Shaashgaz arched his eyebrow. Everyone either knew Mordechai the Jew or knew his reputation. He was the king’s most ardent secret agent, ferreting out treason, sometimes when it wasn’t even there.
“About a month after all the potential brides started entering the harem, Hegai began wearing a very large necklace that appeared as if milled, polished, and deposited by fairies who live in the ground. He’s been fawning all over the new girl ever since it appeared.”
“But what does he want? Mordechai, I mean. He can’t possibly suspect the concubines of sedition.”
She studied the man. He seemed to be watching everyone and paying attention to none of them at the same time. She couldn’t even be sure that he hadn’t seen her, even though they were separated by gates, and a crowd of people moved between them. What a skill to have perfected, to look without seeming to do so, Zeresh thought. She wished for it herself on occasion.
“He wants what we all want, of course. Power. This is the oddest conversation, my dear. I seem to be saying things you should already know.”
After Shaashgaz had gone back into the palace and to his girls, Zeresh wondered at herself, too. She stood outside the palace walls, the closest she had been to the king in a year. The court had moved three times. The rains had come and gone. So had the summer heat. They were finally back in Susa’s mild winter. But she was still on the outside. Since her husband had risen to his new position of prominence, she had been invited back into the fold of noble society. Every door except the palace’s was opened to her now.
And yet she felt her distance more keenly. Her husband left at daybreak every day. He wanted to be the first advisor the king would see each morning. When he did come home, his chest was more puffed than usual. He’d even begun to emulate the king’s dress, wore clothes shot through with gold and a massive turban on his head. People bowed and scraped at his feet. They knew he had the king’s ear.
All except one man. It was all she heard about when her husband did come home. He fumed about the man’s disrespect, how he looked down his nose at him, how impertinent he was even to the second most powerful man in Persia.
“It’s outrageous. He’s nothing, cannot even come further than the outer courtyard, and yet he remains insolent. Curls his lip at me.”
“It can’t be all that bad. He must be expendable. We can put our heads together to find a solution. Who is he?”
A look of disgust took hold of her husband’s face, as if he had eaten meat that had gone rotten. “I will not deign to have his name spoken in my home. It doesn’t matter who he is. He must be cut down to size. I am the chief advisor to the king. He will bow to me in the end.”
She could see that he was working himself up. But his anger worried her. It would cloud his judgment, and they needed him to be sharp.
“You have to let this go. It’s not healthy to fixate on one man. You’re getting careless. You may be the king’s right-hand man now, but we can’t be too careful. Someone else can come along at any moment and offer him more gold. And then where will we be?”
The air seemed to go out of him. He deflated as only a fat man can, his spine burdened under all his flesh and the weight of his extravagant hat. “I cannot touch him.”
“Silly man. I may be kept out of the palace, but even I know that the king is ignorant of what happens in his own courtyard. He’s far too taken with all his new women. Surely, you can figure something out. After this problem of the nameless man has been taken care of, you can get back to worrying about the important things again.”
It wasn’t an affair of state, this obsession of his, but she was grateful that he still turned to her when something touched him this deeply. She didn’t expect him to take her so seriously, though. For days, she saw him even less than usual. He was holed up with his own spies. Until the day he returned home triumphant.
“I’ve fixed that man now. In a month’s time, he won’t be a problem anymore.”
Her husband had asked her to dine with him, alone on the patio next to her rooms. A light dinner of fruit and pastries filled with goat and pheasant lay before them. The last of the sun’s warmth touched her back. She was filled with meat and cheese. He had ordered their richest wine to be brought.
He was crowing, showing off his skill for her. After all these years, she thought, he still wants to impress me. Before even hearing the details, Zeresh felt a burst of pride. He was finally growing into the power that had been placed into his hands. This was a man worthy of the title husband. And chief advisor, of course.
“These days of petitions bore the king. The workings of an empire can be so tiresome. It’s far more fun to plan a campaign against rebellious factions. Well, the Afghan mountains have erupted again. The tribes there get restless,” he said.
“But all the king asks is what’s due a protector,” he continued. “It’s not much, just some money and conscripts. What young man wouldn’t want to be in service to the greatest army the world has ever known? The king was riled up. He loves nothing so much as the thought of a military campaign. We talked for an hour. I advised him on strategy, corrected him when he underestimated the number of conscripts we’d need. Reminded him, of course, about the difficulty of provisioning an army through the mountains.”
How tiresome he can be, she thought, even now, in his triumph. Zeresh cared nothing of the movements of troops. Talking to her husband sometimes made her wish for the conversation of her sister or Hegai. But she bit her tongue. Let him wend his way through this preamble. He deserved this chance to boast, after all. Not many men would live to say they had advised a king.
“I arranged to have that discussion followed by one about a road building project. Just the thought of it made the king’s eyes wander to his wine bearer. Once he had a cup in his hand, I mentioned that another clan has been disloyal, only they aren’t in the mountains, but have infiltrated our cities. Destroying them would be a morale-booster for the soldiers before the long trek into the Kush.”
