The men exchanged a few glances, a few whispers. And, if he were not mistaken, a few smiles of glee.
Not fond of her, then. He had expected as much.
The eldest, Memucan, stepped forward. “How harsh does the king wish to be?”
He clenched his teeth, swallowed, and forced himself to relax. “The king would see her killed, were it not for the children we share and the one even now growing in her womb. For their sakes, and only for their sakes, do I wish to spare her life. There must be a punishment less than death but still severe.”
Memucan looked to another of the advisers with raised brows. At the answering nod, he said, “The queen has indeed done a great wrong, not only against the king, but against all of Persia and Media. For when the queen disobeys her husband, why should any woman in the empire obey theirs?
“If it pleases the king, she could be deposed. Knowing the queen as we all do, that may be harsher than death to her. The king could send out a royal decree and let it be written in the law, that the queen is never again to enter the presence of the great Xerxes. Let her crown be given to one more deserving.”
Xerxes’ lips tugged up. Losing her power would indeed be worse than death to Amestris. Yet it would spare his children the grief of losing a mother.
“This pleases the king very much. Write up the decree this very hour, and at first light it shall be sent out to every province in its own language. Let the world know that Amestris is queen no more.”
There would probably be dancing in many a street.
Memucan bowed. “It will be done as the king says. And in her place, who will you name? One of your other wives?”
“Father.” Darius stepped near, a line of worry between his brows. “You can take away her crown, but her power will not be easily negated. Whomever you appointed in her place would be dead before she could feel the weight of the crown upon her head.”
Xerxes smiled. “It is a wise son who knows his mother so well. Let it be enough for now that she is removed. Another queen can be named when we return triumphant from Greece. There is no rush—I have my heir already.”
Memucan and the other six bowed out to prepare the proclamation. Darius drew in a long breath. “Thank you, Father, for sparing her. I know she is a hard woman to love, but she is my mother.”
“I am not the one to thank. Letting her live will undoubtedly prove as troublesome as the canal at Mount Athos, as you yourself pointed out.”
His son acknowledged that truth with a glance over Xerxes’ shoulder. “I will use what influence I have with her to caution her against riling your anger any more.”
“I suggest you go to her now and keep her from anything rash when my decision reaches her ear.”
“Yes, Father.” Darius sped from the room.
Xerxes looked to Masistes. “Brother, bid our guests good night. You may tell them I am busy seeing justice done for the queen’s crime.”
“It is my honor to carry out your will.” Masistes left, too.
Xerxes turned back to Kasia. “My son is right about Amestris’s response, and not only for whomever I name the next queen. She will know that my anger is kindled largely on your behalf and will blame you for this.”
Kasia pressed her lips together. He read no fear in her eyes, only sorrow.“I am sorry to bring you such trouble.”
“It is no fault of yours.” He tugged her closer so that he could rest his cheek against her hair. “I will have her removed to Persepolis as soon as possible. In the meantime you must exercise the greatest caution.”
“I will. But there is no need to fear, my love. Jehovah has delivered me from her schemes this day, and I feel peace in my spirit that he will continue to protect me.” Her arms slipped around him.
He stroked his hand along the glossy locks that tumbled down her back. “Your God is responsible for your being spared?”
She hummed. “The moment Leda brought in my meal, I felt the most urgent need to pray. I decided to fast and turn my heart toward Jehovah. He saved me.”
“And when I came in? I thought the lot of you slain. Were you praying more?”
“In thanks, and for the larger situation. And for the dog.”
“The . . .” He glanced around the room. Sure enough, one of the guard dogs lay on a fine rug in the corner, its breathing heavy. He assumed it was the unfortunate beast given some of her food. “You bother your God with concern for a dog?”
“I could not stand the thought of it dying in my stead. I think it will recover, though, it only had a bite.”
Xerxes shook his head. “What a strange creature I have fallen in love with.”
She stretched up and bestowed a sweet kiss upon his lips. “You ought to get to your new bride. She will be anxious.”
Was there a more bizarre woman in the world? One more baffling? More perfect? He cradled her head and gazed deep into her eyes. “Given the events still unfolding, it would be fairer to see her first another night. I will send her my apologies and make sure the situation is explained.”
“Xerxes . . .”
He silenced her with a kiss. Then pulled off the torc he had slipped on and held it between them. “I believe this is yours.”
She stared at it. “I cannot. It was a gift to you.”
“And so I ought not to have given it away two weeks ago. I would have apologized for forgetting its source, had she approached me privately. Things have changed. It is yours.” He slid it up her arm, as he had done at the river. Now, as then, desire filled her eyes. Desire that had nothing to do with the silver. “You will come with me, my love, lest treachery visit this room again. I will see with my own eyes that you remain safe until the viper is out of my house.”
Kasia nodded and tucked herself against his side.
Why could the rest of the world not agree with his will so readily?
Twelve
Anger mixed with fear on Amestris’s tongue when Darius stole to her side. His face spoke much, though his lips remained pressed together. Bile rose in her throat. “My son?”
