Harvest - 01 - Harvest of Rubies

by Tessa Afshar

The queen frowned and bit her lip. “Do come and visit me if he brings you. I should like to know how you progress.”

  Chapter Nine

  Evening had long since fallen when I wound my way back to the chamber the king had assigned to Darius and me. Pari walked in my wake, her small bundle of worldly goods clutched against her chest. The poor girl had just lost her father, and now thanks to me, a position she had loved. Yet she had not murmured one word of complaint since I had fetched her an hour before. She turned her long, slim neck my way and startled me with a pale smile. She might be unhappy, she seemed to say, but she didn’t hold me responsible. In the whole palace, she must have been the one person who didn’t hold me accountable for some grave failing. I cannot express how dear that made her to me.

  My skin smarted everywhere; I had been waxed, plucked, rubbed, sanded, and oiled for the better part of the day. Instead of looking rosy and soft, I was now covered in red welts from my face to my toes. My skin, unused to such rigors, had responded by breaking out into unattractive, angry-looking bumps.

  At the door of the chamber a sleepy servant came to attention as I approached. “My lady! Lord Darius said you are to join him at home when the queen dismissed you. I am to take you there directly. Your belongings have already been sent ahead.”

  Relief flooded me at the thought of two more hours without having to face my husband. While in the women’s quarters, something of Damaspia’s strength and the familiarity of my surroundings had buoyed my spirit. That thin veneer of hope vanished the closer his plush cart drew me to his palace.

  We had been riding for an hour when Darius’s man informed me that we had entered the boundary of his lands. In the dark, I could make out the vague outline of farms. It was common for the aristocracy to lease land to farmers and give them seed and supplies in exchange for a portion of the harvest, so I was not surprised by the cultivated land. What did surprise me was how much of it there was. We rode a full hour before approaching Darius’s personal estate and gardens. My husband was wealthier than I had imagined. I found the thought depressing. How could I fit into such a world as a mistress rather than a servant? I had even less in common with Darius than I had assumed.

  In the dark, my new home seemed menacingly large. Marble walls and fluted limestone columns shone an eerie white in the moonlight. My husband’s palace was every bit as overbearing as he was himself. The steward, a tall thin-lipped man with a lantern for a jaw, met me at the door. His eyes, cold and dark, held no welcome for me. He told me that Lord Darius awaited me in the great hall and showed me there in person. His manner, though impeccable, left no doubt that he held no welcome for me. I sent Pari to find my room and prepare it for my arrival as best she could.

  Bereft of excuses for delaying the upcoming interview, I allowed the steward to show me to the hall. The light of many lamps blazed in the large room so that I was momentarily blinded when I walked in.

  Before my eyes had adjusted, Darius towered over me. A corner of my mind registered his immaculate appearance—knee-length coat of rich handwoven wool with tight long sleeves, held closed by a belt of golden roundels, skin-hugging buff colored trousers, not a hair out of place. I still wore my ridiculous wedding outfit.

  “What happened to your face? Did the queen beat you?” he asked, his voice puzzled.

  “No, my lord.”

  “Oh.” He sounded disappointed.

  I wasn’t about to tell him that this is how I looked after a beauty treatment. So I said instead, “She sent a servant with me.”

  He crossed his arms. “And I’m supposed to pay for her, is that it?”

  “I paid for her out of my own wages. Her first year’s salary has also been recompensed.”

  “I see.” The corners of his eyes creased as though he were holding back a smile. “Damaspia didn’t beat you; she merely bankrupted you.”

  I shrugged. “She spared me the worst when I explained the circumstances.”

  “There’s Queen Damaspia for you. She believes any drivel if it pulls her heartstrings.”

  “Are we speaking about the same queen? The one who reduces grown men to tears with one glance? That queen?”

  Instead of answering, Darius’s brows knit into a frown. He pointed a finger in my direction and cried, “I recognize you now! Last night it kept niggling in the back of my mind, this sense that I had seen you before. You seemed so familiar, and yet under so much paint I couldn’t see what you really looked like. But now it comes to me. You are the girl from the hill—the girl with the lion.”

