Harvest of Rubies (35 page)

At the top of his lungs, Arash started yelling, “Butt-rest. Butt-rest.”

A throaty, masculine laugh just behind me made me swivel about in dismay. Darius leaned against the wall, one leg bent
at the knee so that his foot could rest on the bricks.

“You’re quite the language teacher,” he said.

Before I could respond, I spied Damaspia walking toward us. What was this? The meeting place of the nations? Arash was still shouting
Butt-rest
at the top of his lungs. “I’m dead,” I muttered.

Darius’s mouth tipped in a sideway grin. In the sun, his green eyes appeared like living jewels. I gulped as I looked at him, and turned away. Distracted, I jumped up when I noticed Damaspia standing next to me. She sat on the bench and waved me to take my seat near her.

“What is that child shouting?”

I groaned. By now, Damaspia had caught on to her nephew’s words.

“Arash! Cease that at once! You know better.”

At the sound of his royal aunt’s reprimand, the child stopped his proclamation. I thought he might burst into tears of dismay. Instead, he climbed on Damaspia’s lap and began to give her loud, smacking kisses. “Happy?” he asked between kisses. “Happy?” We were all charmed, of course.

“You rascal. Yes, I am happy and I love you. But you are to cease your misbehavior.”

Arash smiled at Damaspia and nodded.

Damaspia turned to me. “Did this wretch Darius teach him that?”

I cleared my throat. “I’m afraid it was I, Your Majesty. I was trying to teach him to say
buttress.”

Damaspia bit her lip, and then laughed. “You have an impressive talent for causing trouble without trying.”

“And I receive the blame,” Darius said, hand on his heart, as though mortally wounded.

“Oh sit yourself on the … butt-rest, and be quiet,” Damaspia said.

Darius obeyed. “You know, Arash has a point. I find this thing quite restful.”

I put my head in my hand.

D
arius walked me back to the palace. We strolled at a leisurely pace, both of us silent. The memory of Arash climbing on Damaspia’s lap with such confidence haunted me. Damaspia was the queen of Persia. But to Arash, she was just a loving aunt. Even in the midst of being disciplined for wrongdoing, Arash had confidence in that love. He knew he could climb into Damaspia’s arms and be wanted there. Even though he had misbehaved, he knew his kisses brought pleasure to his aunt. Arash knew that he didn’t have to be perfect to make his aunt happy.

I couldn’t help wonder if the Lord’s love was like this, full of acceptance even when I had done wrong. Expecting change of me, but loving me before the change came. Was He, like Damaspia, joyful when I came to Him, even in my weakness? Was His loving-kindness that secure?

Yet He was holy too, and could not wave away my sins as if they were of no consequence. That was the point of the
many sacrifices He had demanded of my people. The temple in Jerusalem, where I had never been, once ran red with the blood of lambs and bulls so that our sins might be covered. Jerusalem, which stood as a symbol of God’s love for His people, also represented His holiness. My heart contracted with the desire to visit the City of God. To offer Him sacrifices there. To know every wall that stood between us was finally crushed by His mercy. Perhaps then, I could run to Him like Arash to his aunt, and I could feel His tender embrace with no barriers of guilt or shame.

Through the fog of my thoughts I heard Darius’s clipped voice, louder than usual, bark, “Careful!”

Before I had time to react, Arash’s solid little body crashed into my side as he ran past in some private game. He caught me unawares and I lost my balance, falling against Darius. He wrapped his arms around me in an instinctive gesture to steady me. Instead of letting me go as I regained my equilibrium, his arms tightened about me and pulled me all the way around until I was resting close against his chest. I looked up to find him staring at me with melting intensity. His hand trailed up my back. Slowly, he bent his head.

“What are you doing?” Arash asked, pulling on my skirt.

Darius dropped his arms. His mouth tipped up on one side. “Nothing to do with you, little brat. Go find your nursemaid.”

Arash sniffed, but obeyed.

“If that child were my father’s son, he would have learned better manners by now,” Darius said dryly and resumed walking.

I forced my feet to work again. I half expected my legs to tie into a knot, dropping me in front of my husband in a tangle of stumbling limbs. To my relief, everything seemed in normal
working order. Even my brain. I said, “If he were your father’s son, he wouldn’t even see him for two more years.” It was a custom among Persian nobility not to present their sons to their fathers until the age of five. The idea was that should the child sicken or die, the father would be too heartbroken.

“My father does not believe in that particular custom. He insisted on seeing me the day I was born, and every day after, when he was not traveling. Even when I went to the palace for my formal training, he would sneak my mother in to visit me at least once a week.”

“Your family sounds wonderful. You must have been very close.”

“Yours wasn’t?”

“My mother died when I was seven. I think we were happy until then. But after that,” I said, shrugging. “My father didn’t know what to do with a girl child.”

“I’m sorry.” He threw me a sidelong glance. “We don’t know very much about each other, do we?”

“It’s not usually a requirement for marriage.”

He turned his head away. “I had hoped for something different.”

I wanted to ask him what he had hoped for. I wanted to apologize for ruining his dreams. I wanted to tell him that I too had wished for more. But before I had time to form any words, he changed the subject.

“I met with the man the king recommended. He shall do well as the new steward. I sent him ahead to Persepolis already.”

