Harvest - 01 - Harvest of Rubies

by Tessa Afshar

  I checked on Caspian again and found that his breathing had slowed. I laid my hand against his chest. His heart continued to beat erratically, but it seemed fainter to me. He was still in the hold of a deep sleep. I tried to shake him awake; he remained unresponsive. I thought I had best send for Bardia to see if we needed to inform Darius of the change. He had posted a man outside my door and I dispatched him to fetch the head gardener.

  Bardia came with a bowl of plucked jasmines “to cheer you, mistress,” he said. Since hearing how much I loved their scent, he often brought me fresh blossoms in the mornings. He agreed with my summation of the dog’s condition and went to inform Darius. I didn’t expect him to come since the change was minor and the dog still unconscious. But within the hour he was back in my chamber.

  He too had changed into fresh clothes. He had not slept, I could tell from the circles under his eyes, but his wet hair indicated that he had at least had a chance to bathe. He sat with Caspian for a few quiet moments, stroking his back.

  “Could he stay like this?” I asked.

  “Not for long.”

  “Then what?”

  “He’ll fade. His body has been under tremendous strain, and he has not been able to eat.”

  “But he could awake.”

  “It’s possible.”

  “You don’t think it likely, though, do you?”

  “I won’t give you false hope, if that’s what you want.”

  “No, I want the truth.”

  “The truth is it’s a miracle he has survived this long.”

  He left shortly after that to see to the arrangements for the estate. I lay down near Caspian. “Be a good dog and live,” I said. “I don’t want to lose you.” Then I fell asleep.

  Darius found me there when he came back to check on Caspian. “Why don’t you go to bed? He won’t get better because you lie on the floor.”

  I sat up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I was supposed to keep watch.”

  “It isn’t a situation where your staying vigilant can make a difference.”

  “My lord, what if he lingers like this for days?”

  “I don’t believe he shall.” His voice was grim.

  He thinks Caspian will die soon, I thought. I buried my face in my hand, trying not to cry. After a few moments of silence I said, “I don’t think we’ll make it to Damaspia’s feast, even if Caspian were to … to recover by this evening.” I was thinking of my previous travels to Ecbatana, which had taken weeks. I journeyed there with the queen’s other servants in carts that bore her furnishings and clothes.

  Darius lowered his brow. “If you take the royal road to Ecbatana, the journey lasts twenty days. But we would take the more direct routes, and arrive in ten.”

  “The more direct routes? The ones that cross mountains over narrow, skirting precipices?”

  “They are difficult in places, I grant you. On horseback, they are manageable enough.”

  I shot up in dismay. “I cannot ride!”

  Darius gave me a look of perfect incomprehension. “What do you mean you cannot ride?” He had grown up with Persian ladies who had been in the saddle from childhood and rode as well as some men. He had hunted and traveled with them. The idea that there might be a woman who had never sat astride a horse had not occurred to him, I was sure.

  The Persian Empire was only six kings deep. The great Cyrus, the first Achaemenid ruler of an empire covering the vast majority of the known world, had started life as the king of an insignificant nation whose women were as fierce as its men. It wasn’t so long ago that Persian women wore leather trousers and went to battle if their men were losing. Persian nobility might be civilized and covered in silks and perfume, but they still remembered the strength of their women. I even knew some princesses who were proficient at the use of the bow and lance. So the idea of a woman who could not ride landed like a foreign object in Darius’s world.

  Ashamed of my ignorance, I said, “I mean I don’t know how to ride.”

  Darius lowered himself on the carpet next to me. “Well, then, you have two options. You can either ride with me and my men—an extremely uncomfortable prospect if you have never ridden before—and please the queen by your obedience, or you can travel in a cart and face her wrath for your lateness. The choice is up to you, as you will be the one paying the price in either case.”

  The speed and reach of Persian cavalry was unequaled. I thought of trying to keep up with that and lost my color. “Perhaps it won’t come to that. Caspian might save the day by waking up after the feast.”

  My hopes were dashed not long after as Caspian’s heartbeat became noticeably slower. He labored for every breath. Darius became still and watchful. Although Caspian remained unconscious, I thought he must be suffering, for his breath rattled with a horrible sound in his great chest. Darius bent over him and gave him a gentle stroke. “Hush boy. I’m here.”

  I couldn’t keep the tears at bay; I knew Caspian was dying. In spite of Darius’s warnings, I had held on to a thread of hope. “Thank you for everything,” I said in his ear, my voice reflecting my broken heart.

  It was almost a relief when he stopped breathing. I don’t think I could have borne to watch him suffer much longer. I raised anguished eyes to Darius, knowing that he understood this awful loss. The sheen of tears blurred the green irises. For a moment we looked at each other with a pitiful understanding. Then I rose up and ran to my bed and burrowed under the covers and gave vent to a storm of uncontrollable weeping.

  This was to be the first test of my young faith. Once again, the worst had happened. I had desperately wanted God to give me a miracle. I had longed to have Caspian back in my life. Instead, I had lost him forever.

