by Marek Halter
For a moment, silence fell. The birds had stopped flying above the copse. Lilah could sense Parysatis’ eyes on her, the humiliating smile, the greed and cruelty.
So the rumours were true: Parysatis’ greatest pleasure was to have people at her mercy, to observe their fear.
Lilah’s pride sustained her: she struggled to dismiss the terror that would have stopped her fleeing a moment earlier. She rose to her full height, held her shoulders back and clenched her jaws, aware of the hate growing in her heart.
‘Until now,’ Parysatis said, ‘my lions have never jumped as far as this path. Have no fear, Lilah. Come closer.’
Lilah lowered her arms and obeyed without hesitation. Behind her, the handmaids, the eunuchs, the third cupbearer and the guards stood a fair distance away and showed no desire to move any closer unless Parysatis ordered it.
‘Forgive me for crying out, my queen,’ Lilah said, ‘it took me by surprise. I’ve never seen a lion before. They’re beautiful.’
The Queen half closed her eyes and laughed. ‘Don’t act proud, Lilah. I know you’re afraid. Everyone is afraid of Parysatis. Haven’t you heard that in the upper town? I’m sure you have. I know people tell tales about me. And they’re right to fear me, because it’s true: I’m cruel and pitiless. These creatures you see before you are my friends. My only friends. They rid me of anyone I find troublesome. That’s what it means to be a queen, the wife of one King of Kings, the mother of another. Even my sons may one day put poison in my bread. But they’re the only ones who have nothing to fear from my friends.’
She laughed, walked up to Lilah, and again took one of her hands in what appeared to be a gentle, affectionate gesture, but was in fact quite terrifying: it drew Lilah so close to the bamboo at the edge of the pit that she could feel it rubbing against her bare legs.
‘You’re beautiful, but that’s neither here nor there. My palace is full of beautiful handmaids, and up there, in the Citadel, my son has hundreds of concubines, each more beautiful than the next. Beauty bores me, Lilah. They think I envy it, but they’re wrong: it bores me. You have a little courage and a lot of pride. Perhaps some intelligence, too. That’s a lot of qualities for a girl. That fool Cohapanikes is right: your Antinoes has made a good choice, which is a point in his favour. It’s braver and more difficult for a man to choose an intelligent woman than a beautiful one.’
For a moment, she was lost in thought. Below, the bushes moved. A black panther with a magnificent coat appeared on one of the paths and raised its golden eyes towards her indifferently.
It occurred to Lilah that the Queen had only to move her hand to throw her headlong into the pit. She had no doubt that Parysatis, small as she was, was strong enough to do it.
‘You’ve known Antinoes since you were children, but do you know the man you take between your thighs when he comes back from the wars?’
Lilah shuddered. She had barely heard the question. Down in the pit, more animals had appeared in the bushes. Four impatient shelions took up position beneath the platform and growled.
‘A warrior is like a young lion,’ Parysatis continued, without waiting for a reply. ‘He kills, he tears the flesh, he thirsts for blood. He rapes, he forgets. He’s not meant for a young girl like you. But Antinoes is a good boy. His father was useful to me once. He behaved well. I may be cruel, but I’m not disloyal. Your Antinoes is like his father, honest and upright. There are not many people in this palace you could say that about. He’s fought for my son Artaxerxes, but hasn’t raised his hand against Cyrus the Younger.’ Parysatis grinned. ‘Did you know that my friends have rid me of all those who raised their hands against Cyrus the Younger at the battle of Kounaya? What a banquet that was!’
She laughed, and held out her hand, still joined to Lilah’s, towards the two lions, which seemed now to be dozing on the platform. ‘Look at them! They’ve eaten their fill!’ She laughed again. ‘You’re Jewish, Lilah. What will you do if the King of Kings names Antinoes satrap of Bactria? Will you follow him to Meshed, Bactria or Kabul? Will your God follow you that far? To a place where you won’t have your uncle or your brother with you, or any of your people?’
‘I shall follow him,’ Lilah replied unhesitatingly. ‘Long ago we made a promise to each other. I shall keep mine as he will keep his.’
Parysatis gave Lilah a sideways glance and let go of her hand. She seemed pleased with herself, as if she had enjoyed a good piece of entertainment.
