered into my ear, saying:
"My lord, the queen has arrived, and with her, what is said to be an ancient text we've never seen before. Everyone here is frozen, waiting for the first public confrontation."
Suddenly, the hall shook, as if a silent earthquake had passed beneath everyone's feet. An invisible wind stirred the drapes, and breaths were held at the throne's entrance, where the sound of firm, resolute footsteps echoed, announcing her arrival as though the sun had pierced the darkness.
Balqis appeared. She was no mere woman entering the council; the scene felt as if legends themselves had materialized. Her dress, woven with threads of gold and copper, was not just attire it was armor that gleamed like the dawn, reflecting the light of the torches in a thousand glimmers.
She entered, surrounded by her armored guards, their shields marked by the signs of a long journey, but their presence did nothing to diminish their awe. Their swords were drawn at their sides, their eyes sharp as falcons. The steps accompanying her were not just for protection but also as a warning to anyone who dared to question her.
Balqis stopped at the platform, gently touching the edges of her royal cloak, then raised her head with a gaze as if she were peering into the depths of souls. The silence of the room was absolutely no murmurs, no movement, not even a tremor of breath. The moment belonged to her alone. With steady steps, she moved to the heart of the hall. There was no need for a speech, nor for raising her voice in her presence alone; the challenge was awe inspiring. Who now dared question her reign?
Beside the platform, I noticed Hamdan bin Riyan trying to steady his breath, preparing to strike with a speech. He raised his voice:
"My lady, your prolonged absence has left the tribes wondering what kind of rule is this whose fate no one knows? If we believe that a woman's rule cannot stand without clear support from the tribal elders..."
He was uttering ambiguous words, falling in line with a call for a tribal council to constrain her decisions. I heard him and realized that I could reinforce this rhetoric if given the chance, adding the temple's desire for spiritual guardianship. But I noticed that Queen Balqis remained unmoved. She looked at them with some resolve and said:
"So, you ask me about my absence, and you say that a woman cannot rule alone?"
"It is not only an objection, my lady, but a matter of preserving the traditions of Saba, which support a rule that combines the power of blood and the guardianship of the temple."
One of the elders interrupted her, and she tilted her head forward. I thought she might suppress an outburst of emotion, but she appeared to be perfectly composed.
And then she called out with a measured voice:
"O men of Saba, and you, the High Priest."
She glanced briefly in my direction.
"If you seek proof of the authenticity of my bloodline in bearing the blessing of the Sun from the Haddad, or if you doubt a woman's ability to sit on the throne... then so be it. I present to you an inheritance that cannot be denied."
At that moment, Balqis raised before her something resembling a gilded scroll adorned with inscriptions I could not decipher from where I stood. A profound silence engulfed the hall. For an instant, I felt a shiver deep within me. Is this really what I feared? A text that might precede our time, one that my shallow arguments cannot contend with.
When she spoke, everything else fell silent.
Her voice resonated through the hall, not like any ordinary sound, but like a sacred bell ringing through an ancient temple. She wasn't merely reading; she was painting her words on the walls of minds, carving them in a way that could never be erased. Her tone bore no emotion, but it carried the weight of undeniable truth so clear, there was no room for argument.
"The light of the sun does not distinguish between man and woman when it chooses the bearer of its blood."
She paused for a moment, as if letting the words penetrate deep into those who heard them, before continuing:
"Sons and daughters of the sun have no gender when it comes to ruling, and their legitimacy is an extension of a sanctity that is not bound by the interpretations of priests."
At that point, the effect was not just words being spoken but a tremor that shattered deep seated illusions, ones that had been relentlessly battering the walls of my guardianship without even mentioning my name, obliterating the myth of male superiority without raising a sword.