Lilah (15 page)

‘How?'

It was late, but they were still talking.

The clouds scurried beneath the moon. The rain
had ceased, but a cold, strong wind had risen and was whistling between the wooden shutters. Antinoes had covered himself and Lilah with a huge bearskin from the Zagros mountains. They were whispering in the shadows as they had so often whispered during their childhood. But their words were no longer childish words.

‘You think Ezra hates you,' Lilah was saying. ‘He doesn't, he only hates the life we lead here while Yahweh is waiting for us over there. You alone can teach the cupbearers and eunuchs of the King's table Ezra's true worth, and that thousands will follow him when he sets off for Jerusalem.'

‘It will be many days before the King lends an ear to my request,' Antinoes replied.

‘What does that matter? We can wait.'

‘Do you think Parysatis will wait?'

At that they fell silent, for those words were like ice in their bellies, and they did not yet dare to confront them.

To dismiss them, Antinoes resumed, in a lighter tone, like a true warrior and a hero of the King of Kings, ‘Artaxerxes might be interested in the idea of bringing order to Jerusalem, rebuilding its walls and making it a fortified town. Jerusalem is the weakest point on our western borders. They say Pharaoh has his eyes on it. If Jerusalem fell to the Egyptians, the Greeks would rejoice. It would give
them the coast and the ports of Tyre and Sidon. From there they could trade, and also send armies towards the Euphrates. Yes . . . I'm sure that's how I need to present things. Some of the generals will be happy to hear it. Tribazes will listen to me, I'm sure. And he'll be better able to persuade the King than I would.'

Lilah smiled in the shadows, searched for the warmth of her lover's body so that she could melt into it and inspire him with her strength.

But then Antinoes murmured, ‘Parysatis wants me to marry one of her nieces. She won't budge, I know.' He hesitated. ‘She claims you've already agreed to break our promise.'

Lilah gave a dry, contemptuous laugh. ‘Parysatis knows nothing about real life. She knows only her own desires.'

‘She'll kill you if you don't obey. She'll humiliate you more than she already has, then kill you in the cruellest way she can find.'

‘Will she kill you, too?'

‘Without hesitation. And no one in the Apadana will protest. Not even Tribazes, who wishes me nothing but good. Parysatis hates him more than the others, if that's possible, because he led the army that defeated Cyrus the Younger. Parysatis' hatred is stronger than Artaxerxes' trust. But I don't think she'll touch me. There'd be no point. She'll kill you
and say, “Now, Antinoes, you no longer have a promise to keep.”'

They listened to the wind. The red glow of the braziers danced on the walls.

‘We no longer have a promise,' Antinoes whispered. ‘We'll never be man and wife.'

Lilah rolled over and wrapped herself round him. She kissed his neck, chin and temples. She made him tremble with desire again, drew him out of the shadows where he left his thoughts and pride. She made their young bodies dance, skin to skin, as free and untroubled as they had ever been. And when he was again inside her, she whispered, ‘I have only one word, my beloved. And I shall keep it. We will be man and wife.'

‘Lilah!' Antinoes breathed, trying to restrain the surge of his hips.

‘Who will know it? If you're brave enough, who will know it? Not even Ezra!'

WITH LILAH'S HELP,
Antinoes wrote a tablet in his fine handwriting, asking for an audience with the King of Kings. Ezra's name was mentioned, as well as the reason for the request. The tablet spoke of Artaxerxes the First, Nehemiah, and peace and order on the western borders of the kingdoms, which were still threatened by the Egyptians and the mercenaries of the Upper Sea.

Antinoes, unfortunately, had spoken the truth. It would take a long time before the tablet, addressed to Tribazes, the head of the armies, was passed to the scribes of the Apadana. There, as custom demanded, it would have to be copied in duplicate, according to the rules of the Citadel, in the Persian language as well as that of ancient Assyria.

Then the tablets would be handed over to the
cupbearers of the Council of a Thousand, which, when it had time among all its many tasks, would judge their contents together with the chiliarch, the great lord Tithraustes. The chiliarch himself would then take time for wise reflection, after which he would pass his judgement to the counsellors of the King's table. Under their supervision, a new, more appropriate request would be written on the huge royal scroll, without beginning or end, known as the Book of Days.

