Changeling, and Other Stories 41 – Byrne · Verses Across
Literature · Crime, Thrillers & Mystery
Changeling, and Other Stories 41Part 7 · Chapter 5
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Literature · Crime, Thrillers & Mystery
Changeling, and Other Stories 41
Part 7 · Chapter 5
ByrneEnglish
And in the dusk of day, when the master masons and their helpers had gone, he brought her to the temple he was building to his god, the great temple that Hiram, the trader king of Tyre, was embellishing for the reward of twenty cities in the land of Galilee. And Balkis's eyes flashed with anger at the cunning of the Phoenician king. It was such a shame to take advantage of the boy! Poor wise-foolish king! He was like a child showing his toys.
"See these brass bases, Balkis, with the borders of lions and oxen and cherubim. And the brazen wheels at each base. They say there are cunning brass-workers in India, but surely there is no more beautiful work than this. Surely they cannot beat this."
"Of course not, my dearest. Of course not."
"And come with me, Balkis, to where the watchmen are, and I will show you marvels such as you never saw before: an altar of gold and a table of gold and ten candlesticks of pure gold with the flowers and the lamps and the tongs of gold; and bowls and snuffers and basins and the spoons and the censers of pure gold. Come."
They went toward the king's house. On the way Solomon stopped suddenly and looked at his temple.
"O Balkis," he asked, "you have come through Egypt. How much bigger is my temple than the pyramids and labyrinth? I 've heard so much of them."
"Bigger?"
"Yes, how much bigger?"
She looked at the little building, twenty cubits broad, sixty cubits long. Twelve paces one way, forty another. For an instant laughter bubbled in her, but gave way to pathos, and her sloe-black eyes were wet again. O poor lad!
"Is it very much bigger than the pyramids, Balkis?" he asked eagerly.
"Oh, lots bigger. Much."
"Why, Balkis, you are crying. Are you lonely?"
"Yes, a little homesick," she lied again.
He came toward her and kissed her, in kindness, but the touch of lips fired, startled them both, sent their blood pounding in the soft Syrian gloom.
