Harvest - 02 - Harvest of Gold

by Tessa Afshar

  She could not comprehend such mystery. But the God who had parted the sea in order to save her people surely had enough glory to rule over the destiny of an unborn baby.

  The comfort Sarah had longed for, but could not grasp began to work its way against the great sadness that had enveloped her. “Will you pray for me?”

  “Indeed, that is the reason I came.”

  Sarah put her face in her hands. She could feel her fingers shaking. “I have driven Darius away, Cousin Nehemiah. I did not tell him about the baby for fear that he would leave me behind in Susa. Now, he cannot forgive me. I think he blames me for the loss of the child.”

  A sigh trickled out of Nehemiah. If he felt any criticism or disappointment at Sarah’s behavior, he kept it to himself. “We must leave these troubles in the Lord’s hands. He is great enough to carry your burdens.” Nehemiah began their prayers with a time of repentance on behalf of himself and Sarah, as well as on behalf of their forefathers before them. And then he prayed for the precious baby whose loss was like a sword piercing Sarah’s heart.

  “O Lord, God of heaven, we thank You for the gift of this child, though he was with us for such a brief time. We thank You for the blessing of the life that grew in Sarah’s womb. We praise You that You hold that life in Your tender hands, and underneath are Your everlasting arms.

  “Lord, cleanse Sarah’s flesh and soul from the spirit of death that has touched her. Restore her with the breath of Your life.

  “We return this babe to You, knowing that Your faithful love for him endures forever. Into Your hands we commit his spirit. Keep him safe under the shadow of Your wings.

  “God, our Provider, heal the grief that has overwhelmed his mother and father. Bring Darius to forgive his wife. Draw him to You. Protect this marriage, and let it grow into a godly union. And Lord, bless this man and woman with more children.”

  As Nehemiah prayed, Sarah’s tears flowed. It was as if her soul was being washed. It felt to her that the Lord Himself had drawn near, had caressed her with the tender love of a mother.

  Her breath caught in her throat. She had blocked the sweet companionship of God’s presence for a long time—blocked it by refusing to trust Him. She had grown so obsessed with arranging her own life that, unknowingly, she had withdrawn from Him bit by bit. And yet, here He was, the Lord of Eternity, offering her His peace. She became aware that God understood her loneliness and weakness. In the shadow of that discovery, she realized that although her sorrow had not departed, it no longer suffocated her with its weight.

  Sarah straightened after trying to battle another attack of weakness and nausea. Pari handed her a damp towel. “It’s as if you never lost the babe. You have the same symptoms as when you were pregnant.”

  “I know.” Sarah sighed, leaning back against the pillows to give her belly a chance to settle. “I have retained the adverse effects of pregnancy without the joy of carrying a healthy baby in my womb.”

  “I suppose your body needs time to adjust.”

  “After more than eight weeks, you’d think it would have received the message that my womb is empty. I still haven’t had my monthly cycle. And although I eat no more than before, I seem to be growing larger by the week.”

  “You will return to normal soon.” Pari began to dust the walls of the cart. It had not rained once since they had started their journey ten weeks ago. The roads were rendered so dusty that the movement of their caravan created a whirlwind of interminably swirling dirt. The particles of fine dust found their way into their cart even when they kept their curtains shut. When the heat became too much to bear, they would open the curtains and roll back the canvas covering over their heads, braving the swirling muck for the sake of a bit of air.

  Either way, their cart would become filthy. Pari and Sarah wiped every surface down two or three times a day. Within hours, however, a film of dirt covered everything—the sheets, the boards, the floors, their skin. There were times when the only thing Sarah could taste was dust.

  Occasionally, Darius allowed their caravan to stop at a royal staging house for the evening. The women would linger in wooden baths, scrubbing themselves so that for a few lovely hours they felt clean. It did not last. As soon as they were on the road the next day, the sand wound its way into their clothes and their hair again.