Her husband sat back, enjoying the memory of his own cleverness. Zeresh had to admire his cunning. Perhaps he is well suited to this after all, she thought. Though the sun had set and the servants were lighting small fires around the patio, she felt herself growing warmer, excited by what she was hearing.
“The king, in his wisdom, agreed that seditious forces need to be rooted out wherever they appear. Of course, I offered to pay for the entire operation. By month’s end, that man,” he spat, “who would sneer at me, and his entire clan, down to every woman and child, will be gone.”
What power he has, she thought. She looked at him as if for the first time in years, how square his jaw still was under his beard, how strong his hands remained. They had this home together, sons that they were raising, a shared vision of what their life could be, but she hadn’t felt those hands on her skin in a long time. She hadn’t wanted them. Until now.
Zeresh waited until the last torch was lit, then sent the servants away. She wanted him to herself. Just the two of them, joined together as they’d been for so long. She stood up, looked down at her husband, dropped her robes off her shoulders, and lowered herself into his waiting lap.
It was only when they woke up the next morning that she learned that he’d kept the most important bit of news from her.
“I’m to dine with the queen tonight.” He said it almost casually, as if to fool her into thinking this were an everyday occasion, that he was already used to intimate evenings with royalty. But the edge of self-importance in his voice gave him away. He has left me behind, she realized.
“It’s to be me, her, and the king. So I must take care to dress well today.”
“You’ve proven yourself to them all,” she said.
“Yes, they turn to me for all manner of things now.”
She called the servants, prepared his oils and perfumes herself, watched as he wrapped himself in his finest silks. And then she watched him go.
The day stretched, interminable. The summer was coming
. She could feel the air drying out already. There was so much to do before they’d be ready to leave for Persepolis again. She used the time between her husband’s exit and the late hour when he would return to begin packing up the house, but the servants seemed sluggish all day. She had to prod and shout to get anything accomplished.
After a morning of frustration, the servants moving slowly, tenants coming to her with petty complaints, and her sons getting underfoot everywhere she turned, the gates opened, and Shaashgaz, her old friend, rode in, resplendent in his silks. Even his horse and litter were ornamented. Green silk threads winked from the fabric of his tunic and saddle.
“What a surprise, my friend,” she said. His visit was not entirely welcome. There was too much to do, and too much to worry about. She kept checking the sun, factoring how long it would be before her husband sat down with the new queen.
“We weren’t expecting you. I’m afraid my people are entirely useless today. They haven’t yet prepared lunch.” She couldn’t simply ignore the social niceties, though. “And I won’t hear of you not sitting down to eat with me.”
“Have you lost your touch, my dear?” he asked, gently teasing her. “I thought you scared them all into perfect behavior.”
With anyone else, she would take offence. He really was too impertinent, but his eyes laughed as he said it, and he hooked his arm through hers as soon as he was helped down off his horse. “No matter,” he said, “let’s walk around your lovely gardens. Everyone says that you’ve outdone yourself this year, that they are second only to the palace’s.”
How does he do it? she wondered. She knew his words were covering something, that there was method in his empty flattery, and yet all the agitation left her body. She surrendered to him, let him lead her farther into her own grounds. They followed the wall to the back of the property. The trees shaded them, birds of paradise rose in flocks against the walls.
“Oh, it is marvelous in here,” he said. “It’s a wonder how you managed to grow these climbing plums so tall and lush. What a gift it must be to cultivate your own grounds and family. You must be so proud of all that you’ve built.”
“We’ve been lucky this year. The ground has been generous.”
“And how are your boys? Growing as well as your flowers, I hope.”
Where is this heading? she wanted to know. He wouldn’t have arrived unannounced to ask after flowers and children, but she played along until he was ready to speak freely. “They do well. Our oldest is, of course, a great help to his father now that he has so many responsibilities. We’re quite proud.”
“About that.” The tone of his voice suddenly changed. His usual arch lilt dropped away. His voice was still high, making him sound like the boy he was when his manhood was taken from him, but she only now realized how carefully he had constructed that mask of friendly gossip, that he was more than a canny court survivor. There was a serious man under all that ornamentation.
“There’s been an incident at court. As you know, the king gets strange ideas in his head sometimes, which is what happened this morning. He woke up agitated about something, called for one of his advisors. Your husband was there early, as usual. When the king saw him, he ordered your husband to lead Mordechai the Spy through the streets of the market, proclaiming to all who could hear how loyal and good a servant he is. Your husband had no choice but to do it. He wore out his voice with shouting, but he looked like he wanted to kill the man the whole time.”
“What? Is his chief advisor to be treated like a groomsman?”
“This is not the time to be offended.”
She had pulled away from him, her anger flaring.
“How can I not? Is this how the king would treat the man who sits at his right hand, who practically bankrolled his government?”
“Aren’t you frightened?”
“Frightened?” This stopped her. “Why should the wife of the most important advisor to the king be frightened when her husband is debased by a dissolute and foolish king?”
“Because it’s Mordechai the Spy, of course.”
“Who is he to me? Just another hanger-on at court, one of the men who lurk about looking for people to denounce or prove their loyalty.”