  “I’m the one whose life you saved, yes.”

  “Ha! And you claim that you did not manipulate your way into this marriage? You saw me that day, and hatched this plan! Do you know, I thought you sweet and honest and brave when I first saw you. How wrong can a man be? You showed your true nature even then with your insincere flattery. I’ve dealt with your kind all my life. Brazen creatures who use their cunning to make their way in the world.”

  He struck his forehead with the end of his fisted hand. “By all that is holy, this is to be my wife? It’s beyond bearing.” He seemed past words for a few moments. Swallowing hard, he addressed me again, his voice rough. “There are thousands like you in the palaces of every great king, men and women who scheme their way into higher stations. You seem to be better at it than most, I concede, for it is no small matter to claw your way into the king’s family. Congratulations, woman. Your skills are impressive even to me; I have faced vipers less venomous and calculating than you.”

  “What? No! I did not scheme to marry you. I didn’t even know your name. The first time I knew that Darius Passargadae was the same as the man who saved my life was on our wedding day.”

  “I cannot stomach your lies.”

  I threw my hands up in the air with vexation. “I am not lying! I never wanted to marry you or anybody else. I liked my life as it was. I liked being the queen’s chief scribe. You are mistaken in your assumptions about me, my lord.”

  “What I don’t understand,” he went on as though I had spoken in a language he could not comprehend, “is why you embarrassed me and my father with such perversity last night. What was the point of it? You had already slithered your way into the position of a lady. Why diminish your prize in front of the court? Why did you shame me so?”

  He had pelted me with so many false accusations that an avalanche of resentment buried the feelings of regret I had felt about my behavior at the wedding. “It was unintentional,” I said, pronouncing the words with slow deliberation through clenched teeth. “I had never worn cosmetics before last night. I did not know how to apply them correctly.”

  “Come now. You expect me to believe that Damaspia did not offer you guidance or help? She did not send you her own servants to minister to your needs?”

  Shame smote me at this reminder of my most foolish moment; I lowered my gaze to my feet, too much of a coward to answer him.

  “I knew it. She did send you help. How did you manage to evade their assistance? They would not have left you without fulfilling the queen’s command.”

  I looked up for a moment feeling sick.

  “You lied?” he guessed.

  The skin of my chest began to burn. “Yes, my lord.”

  “You told a bold-faced lie? Of course you did. This, at least, is a fragment of truth. You sent the servants away because no one working for Damaspia would have allowed you to come into your wedding banquet looking like a demon from the outer darkness.”

  “At first, I sent them away because I did not wish to face my upcoming marriage. I wanted to pretend it wasn’t happening, I suppose, and thought I could get out of this union, somehow. That last day when I knew there was no hope, I found out that Pari’s father was dying and sent her home to say good-bye to him. I would have asked for help from another if I had known what would happen.”

  “That is a most convenient story.”

  “I assure you, my lord, I have never known such inconvenience.”

&nb
sp; Darius turned and walked away from me. I had a momentary insight into why he was so set against believing me. He had spent his life with the knowledge that he was a prize. Most women would swoon at the opportunity of becoming the wife of a rich, devastatingly handsome courtier with connections to the king. The idea that I had no interest in marriage to him was so foreign to his world that it sounded like a lie. I considered explaining the circumstances that led to our betrothal, hoping that if he knew why Damaspia had chosen to reward me with a royal marriage, he would grow convinced of my story. But I had given my pledge never to betray the queen’s confidences. I could not bring myself to share her secret with this man whom I hardly knew.

  His steps, rapid and aimless, took him around the room several times before he returned to me. “I cannot abide liars. I do not think I can abide you. Your very presence is like a poisoned dagger pressing against my flesh.”

  “I am very sorry,” I said, wrapping my arms around my middle.

