Jewel of Persia

by White, Roseanna M.

  She knelt beside the chest, and Xerxes crouched beside her. The designs any eye could appreciate; the inscriptions were in Hebrew. “And the Lord went before them . . .”

  One hand still on the wood, she turned her face into Xerxes’ shoulder. She took a moment to regulate her breathing, then looked up at him. “Do they meet with your approval, my love?”

  “I certainly hope so, given that I already commissioned enough to keep your father and brother busy for the next five years.”

  She blinked back tears that glistened like diamonds. “You did?”

  “When we return, lovely Kasia, you will see the work of your father’s hand everywhere you turn.”

  The droplets spilled over onto her flawless cheeks. “How is it that a poor Jewish girl ended up the wife of a man so generous? You cannot know how I love you.”

  Words more precious than all the gold and jewels in Persia.

  Fourteen

  Outside Celaenae, Phrygia

  Eighteen months later, in the fifth year of the reign of Xerxes

  Kasia cuddled the babe close and pressed a kiss to his downy head. The tiny boy, only three months old, yawned and stretched one arm before nestling in. His complacency made her smile.

  Zad stretched out beside her as she lounged against the cushions in her tent. All in all a peaceful place, this nomadic home of hers. Not that she would complain when they reached Sardis and she could enjoy the comfort of a bed again.

  Desma crouched down to tickle the infant’s foot. “Shall we play for you, mistress?”

  “Please.”

  “Mistress.” Theron stepped inside from his post at the exit, a frown on his brows. “Diona comes.”

  “Perhaps she forgot something?” Mindful of the baby, Kasia rolled onto her feet and stepped over the lazy dog.

  The other concubine fluttered in, hands in the air. “He is raging again. I cannot abide it, Kasia, my nerves are too frayed.” Diona lifted her copper curls from her forehead. “I could hear him bellowing from half a stade away.”

  Kasia chuckled and bounced the babe gently. “You know well our husband will not take his anger out on you.”

  “I know even better he will not take it out on you.” Diona stretched out her arms. “Please? Will you go instead?”

  With a sigh, Kasia relinquished her friend’s son. “I thought you wanted a quiet night.”

  “Which I will obviously not get with our husband. This wee one has come by his screaming naturally.”

  She bit her lip to hold back a grin. “You know I never mind spending time with Xerxes, but he did call you.”

  Diona rolled her eyes, green as the hills of Phrygia. “Only because he thought you still unwell. Go, please. I shall be in your debt.”

  “Nonsense.” When her maids stood, she motioned them back down. “Stay and rest. Theron will see me safely there.”

  “Oh, thank you.” Diona walked out into the twilight with her, where slaves waited to see her back to the tent she shared with Lalasa and the three children they had between them.

  Kasia raised her hand in farewell and took her place beside Theron. Xerxes’ tent resided at the head of the procession that stretched for miles. Diona was right—his shouting was audible from a good distance, and his choice of words made Kasia shake her head. A few engineers scurried out as she drew near—the unlucky recipients of her husband’s wrath. She entered as he tossed a frayed rope to the ground.

  The other concubines always thought her mad for grinning at such a display. “Has the rope dared to offend the king of kings? Shall I stomp on it for you, for good measure?”

  Xerxes spun around, and the light of anger in his eyes shifted to one of amusement. “Would you? The touch of your lovely foot may convince it to hold fast when it would like to break.”

  “Perhaps it would. It does seem the ground gets greener, the more I tread on it, undoubtedly due to the power of my lovely feet.”

  He laughed and gathered her into his arms. “Such phenomena has nothing to do with leaving the desert?”

  “Nothing at all.”

  After one long kiss, he pulled away with narrowed eyes. “I sent for Diona.”

  “And scared her off with your bellowing.” She poked a finger into his chest. “You will have all the world talking of your temper.”

  “I would not lose it so much if people were competent once in a while.” He sighed, and the tension left his shoulders. “You are feeling better? You looked quite ill this morning.”

