“And his favorite? Surely he has a favorite?”
“Ah yes. He had a favorite. I hear she was a simple country maiden from the north. He wrote songs praising her and grieved uncontrollably for her when she died. They say he has married all these women, even added three hundred concubines looking for another like her.”
“Well,” Bilqis said squaring her shoulders and standing, “what do you suggest we do?”
“It is obvious, my queen. We must fight.”
At that all the counselors rose and began shouting and encouraging each other with the exciting prospects of planning a major battle.
“We must call the commanders and the captains.”
“Assess our weapons.”
“Gather our friends from neighboring countries.”
“Send messengers.”
“Buy supplies.”
Bilqis waited until the turmoil died down and then she spoke in a quiet, commanding voice. “We don’t need to fight. There are other ways.”
“What other ways, my queen?” one old counselor dared to ask.
“If he can work magic with the Jinn, so can we,” Bilqis said confidently. “We’ll let the Jinn and their magic do the fighting for us. Undoubtedly our priests can summon stronger Jinn and magic than his can. They can stir up the winds or have his ships wrecked on the rocks. They’ll finish his wonderful idea of a new trade route.” Seeing that her counselors were all busy mulling over what she had said and not wanting to argue her point, she nodded to her attendants and swept from the room.
The next morning Bilqis was wakened in the predawn darkness by one of her maidens. It was the day on which the last dim outline of the dying moon god, Ilumquh, could be seen in the morning sky. Today, as always at such times, there would be special sacrifices at the temple.
She stepped into the waiting palanquin and rode down the avenue of light to the great oval place of meeting. It was her custom to be present with her maidens for the morning ceremonies of incense and chanting. As she was carried through a thicket of oleanders to the marble steps that led up to the temple’s entryway, she was conscious of the bubbling, trickling noise made by the water running through the irrigation ditches. “God willing,” she thought, “the new moon will come again. But if anything should happen to the dam, this whole area would become desert. This is what we must fear.”
That didn’t mean that this monthly ceremony wasn’t important because when Ilumquh left the sky and it was dark, then all the evil spirits and Jinn had an opportunity to work their mischief. Bilqis had always feared that the Jinn would someday destroy the dam, and at the dark of the moon this was most likely to take place. The dam must be guarded carefully at this dangerous time, and then by sacrifice, incense, and special offerings the moon god would be encouraged to return and they would all be safe.
Already inside the oval place of meeting, the chalk-faced black-robed priestesses, dedicated to the god Ilumquh, were chanting and weeping. Old women, toothless and haggard, sat in the shadowy comers under the sheltering pillars that circled the inner temple, drumming ominous rhythms on the deep-bellied drums of fate. Castanets rattled frantically as the wailing mounted and a band of temple priestesses came through the far door. Their faces were painted into grimaces of pain and they walked with a jerking, dipping motion that made their loose hair and mourning rags shudder with suppressed anguish.
The air reeked with the odor of burned hair and hot blood mingled with stale incense. It was the odor of Ilumquh, a god who could be gentle as moonbeams but fierce as a raging bull when aroused. There had been times in the past when only a human sacrifice calmed his destructive nature. But that had been before the dam had been built. They with their wits had outsmarted Ilumquh, and there were no more droughts.
In the center of the open courtyard, priests could be seen dimly through the rancid smoke stoking the altar fire. From time to time one would come with a golden vessel and pour clotted blood on the altar’s horns. This was a signal for the priests to prostrate themselves or circle the altar chanting traditional songs of Ilumquh’s death.
Ilumquh’s earthly form was that of the bull, and there were carved alabaster bull’s heads on the four sides of the massive altar. At the height of the ceremony the golden bull that lived in the small temple beside the pillared hall was brought out into the open court. It was hoped he would protect them with his own special magic while Ilumquh was gone from the night sky.
No marriages took place at this time, no seed was planted, and no business transacted. The moonless night that followed was a night in which the dreaded Jinn worked their worst charms. Witches and ghouls were abroad and evil deeds prospered.