Jewel of Persia (20 page)

As if he knew exactly when her silent prayer had ended, Xerxes motioned for the tent to be lowered into place, tilted back her head, and kissed her until the servants left them alone.

~*~

Xerxes could not withhold a smile when he looked down the hill behind him. His army stretched along the road as far as the eye could see. Had a greater force ever been assembled in all of mankind? If so, he had never heard of it. Surely there were more than a million soldiers—it took them over a week to march past any given point.

Celaenae was within sight, and a small group moved toward them on the road. When Masistes and Haman reined in beside him, he arched a brow. “Who is that, do you know?”

Masistes nodded. “That is why we searched you out. It is Pythius, the richest man in Lydia. I have been told his wealth is second in the world only to yours.”

“Interesting.” Why had he heard no mention of the man until now? “What does he want?”

Haman inclined his head. “To offer hospitality to you and your army.”

Xerxes grinned. “Well then. Let us meet him. Wait—I will fetch Kasia first, so that she might rest in comfort the sooner.”

“She looks unwell again today.”

And when had Masistes seen her? Xerxes’ fingers tightened on the reins. “She is with child.”

“Again?” Masistes shook his head. “You test the god, brother. So many miscarriages cannot be good for a woman’s body. If you want to preserve her life, you may have to be content with others to warm your bed.”

A knot of fear cinched tight in his stomach. Did his brother think he had not considered that? His resolve hardened after each bout of pain and tears . . . but when she was in his arms, he forgot everything but the love surging through him. No one could ignite his passion like Kasia. When he could not touch her, it felt as though the sun had been snuffed out.

“She assures me that she is already farther along than she has made it before.”

His brother looked unconvinced. “I just took Parsisa and Artaynte to her wagon. They have both spoken to me of their concern for her.”

That at least explained how Masistes knew of her appearance today. “They cannot be more concerned than I. Ask them to pray.”

“They have been, I am sure.”

Together they turned toward the first wagon nestled within the safety of the Persian ranks. His, though everyone had come to think of it as hers. Which suited him nicely.

Ferocious barking issued from within. Xerxes grinned when both friend and brother held back with matching scowls.

Masistes shook his head. “You should have kept her from making a pet of that beast, my lord. It was a guard dog.”

“And still is. Now he guards Kasia instead of the palace. Down, Zad.”

A grey nose poked out of the wagon, and the dog acknowledged him with a happy loll of his tongue. Xerxes urged his horse alongside so he could scratch Zad behind the ears and look into the opening. Kasia offered a tight smile, but her face lacked color and her hand pressed against her stomach.

The knot rose to his throat, but he forced it back down. He refused to fear the child growing inside her would steal her from him before it drew its first breath. “Good news, my love. It seems there is a man headed our way to offer us his hospitality.”

A measure of relief settled onto her countenance. “Wonderful. We are almost to Celaenae?”

“It will be visible when you crest the hill.” He turned to address the driver. “Pull out of rank and come ahead with us. We will all meet this Pythius together.”

“Yes, master.”

After another smile aimed at Kasia, he urged his horse ahead of the wagon so that they might cut a swath through the surrounding army. A moment later he stood at the top of the hill yet again, where his personal entourage joined him. They would make an impressive picture as they moved down the hill—his commanders flanked him, his advisors and slaves formed rows behind, the wagon followed. Then the vast sea of soldiers, armed and ready to teach Greece what happened to those who opposed Persia.

When Xerxes lifted his hand, they started forward at a sedate, regal pace. The breeze picked up, and his standard snapped taut, then fluttered.

One man parted from the rest as they drew near. He looked the same age Xerxes’ father would have been, with a mane of glistening silver hair and the broad shoulders of a warrior.

“This is Pythius?” He put his question to one of the advisers behind him.

“Yes, master. He is the one who sent your father Darius the gold plane-tree and vine.”

He nodded and moved a step ahead of his companions. Pythius reined his horse to a halt and jumped down. By the time Xerxes reached him, he knelt with head bowed.

Xerxes’ horse pranced. “Pythius of Lydia?”

“Your humble servant, my king.”

His humble servant had a voice as deep and rich as the gold collar draping his neck. A man of means, indeed. “Rise. I hear you were a friend of my father’s.”

Pythius stood and looked up at him. “It was my great honor to know him, and it is with gratitude to the gods that I now welcome you. If it pleases you, my lord, I have a feast ready for you and your companions, and provisions for the whole of your army as they arrive.”

“I accept with delight. Would you ride beside me into the city?”

“My servants shall lead the way.” Pythius swung onto his horse and turned it around. “I have been awaiting your army with eagerness, as have my brothers and sons. I hope you have room in your numbers for those we would add to it.”

The chuckle eased some of the tension in his chest. “There is always room for more, my friend.”

A wide smile creased Pythius’s face. “I have heard that some of you have wives and children with you. My wife wishes me to assure you that she has made preparations for them as well, both at Celaenae and Sardis.”

“Excellent. We have been away from our homes for nearly eighteen months already, surveying and gathering the troops. I know they will all be grateful for the chance to rest in luxury once again.”

“Of course.” Pythius’s dark eyes glinted with curiosity and excitement. “We have heard of your progress with the bridge, my lord—it is astounding. And the tales of the canal! I can barely fathom the amount of thought and preparation you, in your wisdom, have put into this expedition.”

Xerxes nodded and breathed in deeply of the sweet air. “I have many wise advisers who have helped me ensure this conquest will be remembered for all time.”

