Harvest of Rubies (30 page)

So after an hour when Darius instructed me on how to canter, I did my best to keep up. I made no complaint when my back began to burn and my thighs started to tremble from strain. I held my back as straight as I could and recited the Scriptures to keep my mind from the pain.

“Are you all right?” Darius asked more than once.

As if I would admit that I felt like my back was breaking. “Perfect,” I responded and ignored his concerned look. I was disconcerted by his solicitous attitude. For a man who showed me the sharp side of his tongue at every opportunity, he was being bewilderingly attentive. In spite of his fastidious upbringing, he had no problem squelching the demands of good manners in order to step all over me on most days. It dawned on me that in spite of his protestations, he had softened toward me as a result of my role in dealing with Teispes.

At the outer edges of the fertile plains of Persepolis, we arrived at a thin stream where Darius called a halt. I could not dismount alone. It wasn’t that I didn’t know how to swing my leg over and down; it’s that my muscles would not obey. I just sat atop Kidaris and hoped someone would fetch me down. Darius did. Without a word, he wrapped his hands about my waist and lifted me off the horse like I weighed no more than a sack of wheat. I found my legs were trembling. Darius must have noticed for he kept his hands about my back and held me up until I gained some strength.

Desperate to free him from having to take care of me I said, “I’m fine now, thank you.”

One corner of his mouth tipped slightly and he stepped away. “As you wish.”

I wobbled my way to a grassy patch on the side of the road. One of the men was rubbing my horse down with dried grass and watering her. The sun had risen in the sky two hours since and I was almost as sweaty as Kidaris. I stretched on the grass and groaned. I knew it was unseemly to lie down before eight men, but I hadn’t enough reserves to care. We would be on the road soon enough and I did not know how to face the many hours that still stretched before me. I closed my eyes and tried not to think of it.

A shadow fell over my face and I forced my eyes open. “Drink this.” Darius held out a leather container.

“Thank you for your thoughtfulness; I’m not thirsty.” During my previous travels, I had been part of a huge train. There were special screens and tents designed for modesty so that the travelers could take care of their needs with a modicum of privacy. With eight men and eight horses as my sole companions, I’d just as soon not drink anything and hope my body wouldn’t need to relieve itself until the cover of night. I certainly wasn’t about to put any liquid into it if I didn’t have to.

“Don’t be foolish. You can’t ride in the heat without drinking something. You’ll be sick before sundown.”

I sighed and forced myself to sit up. With a bit of good fortune, I’d perspire the lot out of my skin. He tipped the leather container into his own mouth after I had finished and drank thirstily.

“How long do we rest?” I asked.

He handed me a piece of barley bread. “Not long. Once we and the horses have had a chance to eat and drink, we’ll be on the road again.”

By the time we remounted, the heat had become overbearing.
I pulled my scarf over my brow, trying to shield my eyes. Flies seemed drawn to the scent of the horses; as we started on a slow trot, they gathered around us in thick hordes. Being unselfish beasts, the horses shared their pests with their human burdens. I was too busy trying to keep my seat to swat them away.

The day stretched long as I rode hour after hour, trying to keep up with men who had sat in the saddle since before they could walk. I became aware that the pace was slow for them; for me, however, it was a torment. I felt dizzy from the heat and constant movement.

To my horror, I could no longer delay the need to relieve myself. It was high afternoon, and bright as the day can be. When we took our break, I looked about me, desperate to find a spot that might offer even a little privacy. I had begun to wonder if Darius could read my mind, for he seemed to know my thoughts with alarming frequency.

“Come with me,” he said, as he perceived me canvassing the area. I followed him with relief to a copse nearby, which boasted a few skinny trees. Not exactly the height of privacy. I gave him an anguished look.

“I will warn everyone to stay away. You’ll be fine here.” If he had so much as cracked one smile I would have forgotten my intentions to be on my best behavior and kicked him. He was too wise to do anything but turn his back and move off.

With a burst of inspiration, I took off my long wrap and draped it over a few bushes like a makeshift low curtain. But when I bent down, my muscles were so weakened from the rigors of riding that instead of squatting, I ended up falling on my knees with a crash.

“Are you all right?” Darius called from somewhere beyond.

“Stay where you are!” I yelled, panicked at the thought
that he might take it into his head to come and investigate. “I’m fine.”
Humiliated. Degraded. But fine
. Had I once really thought I enjoyed traveling?

After this, which proved to be our last rest before we stopped for the night, Darius pushed us hard. Once we left the pleasant plateau of Persepolis, we entered a desert-like stretch of road, which was merciless in its brutal heat. We cantered until I could not even pretend to sit straight. At one point I must have fallen asleep in the saddle, for I woke up with a start when an arm wrapped around my middle. Before I could ask a question, I was lifted high into the air and deposited unceremoniously before my husband in the saddle.

Darius turned around. “Arta, take care of Kidaris, please. Her ladyship will ride with me the rest of today.”

I was wide awake now, trying to sit on my husband’s lap in such a way that did not bring me in close contact with his body. The inconvenient thing about horses is that such a desire can simply not be gratified. I sat as rigid as an arrow not knowing what to do with myself.

He shifted my weight against him until I was leaning fully into his chest. “Relax,” he said into my ear, his voice low and soothing. “Samson is sensing your lack of ease. Stop tensing up and try to go back to sleep.”

For the sake of the horse, I did my best to comply. I melted against Darius, wriggling to find a comfortable spot. I felt the muscles of his chest tense up against my back. “You’re not very relaxed yourself,” I accused.

“Can’t a man have some peace atop his own horse?” he growled.

