Lilah (7 page)

Many of the carpets and rugs Sarah produced embellished the seats of the chariots her husband built. But she could also make carpets and rugs in the styles of Judaea, Media, Parsumash, Lydia and Susa. There was hardly a noble family in the Citadel, or in Babylon or Ecbatana, that did not own something made in the workshop of Sarah, wife of Mordechai and daughter of Reka.

After a good dinner, washed down with palm beer, Sarah liked to say with a laugh, covering her
mouth with her chubby fingers, that she had at least one thing in common with the King of Kings: her workshop also reigned over all the regions of Greater Persia. She hoped the Everlasting would forgive her this vanity.

Today, though, her thoughts were elsewhere.

Her niece Lilah had still not returned from the lower town.

She did not need to keep her eyes on the courtyard to know that. She would have heard the noise of the chariot wheels on the flagstones.

She forced her mind back to the work, and turned to a tall, thin young woman who was following her respectfully a few paces behind. ‘Helamsis, have you counted how many carpets we've finished today?' she asked.

‘Five, Mistress. They're on the trestle.' Helamsis pointed to the far end of the workshop.

Sarah began to walk in that direction. ‘Have you checked that they're the right size?' she asked.

Helamsis' answer was lost in the clatter of the shuttles and reglets. Sarah did not ask her to repeat it. When her mistress was in this kind of mood, it was better to obey her quietly and agree with her as often as possible. Even if Helamsis swore on the wrath of Ahura Mazda that every piece was of exactly the right length and width, Sarah would still go and check for herself.

That was what she now set about doing. Then, when she was satisfied, she put the shuttles back on the trestle with a sigh. There was nothing to criticize: they were perfect. She was about to ask Helamsis to take them to Mordechai's workshop on the other side of the courtyard when she heard the long-awaited rumbling.

‘Ah!' Helamsis, who knew what had caused her mistress's impatience, sighed with relief. ‘Here's Lilah's chariot.'

‘What a way to behave!' Sarah exclaimed. As she had reached out to help Lilah from the chariot, Axatria had bumped into her. ‘Can't you apologize, my girl?' Sarah roared.

The reproach had no effect. Axatria strode across the outer courtyard, dragging the empty basket behind her, and disappeared between the columns that led to the second courtyard, where the living quarters and the kitchens were.

‘What's the matter with her?' Sarah asked Lilah, unable to get over what had happened.

‘Oh, today's the day for anger,' Lilah replied, jumping nimbly from the chariot. ‘Everyone's angry, Axatria, Ezra, even Sogdiam.'

‘Angry? Why? Because of
him
?'

Lilah could not help smiling.
Him
could only be Antinoes. She just had time to adjust her shawl on
her shoulders before her aunt took her by the elbow. ‘Come, let's not stay here. I've had some sage and rose tea brought to my bedchamber.'

What Sarah called her bedchamber consisted, in fact, of two spacious rooms. One was a true bedchamber, while the other, furnished with low tables, chests and a large number of cushions, was used as a sitting room. From it, there was a view not only of the second courtyard but also of the gardens surrounding the house, a tranquil and delightful sight. Between the cypresses and the eucalyptus trees, the imposing walls and columns of the Citadel could be seen. Sarah was very proud of the room, and loved to receive her women friends there, as well as the wives of important customers.

‘So, tell me, tell me everything!' she said, avid for news, as she lay down on the cushions. ‘What did he say?'

Lilah knew that her aunt's gaiety would soon vanish. But she avoided replying directly to her impatient questions. ‘Ezra and Master Baruch have had bad news from Jersusalem,' she said, as if that was what she had been asked. ‘The sage Nehemiah died without accomplishing his mission. The Temple may have been rebuilt, though Ezra has his doubts. But it is desecrated by all kinds of bad practices, and the city itself is lawless again, with no protection for the Jews.'

Sarah stopped pouring the tea into silver goblets, and frowned. ‘I knew that. Mordechai told me about it a few days ago. It's sad, I know,' she said, putting down the pot of tea, ‘but, well . . .'

‘Ezra was furious. He thinks we exiles have been deceived. We've let ourselves be too easily taken advantage of. The Law of Yahweh isn't respected, and the children of Israel are in danger.'

