After Abel and Other Stories (15 page)

Her husband had asked her to dine with him, alone on the patio next to her rooms. A light dinner of fruit and pastries filled with goat and pheasant lay before them.
The last of the sun's warmth touched her back. She was filled with meat and cheese. He had ordered their richest wine to be brought.

He was crowing, showing off his skill for her. After all these years, she thought, he still wants to impress me. Before even hearing the details, Zeresh felt a burst of pride. He was finally growing into the power that had been placed into his hands. This was a man worthy of the title husband. And chief advisor, of course.

“These days of petitions bore the king. The workings of an empire can be so tiresome. It's far more fun to plan a campaign against rebellious factions. Well, the Afghan mountains have erupted again. The tribes there get restless,” he said.

“But all the king asks is what's due a protector,” he continued. “It's not much, just some money and conscripts. What young man wouldn't want to be in service to the greatest army the world has ever known? The king was riled up. He loves nothing so much as the thought of a military campaign. We talked for an hour. I advised him on strategy, corrected him when he underestimated the number of conscripts we'd need. Reminded him, of course, about the difficulty of provisioning an army through the mountains.”

How tiresome he can be, she thought, even now, in his triumph. Zeresh cared nothing of the movements of troops. Talking to her husband sometimes made her
wish for the conversation of her sister or Hegai. But she bit her tongue. Let him wend his way through this preamble. He deserved this chance to boast, after all. Not many men would live to say they had advised a king.

“I arranged to have that discussion followed by one about a road building project. Just the thought of it made the king's eyes wander to his wine bearer. Once he had a cup in his hand, I mentioned that another clan has been disloyal, only they aren't in the mountains, but have infiltrated our cities. Destroying them would be a morale-booster for the soldiers before the long trek into the Kush.”

Her husband sat back, enjoying the memory of his own cleverness. Zeresh had to admire his cunning. Perhaps he is well suited to this after all, she thought. Though the sun had set and the servants were lighting small fires around the patio, she felt herself growing warmer, excited by what she was hearing.

“The king, in his wisdom, agreed that seditious forces need to be rooted out wherever they appear. Of course, I offered to pay for the entire operation. By month's end, that man,” he spat, “who would sneer at me, and his entire clan, down to every woman and child, will be gone.”

What power he has, she thought. She looked at him as if for the first time in years, how square his jaw still was under his beard, how strong his hands remained.
They had this home together, sons that they were raising, a shared vision of what their life could be, but she hadn't felt those hands on her skin in a long time. She hadn't wanted them. Until now.

Zeresh waited until the last torch was lit, then sent the servants away. She wanted him to herself. Just the two of them, joined together as they'd been for so long. She stood up, looked down at her husband, dropped her robes off her shoulders, and lowered herself into his waiting lap.

It was only when they woke up the next morning that she learned that he'd kept the most important bit of news from her.

“I'm to dine with the queen tonight.” He said it almost casually, as if to fool her into thinking this were an everyday occasion, that he was already used to intimate evenings with royalty. But the edge of self-importance in his voice gave him away. He has left me behind, she realized.

“It's to be me, her, and the king. So I must take care to dress well today.”

“You've proven yourself to them all,” she said.

“Yes, they turn to me for all manner of things now.”

She called the servants, prepared his oils and perfumes
herself, watched as he wrapped himself in his finest silks. And then she watched him go.

The day stretched, interminable. The summer was coming. She could feel the air drying out already. There was so much to do before they'd be ready to leave for Persepolis again. She used the time between her husband's exit and the late hour when he would return to begin packing up the house, but the servants seemed sluggish all day. She had to prod and shout to get anything accomplished.

After a morning of frustration, the servants moving slowly, tenants coming to her with petty complaints, and her sons getting underfoot everywhere she turned, the gates opened, and Shaashgaz, her old friend, rode in, resplendent in his silks. Even his horse and litter were ornamented. Green silk threads winked from the fabric of his tunic and saddle.

“What a surprise, my friend,” she said. His visit was not entirely welcome. There was too much to do, and too much to worry about. She kept checking the sun, factoring how long it would be before her husband sat down with the new queen.

“We weren't expecting you. I'm afraid my people are entirely useless today. They haven't yet prepared
lunch.” She couldn't simply ignore the social niceties, though. “And I won't hear of you not sitting down to eat with me.”

“Have you lost your touch, my dear?” he asked, gently teasing her. “I thought you scared them all into perfect behavior.”

With anyone else, she would take offence. He really was too impertinent, but his eyes laughed as he said it, and he hooked his arm through hers as soon as he was helped down off his horse. “No matter,” he said, “let's walk around your lovely gardens. Everyone says that you've outdone yourself this year, that they are second only to the palace's.”