  Would I turn against God because He had allowed my faithful companion to die at the hands of a vicious criminal? Would I reject Him, call Him uncaring or weak? Or would I turn to Him for comfort?

  “Help me!” I cried. “Help me cling to You.” He had not answered my prayers to spare Caspian’s life, but this prayer He answered with astounding speed. I was suddenly filled with peace, with comfort. I felt held in the grip of a presence so real, it almost seemed like physical touch.

  I thought suddenly of the intricate series of coincidences that had caused my life to be spared. The queen sending my husband home after months of absence. His journey bringing him to my side moments before I would have tasted of that poisoned wine. Caspian knocking down the cup and drinking it—strangely out-of-character behavior for a dog that had never tried to consume my drink before. Had he not died in my place, I would most certainly have drunk that poison. It would have been my heart that stopped beating on this day.

  I began to realize that my life had been spared not through a coincidence, but through a convoluted series of occurrences that seemed to point to God’s provision. My Caspian had not died in vain. He had laid his life down for me. Instead of focusing on his death, I focused on this miracle. God had used Caspian to spare my life. Far from being indifferent to me, He had proven His care for me.

  This thought made me miss Caspian all the more, but it also comforted me. His death was not a waste. He had purchased my life and health with it.

  “Sarah.” It was Darius’s voice. I felt my bed dip under his weight as he sat next to me. “Will you come out from under there?”

  I lowered the covers and sat up. I looked a mess I knew, with my hair standing on end and my eyes red and my skin splotchy. What came as a surprise to me was that Darius too seemed unlike himself. The perfect planes of his face had lost their usual sparkle, had turned sallow with dark, deep circles under his swollen eyes. I wished so badly to throw myself in his arms, to give and receive comfort, but the habits of a lifetime would not easily be broken, and I held myself back, stiff and miserable.

  “My lord?”

  “Bardia and I wish to bury Caspian in the garden. Bardia thought under my willow. Would you like to join us?”

  I didn’t trust my voice and just n
odded. He rose to give me room to get out from under the covers. I straightened my skirts and slid out. Caspian was lying under a soft sheet of Egyptian cotton. Darius hefted his body into his arms. Though massive in life, he seemed diminished and vulnerable in death.

  Shushan and Pari joined us by the willow and we watched as Darius and one of his men dug a deep trench near the willow tree. Softly, he picked up Caspian’s body, held him close one last time, and laid him in the cold earth. Before they filled his grave completely, Bardia planted a number of bulbs over where his body lay. Next spring, this spot of death and sorrow would be transformed into a colorful garden of life.

  Darius lingered over the fresh grave a few moments. “Not even Cyrus the Great could boast of a dog like you.”

  “You saved my life,” I said. It seemed the perfect epithet for such a faithful creature.

  A few hours later Pari and Shushan served a late lunch in my rooms. Shushan handed Darius a sealed letter before laying out our table. I noticed that he smiled grimly when he read the message inside.

  I had no appetite for the duck cooked with walnuts and pomegranate paste, and the three different kinds of oven-hot bread. Darius had obviously managed to fill the kitchen’s empty cupboards in short order. But I would just as soon have avoided the sight of food.

  Darius seemed no more hungry than I. Into the silence he said, “We leave for Ecbatana tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” I gasped. “What of Teispes? Don’t you want to find him first?”

  “I already have. The missive that I received earlier informs me that he was captured. He went into hiding overnight, but as you surmised, he surfaced late this morning at his courtesan’s door. My men there picked him up and are bringing him back. With Caspian gone and Teispes in hand, we must leave for Ecbatana at first light.” He stretched his arm behind my chair and turned in my direction. “Which means you must decide whether you will join me and my men in the morning or come later with your handmaiden.”

  Clearly he expected me to make a decision right away; my mind was in a confused jumble, however. The grief over Caspian’s death seemed to have dulled my reasoning process. I lowered my eyes in a futile effort to shut Darius’s body, leaning so close, out of my mind and tried to think through the choices before me.

  I considered the hardship of riding with Darius and his men—unrelieved hours in an unfamiliar saddle, not to mention nights spent in a tent instead of the comforts of a posting station. On the other hand, I’d have to face Damaspia’s disappointment if I chose the relative ease of a carriage. She had exerted her influence to intercede for me when she had sent Darius to fetch me. It was no small thing for the queen to interfere with a high aristocrat’s personal life by issuing a direct command. In return for such thoughtfulness, she would have every right to expect my timely arrival. She was sure to perceive my lateness as an affront. Damaspia would not credit my inexperience as a rider a suitable excuse for lateness. One couldn’t tell the queen of Persia that riding a long distance to see her was too inconvenient.

  It occurred to me with sudden certainty that the Lord would give me the strength to do the right thing.

  “I had better come with you, my lord, if you can put up with me, though I fear I will slow you down with my inexperience.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Tell him you don’t have riding clothes,” Pari whispered in my ear.

  I threw her an annoyed look. “Tell him!” she whispered louder.

  I acknowledged to myself that I could not undertake such a journey without the proper gear. But the idea of turning to Darius in my need made my stomach churn. I did not wish to ask anything of him. He had resented me when I cost him nothing; now if I started asking for favors, he would no doubt be even more annoyed.