Sarah gave a sigh of irritation. ‘Ezra is always furious. He thinks we're guilty of everything.'

‘No, Aunt. He thinks only that we give too little attention to what's happening in Jerusalem—'

Sarah waved her hands as if to dispel smoke. ‘Lilah, Lilah, my child! Leave these things to Ezra and Mordechai. They're not women's concerns. What I want to know is what Ezra said about your marriage to Antinoes.'

Avoiding her eyes, Lilah looked up at a flock of swallows circling above the garden. Was she also about to lose her temper?

She had been dreading this moment since she had left the lower town. She could guess in advance every one of the words that would be spoken: words of reproach she had heard so often, and which never had the slightest effect on her. If Ezra was frequently unfair to his uncle and aunt, they were no less unfair to him, obstinately refusing to judge his behaviour with a modicum of good faith.
Couldn't they at least respect his choices and admire his courage?

If only they would make an effort to understand him a little instead of constantly reproaching him! Today was definitely a day for anger.

Lilah tried to calm herself with a mouthful of the scalding herb tea, which her aunt loved: sharp yet sweet, it seemed to have been conceived in her image.

Sarah was leaning towards her. ‘I know you were with Antinoes last night,' she murmured, her face creased with curiosity. ‘I heard you come home.' She chuckled. ‘I'd have liked to see you then, so that you could tell me everything, but Mordechai had decided to sleep with me, and that's not something that happens often!'

The questions came thick and fast, and Lilah replied as briefly as she could. Yes, Antinoes loved her as passionately as ever. Yes, he had become a hero of the King of Kings. Yes, he wanted her as his wife. Yes, yes . . .

‘And Ezra?'

Lilah bit her lips, then, seeing her aunt's large eyes shining with impatience, she smiled. ‘Ezra is like Antinoes,' she replied. ‘He hasn't changed either.'

‘Hasn't changed? You mean . . .'

‘You know what I mean, Aunt.'

There was no tenderness in Sarah's face now. ‘You mean he won't hear of your marriage, is that it?'

‘He's devoted to his studies, and nothing else interests him,' Lilah replied patiently.

‘All I know is, he's mad and he'll cause you a lot of unhappiness.' Sarah's voice was as harsh now as it was when she discovered a defect in a carpet.

Lilah was on the point of standing up and leaving the room. She, too, would have liked to speak her mind, to say loud and clear that she was no longer a child, that all this was no one's business but her own, and that she'd prefer to be left in peace. But that would not have been the truth. Whether she liked it or not, her marriage to Antinoes was everyone's business.

‘I didn't tell him about the marriage,' she forced herself to reply calmly. ‘There was no point.'

‘No point? No point in telling him about your marriage? What are you talking about?'

‘There's no rush, Aunt Sarah. Give Ezra a little time. He knows Antinoes is back. He'll think about it.'

‘Think about it!' Sarah cried. ‘We know what he's going to think about it!'

Lilah said nothing.

‘And what about you?' Sarah went on, frowning. ‘You want this marriage, don't you? You and
Antinoes love each other – you're promised to each other . . .'

‘What we've promised each other is no one's business but ours, Aunt!' Without intending to, Lilah had spoken curtly and had slammed her glass down on the tray.

Sarah gave a muffled moan and turned towards the garden. She was weeping. She had a very particular way of weeping: soundlessly, almost without tears. A violent shudder rippled through her.

‘Aunt Sarah!'

‘Don't you want to get married?'

‘That's not what I said.'

Her aunt looked at her for a moment in astonishment, then shook her head. ‘I don't understand you! I haven't understood your brother for years, but now you . . .'

‘Ezra is doing what he thinks is right,' Lilah said, remembering that she had used the same words in trying to calm Antinoes.

‘Oh really? What does that mean – right? Doing all he can to hurt his uncle and aunt?'

‘Aunt Sarah, Ezra isn't a child, and hasn't been a child for a long time. Uncle Mordechai and you know what he's doing in the lower town and why. You should be proud and recognize his greatness.'

‘His greatness?' Sarah cried. ‘In the lower town? As if that wasn't enough to make us ashamed! He
could just as easily pursue his studies here – even with that old sage of his, who turned up out of nowhere, like a beggar. There's no better man than Mordechai. Even after all this time, he would still welcome Ezra with open arms. But, oh, no!'

