Harvest - 01 - Harvest of Rubies

by Tessa Afshar

  What might my life be like if my husband had continued to think of me in such terms—to think of me as honest and brave?

  I could bear this thought even less than the bitter accusations he had hurled at me. There was too much loss in it. The sum of my stupidity and his misdirected suspicions had robbed me too well. To escape the dark sorrow of my conclusions, I picked up the pace of our tour through the rest of my husband’s home, making Pari and the dog hurry behind me in their effort to keep up.

  To my relief, I found a measure of order in the kitchens. A woman with bony shoulders and wide hips rose as we walked in. She was smooth-skinned and could not have been more than thirty-five, though her long face made her appear older.

  “Don’t you bring that dog into my kitchen,” she said in a raspy voice, raising her wooden spoon and pointing it at Caspian for emphasis.

  “Ah, cook, this is my lady Sarah,” Pari interjected.

  The woman gave me a measured look and with shock I realized that she had a stone marble for one eye. I did my best not to stare. She bowed her head with a motion so quick it would have been lost on me if I had not been watching her with such close attention.

  “Right then. Don’t you bring that dog into my kitchen, my lady.”

  I nodded to Pari and she led Caspian out. “As the kitchen seems to be one of the few clean places in this palace, I can see why you wouldn’t want a dog in it.” An awkward silence was the only reward I received for my attempt at conciliation. I tried again. “I wanted to thank you for the delicious meals you have provided for me.”

  “I do my best with what I’m given.”

  I was taken aback by her biting tone. At first I bristled, thinking her hostility directed at me. Then it occurred to me that in the span of the past several weeks I had not eaten meat above once a week. Often the food consisted of vegetables and grains. The cook managed to make it palatable, even delicious. But for a lord’s house, the fare was too modest.

  “You do not receive a sufficient allotment of what you need? Like meat and fowl and rare spices, as befits Lord Darius’s table?”

  “I made no complaint.”

  “I’m aware of that. I am also aware that you do a marvelous job with what little you are given. The fault is not yours.”

  The rigid shoulders began to droop. “Lord Darius deserves better. He owns more sheep and cattle than a man could count, and yet fresh meat has not passed the threshold of this kitchen once this week.”

  “Are you the only cook working here? Do you have no help?” The idea seemed ludicrous. At Persepolis there were two hundred and seventy-seven cooks plus an additional thirteen cooks who specialized in dairy dishes, twenty-nine kitchen helpers, and seventeen beverage preparers. Granted, this was no Persepolis, but it was still a nobleman’s palace. The lack of a multitude of cooks was an outrage.

  “The steward has assigned one of his servants to part-time kitchen duty. I prefer to work without his help. Our numbers are so diminished that I can manage alone. It’s more difficult when Lord Darius and his full retinue are here.”

  I remembered Pari telling me that Teispes’s hired servants acted as his spies and could not blame the cook for preferring to work alone. “I understand. I’ll see what I can do. Do you know where I can find the steward?”

  “He left this morning. Said he wouldn’t be back until evening.”

  I nodded and turned to take my leave.

  “My lady,” she called, and handed me a bone. “For the dog. It’s been cooked clean. But he’s still bound to enjoy gnawing on it.”

  I smiled. In spite of her awkward sharpness, a kind heart beat inside that scrawny chest. “May I ask your name?”

  “Shushan.”

  “That’s an unusual name.” Shushan was the Persian pronunciation for the citadel of Susa.

  “Born there, that’s why. My parents served in Lord Vivan’s household from the time he was a young man. They were traveling with him from the north when my mother went into early labor. They made it to Susa just in time for me to be born there.”

  “They must have a soft spot for Susa then.”

  “The humorous part is that Lord Vivan came up with the name. My father said that he was covered in sweat at the thought of a woman giving birth on the side of the road. He was so relieved when we made it to Susa and the safety of his palace before I made an appearance that he rewarded my mother with a gold coin. You can understand; he was no more than twenty-five at the time. It’s on account of him that I’m still alive,” she said.