Surprised at his suddenly foul mood I said, “I’m sorry to cause so much trouble to you.”

Instead of answering, he pushed my body forward onto the
saddle, as far away from him as the tiny space allowed. I swiveled my head to look at him. “Am I too heavy?”

“No, you’re not too heavy. Now stop squirming and be still. We have several hours of riding before we break camp.”

B
y the time the sun sank into the horizon and we had to stop, sleep wrapped me in its hold again and I barely noticed when Darius deposited me on a dry embankment while he and his men took care of the horses and set up tents for the night. The days had grown long; we had managed to ride a fair distance.

In previous years, when I accompanied the king and queen’s train on their frequent journeys, I had been astounded by the luxury of their mobile accommodations; most palaces paled in comparison with their tents. The court engineers had devised a complex structure made of leather and bronze, containing many rooms, which accommodated royal formalities. Rich hangings, decorations in silver and gold, bejeweled couches, and bronze pillars gave the illusion that we were ensconced in yet another of the king’s palaces, instead of a mere tent. I had heard that the king and his noble generals traveled in similar style even when riding out to war. But Darius’s
tents were plain soldier’s fare, ambulatory and light, appropriate gear for the back of a fast horse.

I was past caring. If he had left me on my bit of dried grass, I would not have complained. He had other ideas, though. “Come. Your tent is ready,” he said, crouching next to me. I ignored him, wishing him away so that I could go back to sleep.

“Sarah, get up. You cannot stay out here.”

“Yes, my lord.” I stayed where I was.

He lifted me up and carried me to the tent. The opening was quite low and he had to bend to enter in. I saw through half closed eyes that a lamp was already burning, and that he had set up a bedroll. He dropped me on the thin mattress none too gently. To my surprise, he did not leave.

“Good night,” I said, wondering why he abided.

“I can’t leave you like this,” he said, sounding irritated.

“Like what?” I asked, equally irritated.

“Sarah, this was your first day in a saddle and you’ve ridden for hours. If you think you’re in pain today, you have no inkling of how you will feel tomorrow. Your muscles will seize and you will be in agony.”

I stopped feeling sleepy. “If this is your rendition of an encouraging speech, may I say that it is something short of inspiring?”

“It is no speech. Just truth. You have been brave today, I know. Not one word of complaint passed your lips during the length of the journey. But not all the courage in the world will get you back in the saddle tomorrow if your muscles will not cooperate.”

I broke into a toothy smile. “You thought I was brave?”

“That’s not the salient point.”

“Well, I don’t know what to do about the salient point.”

He placed a small earthen jar on the bedroll. “This is a balm prepared by the magi, which helps with muscle pain. You need to massage it deeply in order for it to have effect. You can’t apply it at skin level; it needs to be pressed deep into the flesh. Do you understand?”

I opened the lid of the jar and sniffed. It smelled like chamomile and licorice. “I understand. Massage it deep.”

“Show me.”

“Pardon?”

“I won’t have you waste my good medicine by ill usage, nor will I delay my arrival at Ecbatana due to simple ignorance. Show me you know what to do and I will leave you to it.”

“I believe I grasped your simple instructions.”

“Then get on with it. I’d like to rest too, if you have no objection.”

I remembered that he had already made this ten-day journey once, to arrive home and face a dire emergency, a dying dog, and little sleep, and had been forced to carry my weight for the past three hours besides. “I am sorry,” I said and willed myself to sit up.

The sooner I accomplished what he asked, the sooner he would feel released to see to his own comfort. I bit my lip and pulled the hem of my trousers up to my calf. I buried the tips of my fingers into the jar and grabbed some balm. At first I did my best to massage it deep into my flesh, but I had not counted on the pain I encountered at the simple touch. It felt as if my whole lower body was one giant bruise, and no matter where I touched, it hurt. I ground my teeth and did my best to comply with Darius’s instructions.

Obviously I failed. He pushed my hand away and took over the massage himself. I squealed, shocked at his touch, and then forgot my embarrassment as the pain took over. I
buried my face in my arms to keep from crying out.

He stopped. “Like that. You need to apply it like that.”

I nodded and sat up again. “I will.”

“Let’s see.”

Once again I took the balm and did my best to emulate Darius’s movements. He stopped me after a few moments. “It won’t do. The salve won’t take effect like this. You’ll have to let me do it.”

“No! What do you mean? I’ll ride tomorrow, I promise. I won’t be a bother to you or the others. I won’t complain.”

“Sarah, you don’t know what you say. Without this treatment, you will be in no condition to ride by dawn.” Forgoing further argument, he grabbed the jar and taking a liberal amount of balm he began to massage it into one calf, then another. My embarrassment paled in comparison to the pain. I ground my teeth and did my best to swallow my groans. When he was finished, I barely had the strength to sigh with relief. I pulled down my trouser legs. “Thank you, my lord.”

He sat back and did not move. He was wearing the impassive expression that I had come to recognize as a signal for trouble. Usually for me. With sudden certainty it dawned on me that he was not done. I squeezed my eyes shut and begged.
Lord, have mercy
.

“There’s more,” I said.

“The worst pain will be in the flesh of your thighs.”

If I had been his wife in more than name, this situation would have been nothing but a painful inconvenience. But we had shared no intimacies. He had not held me as a bridegroom holds a bride. Which made the notion of baring myself to his touch utterly disconcerting.

Again I realized that the more time I spent arguing, the more I delayed his rest. It was no fault of his that we were
caught in this situation. He was trying to help, and my bashfulness was an added discomfort to him. After all, he must feel as awkward as I in the circumstances. I decided that the best thing for us both would be for me to comply with his wishes, and to do so without fuss.