  Pari shook a pillow with fastidious vigor. “At least you have your appetite back. I tell you, my lady, you scared me half to death that first week. But now you are almost restored to your former strength.”

  “A good thing considering the pace my husband has set for us. We are no more than a few days’ journey from Tadmore.”

  Pari plunked her slim body on a stool. “I thought I would cry when he wouldn’t even allow us to stop for a few hours at the bazaars of Babylonia. It was sunset by the time we arrived and the sun had barely risen when we left. My first journey to Babylonia and the only thing I saw was the barest hint of the temple of Marduk from a great distance. I couldn’t even purchase a handkerchief as a keepsake.”

  Sarah gave a wan smile. “Perhaps on our way back we shall have time to dawdle and shop.”

  “I doubt it.”

  Sarah felt a jolt at the sound of Darius’s voice. He leapt from the back of his giant horse into the moving cart, his movements as lithe as a young wolf’s.

  “My lord.” Sarah stood, holding on to a corner post before giving her husband a formal bow. Darius had fallen into the habit of stopping by every day for a short visit. He even deigned to speak to her, although his manner remained painfully distant. Gone was any display of tenderness. Gone were the playful remarks that brought quick laughter between them. Gone was any form of intimate warmth. Sarah did not understand why he bothered to visit her given the fact that he clearly did not enjoy her company.

  He remained near the entrance of the cart, his posture stiff. “We are nearing Tadmore. We should be there in less than a week.”

  “So I have heard. It’s an amazing feat, how far you and Nehemiah have managed to bring us in such a short time.”

  “Artaxerxes’ letters to the governors of the region helped. Once we were west of the Euphrates River, many a ruler would have delayed us upon discovering our destination. No one dares to displease the king, however.”

  “Or his soldiers. I think the leader of every region we travelled through made up his mind not to make trouble for us before he saw Nehemiah’s letters from the king. One look at you and your men and they became as friendly as a shepherd’s dog.”

  Darius brushed at a piece of lint on his tunic. “I will part company with you in Tadmore.”

  Sarah’s stomach gave a somersault. “With me?”

  Darius’s cheeks turned ruddy. “With the whole convoy, I mean. I go to Damascus, but the rest of you will proceed west to Lebanon to meet with Asaph, the keeper of the king’s forests. We have already sent him a message so that he will have the timber Nehemiah needs ready for collection. From there, you will proceed to Jerusalem via secondary roads.”

  “I see. You will not come with us to Lebanon?”

  “I must deal with this plot against the king. Nehemiah has more than adequate protection in the men I leave with him. Lysander shall be in charge of the military escort; he can deal with any trouble that might arise.

  “I am certain that a number of the rulers we met in the Trans-Euphrates have already sent messages to their allies near Judah, warning them of Nehemiah’s arrival. There will be no end of trouble.”

  “Does Nehemiah know?”

  “Of course. The politics of this region are more familiar to him than to me. But foreknowledge is not enough to protect you. The situation remains volatile and dangerous. I have given Lysander instructions regarding your protection, Sarah. You will continue to have a detail of guards on the road, as well as later when you arrive in Jerusalem. I don’t relish having to deal with a hostage situation. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, my lord. I will go nowhere without my guards.”

  �
�Good.” He nodded once and hesitated, as if there was more he wished to say. Slowly, he reached out a hand toward her. Sarah held her breath. But the hand dropped with an awkward motion before it reached her. Without wasting time on common pleasantries or leave-taking, he jumped out of the cart with the same ease that he had hurtled into it.

  Pari stared out into the bright day for a moment before putting a gentle arm around Sarah’s waist. “He won’t stay angry forever.”

  Sarah splayed her palms on her belly. She felt its emptiness like an unspoken indictment. “You underestimate my husband.”

  Sarah’s life changed when they arrived in Tadmore. In the morning she waited for Darius to come and bid her goodbye. She did not expect a display of tenderness or kind words. She did, however, expect the formality of a leave-taking. He did not come. Knowing he was riding into danger, knowing that he might never see her again, he did not come.