  Fascinated, I asked, “He saved your life?”

  She pointed to her false eye. “Accident. It happened the last year of King Xerxes’ rule, when I was still a child. I was playing swords with one of the servant boys and his stick slipped and jabbed my eye.

  “Instead of sending me to the town physician, Lord Vivan gathered me in his own arms and galloped to the palace, demanding the services of a royal physician. No one dared refuse the cousin of the king. An Egyptian physician tended me. He said I would have died if not for Lord Vivan’s quick response. My lord even paid for a false eye,” she said, pointing to the painted marble that occupied her eye socket.

  “How did you become a cook?” I asked. Usually, men occupied that post; certainly no women became the kind of chief cooks that Shushan seemed to be in this household. Having occupied a masculine post myself made me wonder about Shushan’s story.

  “It took months for me to recover from my wound. One summer day, they brought my bed outside into the garden to cheer me. I lay in bed and watched a servant girl washing clothes in the sun. I felt so wistful at the sight, thinking I would never be of any use with only one eye. Lord Vivan happened to observe me; he would sometimes come and visit me during my time of convalescence.

  “‘Shushan, I make you a promise,’ he said. ‘When you are better, you can do whatever you wish in my service.’ He was as good as his word. I always wanted to work in the kitchens. When he found out, he apprenticed me to his best cook.”

  I thought about these stories. My father-in-law, who scorched me with his frowns on my wedding, had seized up with worry over the possibility of a servant woman birthing a child outdoors. He had cared for a wounded peasant child with the same fierce protectiveness he would have shown a child of his own. He had opened the doors of high employment to a woman who would have been scorned by another person of rank.

  “How came you to work for Lord Darius?”

  She beamed. “My lord always favored my cooking. It didn’t matter to him that I was a woman, and blind and bony besides. He made me promise that I would become his chief cook as soon as he set up his own household. His father grumbled that Lord Darius had stolen his best cook, but it was all in fun. He would have given my lord the moon, if he had but asked.

  “We used to have such magnificent feasts in the old days whenever Lord Darius was in residence. And then, at the end of the feast, he would sometimes call me to him and introduce me to his great guests. He said he was proud of me.”

  I could see that Shushan doted on my husband, and was baffled by this picture of him, which showed him as a generous and loving master. I did not like to think of him in those terms; it was more comfortable believing him to be harsh and unreasonable.

  Hearing the dog barking outside, I grew concerned that he might, in his enthusiasm, burst back into the kitchen and annoy Shushan. Waving the bone, I said, “My thanks, Shushan,” and was startled to catch her in the act of smiling.

  I realized that I had made my first sally toward friendship in my husband’s home. Suddenly the thought of abandoning my bed was not so overwhelming.

  Chapter Ten

  Get this creature off me,” I cried, huffing around the mastiff’s long tongue, which was trying to plant wet kisses on my face. Avoiding another enthusiastic lick, I pushed him away. He weighed as much as a large man. “I don’t have any treats for you.”

  Pari laughed. “He isn’t looking for food. He wants attention.”

&nb
sp; It was clear that Caspian was used to human companionship and affection. Most Persians were hunting mad and spent prodigious time in the company of their animals. Next to their children and families and the empire, they loved their horses best. Many extended that love to their hunting dogs as well. From Caspian’s peremptory expectation of affection, I concluded the mastiff enjoyed Darius’s particular attachment. I was amazed that Teispes had dared to mistreat him.

  “Let’s take him for a walk in the garden.” As soon as I mentioned the word garden, Caspian began to whine and bounded forward, then rushed back to lick my hand, then leapt ahead again.

  “It figures. The dog understands Persian better than his master,” I grumbled.

  It was a glorious day. Blue skies stretched over us like a ceiling carved out of turquoise. I breathed the fresh air and felt my soul coming back to life.