  “It passed.”

  “Excellent.”

  She drew in a deep breath. “Though I imagine it will return on the morrow.”

  For a moment he only stared at her. Then the fear-saturated sorrow overtook his countenance. “Not again.”

  “It will be all right.” She rested her forearms against his torso and patted his chest. “I am already farther along than the other times. This one will hold.”

  Xerxes shook his head, his nostrils flaring. “You cannot know how it kills me to watch you go through this time and again, Kasia. The hope, the joy. The pain. I ought to be flayed for my part in it all—were I a stronger man, I would never touch you again.”

  He had threatened as much after the third miscarriage. “Shall I leave?”

  When she feigned pulling away, he growled and held her captive. Just as she had known he would. “The damage is already done.”

  She smacked his arm. “A baby is not damage, Xerxes!”

  “But the loss of one is.”

  Irritation tickled her chest, but it faded when she looked into his eyes. Each pain had struck him as acutely as it had her, if for different reasons. He could not understand the loss of hope—he was not a woman, and he had so many children already. But he grieved with her. He soothed each tear, held her through each dark night.

  She brushed her hand over his cheek. “Why mourn for a child who is healthy and whole in my womb? Whatever the reason I could not carry beyond a few weeks before, this is different. It is.”

  “Let us pray so. I confess part of me hoped you would never conceive again. I know you long for a child of your own, but more than another son I need you. And I fear that one of these miscarriages will take you along with our babe.”

  “At the risk of sounding treasonous, my love, I do not want a baby because you need ever-more sons. You can hardly keep count of the ones you have already. But I need a child.”

  He dropped his arms and spun away. It may have irritated her except that he turned back with a shawl and draped it over her arms. She had not even noticed her goosebumps.

  Xerxes sent her a tight-lipped stare that always made others run for cover. “Why, then? Because of that ridiculous warning I issued your first week with me? That your future will be insecure without them? I promise you, Kasia, you will be taken care of. I will give you a city—ten cities to guarantee it.”

  “You are always so generous with your cities.” She pulled the fabric up over her shoulders and breathed in the faint scent of myrrh. “It is not that. I need a little one to love.”

  Though he grumbled, he put his arm around her and led her to the lavish lounge area his servants set up each night. “Perhaps it will help that we will not be traveling much longer. You can grow large in Sardis while we wait out the winter.”

  “See? All will be well.” She grinned and settled into her usual spot against a large pillow.

  Xerxes sat beside her and nodded at his servants. They rolled up a corner of the tent and secured it.

  Hills undulated into distant mountains, creating a vista strange and beautiful. As they marched, the golds and bronzes and coppers she knew gave way to waving amber grasses, trees large and green without the help of irrigation canals, and those mountains looming emerald before them. Beautiful . . . but still she missed Susa.

  Xerxes tucked her to his side and rested his head against hers. Neither spoke. Not now, while they waited for the crimson streaks of sun to fade from the sky, for the rich shadows to drape over the
mountains. They cuddled close and watched the heavens for the first prick of diamond light.

  “There,” he whispered in her ear, indicating a place she had looked at a minute earlier and found empty. Now a single point of brilliance shone.

  Her lips pulled up. Be with Esther, Lord Jehovah. Wherever she is, whatever she does, bless her. May she shine like the star after which she is called.

  As if he knew exactly when her silent prayer had ended, Xerxes motioned for the tent to be lowered into place, tilted back her head, and kissed her until the servants left them alone.

  ~*~

  Xerxes could not withhold a smile when he looked down the hill behind him. His army stretched along the road as far as the eye could see. Had a greater force ever been assembled in all of mankind? If so, he had never heard of it. Surely there were more than a million soldiers—it took them over a week to march past any given point.

  Celaenae was within sight, and a small group moved toward them on the road. When Masistes and Haman reined in beside him, he arched a brow. “Who is that, do you know?”