‘I like you, Lilah. You’re innocent, but I like you. What I don’t like is the thought of your becoming Antinoes’ wife. I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.’
The Sage of the Lower Town
THROUGH THE BEATEN earth of the kitchen, then rising through his feet into his crippled legs, Sogdiam felt a heavy vibration. He listened carefully, and heard a rumble of a kind that was too rare in the lower town not to attract attention. He went out into the courtyard. A chariot and horses: he was sure of it. Hooves and chariot wheels were making the ground shake. He heard people shouting, children yelling, still quite far away. He saw dust rising above the wall of the house and the surrounding roofs. As incredible as it might seem, someone was venturing into the streets of the lower town with a chariot and horses!
The dust came nearer. He had a premonition that whoever it was would be on their way here, to Ezra’s house.
Through the open door of the study, he glimpsed Master Baruch hunched on a stool, flourishing a papyrus scroll in his hands as he talked. On the other stool, staring at the wall in front of him as if it were the most fascinating of landscapes, Ezra was listening. From time to time, he bowed his head. Sogdiam had seen them like this so many times that, for him, it was the most normal, most reassuring sight in the world.
He limped rapidly across the courtyard and opened the gate that led to the street. Some of the neighbours, drawn like him by the noise, were already there.
Sogdiam thought of Lilah. Could it be her chariot? But it wasn’t ‘her day’.
This might be a special occasion, though.
No, it was impossible! Lilah would never come in a chariot, as special as her visit might be. She would be too embarrassed to flaunt such luxury in a slum like this.
He frowned. If it wasn’t Lilah, who was it? A noble of the Citadel? Or guards, soldiers: the kind of people who never brought anything good with them when they came into the lower town.
Suddenly, at the end of the street, men and women stood aside. Some climbed onto the walls, others jumped into the gardens. Two black horses appeared, their coats as shiny as silk, their manes woven with tassels of red wool, drawing a light chariot with iron-clad wheels, its body strengthened by a strip of brass. The handrail at the side was lined with leather sheaths and pouches – room enough for spears, arrows and a long-bladed sword.
The kind of chariot Sogdiam had never seen before. A war chariot!
Too stunned to move aside, Sogdiam stared open-mouthed as the chariot and horses came straight towards him. The officer who held the reins was wearing a pointed felt helmet decorated with woven ribbons and a long cape of blue wool flecked with yellow. Behind the chariot was an escort of about ten soldiers carrying spears. Children yelled with excitement.
Nimbly, Sogdiam leaped to the gate to allow the chariot to pass into the courtyard. But as the horses, nostrils quivering, passed – so close to him that he could feel their breath on his cheek – the warrior brought the chariot to a halt with a mere flick of his wrist on the reins.
The soldiers ran to take their places against the wall of the house on either side of the gate. The children stopped yelling. The warrior got down from the chariot. A plain sheath containing a broad knife with a steel hilt lay against his thigh. The gold brooches holding his cape were decorated with the heads of bulls and lions. He was smiling through his beard – and the smile was for Sogdiam: the officer was staring straight at him.
Brave and proud though he was, Sogdiam retreated into the courtyard. The officer followed him t
hrough the gate and held out his hand. Then everyone in the street, neighbours and children, heard these incredible words: ‘Don’t be afraid, Sogdiam. I’m your friend.’
Sogdiam blushed and threw an anxious glance towards the study. Master Baruch and Ezra had noticed nothing.
Leaving the soldiers, the chariot and the crowd of onlookers in the street, the warrior closed the gate behind him. He took off his helmet, and his oiled hair fell to his shoulders. Sogdiam turned hot, then cold. He knew who the officer was.
The man Ezra hated. The man Lilah loved.
He swayed slightly as anger, envy, vexation and pleasure danced a sarabande in his heart. The warrior frowned, but there was nothing threatening in his expression, quite the contrary. He uttered the words Sogdiam had been waiting for: ‘I’m Antinoes and I’ve come to see Ezra.’
‘Ezra is studying,’ Sogdiam replied, sounding, he thought, weak and foolish. ‘He’s with Master Baruch. He can’t be disturbed.’
