Lilah (11 page)

‘Ezra!'

‘You come here dressed and armed as if for war,
flaunting your gold to the people of this town who are dressed in rags, and you claim that I'm your brother, which is a lie. You can leave the way you came. We have nothing to say to each other.'

Antinoes clutched his cape. Sogdiam sensed the shudder of anger that went through him, yet when he spoke, his voice remained low and calm. ‘You know as well as I do how one of Artaxerxes' officers has to move around. He travels by chariot and is always escorted. It doesn't matter if he's in the Citadel or the lower town, for him there's only one law and one kingdom. And you're wrong. I have something to say to you, something you need to hear. I came back to Susa to make Lilah my wife. I'm sure you know that already. But I've come here to ask you, as someone who was once my brother, not to condemn Lilah if she makes that choice.'

There was a silence so heavy that Sogdiam felt it weighing on his shoulders. He was embarrassed that he was still in the courtyard, hearing this conversation, but it was too late, now, to hide in the kitchen.

His face more closed than a blind wall, Ezra hesitated. Sogdiam feared he would throw Antinoes out into the street.

‘My sister is free to choose her husband,' he said, his voice as chilly as the north wind.

Antinoes raised an eyebrow. ‘You won't oppose her decision, then?' he asked.

Ezra smiled, which did nothing to soften his expression. He turned to Master Baruch, as if calling on him as a witness, but the old man was bent over a papyrus, clearly indicating that he wanted no part in this quarrel.

‘My sister is free to make her own decisions,' Ezra said. ‘But there are laws for us, the children of Israel and the people of the Covenant. They are not the same as your laws, son of Persia, just as our God is not the same as your gods.'

‘What do you mean, Ezra?'

‘“Do not give your children to Molek,” the Law of Moses commands. “Do not profane the name of your God. A woman who goes with an unclean man is herself unclean.” And if a woman is unclean, her brother can no longer go near her. He can no longer be her brother. Lilah will choose.'

‘Oh, I understand!' Antinoes laughed bitterly, anger getting the better of him. ‘If Lilah becomes my wife, you'll never see her again.'

‘It's not my decision. I'm obeying the Law and the Word that Yahweh taught Moses. The Law says that the women of Israel must find husbands among the men of Israel. And you are not of our people. That's all.'

‘You have a short memory, Ezra. There was a time when you put your arm round my neck and made me swear we'd never be separated. A time
when you said, “Lilah is the heart and the blood that unites us.”'

Ezra's mouth half opened. His brow and cheeks had turned scarlet. Sogdiam saw him clench his fists until the knuckles turned white, and thought he was about to hit Antinoes. Then everything relaxed suddenly. Ezra's chest swelled and he gave a small, harsh laugh. ‘Yes, there was a time when I wasn't yet Ezra. But that's over. And you're wrong. I have a long memory, much longer than you could ever imagine. It goes back to the first days of the people of Israel. To the day when Yahweh called to Abraham on the mountain of Harran.'

‘You talk about your God, Ezra, but all I hear is your jealousy!' Antinoes retorted. ‘You know I've always respected your God. You know that even if Lilah is with me, she will always be with you.'

‘I think you should leave now.'

‘Ezra!' Antinoes roared, raising his hand. ‘Don't force Lilah to choose between us. Don't make her unhappy!'

Ezra did not reply. He turned, went back into the study and closed the door – which Sogdiam had never seen him do before.

Antinoes stood there for a moment. At last he turned, his eyes blank. In the street, the horses were snorting with impatience. The soldiers could
be heard scolding the children, and the children laughing in reply.

Antinoes turned abruptly, his face pale. He walked away like a blind man. As he reached Sogdiam, he raised his hand. Sogdiam jumped when Antinoes laid his hot palm on his neck and stroked it lightly. Then, without a word, he left the courtyard, climbed into his chariot and set off at a trot, forcing the soldiers and the children to run.

The workshop was fragrant with the fine powder of cedar- and plane wood, juniper and oak. The aroma of peas and roast pork mingled with the smell of almond gum and freshly tanned leather.

