“Master, the engineers are to blame for this. They—”
“Quiet, Mardonius.” He sliced a hand through the air, tempted to ram it into his cousin’s stomach. “Given that you are the one who had this brilliant idea to march against Greece, I ought to hold you accountable for this failure.”
Mardonius scuttled to the rear of the group.
Masistes cleared his throat. “We will rebuild, my lord—”
“Of course we will rebuild.” As he strode into the cavernous hall, Xerxes grabbed a towering golden pillar and sent it clanging across the floor. The ashes of burnt incense blew through the room. “But I do not have another four years to dedicate to this! How long before the men drink the river dry and descend on the land like a pestilence? We must be out of here by spring, or both the army and the country will suffer famine and drought.”
“Surely a plan can be devised that will allow for quick rebuilding.”
Xerxes spun on Otanes. Usually the man had more brains than his fool of a daughter, but apparently not today. “Do you not think we would have chosen such a plan to begin with, were there one?” He grabbed up a bowl of fruit and sent it flying. It made a satisfying twang when the metal struck stone.“I will give them three months. Three. We cannot afford more.”
A cacophony of arguments sprang up from the men, which only made his vision haze. “If you must squawk like a bunch of birds, do it where I cannot hear you!”
Growling, he turned his back on them and fumed his way to a window. He would have his bridge in three months. He needed to get through Greece and burn Athens to the ground so that he might be in Susa again next year. They could not get stuck in Europe through a winter.
One year. He had one year to teach the arrogant collection of city-states who ruled the world, and he would not be stopped by an overblown rainstorm and the incompetence of slaves.
A cool touch kissed the burning on the back of his neck, and all the fury inside bunched into a knot. Then small, familiar hands rested on his elbows, and the knot unraveled into a mess of limp strands.
Kasia rested her forehead on his back. “What has happened, my love?”
He had no choice but to be soothed by the sweep of her hands up and then down his arms. “My bridge is destroyed. A storm. It is that blasted Hellespont, Kasia, it is set against me.”
“The river?” He could hear the smile in her voice. “Yes, surely the river hates you, the spiteful thing. It must be offended that you would dare to bridge it. You ought to give it a few lashes to teach it a lesson.”
Why could his mouth not keep from twitching up when she was near? “Scribe! Take down a message for those at the Hellespont. Their king orders them to give the river three-hundred lashes with a whip in punishment for its impudence.”
“Xerxes!” Her whisper was both outraged and amused as she jumped around to face him. “You cannot—everyone will think you mad!”
He grinned and took her hands. “It will be cathartic. Besides, most of these nations think the river a god—they will only assume me supremely arrogant, not mad.”
Her eyes sparkled with the amusement he so loved. “You are supremely arrogant. You are rearranging the face of the earth for this war—bridging rivers, digging canals, cleaving mountains in two. Already you claim every person in the empire as your slave—will you subjugate creation too?”
He chuckled and turned his face toward the scribe busily taking down his order. “Add that a pair of manacles should be thrown into the waters.”
His name came out on a laughing groan this time, and she fell against his chest. Xerxes ran a hand up her back and into her mass of midnight hair.
Behind him, a throat cleared. “What of the engineers, master?”
He saw no reason to look at Mardonius or invite him any closer. “They will have to be executed.”
Kasia stiffened and tilted her face up. “My husband . . . are men responsible for a storm?”
She at least kept her words so quiet no one else would hear them. He shook his head. “That area is known for its violent winds, my sweet. They should have taken that into account. The god’s servants may have sent the weather, but it was human error that allowed it to wreak such havoc.”
She nodded, but her eyes filled with tears. Ah, the emotions that went along with pregnancy—they were as tempestuous as the Hellespontine winds.
He tipped her chin up. “My authority is grounded in respect, admiration, and fear—failure must be met with punishment, or no one has incentive for success. It is either punish the thousands who worked on it or the few engineers at the head. Which is the kinder?”
“I know.” She dashed at her eyes. “I am sorry—I cannot think why it upsets me so.”
“I can.” He kissed her forehead and set her away. “Worrying over it cannot be good for you and the babe, my love. Go back to your rooms and rest. I will not rage anymore, I promise.” And now that he mentioned it . . . “Why did you come in here, anyway?”
Kasia gave him a sheepish smile. “Pythius fetched me.”
He chuckled and cupped her cheek. “A wise man, our Lydian friend. His loyalty proves to me that the god did indeed ordain this campaign. Which begs the question of why Ahura Mazda allowed this to happen without warning us.”
Her smile was small and fleeting. “I will pray to Jehovah.”
One of the coals inside fanned into a flame. “You pray to your Jehovah without ceasing, it seems—but he did not warn you of this either, did he? Yet you claim he and he alone controls the entire universe.”
She jerked away with flooding eyes. “He may have formed the river and placed it in a pass that bears forth the winds. He may lift his hand and send out the rain to nourish the crops. But you are the one who chose to cross that river, knowing what storms may come.”
The flame licked through the banked coals in his soul. “Do you dare to lay the blame for this at my feet?”
Anyone else would have cowered in fear, but not his Kasia. She only looked weary and far too pale. The flaming coals burned out quickly.