How does he do it? she wondered. She knew his words were covering something, that there was method in his empty flattery, and yet all the agitation left her body. She surrendered to him, let him lead her farther into her own grounds. They followed the wall to the back of the property. The trees shaded them, birds of paradise rose in flocks against the walls.

“Oh, it is marvelous in here,” he said. “It's a wonder how you managed to grow these climbing plums so tall and lush. What a gift it must be to cultivate your own grounds and family. You must be so proud of all that you've built.”

“We've been lucky this year. The ground has been generous.”

“And how are your boys? Growing as well as your flowers, I hope.”

Where is this heading? she wanted to know. He wouldn't have arrived unannounced to ask after flowers and children, but she played along until he was ready to speak freely. “They do well. Our oldest is, of course, a great help to his father now that he has so many responsibilities. We're quite proud.”

“About that.” The tone of his voice suddenly changed. His usual arch lilt dropped away. His voice was still high, making him sound like the boy he was when his manhood was taken from him, but she only now realized how carefully he had constructed that mask of friendly gossip, that he was more than a canny court survivor. There was a serious man under all that ornamentation.

“There's been an incident at court. As you know, the king gets strange ideas in his head sometimes, which is what happened this morning. He woke up agitated about something, called for one of his advisors. Your husband was there early, as usual. When the king saw him, he ordered your husband to lead Mordechai the Spy through the streets of the market, proclaiming to all who could hear how loyal and good a servant he is. Your husband had no choice but to do it. He wore out his voice with shouting, but he looked like he wanted to kill the man the whole time.”

“What? Is his chief advisor to be treated like a groomsman?”

“This is not the time to be offended.”

She had pulled away from him, her anger flaring.

“How can I not? Is this how the king would treat the man who sits at his right hand, who practically bankrolled his government?”

“Aren't you frightened?”

“Frightened?” This stopped her. “Why should the wife of the most important advisor to the king be frightened when her husband is debased by a dissolute and foolish king?”

“Because it's Mordechai the Spy, of course.”

“Who is he to me? Just another hanger-on at court, one of the men who lurk about looking for people to denounce or prove their loyalty.”

“You don't know. The Creator help you, you don't know.”

Shaashgaz looked genuinely upset. The mask pulled back even farther. How had she missed the fact that he was more than someone to idle away the odd afternoon with. This was the face of a true friend.

“Mordechai is the man your husband has plotted to kill. It's been the talk of the palace.”

Zeresh was too shocked to speak.

“I thought your husband confided in you, that you knew his dealings.”

“He does. He did. He used to. But he wouldn't let anyone utter the man's name in his presence. How was I to know? I've been banned from the palace. And my husband never mentioned Mordechai's connection to the queen. Is it possible he was the only person in Susa who doesn't know about it?”

“Only him. And the king.”

Zeresh understood the implications of what he was telling her at once. “We are doomed.” She knew this court better than almost anyone. “And he's to dine with the king and queen tonight.”

Suddenly, she was very scared. The queen would expose her husband, she was sure of it. It's what she would have done had their places been reversed. The chain of events was as clear to her as if she was in the room. Her husband would swagger in, full of his own importance at being invited to eat privately with the king and queen. The queen would announce his treachery, and the king, besotted with her, would fly into a rage.

What would happen after was too horrible to contemplate.

“Is there any hope for us?” she asked. Maybe Shaashgaz, this good man, could see a way out that she couldn't.

“It's hard to predict the king's moods. But if your husband throws himself on his mercy, perhaps you can
all be saved.”

Zeresh had to act. Forgetting her guest and what she owed him as a host, she ran to the stables.

“Saddle all the horses,” she said to the first man she saw. “As quickly as you can. For my sons.” Without waiting to see if he obeyed, she ran back to the house.

Her boys were still inside, innocent of what was about to befall them. She could hear them through the windows. High-spirited, but cruel in the way only children can be. One had grabbed his tutor's scroll, was tormenting the man. As she got closer, she saw the others point and laugh at him. They are so young, she saw, so assured of their place in the world.

She was about to call out to them, to tell them to leave their play and get ready to ride away, but its pointlessness hit her as hard as if a man had struck her across the face. Where would she send them? Not to their house in Persepolis. They would be found there. All she knew was court life. All her friends and distant cousins were connected to it. Anyone who might assist them was part of this world, too. There was no one to help them. And there were spies everywhere. All she could hope for now was what was left of her husband's good sense and the king's mercy.

And she, trapped here in her beautiful home, could do nothing about it. Events would unfold without her. They would swirl and settle, and then she would do
what she had always done. She would find a way. But she didn't expect what came. Who could?