Darius sat and silently took her hand. She had not seen him look so stricken since he received the news of his grandfather’s death three years earlier. He turned his head toward the entrance to the hall. Amestris followed his gaze and sucked in a sharp breath when Memucan entered, flanked by the other six highest officials.
She gripped her son’s hand. “What is this?”
“You must have known he would retaliate, Mother,” Darius murmured. “You cannot disobey him before such an assembly and hope he will overlook it.”
Her chin tilted up. “It is he who has done wrong.”
When had her eldest son’s gaze become capable of such hardness? “When one rules the world, one is never wrong. He is the king of kings.”
Memucan held up his arms, and the chattering women fell silent. His eyes scanned the crowd before coming to a rest on her.
The pompous old man. She had never liked him, and she knew he took pleasure in whatever punishment he would now hand down. Amestris reclaimed her hand from Darius and folded her arms over her chest.
“A grave crime has been committed tonight.” Memucan lowered his arms and glared at her. “You all bore witness to it. The king sent for Amestris, and she refused him with words bitter and angry. Such offense is not to be suffered in the courts of Xerxes. Let all the world know that each man will remain ruler of his household and this woman called Amestris is hereby stripped of her crown. She is never again to enter the presence of King Xerxes, and her position will be given to another. One more deserving.”
Amestris rose, wondering that she did not explode into pieces, given the way she shook. “No.” Her voice came out as no more than a murmur, weak and incredulous. “He cannot. He cannot do this to me.”
The women, who had spent years currying her favor, had sought her smile and feared her wrath, looked at her with horror. On her behalf? No, they were horrified by her.
By her! She sucked in a breath, ready to spe
w venom at the first shrew who dared speak against her.
None did. With the silence of death, they all stood and, without so much as looking over their shoulders, strode from the room.
Her fingers curled into her palms. Never could these backbiters agree on anything, never could they work in harmony. Yet now, in her hour of need, they united against her?
She narrowed her gaze on the wife of her husband’s brother. “Parsisa. Do you dare leave your queen’s presence without permission? I have not dismissed this feast.”
The woman stopped but did not turn around. She moved only her face to present her profile. “You are not my queen.”
Amestris sputtered, lunged, but Darius caught her and held her captive. She shoved at him, cursed the sting of tears.
Crying was for the weak. For other women. Not for her.
“Mother—”
“He cannot do this to me. How could you let him do this, Darius?”
He set her back on her feet with a sigh, though he did not release her shoulders. “You are fortunate he did not order your death.”
Her blood ran cold. “He would not dare, not with his babe in my stomach.”
“An argument that only convinced him to stay your execution until after the birth.” Looking weary, Darius dropped his hands. “You have the Jewess to thank for your life. It was her words, not mine, that convinced him to spare you.”
“The Jewess?” Her voice sounded hollow to her own ears. The Jewess could not possibly still be alive. She had ordered enough hemlock in her meal to fell five, no matter which of the dishes she chose.
Darius lifted a brow. “Apparently she was more given to prayer than hunger this night. For which you ought to thank the god. Had your scheme succeeded, nothing would have averted Father’s wrath. He would have killed you with his own hands, babe or no babe.”
Amestris stumbled back and sank onto her couch. This was not the world she knew. It did not obey the rules she had mastered, did not track the path through the heavens she had planned for. “He has taken it all. My crown, my power, my friends.”
Darius sat beside her. “It is not as bad as it seems, Mother. Father has promised to name me his successor in a few days’ time. When I am king you will be the queen mother, whether you hold the title now or not.”
She straightened, forced her gaze to focus on her son’s face. “You are right. He cannot wrest from my hands the power I forged with them. He can take his authority. But not my own.”
Why did Darius look saddened? He patted her hand, drew in a long breath. “You will rally. Just promise me, Mother, you will cause no more trouble. I know this concubine distresses you. I know you are angry. But if you try Father more, I fear nothing will keep him from ordering your execution. Please—for your children’s sakes, control your temper.”
She watched the face of this eldest son, glanced beyond him in time to see a smaller figure dart away. Hystaspes, undoubtedly spying as usual. He too, then, would have seen his mother’s disgrace firsthand.
What choice did she have? Darius was right. Her day would come again, but not while Xerxes sat on the throne. She would have to be careful, sly as a serpent, until he could be removed. “Of course, my son. I promise. I will not try him again.”
Not yet.
~*~
Zechariah tilted the chair so that the sun caught the engraving he had chiseled. Nearly perfect. Nearly. One more tap. . . . He positioned the chisel, reached for the hammer. Halted at the sound of heavy footsteps nearing the door.
Abba’s grumble told him Persians entered the shop. Zechariah put down his tools and stood to intercept them before his father could scare them off. His smile wavered when he saw clothing peculiar to the palace servants. Had something happened to Kasia?
He cleared his throat. “Good morning. How might I help you?”
One of the men extended a tablet with cuneiform script. “An order from the palace of Xerxes. A table and two chairs. The table is to be engraved with lilies. One of the chairs ought to be of a height for a woman at a loom.”