Antinoes looked at him in surprise, then turned towards the study and saw that Sogdiam was telling the truth. He nodded, pulled the end of his cape onto his shoulder, and made as if to walk towards the house. Sogdiam, unafraid, considered barring his way, but his legs refused to move. Antinoes also came to a halt.
By now Ezra had stopped studying, and was staring out at the warrior with his dark eyes. Beside him, Master Baruch was silent. Antinoes raised a hand in greeting. In response, Ezra turned his back. He unrolled a scroll on the table and said something to Master Baruch. The old man nodded, and the two of them resumed their murmuring.
‘You see?’ Sogdiam said, with all the confidence he could muster. ‘They haven’t finished. You’ll have to leave.’
As if he had not heard, Antinoes continued to gaze into the study. Then, to Sogdiam’s surprise, he burst out laughing: a good-humoured laugh, without a trace of irony. ‘That’s all right. I’ll wait. Bring me a cup of water, will you?’
Relieved, Sogdiam hurried to the kitchen. When he came out again, Antinoes was standing in the middle of the courtyard, as if keeping guard on the wall of a citadel. His cape fluttered in the sharp north wind. The stormy light filtering through the low, dark clouds glinted on his knife as well as in his eyes. He showed no impatience, and made a friendly gesture to Sogdiam when the boy handed him the cup.
To Sogdiam, the thought of Lilah snuggling in this man’s arms was as painful as a burn. It was one good reason to hate him. Ezra was another. Yet Sogdiam could not help blushing with pleasure when Antinoes gave him back the cup and said in a soft voice, ‘Lilah loves you a lot, young Sogdiam. She told me so. She said you were very brave and not at all like other boys.’
Sogdiam bowed his head and wondered how to reply, but had no time to speak: Antinoes was walking towards the study. When he reached the doorway, he bowed politely. ‘Forgive me, Master Baruch, if I interrupt your teaching. I have come to talk to my brother Ezra. I haven’t seen him for a long time.’
There was a strange silence. Master Baruch looked up at Antinoes, eyes glittering with curiosity: he did not seem the least bit offended. Ezra, though, stood up, pushing back his stool noisily. He walked up to Antinoes, coming so close to him that Sogdiam thought they would either embrace or fight. But his face was cold and his voice made the boy lower his eyes. ‘You’re disturbing me in my studies, stranger. I don’t think that’s very polite.’
‘Ezra!’
‘You come here dressed and armed as if for war, flaunting your gold to the people of this town who are dressed in rags, and you claim that I’m your brother, which is a lie. You can leave the way you came. We have nothing to say to each other.’
Antinoes clutched his cape. Sogdiam sensed the shudder of anger that went through him, yet when he spoke, his voice remained low and calm. ‘You know as well as I do how one of Artaxerxes’ officers has to move around. He travels by chariot and is always escorted. It doesn’t matter if he’s in the Citadel or the lower town, for him there’s only one law and one kingdom. And you’re wrong. I have something to say to you, something you need to hear. I came back to Susa to make Lilah my wife. I’m sure you know that already. But I’ve come here to ask you, as someone who was once my brother, not to condemn Lilah if she makes that choice.’
There was a silence so heavy that Sogdiam felt it weighing on his shoulders. He was embarrassed that he was still in the courtyard, hearing this conversation, but it was too late, now, to hide in the kitchen.
His face more closed than a blind wall, Ezra hesitated. Sogdiam feared he would throw Antinoes out into the street.
‘My sister is free to choose her husband,’ he said, his voice as chilly as the north wind.
Antinoes raised an eyebrow. ‘You won’t oppose her decision, then?’ he asked.
Ezra smiled, which did nothing to soften his expression. He turned to Master Baruch, as if calling on him as a witness, but the old man was bent over a papyrus, clearly indicating that he wanted no part in this quarrel.
‘My sister is free to make her own decisions,’ Ezra said. ‘But there are laws for us, the children of Israel and the people of the Covenant. They are not the same as your laws, son of Persia, just as our God is not the same as your gods.’
‘What do you mean, Ezra?’
‘“Do not give your children to Molek,” the Law of Moses commands. “Do not profane the name of your God. A woman who goes with an unclean man is herself unclean.” And if a woman is unclean, her brother can no longer go near her. He can no longer be her brother. Lilah will choose.’