Finally, Artaxerxes the Second, King of Kings, would make his appearance to deal with the affairs of his kingdoms. The scribe of the Book of Days would read the request, Tithraustes would give his opinion, and the King would decide what should be written in response to the petition of Ezra, son of Serayah, an exiled son of Israel living in the lower town of Susa.

At this pace, the first snow had fallen before the King's answer had arrived, and everyone was on edge. More than anything, Antinoes feared Parysatis' spies. Realizing that their embraces were no longer enough to cheer them, Lilah decided it would be more sensible if they stayed away from each other until they knew the King's decision. Antinoes would also avoid Mordechai's house.

‘It seems Parysatis has already succeeded in separating us,' Antinoes sighed as they said goodbye.

‘Never!' Lilah said, kissing his lips one last time. ‘She'll never separate us. Besides, you're nearer to me now than when you go off to war . . .'

Days passed, and still there was no news.

Ezra, whose resolve had been weakened for a time by Lilah's conviction, and to an extent by Master Baruch's words, was the first to mock. ‘So, the Everlasting doesn't seem to be taking any notice of my sister's opinions,' he said sarcastically, as Lilah and Axatria came in, bearing their basket of fruit and barley. ‘Artaxerxes hasn't sent for me. He has his god Ahura Mazda who, supposedly, supports him in everything. Why should he care about the Jews, or Jerusalem, or the Law of Moses? I was right not to listen to your daydreams, Sister. My studies with Master Baruch are sure to bring me closer to the will of Yahweh than your imagination.'

‘You're not very patient,' Lilah replied, dismissing his jibes. ‘Not very patient, not very trusting, and not very provident. You should be taking advantage of this time to gather those who will go with you. You should be telling people about your hopes for Jerusalem.'

‘My hopes for Jerusalem?' He shook with laughter. ‘Lilah, those who wish to go with me may sit in this courtyard for as long as they like, provided they respect my studies. Then their journey, like mine,
will lead them to the Word of Yahweh and the Scriptures of Moses.'

Lilah had expected Master Baruch to support her, but the old man refused to intervene on one side or the other. He seemed to huddle behind his beard, overcome by age and fatigue, unable now to surprise or infuriate others with well-chosen words.

But when Lilah bent down to bid him goodbye, he took her face between his soft old palms and gave a big smile that made his eyes sparkle as if he were laughing. He said nothing, but held Lilah's face, as if he were freeing it from the weight of the earth.

She realized that he was encouraging her, and her anxieties slipped away.

When she next saw Ezra, he mocked her again, so harshly that she thought she detected a touch of jealousy. She decided not to go back to the lower town until she could take the King of Kings' answer with her.

Axatria was horrified. ‘What if it doesn't come? What if there is no answer? What if—'

‘There's no “what if”, Axatria. There'll be an answer, and it'll be the one we're expecting. Ezra will appear before Artaxerxes.'

Axatria looked at her as if she had lost her reason.

The month of Tevet arrived and cold struck the Susa region. For three days, the sky was hazy with snow. Big flakes covered Mordechai's house,
wrapping it in silence. Lilah seemed as cold and white as the snow, as if the wait were draining her of blood.

Slowly and silently dawn was breaking. The weavers and Mordechai's men were not yet at work. Lilah gazed out at the daylight, as she did each morning, trying to summon the strength to keep her impatience in check. Sarah's voice made her jump more than the hand on the back of her neck.

Before she could speak, her aunt hugged her. ‘I had to be close to you for a moment. I've thought it over. You're right about Ezra – I told Mordechai: Lilah's right. I don't know if it'll happen, if the King will give him an audience and he'll set off for Jerusalem. We'll see. But you're right. Ezra is Ezra. Yahweh's hand is upon him. It's been obvious for a long time.'

They embraced with a laugh that sounded more like a moan.

‘You aren't getting much sleep,' Sarah said gently, stroking her niece's cheek.

‘No one has been getting much sleep lately,' Lilah replied. ‘Neither you nor Uncle Mordechai. Oh, my poor aunt, Ezra and I have given you more worry than pleasure.'