  He held up a hand motioning me to silence. “This is what we shall do. You will remain here for now. I will spend the summer in Ecbatana with the rest of the court. When I return, I shall decide your fate. But madam, if I were you, I would grow accustomed to loneliness, for though you have married into nobility, there is nothing noble in your character. And I will see to it that you live accordingly.”

  Before I could attempt to defend myself again, my husband turned his back and left me in the vast emptiness of his opulent reception hall. I could already feel the walls closing in on me. If he had buried me alive in an Egyptian tomb, I would not have felt more abandoned.

  “My lady, you can’t stay in bed all day again. It is past noon. You must rise.”

  Through a haze of sleep I heard Pari’s admonitions and waved her away. “Leave me alone.”

  “This will not do, my lady. You shall make yourself sick.”

  I growled at her. “You are the servant; I am the mistress. You are supposed to do what I tell you.”

  “And I will. As soon as you rise.”

  Giving up on the precious dregs of unconsciousness, I sat up and tried to focus bleary eyes. “What for? There is nothing to do.”

  “For one thing, you could use a bath. After that, we shall think of something.”

  I ran a hand through my uncombed hair. How long had it been since I had been out of bed? How long since my life had served any purpose? Weeks had slipped by since Darius had deserted me, leaving me to rot in his empty palace. Days and nights blended together until I lost count of the calendar.

  By the end of the first week, my hands had begun to shake. I could not control them. When the second week of my marriage concluded, I stopped speaking; when I tried to talk, my words sounded jumbled and stupid. I only ate and slept. Sometimes, it seemed that I ate mountains of food, long past hunger had been satisfied. I ate out of boredom. Out of anger. Out of fear. And I slept to forget. To forget that my life was a ruin and I had no escape.

  “You are an annoying girl,” I said, angry with Pari for interrupting my one refuge.

  “I beg your pardon, my lady.”

  It occurred to me that this sudden show of stubborn disobedience had cost my sweet-natured servant a lot of courage. In many ways, I held her life in my hands. If I should discharge her, she would have no recourse. Without a reference from me, her chances of finding gainful employment would be nonexistent. Her brave objections began to melt the edges of my resistance. For her sake, I pushed myself out of bed.

  “Fetch me a bath then,” I said more gently.

  When I was finished bathing and dressing, I asked for my lunch. I was sitting on a sturdy footstool combing my wet hair, when Pari brought me half a bowl of thin broth and a plate of peeled pomegranates.

  “What is this?”

  “Your noonday meal, my lady.”

  “Is the cook sick or something?”

  She turned her face away. “No.”

  “Then where’s the rest of my food?”

  Pari tangled her fingers in front of her and twirled them this way and that. “It’s not good for you.”

  “What do you mean it’s not good for me?” My head was beginning to throb and I started to long for the comfort of my bed.

  “My lady, your clothes barely fit you anymore. What shall you do, parade around here naked? We do not have access to my lord’s storehouses. That pigeon-headed steward, Teispes, will not let me anywhere near them.”

  Something in the tone of her complaint caught my attention so that I let go of my focus on the parsimonious lunch as well as on the fact that my servant had just implied I had grown fat beyond recognition. “Has the steward been mistreating you?”

  She shrugged. “He is a rude and impertinent man.”

  “He’s probably following his master’s orders.”

  “Oh no, my lady. I do not believe it. The lord Darius is well known for his good manners and kindness.”

  I made a disgusted sound. Pari’s staunch defense of my husband’s character grated on me. What did she know about him beside palace gossip? She ought to spend a few hours alone with him before singing his praises.

  “He may be angry with you, but he would never allow a servant of his to disrespect his wife,” Pari said with dignified insistence.

  I grew still. Darius was a true Persian nobleman, this much I conceded. Even at the height of his anger would such a man tell his servants to treat his wife with impertinence? “You are a wise one,” I said with only marginal sarcasm and took the bowl of broth from her.