She shook her head. “I cast no blame. I only wish you would not dismiss Jehovah—or expect him to bend his creation around your will when you care nothing for his.”
He caught her hand again and kissed her palm. “I respect your God, my love. I am sorry I spoke as I did.”
Her gaze darted past him. “I am distracting you. And I am tired. I think I will not appear at the meal tonight, if you consent.”
“Of course. I will dine with you in your chamber then. If you consent.”
Her smile erased a few of the shadows under her eyes. “I would not dare deny the king of kings.”
“Good.” He kissed her hand again. “He gets testy when deprived of your company.”
With the amusement alive in her eyes again, she took her leave. Xerxes allowed himself a steadying breath before turning to the men clustered just out of earshot. He beckoned them closer. “Have the engineers put to death and new ones appointed—and let it be known that they have three months to complete the project, or they will join their predecessors in the afterlife.”
“Three months.” Though he looked strained, Otanes nodded. “As you will, my king.”
Masistes glanced at the scribe. “Will you really order the river lashed and manacled?”
Xerxes’ lips tugged up at the corners. “Come up with some clever and demeaning words for them to shout while carrying out the punishment, Masistes.”
“I?” Masistes flashed a wicked grin. “I have never had the pleasure of insulting a river before. It is brackish, is it not? Oh, this will be fun.”
While his brother went off mumbling about bitter waters, Xerxes measured the remaining commanders. “I will not stay in Sardis beyond the winter. Three months—not a day more.”
If that required rearranging the face of the earth still more, so be it.
Eighteen
Sardis, Lydia
Three months later, in the sixth year of the reign of Xerxes
Darius hid the clench of his fists in the folds of his robe. “But Father—”
“I will not argue this again, Darius.” Xerxes did not even spare him a glance. His attention was focused entirely upon the line of slaves with all his possessions. His. Not Darius’s. “The whole point of naming a successor before I head to war is so that you can rule in my absence, and in the event that I am slain. It would rather defeat the purpose if you were slain along with me.”
“Then why did you let me come at all? Why not leave me in Susa?”
His father sighed and finally turned to look at him. “You were eager to get out into the world, and I knew you would learn much in these years of preparation. Darius, I am entrusting my empire to you. Will you really gripe about ruling it from the comforts of Sardis?”
When put like that, Darius knew he could not argue. But still he wanted to. He had been counting the days until he was away from Artaynte, out in the fields where he could come into his own. How could he do that here, under her watchful eye? “I want to fight, Father. You are a skilled warrior—would you deny me the opportunity to be the same?”
“My skill came from controlled exercises—and a few forays before I was named the next king.”
Darius felt his mouth twist. “Cyrus goes with you.”
Xerxes let out a growl. “Cyrus’s life is not worth as much as yours. You are my heir, Darius. You. If one of these bands of rebel Greeks wanted to cut me off at my knees, all they would have to do is get their hands on you.”
“As if it would be so easy. Besides, if I were killed or captured, you would just name another in my place.”
From where had that fear sprung?
Xerxes tossed up a hand and spun away. “I chose you for many reasons, Darius. Though for the life of me I cannot remember them at this moment.”
“That is easy.” A grin won possession of his lips. “Had you named anyone else, Mother would have had him killed.”
His father snorted a laugh and faced him again, arms akimbo. The amusement in his eyes shifted into something stronger, warmer. “I am proud of you, Darius. You have grown into an admirable man, otherwise I would not be so willing to leave you here as liaison between me and the rest of the empire. I would have given anything for such an honor when I was your age.”
Darius nodded and decided to focus on that satisfaction rather than the niggling discontent. Was the control of an empire not worth more than the love of one woman?
Lately his father made him wonder. Sometimes Darius was unsure Persia still ranked at the top of Xerxes’ priorities. It seemed that title had been given to the curvaceous Kasia. Part of him thought such dedication ridiculous—yet another part longed for Artaynte to look at him the way the Jewess did her husband.
Smiling it away, Darius embraced his father and nodded to the week-long stretch of army ranks. “Go tend your war, Father. I will keep the rest of the empire in working order—you will not be disappointed.”
“I know.” With a playful clap to the side of Darius’s head, Xerxes stepped away. “I will be in touch. Do not get too attached to the authority, my son—I will ask it back from you when I have added Greece to our dominion.”
Darius chuckled and lifted a hand in farewell. His smile faded as soon as the king was out of sight. No more dreams of becoming a war hero, then. Would ruling well be enough to earn the respect of Artaynte . . . or would he have to give up dreams of her as well?
~*~
“Mistress, we must go. The king wants to depart within the hour.”
Kasia blinked and let her eyes refocus on the familiar pattern of her rug. She had been in prayer for a good while, but the pressure around her heart had not eased. If anything, it felt tighter than when she arose that morning. She tried to sit and winced at the pain in her back. Zad whimpered beside her and licked her in the face. With a halfhearted chuckle, she pushed him away. “Would you help me up, Desma?”
Desma put an arm around her, clucking her tongue. “You should not bend over so long in your condition. I am sure Jehovah would understand if you prayed in a chair.”