“I am proud to be one of the first to offer you assistance. Were I a few years younger, I would ask for a command.” Pythius squared his shoulders, raised his chin, and met Xerxes’ gaze. “Since I have not youth, I will offer what I
do
have. All that I possess, my king, I wish to give to you to fund this great war.”

Xerxes knew his surprise must show on his face. “All that you possess? But my friend, it is my understanding you have much—and those who do are usually loath to part with it.”

“It is true I am wealthy. But what is the purpose of riches, if one does not put them toward a good cause?” He shook his head. “I wish to finance the war. My slaves and farms make enough for me to live on, so all else I give to you. My treasury has four thousand silver talents and is only seven thousand gold Daric staters shy of four million. It is all yours.”

Astounding. Given the size of his army and all that would be necessary to support them, Xerxes was prepared to demand what he may and take what he must as they traveled. But to have someone offer so much, freely? An auspicious start to his campaign

“I have never met anyone so generous.” He halted his horse and, when Pythius did the same, reached out to clasp his wrist. “Your hospitality I accept. And to show my gratitude, you may not only keep what you have in your treasury, I will give you the seven thousand staters you need to round it out to the full four million.”

Pythias swallowed, and his nostrils flared. “You do me unspeakable honor, my king. I will serve you faithfully all the days of my life.”

“And I will remember your generosity all the days of mine. See that you never change, Pythius, and I will hold you up as a shining example for the rest of mankind to imitate.”

They started forward again, and Xerxes let his smile bloom full. The god intended greatness for them, and Xerxes intended to seize it. Whatever it took.

Fifteen

Susa, Persia

Zechariah eyed the gold of dawn and held up a hand. He had been here since morning was only a promise on the horizon, but soon all of Susa would rise. “Enough for this morning. I need to get home.”

His three friends all released tired breaths and stretched.

Adam groaned. “You are more a slavedriver than Pharaoh of old. You fight as though the Greeks might visit our doors for revenge.”

Zechariah smiled and strode to the river. The other three plodded along behind him, mumbling and groaning. Zechariah rolled his eyes. He worked them barely half as hard as Bijan had done him, before he left with the rest of the army eighteen months ago. They had no cause for complaint.

Though the other two said their farewells and started home, Adam dropped to his knees at the riverbank and plunged his head under the water. He brought it up again with a happy sigh. “Better. But if you see me not tomorrow, Zech, assume I have died in the meantime and leave me in peace.”

Zechariah breathed a laugh and shoved his friend’s shoulder. “You are the one who asked to learn, Adam.”

“Because I feel myself growing fat as my father, doing nothing but sitting around the house all day pouring wax onto wooden tablets. I would rather be out chopping the wood. Collecting the wax.
Moving
.”

“Yet when I make you move, you accuse me of killing you.” He reached into the water and tossed a handful at his friend.

Adam splashed him back, but he grinned. “Because I have been growing fat as my father up until now. I am improving though, right? I had to tighten my belt the other day.”

Zechariah poured cool water over his head and sloughed off the sweat. “If you were more concerned with how you handle your spear than how you look in your tunic, you would improve more quickly.”

Adam grunted and wiped the drops from his face. “We are twenty now, Zech. Our fathers’ businesses have grown since Persia went to war. Has it not occurred to you that we can afford to take wives soon? I would prefer my future bride not be disgusted when first we meet.”

“I have not given much thought to a wife, no. I am—”

“Shh.” Adam put a hand over Zechariah’s face, though he covered his nose more than his mouth. Perhaps because his gaze was locked on something in the opposite direction. “Speaking of my future bride . . . if I believed in pagan gods, I would swear Cupid just struck me. Look. Have you ever seen such a beautiful woman?”

His friend fell in love at least once a week, but Zechariah would be the first to admit he had a good eye for female forms. He peered around him. And snorted. “Her? She is a child.”

“Are you blind? She must be at least fourteen. Are not both the twins betrothed? They cannot be any older.”

Zechariah looked down the river again, to where Esther stooped with a large clay jug. “You are right about that much. She is the same age as the twins.”

“You know her?” Adam turned to her with large, round eyes. “Would you—”

“No, I am not going to introduce you.”

“You need not scowl at me like that, Zech, my intentions are honorable.”

“Your intentions are also as shifting as the wind.” That, however, was not what made him scowl. How was it that Adam did not know who Esther was? He would know Mordecai, certainly—every Jew in Susa knew Mordecai. But Esther . . . had she closed herself off again, while he was busy with this latest project for the king?

Zechariah bit back a curse and splashed more water over himself. “Go home, Adam—and you had better be here an hour before dawn tomorrow, or I shall come drag you from your grave.”

Adam stood up and sucked in what remained of his stomach. “Absolutely.” His voice came out in a wheeze. “Tomorrow. See you then.”

Zechariah watched him swagger off—veering to the right far more than necessary, though Esther did not look up from her task. He rolled his eyes and stood, then strode her way.

She glanced up with a start, though the caution in her expression gave way to welcome when she saw him.“I ought to have known it was you and your would-be soldiers out so early. Have you trained a new class of Immortals yet?”

He folded his arms over his chest. “What have you been doing, Esther?”

Her blink told him his tone had been too harsh, too accusing. “I am only getting water. Martha’s back has been bothering her, so I offered to take on this task.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Not
now
. In general.”

She still looked baffled. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Weaving, mending. Helping your sisters prepare for their weddings.”