  Masistes nodded. “That is why we searched you out. It is Pythius, the richest man in Lydia. I have been told his wealth is second in the world only to yours.”

  “Interesting.” Why had he heard no mention of the man until now? “What does he want?”

  Haman inclined his head. “To offer hospitality to you and your army.”

  Xerxes grinned. “Well then. Let us meet him. Wait—I will fetch Kasia first, so that she might rest in comfort the sooner.”

  “She looks unwell again today.”

  And when had Masistes seen her? Xerxes’ fingers tightened on the reins. “She is with child.”

  “Again?” Masistes shook his head. “You test the god, brother. So many miscarriages cannot be good for a woman’s body. If you want to preserve her life, you may have to be content with others to warm your bed.”

  A knot of fear cinched tight in his stomach. Did his brother think he had not considered that? His resolve hardened after each bout of pain and tears . . . but when she was in his arms, he forgot everything but the love surging through him. No one could ignite his passion like Kasia. When he could not touch her, it felt as though the sun had been snuffed out.

  “She assures me that she is already farther along than she has made it before.”

  His brother looked unconvinced. “I just took Parsisa and Artaynte to her wagon. They have both spoken to me of their concern for her.”

  That at least explained how Masistes knew of her appearance today. “They cannot be more concerned than I. Ask them to pray.”

  “They have been, I am sure.”

  Together they turned toward the first wagon nestled within the safety of the Persian ranks. His, though everyone had come to think of it as hers. Which suited him nicely.

  Ferocious barking issued from within. Xerxes grinned when both friend and brother held back with matching scowls.

  Masistes shook his head. “You should have kept her from making a pet of that beast, my lord. It was a guard dog.”

  “And still is. Now he guards Kasia instead of the palace. Down, Zad.”

  A grey nose poked out of the wagon, and the dog acknowledged him with a happy loll of his tongue. Xerxes urged his horse alongside so he could scratch Zad behind the ears and look into the opening. Kasia offered a tight smile, but her face lacked color and her hand pressed against her stomach.

  The knot rose to his throat, but he forced it back down. He refused to fear the child growing inside her would steal her from him before it drew its first breath. “Good news, my love. It seems there is a man headed our way to offer us his hospitality.”

  A measure of relief settled onto her countenance. “Wonderful. We are almost to Celaenae?”

  “It will be visible when you crest the hill.” He turned to address the driver. “Pull out of rank and come ahead with us. We will all meet this Pythius together.”

  “Yes, master.”

  After another smile aimed at Kasia, he urged his horse ahead of the wagon so that they might cut a swath through the surrounding army. A moment later he stood at the top of the hill yet again, where his personal entourage joined him. They would make an impressive picture as they moved down the hill—his commanders flanked him, his advisors and slaves formed rows behind, the wagon followed. Then the vast sea of soldiers, armed and ready to teach Greece what happened to those who opposed Persia.

  When Xerxes lifted his hand, they started forward at a sedate, regal pace. The breeze picked up, and his standard snapped taut, then fluttered.

  One man parted from the rest as they drew near. He looked the same age Xerxes’ father would have been, with a mane of glistening silver hair and the broad shoulders of a warrior.

  “This is Pythius?” He put his question to one of the advisers behind him.

  “Yes, master. He is the one who sent your father Darius the gold plane-tree and vine.”

  He nodded and moved a step ahead of his companions. Pythius reined his horse to a halt and jumped down. By the time Xerxes reached him, he knelt with head bowed.

  Xerxes’ horse pranced. “Pythius of Lydia?”

  “Your humble servant, my king.”

  His humble servant had a voice as deep and rich as the gold collar draping his neck. A man of means, indeed. “Rise. I hear you were a friend of my father’s.”

  Pythius stood and looked up at him. “It was my great honor to know him, and it is with gratitude to the gods that I now welcome you. If it pleases you, my lord, I have a feast ready for you and your companions, and provisions for the whole of your army as they arrive.”