Kasia let her maid haul her up. “No doubt he would. But I cannot concentrate so well when I am comfortable. I doze off.” She spread a hand over the small mound of her stomach. “The fault of this wee one, I suspect.”
“Better sleepiness than nausea.” Desma grinned and roll up the rug.
She looked around at her chamber, devoid of everything but the furniture it had held upon her arrival here three months ago. “Where did the others go?”
“To prepare the wagon for you, mistress. Artaynte stopped in, to say farewell—she said she would wait for you outside.”
Pain laced the pressure inside. When they started on this journey nearly two years ago, she never would have guessed she would become such good friends with the other women. Was it only because of proximity or had they truly accepted her? Either way, she would miss Artaynte and Parsisa.
Either way, she would not miss them like she did Esther.
Theron filled the doorway and greeted her with a smile. “You have emerged from your prayerful stupor, I see. If you are ready then, mistress?”
Kasia smiled and followed her eunuch out the door, the dog bounding ahead of them. When she stepped into the warm sunshine, she fought the urge to turn and run back inside.
“There you are!” Artaynte rushed forward and wrapped her arms around her. “It will be torture watching Darius with his string of lovers with only Mother to talk to. If I thought I had a chance, I would beg the king to leave you here.”
Kasia gave the girl a long hug. “I would be a surly, sour friend indeed if forced away from my husband.” She grinned and tugged on a lock of Artaynte’s hair. “You will understand that soon enough.”
With a huff of disbelief, Artaynte pulled away. “We shall see.”
Zad let out a string of low barks and growls and took off toward the wagon. Odd behavior for him—he usually stuck close to her side. Kasia looked to her servants. “Go see what he is about, would you, Theron? And Desma, put the last of the things in the wagon, please.”
Theron frowned. “The dog will be fine. We will wait for you.”
She sent a pointed glance to the seven servants lingering near Artaynte. “I think I will be well enough protected for five minutes, Theron. And I promise I shall not budge from this spot until you return for me.”
“Why do you allow such impudence?” Artaynte whispered as Theron and Desma sauntered away, both scowling. “Simply command them.”
“Speaking of commanding.” Kasia nodded to where Parsisa beckoned her daughter. “You are needed, it seems.”
“Will you not say farewell to Mother?”
“She stopped in earlier.” She wiggled her fingers in Parsisa’s direction and pulled Artaynte in for one more hug. “I will pray for you daily.”
“I shall need it. Be safe and well. I look forward to meeting your son when you return.” Sighing, Artaynte pulled away. “Stay with her,” she said to one of her eunuchs.
The moment her friend left, unease crowded her mind and heart. Something was wrong, something that seemed to saturate the very air. Yet the sky was a promising, cloudless blue, and the morning sun gleamed bright and warm in the heavens.
All was as it should be, was it not? The bridge had been rebuilt. The canal was finished. The army swarmed in an orderly mass, ready to march onward to Abydus.
Not for the first time since she joined the royal family, she craved solitude like a drowning man craved air. She kept her gaze cool as she turned it on Artaynte’s eunuch. “Go to your mistress. My own slaves return even now.”
The slave offered no protest, no response at all other than obedience.
Her hands shook as she slid to the waist-high wall beside her. Before her the taunting pinnacle of Mount Tmolus rose up in one direction. The mountainside tumbled into the Hermus valley and the city of Sardis in the other.
Inside, warning bells clashed and clamored. “Wh
at is it, Jehovah? Why does such dread fill me?”
Her vision trembled and shook, and she swore the metallic scent of blood filled her nostrils. Moans echoed in her ears, and she had to grip the wall to keep her balance. “Jehovah?”
Without me is defeat.
Her throat closed off. She could but move her lips. “Without you? Do you not come with us?”
What part has righteousness with unrighteousness? And what part has holiness with evil?
Evil? She would grant that the Persian court did not seek the righteousness her God espoused, and she had prayed herself through the feeling of an enemy crouching behind her several times. But the Lord had always been with her. Going before her, as her father had promised he would. Why should now be any different?
“Lord . . .”
Look up.
She knew even before she obeyed that she would rather squeeze her eyes shut tight. Paralysis already seized her limbs, her heart thundered a silent cry. Her gaze settled on the ground directly across from her, where scrub bushes nestled in every rocky crag. She moved her eyes up, over the increasing rocks and boulders, until her gaze caught on the spur of the mountain.
Darkness whispered like fog over the tip, its tendrils extending out slowly, seeking. And within it was a roiling, writhing life that sucked the breath from her lungs.
All she could manage was a croak. “Oh, dear Lord . . .”
~*~
Susa, Persia
Amestris blinked to clear her vision. A small hand tugged on her elbow, and pleading brown eyes looked up at her. “Eat.”
She spared a smile for her youngest, though she was in no mood for his disruption. “You are hungry, Artaxerxes?”
The toddler nodded, sending dark curls dancing over his forehead. He tugged again on her elbow and stuck out a lip.
Fondness warred with impatience. She scooped up her son as his frazzled nurse rushed in. Another day, Amestris would have punished her for letting the boy get away from her. Today she had no time for such things. “There you are. Take my son for his breakfast.”
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