“You don’t know. The Creator help you, you don’t know.”
Shaashgaz looked genuinely upset. The mask pulled back even farther. How had she missed the fact that he was more than someone to idle away the odd afternoon with. This was the face of a true friend.
“Mordechai is the man your husband has plotted to kill. It’s been the talk of the palace.”
Zeresh was too shocked to speak.
“I thought your husband confided in you, that you knew his dealings.”
“He does. He did. He used to. But he wouldn’t let anyone utter the man’s name in his presence. How was I to know? I’ve been banned from the palace. And my husband never mentioned Mordechai’s connection to the queen. Is it possible he was the only person in Susa who doesn’t know about it?”
“Only him. And the king.”
Zeresh understood the implications of what he was telling her at once. “We are doomed.” She knew this court better than almost anyone. “And he’s to dine with the king and queen tonight.”
Suddenly, she was very scared. The queen would expose her husband, she was sure of it. It’s what she would have done had their places been reversed. The chain of events was as clear to her as if she was in the room. Her husband would swagger in, full of his own importance at being invited to eat privately with the king and queen. The queen would announce his treachery, and the king, besotted with her, would fly into a rage.
What would happen after was too horrible to contemplate.
“Is there any hope for us?” she asked. Maybe Shaashgaz, this good man, could see a way out that she couldn’t.
“It’s hard to predict the king’s moods. But if your husband throws himself on his mercy, perhaps you can all be saved.”
Zeresh had to act. Forgetting her guest and what she owed him as a host, she ran to the stables.
“Saddle all the horses,” she said to the first man she saw. “As quickly as you can. For my sons.” Without waiting to see if he obeyed, she ran back to the house.
Her boys were still inside, innocent of what was about to befall them. She could hear them through the windows. High-spirited, but cruel in the way only children can be. One had grabbed his tutor’s scroll, was tormenting the man. As she got closer, she saw the others point and laugh at him. They are so young, she saw, so assured of their place in the world.
She was about to call out to them, to tell them to leave their play and get ready to ride away, but its pointlessness hit her as hard as if a man had struck her across the face. Where would she send them? Not to their house in Persepolis. They would be found there. All she knew was court life. All her friends and distant cousins were connected to it. Anyone who might assist them was part of this world, too. There was no one to help them. And there were spies everywhere. All she could hope for now was what was left of her husband’s good sense and the king’s mercy.
And she, trapped here in her beautiful home, could do nothing about it. Events would unfold without her. They would swirl and settle, and then she would do what she had always done. She would find a way. But she didn’t expect what came. Who could?
That was what she wondered as she sat in her garden as Artakama, her sister’s favorite—and only—eunuch, directed the servants who would no longer be in her service after today, though she could see the pity in their eyes when she lifted her head. The same question went round her head ceaselessly. How could I have predicted this?
Mostly, she stared at the soil. Only yesterday, her sons’ feet had pounded it, one after another, chasing each other through the gardens. Now, the only sound was of the dampened whisper of servants moving around. Every so often, a maid sobbed and then ran into a far courtyard so she wouldn’t disturb her mistress.
Zeresh felt the activity around her. S
he heard as if from a distance as Artakama directed her headman what to dispose of before the new owner took possession and told her women to pack for Zeresh. “Just clothes and linens. Leave the fine silks behind.”
“Madam, we must go,” he said to her after the work had been done. She could hear the kindness in his voice. He has grown used to being kind to broken women, she thought, but she didn’t thank him for it. Her throat had closed around all words. She doubted it would ever open again.
“I have sent your things ahead,” he continued. “But we must go.”
She didn’t look up. She didn’t acknowledge where she was or that he was standing beside her. He looked to the servants for guidance, but they had never seen her immobilized like this before, either.
Eventually, she knew, she would have to stand up. She would have to take a few steps, and then a few steps more, but she didn’t know how to tell him that.
Instead, he cupped her elbow, his touch gentle but sure. So this is what my sister meant about the eunuchs’ hands, she thought. Not pleasure, but safety. She had never, she realized, been touched like this, not by her father or her husband. Not even her sons’ soft hands, since she passed them along to wet nurses as soon as they were born. She regretted everything, but maybe that most of all, the line of nurses and tutors who had known her boys better than she had. She had been so focused on their father, on what she could make of him, thinking she was setting them up well for a good future, each in his turn.
Artakama’s hand stayed on her elbow, the other guided her back.
“Mordechai’s men will be here to claim the house soon, Madam.”
“They’ve taken everything from me,” she finally said.
“You have me now.”
And he led her, slowly, as tender as ever, to the gate, where a litter more magnificent than she had ever ridden in stood waiting, curtains open, inviting as the womb. He helped her in and then pulled the curtains shut. It was dark and warm. She thought she would like to stay in there forever, her cheek against the silk, her finger tracing the threads in the fabric. It would take a lifetime to move over the entire expanse, one silken thread at a time. She could start with the reds, then move to orange, blue, and green. She’d save the yellow that fringed the curtains for last, end with something to remind her of the sun.
After Abel and Other Stories Page 10