Sarah held her a little tighter. ‘Dreams, that's what you've given me, Lilah – dreams. And I haven't
always been very clever.' She laughed again. This time, it was like a sob. ‘Sarah – that's the right name for me. Sarah of the barren womb. Just like Abraham's Sarah. Except that the angels of the Everlasting won't be paying me a visit when I'm really old . . .'

‘Aunt!'

Sarah placed her fingers on Lilah's mouth to silence her. Her eyes were shining feverishly, and her low voice was made hoarse by the harshness of the words that came from her lips. ‘You can't imagine the shame! The shame of not having given Mordechai a child. The shame of being so happy when you and Ezra arrived in this house. It was terrible. Your father and mother had just died and because of that I was finally able to live like a woman. Children in my house! Oh, you can't imagine! Mordechai was transformed, too. I became a real mother – in my own eyes, at least. You always call me Aunt, but for so long I wanted to hear you call me Mother. Then you grew up, and another dream came true. You became a woman, a beautiful woman, the lover of a handsome man. One day your belly would swell as mine never would. I used to wake at night thinking I heard your sons and daughters crying. Yes, that was my greatest wish, to have grandchildren running and yelling in this house, to forget about the carpets, the weaving,
the customers. For years I dreamed that Lilah's children would soon throw themselves into my arms. If I hadn't been a mother, I would at least be a grandmother.'

She fell silent, her whole body trembling. Lilah remained motionless, with a lump in her throat. Sarah took a deep breath, and her lips curved in an ironic smile. ‘Sometimes I dreamed of the children Ezra might have . . . but that didn't last, I must admit.'

Lilah smiled, too. At last, tears welled in Sarah's eyes and rolled down her cheeks, and she said, very quickly, in one breath, as if fearing she would not be able to finish everything she had to say, ‘Now I know I shan't see children running in this house or be woken by their cries. To the end of my days, I'll be Sarah of the barren womb. Do you understand?'

‘Aunt . . .' Lilah murmured.

Sarah shook her head, stubbornly and bravely. ‘No, don't say anything. There's no need. I know. That terrible mad Queen will never allow you to marry Antinoes. And I know you. You won't yield either. If you can't marry him, you won't marry anyone else. You won't be anyone else's lover. You'll be like me: a woman with a barren womb.'

Sarah was looking her niece straight in the eyes. In her voice, there had been perhaps a faint tinge of hope that she might be contradicted, but Lilah could
not find anything to say in reply and lowered her eyes.

Sarah nodded. ‘I suppose you're right,' she whispered. ‘But you may change your mind later. We never know what the Everlasting expects of us. And you're so young – little more than a child.'

A door slammed in the courtyard, then silence returned. They separated, as if their bodies were suddenly turned in again on their sadness.

‘Perhaps you could . . .' Sarah hesitated. What she had to say was difficult, and she no longer dared look at Lilah. ‘I know that you take herbs,' she murmured, ‘when you see Antinoes. You could be pregnant, then he'd have to—'

‘But to what end?' Lilah interrupted, without raising her voice. ‘To have a child and give it a life of shame? Antinoes could never make it his son or daughter without the wrath of Parysatis falling on the child. She wouldn't rest until she'd destroyed it.'

Sarah frowned, and said nothing. They were both silent.

There was more noise in the house now. Mordechai's voice rang out, then those of the handmaids in reply. Soon they would hear the clatter of the looms.

‘It's so cruel,' Sarah muttered. ‘If there's anyone who doesn't deserve this, it's you.'

‘No one deserves to suffer Parysatis' madness.'

Sarah turned abruptly and gripped Lilah's hands. ‘What I'd like to know is whether or not you're going to follow him.' Her eyes were intense, her mouth harder, as if she were getting ready to receive a blow. ‘If you also leave for Jerusalem, Mordechai and I will be alone again. He'll never leave Susa.'

Lilah shook her head. ‘Oh, Aunt Sarah, I don't know – I don't know.'

A few mornings later, Axatria returned from the lower town, her cheeks red. Alone, as before, she had taken clean clothes and food to Ezra and Master Baruch. She had found Sogdiam in a state of great excitement. For the past few days, Zachariah and some twenty members of his family, brothers, uncles and nephews, had been coming to listen to Ezra reading from the great scroll of the Law of Moses.