  Hurriedly, Sarah put on a loose garment and covered her hair with a cinnamon-colored scarf and ran to the road, worried she might miss him altogether. She felt too shy to force her company on him. Hiding behind Lysander’s wide shoulders, she listened as Darius gave his final orders. His words flowed over her like a shower of meaningless sound. She could not make sense of them. She could make sense of nothing save that he was leaving.

  He noticed her as he came forward to place a hand on Lysander’s arm. Their eyes locked. In the early morning light, the black pupils of his eyes had contracted to tiny pinpoints so that the irises looked like green jewels—shiny, brittle, and ice-cold. Then he looked away and mounted his horse without a word. He did not look back—not once. Sarah lingered, gazing at his retreating back until he disappeared over the horizon, the sand whipping around his horse’s hooves, Niq, Nassir, Arta, and Meres barely keeping up with him.

  The convoy remained in Tadmore for three extra days, replenishing supplies and resting the animals. On the evening of the third day, Sarah was outside helping Nehemiah with some light record-keeping when a wave of weakness overcame her. Lysander happened to be standing near her; for a moment Sarah’s knees buckled so that she half crashed into him. He whipped his face toward her. With the ease of athletic reflexes, he held her up.

  She pulled away. “I beg your pardon. It’s the heat. Sometimes it overcomes me.”

  “I doubt it. Lady Sarah, I need to examine you.”

  “A cool glass of water and I shall be restored. You need not worry.”

  “I don’t believe water will cure what ails you. Come. Is your maid in your room at the inn?”

  “Yes. But I don’t see why this is necessary.”

  “Oh, it’s necessary. Believe me.”

  Lysander leaned back after covering Sarah with the sheet again. He looked pale. For the first time Sarah began to feel an inkling of fear.

  “What’s wrong with me?”

  “Nothing. You are in perfect health.” There was a slight tremor in his voice. He shoved his hand through his flaxen hair and shook his head. “You see … well. I have some news.”

  Pari sank next to Sarah. “What is it? Will you spit it out, man?”

  “My lady, you are pregnant.”

  “What?” Pari’s voice mingled with her own as they stared wide-eyed at Lysander.

  Sarah swallowed. “Were you mistaken when you said I had miscarried?”

  “No. I was right about that.”

  “I can assure you I could not have conceived since.”

  “I believe you were pregnant with twins. It’s the only explanation. You lost one of the babes. But the other has been flourishing in your womb. You must be about five months along. When you collapsed against me earlier, the idea seized me with sudden conviction. Your continued struggle with nausea, your lingering tiredness, the interruption of your cycle—they all pointed to one conclusion: that you must still be pregnant.”

  Sarah turned to her friend and saw a reflection of her own shock in Pari’s face. They were too overcome to say anything for long moments.

  “Are you certain?” Sarah croaked. “I mean—could you be mistaken? Perhaps I’m simply fat. That’s what I thought.”

  Lysander shook his head. “There’s no mistake. I am confident you are with child. The babe may be small. You don’t show as much as other women at this stage. He will make his presence unmistakable in the next few weeks, no doubt.”

  Slowly, Lysander’s incredible news began to sink its way into Sarah’s benumbed heart. A flood of emotions overcame her. Joy. Astonishment. Doubt. Longing. Hope. Fear. Regret. There was such a tangle of feelings that she could not make sense of them. A babe grew within her. She was still pregnant. In four months, she would hold her child, wailing and squirming, in her arms. She had lost one child. Then against all expectation, against all reason, she had gained another.

  God be praised … God be praised … God be praised … God be praised …

  She began to laugh, overcome. Tears mingled with the laughter. Pari enfolded her in her long arms and the sound of their joy and weeping filled the room. When she had spent the last of her strength, Sarah looked up. Lysander stood near the door, pulling on his ear with an awkward repeated motion. Sarah wanted to run and grasp him in a sisterly embrace of jubilation, but she doubted he would welcome it. As it was, he appeared desperate to leave the room and escape the bubbling over of feminine sentimentality.