  “I accept with delight. Would you ride beside me into the city?”

  “My servants shall lead the way.” Pythius swung onto his horse and turned it around. “I have been awaiting your army with eagerness, as have my brothers and sons. I hope you have room in your numbers for those we would add to it.”

  The chuckle eased some of the tension in his chest. “There is always room for more, my friend.”

  A wide smile creased Pythius’s face. “I have heard that some of you have wives and children with you. My wife wishes me to assure you that she has made preparations for them as well, both at Celaenae and Sardis.”

  “Excellent. We have been away from our homes for nearly eighteen months already, surveying and gathering the troops. I know they will all be grateful for the chance to rest in luxury once again.”

  “Of course.” Pythius’s dark eyes glinted with curiosity and excitement. “We have heard of your progress with the bridge, my lord—it is astounding. And the tales of the canal! I can barely fathom the amount of thought and preparation you, in your wisdom, have put into this expedition.”

  Xerxes nodded and breathed in deeply of the sweet air. “I have many wise advisers who have helped me ensure this conquest will be remembered for all time.”

  “I am proud to be one of the first to offer you assistance. Were I a few years younger, I would ask for a command.” Pythius squared his shoulders, raised his chin, and met Xerxes’ gaze. “Since I have not youth, I will offer what I do have. All that I possess, my king, I wish to give to you to fund this great war.”

  Xerxes knew his surprise must show on his face. “All that you possess? But my friend, it is my understanding you have much—and those who do are usually loath to part with it.”

  “It is true I am wealthy. But what is the purpose of riches, if one does not put them toward a good cause?” He shook his head. “I wish to finance the war. My slaves and farms make enough for me to live on, so all else I give to you. My treasury has four thousand silver talents and is only seven thousand gold Daric staters shy of four million. It is all yours.”

  Astounding. Given the size of his army and all that would be necessary to support them, Xerxes was prepared to demand what he may and take what he must as they traveled. But to have someone offer so much, freely? An auspicious start to his campaign

  “I have neve
r met anyone so generous.” He halted his horse and, when Pythius did the same, reached out to clasp his wrist. “Your hospitality I accept. And to show my gratitude, you may not only keep what you have in your treasury, I will give you the seven thousand staters you need to round it out to the full four million.”

  Pythias swallowed, and his nostrils flared. “You do me unspeakable honor, my king. I will serve you faithfully all the days of my life.”

  “And I will remember your generosity all the days of mine. See that you never change, Pythius, and I will hold you up as a shining example for the rest of mankind to imitate.”

  They started forward again, and Xerxes let his smile bloom full. The god intended greatness for them, and Xerxes intended to seize it. Whatever it took.

  Fifteen

  Susa, Persia

  Zechariah eyed the gold of dawn and held up a hand. He had been here since morning was only a promise on the horizon, but soon all of Susa would rise. “Enough for this morning. I need to get home.”

  His three friends all released tired breaths and stretched.

  Adam groaned. “You are more a slavedriver than Pharaoh of old. You fight as though the Greeks might visit our doors for revenge.”

  Zechariah smiled and strode to the river. The other three plodded along behind him, mumbling and groaning. Zechariah rolled his eyes. He worked them barely half as hard as Bijan had done him, before he left with the rest of the army eighteen months ago. They had no cause for complaint.

  Though the other two said their farewells and started home, Adam dropped to his knees at the riverbank and plunged his head under the water. He brought it up again with a happy sigh. “Better. But if you see me not tomorrow, Zech, assume I have died in the meantime and leave me in peace.”

  Zechariah breathed a laugh and shoved his friend’s shoulder. “You are the one who asked to learn, Adam.”

  “Because I feel myself growing fat as my father, doing nothing but sitting around the house all day pouring wax onto wooden tablets. I would rather be out chopping the wood. Collecting the wax. Moving.”