‘Oh, I understand!’ Antinoes laughed bitterly, anger getting the better of him. ‘If Lilah becomes my wife, you’ll never see her again.’
‘It’s not my decision. I’m obeying the Law and the Word that Yahweh taught Moses. The Law says that the women of Israel must find husbands among the men of Israel. And you are not of our people. That’s all.’
‘You have a short memory, Ezra. There was a time when you put your arm round my neck and made me swear we’d never be separated. A time when you said, “Lilah is the heart and the blood that unites us.”’
Ezra’s mouth half opened. His brow and cheeks had turned scarlet. Sogdiam saw him clench his fists until the knuckles turned white, and thought he was about to hit Antinoes. Then everything relaxed suddenly. Ezra’s chest swelled and he gave a small, harsh laugh. ‘Yes, there was a time when I wasn’t yet Ezra. But that’s over. And you’re wrong. I have a long memory, much longer than you could ever imagine. It goes back to the first days of the people of Israel. To the day when Yahweh called to Abraham on the mountain of Harran.’
‘You talk about your God, Ezra, but all I hear is your jealousy!’ Antinoes retorted. ‘You know I’ve always respected your God. You know that even if Lilah is with me, she will always be with you.’
‘I think you should leave now.’
‘Ezra!’ Antinoes roared, raising his hand. ‘Don’t force Lilah to choose between us. Don’t make her unhappy!’
Ezra did not reply. He turned, went back into the study and closed the door – which Sogdiam had never seen him do before.
Antinoes stood there for a moment. At last he turned, his eyes blank. In the street, the horses were snorting with impatience. The soldiers could be heard scolding the children, and the children laughing in reply.
Antinoes turned abruptly, his face pale. He walked away like a blind man. As he reached Sogdiam, he raised his hand. Sogdiam jumped when Antinoes laid his hot palm on his neck and stroked it lightly. Then, without a word, he left the courtyard, climbed into his chariot and set off at a trot, forcing the soldiers and the children to run.
The workshop was fragrant with the fine powder of cedar-and plane wood, juniper and oak. The aroma of peas and roast pork mingled with the smell of almond gum and freshly tanned leather.
To Mordechai, it was like music, a deep, haunting song against which the noise of saws, planes, gimlets, chisels and mallets stood out. The large, well-ventilated workshop, cluttered with shafts, hob
bles, benches, towers of ropes and newly mounted wheels, was more than just a pleasant place to work: it was a world in which he was king. A world of infinite possibilities in which every kind of chariot needed in the Susa region could be made – chariots with two or three seats, drawn by mules, horses, sometimes asses and oxen, war chariots and travelling chariots, chariots for royal parades or for everyday transport.
Today, however, perhaps for the first time in his life, Mordechai was unable to savour the pleasure.
He came and went without seeing the workers or the work in progress. He had lost interest in it. He stood at the side of the street, ears pricked, trying to detect the sound of a chariot. Not one of his own, or a customer’s, but the chariot of the Queen’s third cupbearer, which had carried Lilah off to Parysatis’ palace that very morning.
With a heavy heart, he had been awaiting her return for hours. It was almost dusk, and there was still no sign of her. The keen north wind made the light hazy. It would soon rain. And still Lilah had not returned.
Mordechai knew that on the other side of the courtyard, bustling among her weavers, Sarah was worried too. She had pestered him for news a hundred times. He had none. How could he have had any? The hundred and first time, Mordechai had ordered the door leading from her workshop to the courtyard to be barred.
But it had brought him no peace.
He continued listening for the rumble of a chariot. The street was a busy one, and many chariots came and went. But Mordechai had a sharp ear: he would recognize the third cupbearer’s chariot anywhere. No other chariot made the same sound, because none was so heavy or had such big wheels.
Perhaps he was wrong … He heard a commotion in the street, soldiers shouting orders to the crowd to step aside, the points of spears moving above onlookers’ heads. But the sound this chariot made was different – too light. He saw two magnificent black half-breed horses, an officer with a felt helmet standing in the chariot. A war chariot … Despite himself, he looked behind the escort, hoping to see the little mule-drawn wagon that had carried Lilah off. There was nothing.