  She realized that the person she truly wished to embrace in that moment was her husband. To share with him this unexpected joy and celebrate the miracle of the child they had made together. The desire was so strong that she would have jumped on the back of a horse and chased after him if she were not concerned for the well-being of her child.

  “If only Darius knew,” she said, springing up from the bed. “I did not tell him the first time. I wish I could tell him this very instant that he is going to be a father. I could write him a letter, couldn’t I?”

  The Greek shrugged. “It would be too dangerous to put that kind of news in a written message. If it fell into the wrong hands, your safety would be compromised. We assume that Darius’s mission remains secret from the king’s enemy, but we cannot be certain. If he has uncovered Darius’s true intentions, the knowledge that his pregnant wife is within easy reach could prove too tempting, leading into a thorny hostage situation. Best you wait until he returns.” He turned to leave.

  “Lysander!” Sarah cried.

  “Yes, my lady?”

  “You are sure? Positive? I am truly with child?”

  The pale blue eyes crinkled in the corners. “I would stake my life on it. You need have no worry on that score.”

  God be praised … God be praised … God be praised … God be praised … And yet, while her joy grew explosively, Sarah also felt a deeper ache for the baby she had lost. To have the one did not wipe away the grief of the other.

  By the time they arrived in Lebanon, Sarah’s battle with nausea faded, restoring her to a vitality she had not enjoyed for four months. They intended to collect an enormous shipment of timber from Asaph, the keeper of the king’s forests. Nehemiah came to visit Sarah on the afternoon they were to meet with Asaph.

  “I need a competent scribe, Sarah. Someone has to keep accurate records of that timber. Are you well enough to accompany me and help?”

  “I am feeling in excellent health, Cousin Nehemiah. Thank you.” Sarah found herself at a quandary. She wanted Darius to be the first to find out about her pregnancy. But given the rapid expansion of her stomach and his prolonged absence, she could not hide this secret for long. In addition, she could not receive a commission from Nehemiah without letting him know of the added complexity and risks that were involved with her condition. If he wished her to work for him, he deserved to know. She prayed that Darius would find no offence in her decision. That he would not feel left out once again.

  “I do have a surprise that I must share with you, my lord. You will find out for yourself soon enough; there will be no hiding this. I am with child.”

  The bro
wn eyes widened; the dark red eyebrows raised so high they almost touched his hairline. Sarah could barely keep herself from laughing out loud at his utter astonishment.

  “You are with child again?”

  “I am with child still. Lysander thinks I was carrying twins. I lost one, but the other is healthy. I’m about five months along.”

  “I … I did not notice.”

  “Neither did I, if that is any comfort to you. I just thought I was growing fat.”

  Nehemiah pulled on his beard and made a noncommittal noise. “The Lord is merciful!”

  “Words cannot capture my thankfulness. He has blessed me with His goodness.”

  “Does your husband know?”

  “No. I found out after he left.”

  “We best let you rest then. He would never forgive me if I put you to work now.”

  “I can do light record-keeping. It will be good for me to occupy my mind with beneficial things. I worry about Darius when I have nothing to do.”

  Nehemiah finally gave in and assigned several tasks to Sarah. With the knowledge of her pregnancy buoying her spirits, and work she enjoyed, she began to feel she could face life again. Not a day went by that she did not miss Darius. His absence ate at her like a bleeding wound. If they had not parted in such grave disharmony, she would have borne their separation better. As it was, she wondered if even knowing that she carried his child would soften his heart toward her. Once, she had hoped that he would come to love her. Now she wondered if he would stop hating her.

  She spent long hours in prayer, like in the days she had first come to the Lord. He grew more real to her than Jerusalem itself.

  Joy and grief settled in her soul like uneasy housemates. Guilt ate at her when she felt happy, for it seemed obscene that she should experience so much joy when she had lost a child, and when her husband seemed to have abandoned her.