  Darius’s formal gardens had been designed in the traditional style, cut into four enormous parks by means of two long intersecting avenues. A long man-made stream ran along the center of one of the avenues. We chose a side lane that led us through a fruit orchard. Pink and white blossoms perfumed the air. Pari reached for a cluster of them and wove them into my hair.

  I was no gardener, but I could see that in spite of its beauty, the orchard showed signs of inattention. Piles of leftover leaves from the previous autumn still remained decrepit and wrinkled at the base of tree trunks. Weeds grew with abandon. And yet the orchard must have once been well maintained, for the trees appeared strong and healthy. Again I was puzzled by the state of this palace, at once so rich and strangely neglected.

  Caspian bounded toward me and began to bark. I found a smooth stick on the ground and threw it for him to fetch. As he approached it, I began running behind him, crying, “Race!” and before I knew it, Pari, the dog, and I were running like carefree children through the trees, the sound of barks, hollers, and laughter mingling with one another. The blossoms flew out of my hair and landed on the ground; I squashed them under my feet as I ran past, unable to avoid them. Their scent rose up more pungent for being crushed, sweetening the air.

  It didn’t take me long to grow winded, and I collapsed against a peach tree, out of breath.

  “I think you lost that race, my lady,” a man’s voice said behind me, making me jump and hit my head against a branch.

  Grabbing the crown of my head with a rueful hand, I turned in the direction of the voice. “Who are you?”

  Under a shock of white hair, the man’s craggy face split into two, courtesy of a wide smile, showing off his five remaining teeth. “My name is Bardia, my lady. I’m the head gardener.”

  I was too polite to tell him that he seemed ancient for a job that required so much physical exertion. No wonder the orchard appeared neglected. “Did Teispes hire you?” I asked, thinking it just like the parsimonious steward to employ an aged man for less pay.

  “Teispes hire me? I should say not. My family has worked for his lordship’s family three generations now. I have tilled Passargadae land since I remember. Teispes has barely been around three years.”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “That’s all right, my lady. You didn’t know any better.”

  I tried not to smile. Such show of magnanimity from servant to mistress was unusual, not to mention inappropriate. It was clear that his long years with the family had taught him to take certain liberties with an earnest and unself-conscious temerity.

  “Do you have many men helping you manage the land?”

  The white head bent. “I used to.”

  “Let me guess. The steward has dismissed most of your workers.”

  “You don’t think I would allow the orchard to fall into this condition if I had sufficient help, do you, my lady?”

  “Why don’t you ask for Lord Darius’s help?”

  That wide, gap-toothed smile flashed out, accompanied by the wave of a veiny hand. “No need. No need. The young lord has too many responsibilities to be bothered with my concerns. Every year sent to a new province, a new war, a new trouble to deal with. This is the longest he’s been at home since he was a lad. And shall I embitter his time at home with my grumblings?”

  I took a step toward him. “I can see that you’re a good man and a devoted retainer, Bardia. But don’t you think that Lord Darius would prefer to bear the inconvenience of dealing with this problem rather than allow his estate to fall into ruin?”

  He pulled on a wrinkled earlobe. “I’ll take care of the place myself, as long as I can. When I’ve lost my strength, I’ll burden the young lord. No sense harassing him now.”

  I wondered what kind of man could inspire such devotion. The Darius I knew was ruthless and cynical. I would be happy to add to his burdens. Clearly, Bardia saw him with different eyes. Perhaps he still perceived him through the prism of his memories as a young boy, amiable and dependent, needy of his protection.

  He should see his master slay a lion without batting an eyelash. Or skewer my future at the end of his sharp tongue. I bore no illusions about that man. He could manage every inconvenience thrown his way. Besides, after marrying me, dealing with a bad steward would hardly ruffle his hair.

  I did not delude myself, however, into thinking that I could convince the gardener to tell his young master the truth. It was obvious that his commitment to shielding Darius from every form of aggravation was his primary concern.

  If I managed to bear some influence upon this stingy steward, perhaps I could force him to hire some help for the old man. I might be able to improve his hard life a little.