Zechariah took the tablet and glanced at the writing. Abba had made him learn cuneiform so that he would not have to. His eyes widened at the price promised for the pieces. “Certainly.”
Abba stepped up behind him. “Tell them to leave.” He spoke in low Hebrew.
Zechariah turned his head and answered in the same. “These are feminine pieces.”
His father obviously understood his meaning. Abba faced the Persians. “May we know for whom they are intended? We would tailor our work to suit the recipient.”
The servant smiled. “The king’s favorite concubine. If possible, she would have them before the king’s house leaves Susa in a fortnight.”
Zechariah’s breath hitched. His sister was a favorite of the king? An odd thought. Odder still to think that in a few weeks she would leave the only city they had ever known. Headed where? To the magnificent ceremonial capital of Persepolis? Or perhaps one of the other two capital cities? Pasargadae? Ecbatana?
So far from home. From family.
How unfair that Kasia, who never wanted anything but a house full of children, got to see the world while he was stuck here in Susa. He said quietly to his father, “It has to be her. Would you deny her something to remember us by, something carved by her father’s hand?”
Abba sighed.
The second servant turned from examining some of their completed pieces and held out another tablet. “From the king—orders enough to keep you busy for several years. He wishes all new furnishings for his personal palace, both here and in Persepolis.”
Abba stared at the tablet without taking it. “Why would the king commission so much when he has never seen my work?”
The servant arched a brow. “He sees it now, through me. I was authorized to offer this only if I approved.”
“Take it,” Zechariah urged in Hebrew. “Surely you know what this would mean.”
Abba’s nostrils flared. “It is a bribe, that is all.”
The first servant lifted a brow. “You are mistaken.” Zechariah’s mouth fell open at the Hebrew words. Was this man a Jew, then, or just well educated? “It is a man wanting to please the wife he loves and help provide for her family. Is that not a noble thing for a son by marriage to do? Is it not in keeping with the Law?”
Abba blinked rapidly. “How would you know he loves her?”
The man smiled. “Her chief servant chose me to come here because I am a Jew. He told me many things about your daughter, so that I might answer your questions. He assures me none have ever seen the king show such favor as he has for her. And she, in turn, wishes you to know that though she misses you all, she is happy with her husband.”
Abba loosed a blustery breath. “Why did you not deliver these messages to begin with, man, instead of acting as though you did not understand us and knew not who sent you?”
“I was cautioned that only a few members of the family knew the truth of the situation, and that I was not to speak of her identity to anyone who thought her dead.” He shrugged an apology. “I only respect your decision for secrecy.”
Abba grunted but took the second tablet. “We will have the first pieces done before they leave. Are you able to carry a message back?”
The servant nodded, and Zechariah lifted his brows. Abba had not mentioned Kasia as though she were alive until now. What would he say to her?
Abba reached up and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Tell her we pray for her.”
“I will. Good day to you both.”
Zechariah watched the two men leave and turned to his father. “I am nearly done this chair for Bijan. I can get started on the table within the hour.”
Abba put the tablet down and moved to the corner, where he kept his best wood. “You will have to work on all three of those pieces, my son.”
“Will you start on the others already? These are more pressing.” He had not asked for the tablet to be translated, though, so how would he even know w
hat the king had requested?
“No. There is something else more pressing still.” Abba lifted out a few lengths of cedar. A ghost of a smile haunted his mouth. “Something more special than a table or a chair. You can handle those, can you not?”
“Of course.” He wanted to ask his father what the “more special” piece was, but he would wait and see. Abba had that closed-mouthed look about him.
Zechariah picked up the second tablet. His breath leaked out as he read item after item that the king wanted made, the details for each and the price he would pay.
Enough to keep them busy for years to come. Enough to feed the family long after they finished.
Enough to guarantee his father would never allow him to leave with the army. Even with two of them, it would be difficult to complete all this in the amount of time the king had designated.
Time for his brother Joshua to learn the trade. Zechariah had hinted all year that Abba ought to bring him to the shop, but he had been ignored—probably because his father knew well he only wanted to train a replacement.
Things had changed. The great Xerxes may take Kasia away to places unknown, but he had effectively shackled Zechariah to Susa. He would have to resign himself, would have to shoulder the responsibility without complaint.
He would focus on the blessing Kasia had sent them. He would rejoice in what this meant for his brothers, who would now have ample opportunity, for his sisters, who would now have dowries to ensure good marriages. He would be glad. He would.
If only his soul would not yearn for what could never be.
~*~
“Is that all?”
Mordecai glanced down at the scroll in his hands and nodded. “It is. Thank you, my king, for taking the time to share your wisdom with your servant. I will make your judgements known.”
He rolled the parchment up again and bowed. Only twice a year did he go before the king to present the cases that could not be handled by lower officials—once when the royal house first arrived in Susa, and once before they left. This time he had wondered if the king would be distracted, given what had so recently transpired with the queen, but he had seen no difference in his behavior. Had he not heard the decree himself, he never would have guessed that this man had just deposed his first wife.
Jewel of Persia Page 11