  Well, there was no help for it. “My lord. I ask pardon, but I own no clothes that would be suitable for riding.”

  “So take them from the storehouse. Your servant can surely make adjustments where needed.”

  “Uh, we don’t have access to the storehouses, my lord.”

  “What do you mean you don’t … Ah. Teispes?”

  I nodded.

  He strode to the door. “Come with me.” He motioned to me. “And you,” he added to Pari. He marched us to the storehouses and used his own key to let us in.

  “Take everything you need.” He lingered with us for a few moments, rummaging through shelves. “Here are some clothes that would serve.” He handed them to Pari. I turned to leave, but he signaled me to remain and continued searching.

  “Here they are.” He pulled several packages from a row of shelves at the far end of the room. “It’s too dark here to see. Come into my chamber and I will show you.”

  Since the storehouses were closer to the location of his apartments, it made sense for us to meet there.

  One of his men was stationed outside his door, ramrod straight and alert. Darius addressed him before walking in. “Arta, could you saddle Kidaris please? Take a good lamp and wait for me in the stables.”

  “Right away, my lord.”

  I wondered where Darius planned to ride as I followed him into his rooms. I had not been there since the first day Pari had coaxed me out of my dark cave of despair. I stood stiffly to one side, not going in very far. Entering into his personal domain made me uncomfortable. I felt that I was intruding into his private world. That I didn’t belong there.

  With a careless motion, Darius dropped his packages upon a green sofa with silver lion’s feet. “Pari, let me see the riding gear.”

  Pari handed Darius her bundle. Unfolding it, Darius pushed aside a sachet of mint, rosemary, and eucalyptus before unearthing a pair of clay-colored linen trousers, quilted at the seat and gathered on the side seams for easier movement. The top was made of two layers of sheer white linen, split on the sides. It was a feminine outfit, judging by its size and cut, and the embroidery at the edges of the sleeves and the hem. “This was my mother’s. It might serve. You may try it through there.” He pointed to his bedchamber, which connected to his sitting room through an open archway.

  I had never donned trousers in my life. I took the garments with uncertain fingers and signaled Pari to follow me. The trousers, which wrapped around my waist with a drawstring, fit well enough. But the tunic was tight around the chest, and too sheer.

  “Let’s see you,” Darius called from the other room.

  I made a few attempts at speech, none of which ended in discernible words.

  “Well?” he prodded again.

  “My lord, it’s not decent! I can’t come out.”

  “Nonsense,” he called. “My mother used to wear those all the time.” To my horror he appeared at the door. I crossed my arms in a feeble attempt at modesty, and bit my lip to keep myself from yelling at him to get out.

  “I see.” He pulled on an earlobe. “Perhaps there was more to it than I remember.” I threw him a dirty look.

  He held up his hands as if in surrender. “I’m leaving. Pari, can you sort that tunic out for your mistress? There must be an under tunic somewhere back in the storehouse that I overlooked.” On his way out he said, “Sarah, would you please join me when you change?”

  I had no desire to be within the same four walls as him after the embarrassment of being seen in diaphanous clothing, but what choice had I? Dressed in my own modest, full-skirted dress, I returned to him, my face flaming. To give him credit, he made no comment.

  “I was thinking you could wear this for the opening feast of the equinox celebrations.” In his hands he was holding a turquoise silk garment with golden embroidery at the edge of the sleeves and throughout the skirt.

  I gasped. “It’s beautiful.”

  “My mother set it aside for my bride. There’s a chest full of things in the storehouse.”

  He said bride, singular, which confused me. I came to the conclusion that his mother must have set things apart for his Jewish wife. I didn’t feel worthy of the gift given that I was a poor sort of wife—one i
n name only.

  “I’ll wear it if you wish, of course. But you can have it back afterward.”

  “Don’t you like it?”

  “It’s exquisite. I … it isn’t right that you give it to me. You should save it for another.”

  He sat on the couch and dangled his feet off the end. “You surprise me. In fact, it’s a habit with you. You rarely do or say what I expect.”

  I flattened my back against the wall. “At least you’re not bored.”

  “Irritated, frustrated, discombobulated, infuriated. But not bored. I’ll grant you that.”

  Pari showed her good sense by arriving, which spared me from having to answer Darius’s extraordinary comment. She had a clay-colored undergarment folded over her arms. “I believe I have found the right garment, my lord.”

  “Good. Would you please put the garments on again? And try these,” he added, throwing me a pair of soft leather shoes.

  “But I just had them on!”

  “Humor me.”

  With ill grace I retired to his inner chamber and changed once again. The tunic was still tight, but I was now covered with a modicum of decency thanks to Pari’s fruitful search. “I can loosen it before you leave tomorrow,” she assured me.

  I pulled the shoes on as I walked back for Darius’s scrutiny and was happy to find they fit.

  He nodded when he saw me. “Here, catch.” He threw a thin summer shawl my way. I draped it loosely over my head and shoulders, glad for the added coverage.