  “As you wish,” I said and turned to leave.

  “It’s good to have a lady in residence here again. There hasn’t been one since my lord Vivan passed the estate to his son. This place could use a mistress like you.”

  He would not say that if he knew the circumstances of my marriage or the reason his master had gone to Ecbatana with the rest of the court, abandoning me here. “I’m not much of a lady,” I said with a brittle smile.

  “Of course you are. Don’t take to heart his lordship leaving like that. Young men are proud. He will come to his senses; you’ll see.”

  I coughed, choking on my saliva. How much did he know about my relationship with his master? Servants were notorious for their knowledge of household gossip. And yet he had said nothing that hinted of criticism. He seemed actually glad to have me here.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Come and visit me tomorrow if you wish, my lady. I’ll be in the orchard again.”

  Here was another lonely soul trapped in my husband’s gilded cage, I thought. Perhaps that was why he seemed so accepting of me—a woman who had betrayed his beloved master. Perhaps I was better than nothing. Clearly he was parched for company.

  A head gardener would normally have an army of helpers for companionship. He could even expect regular visits from his master, for the Persians were mad over their gardens. The king was known to tend his garden with his own royal hands whenever his schedule allowed. More than one Achaemenid king had raised a talented gardener to the position of governor, for if a man could transform a piece of barren land into a blooming orchard, what could he not do with a province?

  In the old days Bardia would have been considered an elevated and worthy retainer. He would have enjoyed his master’s devotion. Now he was ancient and abandoned. Unwanted, like me. I resolved to visit him on the morrow.

  The next morning I sent Pari in search of the steward once more. We had waited past midnight the previous evening, but he had not arrived. She returned with the news that the steward had left earlier in the morning.

  “Earlier? It’s barely sunup! Where has he gone this time?”

  “Nobody knows. He isn’t in the habit of explaining himself.”

  “Well, he is about to change his habits.” I pulled my robe over my head. I had to hold my breath to pull it down over my belly. “A small breakfast for me,” I mumbled.

  Pari threw me an I-told-you-so glance, w
hich I ignored. Caspian bumped his wet nose against my arm. “Stop that, you mangy monster. I can’t believe the howling outside my chamber last night.”

  “I can’t believe you let him in,” Pari said with a giggle.

  “As long as he doesn’t get onto my bed. Do you hear me, dog?”

  Caspian whimpered. “Perhaps we should stop by the kitchens to get Caspian something to eat.”

  Before we made our way to the kitchens, however, I had one more stop to make. I wanted to examine Teispes’s accounts. Did Darius keep him on the strength of the money he saved the household? If so, I had to find other ways of economy so that my husband would not resent the additional expense of the changes I wished to make. We found the records room as locked and sealed as my husband’s treasury, however. Teispes was really beginning to irritate me.

  Caspian could be obligingly obedient when he chose, and at my bidding, he waited outside the kitchen door without fuss.

  Shushan stood as we came in. “Good morning,” I said. “Do you perchance have any leftovers for the dog? He is behaving like a gentleman at the moment, but some food might help keep his temper biddable.”

  “Yes, my lady. In fact I’ve been saving him a few things.” Caspian was in ecstasy over his meal. I wondered what he had eaten before Pari took an interest in him. Surely Teispes would not be so foolish as to neglect his master’s favorite hunting dog.

  “May I have a little yogurt and honey?” I said when I returned to the kitchen. I had decided that I would tame my unhealthy appetite and stop consuming food as a pastime. Pari refused to join me, as it was not proper for a servant to eat before her mistress. In the end I convinced her to eat in one corner of the kitchen while I ate in the other. I could not have her walking about the estate suffering pangs of hunger.

  “We are going to visit Bardia in the orchard again today,” I informed Shushan over the expanse of room that separated us. She was a little scandalized to see me eat in the kitchen, I think, and I wanted to try and put her at ease. “Since we cannot find the steward, I thought we would converse with the gardener to see what he lacks.”