‘Aunt Sarah, there are laws for the Hebrews,' Lilah said, passionately now, and rose from the cushions. ‘Laws for all of us, at every moment of our lives. Laws that come from the God of heaven. In our exile we've forgotten them. They're written on Moses' scroll, which has been passed from father to son in our family for generations. Now the scroll of the Law has come to Ezra. He wants to study it. Not only to study it – he wants to obey its teachings. Isn't that his right? Perhaps even his duty! Shouldn't we admire him for it as we're taught to admire the ancients, the patriarchs, the prophets?'

‘What modesty! Is Ezra the equal of the ancients, the patriarchs and the prophets now?' For a moment, they glared at each other. Then Sarah shrugged. ‘You sound more and more like him,' she said, disappointment in her voice.

‘I don't sound like him. But I understand why he says what he does.'

‘You're lucky, then.' Sarah rubbed her brow and eyes, as if trying to extract an image from them. ‘The three of you were in the house, in the garden,' she sighed, ‘always squabbling, but always adoring
each other. My brother Ezra here, my brother Antinoes there! I can still hear you.'

‘Ezra is not the same as he was, Aunt Sarah,' Lilah replied, severely.

‘Oh, I've noticed that! And you're not the same, either.' Sarah's voice broke, and her neck and chin quivered. ‘Antinoes is a chariot captain!' she sobbed. ‘He fights beside the great Tribazes. He can enter the Apadana whenever he likes and be invited to share a meal with the King of Kings . . .'

Lilah knew exactly what her aunt was feeling. Sarah had always loved Antinoes like a son – but she also loved the fact that his family was noble, and his name renowned. She was proud to be able to tell her customers that Antinoes, son of Artobasanez, the late satrap of Margiana, would soon be her niece's husband and Mordechai's heir.

Lilah moved away from the table and the cushions. Immediately her aunt stood up and rushed to her. ‘Lilah! Forgive me, my dear. I know how difficult this is for you. You love Ezra and . . . we all love him.'

Lilah let Sarah take her hands.

Her aunt sighed, and mustered a little smile. ‘Perhaps you're right. You've always got on with him well. Perhaps it's better not to speak to him about Antinoes for the moment. His mood can be so changeable. In a few days . . .'

It sounded like a false hope, and Lilah turned away, embarrassed. But her aunt held her back, her face serious again, her voice low and firm. ‘It's better not to say anything to your uncle either, my dear, until Ezra's made up his mind. Mordechai so much wants you to be happy. This marriage is really important to him – to all of us. And to the workshops. Do you understand?'

HOW COULD SHE
sleep?

Antinoes' voice said, ‘We are together for ever. Without your love, even a Greek child could vanquish me.'

Ezra's voice said, ‘Do not soil the walls of this room with his name.'

Aunt Sarah's voice said, ‘This marriage is really important to all of us.'

Lilah flung off the blanket, which had got tangled between her legs. A bad dream had woken her, and she had tried in vain to go back to sleep. The darkness of her bedchamber seemed to weigh on her, the air as stifling as if someone had been burning sticks of cedar.

She groped for her shawl and put it on over her night tunic. Then she pushed back the shutter
noiselessly and stepped out, barefoot, onto the narrow terrace that ran alongside the women's rooms, its crenellated wall overlooking the inner courtyard.

She took a deep breath, and the constriction eased in her throat.

Veiled by clouds, the sky was heavy and opaque, moonless and starless. The west wind blew in from the desert. Soon it would die down, and the
zarhmat
, bringing the autumn rains and winter ice from the north, would chase it away.

The diadem of the Apadana shone above the sleeping city, as it did every night. Lilah could not help thinking again of Antinoes.

Her eyes searched for the tower that had witnessed their lovemaking. It was hidden in darkness, but she saw it anyway, just as she still felt Antinoes' breath on her skin, the thrill of his caresses.

She placed her hands on the wall, searching for the support she wanted from her lover's shoulders and solid chest. For that was what Antinoes represented for her: not only the heat of desire but a peace and a calm that no one else could give her – certainly not Ezra.