I tried to hide my disappointment and gave a polite nod.

“Before he left, I showed him Mandana’s receipts as well as the accounts belonging to Teispes’s brother. He confirmed all you said. I have sent the records to the royal judge for his consideration. Teispes’s fate bodes ill. If he had only committed
one crime, he might find himself exiled or imprisoned. But he is guilty of too many infractions of the law. Theft, corruption, attempted murder. He shall lose his life for his crimes.”

“He is guilty of much wrong. Still, I cannot help but pity him.”

Darius nodded, then slowed his steps until we came to a halt. “Damaspia tells me that there was a time when you helped her, also. She says you saved her from a dangerous plot to ruin her reputation and bring enmity between her and the queen mother. I understand you went to Amestris herself and convinced her of Damaspia’s innocence. That must have been an unforgettable experience.”

“Let’s just say Teispes is a bunny rabbit compared to Amestris.”

“Yes, but you were in his clutches longer, and he had more power over you. This is my fault, Sarah. I ask your pardon.”

I swallowed past the knot in my throat. “No pardon needed. I confess, before your return, I thought you negligent of your duties. But after I saw how much you cared for your servants, and how Teispes had deceived you, I stopped holding you responsible. You did not know.”

“And that’s the point. Whereas you
did
find out, and helped my people where you could.” He pulled a hand through his dark hair. “Damaspia tells me that is why she arranged our marriage—to thank you for your service. She assures me that you were not the instigator of our nuptials, and neither was your cousin, the cupbearer, but that she herself was behind it from the start. Why did you never tell me? I would have believed you if I had known the circumstances.”

I made a point of studying my shoe. “It was not my affair to discuss. It was Her Majesty’s business.”

“Damaspia said you were circumspect. Our wedding—that
was your plot to break off the marriage? You thought that seeing you, I would renege on the contract?”

My head jerked up. “You royals must all undergo the same training. That is exactly what Damaspia accused me of at first, and it’s not true!”

Darius straightened until his back grew rigid. Through tight lips he said, “Sarah, we have a chance for a new start. Let us begin with honesty. I have failed you; I own it. I accept responsibility for my part in this disaster. Do the same. Confess your wrong, and I shall forgive you as you forgave me. Let us have truth between us since we have so little else.”

Here we were again. He believed half my story, at least. But the other half still stuck in his throat, and he could not swallow it. I blew my cheeks. “I do confess my wrong, my lord. That night, in my misery, I thought only of myself.”

He nodded his head, encouraging me to go on. I didn’t have much more to tell. I couldn’t lie merely to please him.

“Because of my selfishness, I gave no thought to you or anyone else as I prepared. It never occurred to me how my actions would harm you. I did not design to demean you on purpose, my lord, in order to be released of our contract. But I was so focused on my own feelings that I forgot about God and about everyone else. And I sought no help when I should have.”

Darius clenched his teeth. Softly he said, “Still, you lie? As you did to the queen’s maidservants when they came to prepare you for your wedding? You look me in the eye and lie?”

I could feel myself turning scarlet. “I did lie that day. But I’m telling you the truth now.”

“I tell you, I understand why you did it. Confess it, and I will forgive you. Can’t you see that if you lie about one thing, then I must assume that you will lie about others? I’ll never be able to fully trust you.”

What a web of irony he wove about me. In order to make him believe that I did not lie, I had to lie. I shook my head, dumb with misery. My husband turned his back and began to stride toward the palace. I waited a few moments before following him at a plodding pace. Would this chasm of misunderstanding and lack of trust between us never be bridged?

The king had invited Darius to spend the evening at his table. By the time I arrived at our apartment, he had disappeared into the palace bathhouse and must have left for the king’s quarters directly from there, for I saw no sign of him. Having no invitations of my own, I spent another evening alone.

Since I had traveled to Ecbatana on horseback, I had been able to bring no more than three outfits in addition to my riding clothes. The rest of my garments clattered in a cart somewhere on the king’s highway between Ecbatana and Persepolis. Our baggage train would not arrive for several days. I decided to count having so few engagements as a blessing. At least there was no one to remark on the limitedness of my wardrobe. Or the coldness of my husband.

I missed Caspian and felt lonely for my friends. It had been twelve days since I saw them. Eight more days, and I would at least have Pari with me.

The next morning I awoke to an invitation from the queen to go riding with her and her retinue. I donned my riding habit, and dispatched a palace servant to have Kidaris saddled. To my relief, I found I had not forgotten Darius’s riding instructions. My body, now recovered from the grueling journey, settled in the saddle with ease. I joined Damaspia and her ladies and
found she intended to ride into the hilly countryside surrounding Ecbatana. We were to picnic in the lush woods beyond the city gates.

Most of Damaspia’s ladies already knew each other and spent the early part of our journey chatting pleasantly as they navigated the dusty roads two abreast. Content to ride in silence, I was taken aback when Damaspia led her horse to join me. She signaled for us to slow down. When we were some distance from the others, she said, “Your husband has requested separate rooms from you for the remainder of his stay at Ecbatana.”

“I see.”

“I thought you were dealing well together.”

“He is convinced, once again, that I’m lying to him and says he cannot trust me.”