  It dawned on me that by hiding in my rooms and giving in to despair I had allowed the servants of the household to lose what little respect they might have for me. And I had treated Pari even worse, for she had borne the brunt of dealing with them. My cavernous plunge into self-pity had caused an innocent young woman daily pangs of humiliation and hardship. With sudden though inconvenient clarity I realized that I could not continue to hide from my fate, for I was now responsible for someone else’s well-being in addition to my own.

  I drained the dregs of my broth in a hurried gulp and said, “Let us go and face this monster, Teispes.”

  “Yes, my lady. Right away, my lady.”

  Pari jumped up and with an unmistakable spring in her movements pulled the heavy carved door of my chamber open. For the first time in many days I stepped beyond its threshold. And promptly, stumbled over a hairy bump, nearly landing on my head. Steadying myself against a wall, I turned to find what had caused my near collision and found myself staring into the liquid brown eyes of a powerful fawn-colored mastiff.

  “What is that?” I cried.

  “This is Caspian, my lord’s hunting dog.”

  “Charming. And what is he doing, camped outside my chamber? No, don’t tell me. You’ve been feeding him my food, haven’t you?”

  “I get so lonely, my lady.”

  I closed my eyes and shook my head. “Why did his master not take the beast with him? What’s wrong with it?”

  “Nothing! He is wonderful. His lordship took his falcon with him to Ecbatana this time. Caspian and the falcon are not the best of friends, and Lord Darius takes turns bringing one or the other on his trips.”

  I studied the dog’s massive frame, its stocky shoulders, its long thighs and shanks. He returned my gaze with apparent intelligence, his black broad muzzle held in a dignified pose that seemed to look down on me. I frowned. “This is a dog trained for war and the hunt. Why is he not in the kennel being cared for by the groundskeeper?”

  Pari dropped her voice. “There is no groundskeeper. Teispes has discharged him, as well as a host of other servants, claiming there is no need for them with my lord away so often. There is only a handful of servants left. Some are his spies and a more useless bunch of workers you have yet to see. There are a couple of old retainers that he has not dared discharge, and Teispes runs them ragged. You should see this place. It’s a disgrace.”

  I was beginning to like this steward less and less. As Pari and I traipsed th
rough the house in search of him, the mastiff following us like a conscientious guard, I began to understand Pari’s outrage. Although the house was magnificent in size and structure, dust covered every surface. Agate and lapis lazuli floors had not seen a broom for a month at least. In one room I actually found mouse droppings on the wool carpets.

  There was one unexpected benefit to our fruitless search: it forced me to grow acquainted with my prison. With so few people about, I had a freedom not afforded to most aristocratic women, and was able to examine every unlocked room of my husband’s sprawling home at my own leisure. Cedar pillars, carved cornices, embroidered hangings, gold and silver tables, and latticed windows made this palace a jewel of beauty. Though much smaller than Persepolis, it contained an element of charm that was lacking in the king’s own palace.

  In the corner directly opposite my chamber we discovered a lush set of apartments facing east, filled with light pouring through the windows. As soon as we stepped in, I knew it belonged to Darius. For one thing, no speck of dirt besmirched any surface. Someone had kept these rooms pristine. I imagined even Teispes dared not abandon Darius’s own rooms to filth. For another, the apartment was exquisitely decorated with riches from around the world: textiles from Egypt, carved ebony furniture from India, gold from Sardis, urns from Ionia, tapestries from Babylonia. These rooms reflected my husband’s vast travels.

  The distinct stamp of his personality present in every corner of the room made me uncomfortable and I withdrew quickly. I knew he would feel that I was violating his privacy by being there.

  But having entered in, I could not banish his image from my restless mind. Without my volition I recalled his words to me my first night there. Do you know, I thought you sweet and honest and brave when I first saw you. I had focused so much on his belligerent accusations that I had forgotten the only kind words he had said to me during that encounter. For a short while, when he had originally met me, he had liked me. He had thought I possessed admirable qualities. He had thought me sweet.