To Mordechai, it was like music, a deep, haunting song against which the noise of saws, planes, gimlets, chisels and mallets stood out. The large, well-ventilated workshop, cluttered with shafts, hobbles, benches, towers of ropes and newly mounted wheels, was more than just a pleasant place to work: it was a world in which he was king. A world of infinite possibilities in which every kind of chariot needed in the Susa region could be made – chariots with two or three seats, drawn by mules, horses, sometimes asses and oxen, war chariots and travelling chariots, chariots for royal parades or for everyday transport.

Today, however, perhaps for the first time in
his life, Mordechai was unable to savour the pleasure.

He came and went without seeing the workers or the work in progress. He had lost interest in it. He stood at the side of the street, ears pricked, trying to detect the sound of a chariot. Not one of his own, or a customer's, but the chariot of the Queen's third cupbearer, which had carried Lilah off to Parysatis' palace that very morning.

With a heavy heart, he had been awaiting her return for hours. It was almost dusk, and there was still no sign of her. The keen north wind made the light hazy. It would soon rain. And still Lilah had not returned.

Mordechai knew that on the other side of the courtyard, bustling among her weavers, Sarah was worried too. She had pestered him for news a hundred times. He had none. How could he have had any? The hundred and first time, Mordechai had ordered the door leading from her workshop to the courtyard to be barred.

But it had brought him no peace.

He continued listening for the rumble of a chariot. The street was a busy one, and many chariots came and went. But Mordechai had a sharp ear: he would recognize the third cupbearer's chariot anywhere. No other chariot made the same sound, because none was so heavy or had such big wheels.

Perhaps he was wrong . . . He heard a commotion in the street, soldiers shouting orders to the crowd to step aside, the points of spears moving above onlookers' heads. But the sound this chariot made was different – too light. He saw two magnificent black half-breed horses, an officer with a felt helmet standing in the chariot. A war chariot . . . Despite himself, he looked behind the escort, hoping to see the little mule-drawn wagon that had carried Lilah off. There was nothing.

But the Persian officer was driving his horses straight towards the workshop. Mordechai's heart leaped, and he let out a cry. ‘God of heaven! Antinoes!'

Anxious though he was, Mordechai welcomed Antinoes warmly. He was proud that the lively, curious boy who, a few years earlier, had run between his feet in the workshop and called him Uncle Mordechai, just like Ezra, was now a Persian warrior. Moved, Antinoes opened his arms wide. Both overcame their embarrassment in an embrace that filled them with nostalgia.

Mordechai laughed. ‘I'm not really used to embracing one of Artaxerxes' officers in full dress uniform!'

‘Under the uniform, I'm still me!' Antinoes protested, taking off his helmet and cape. ‘I haven't
changed all that much and I'd still like to call you Uncle Mordechai.'

Mordechai felt tears welling in his eyes. With sheer delight, Antinoes breathed in the smells of the workshop. Here, too, nothing had changed. ‘During the last campaign,' he said, passing his hand over the smooth surface of a shaft, ‘I saw many beautiful places. You can't imagine how vast and wonderful the world is. But I always missed this workshop.'

Eyes shining with emotion, Mordechai could not resist showing him a few new inventions, from which his latest work had benefited.

Meanwhile, rain had started to fall in great drops on the dusty street. Soon, it was pouring down on the city. Lightning flashes streaked the sky. Mordechai hustled his workers to put the fragile pieces of wood in a safe place. Antinoes parked his chariot inside the workshop. The soldiers in his escort took refuge in a neighbouring inn, where they were served bowls of fermented milk and bread stuffed with lamb's offal and herbs.

In the blink of an eye, the crowd vanished as if by magic, and the street was deserted. Mordechai glanced at it anxiously. ‘I hope this rain doesn't last long . . .'

Antinoes looked at him in surprise. Mordechai forced a smile and drew him to the other side of the workshop. ‘I've been forgetting my duty to a
guest. Come into the house and quench your thirst.'

‘I ought to say hello to Aunt Sarah first . . . and Lilah, if that's all right with you.'

‘Later,' Mordechai said. ‘For now, we have to talk.'

They sat down on long cushions in the dining room. As the handmaids bustled about them, Mordechai declared in a sombre tone, ‘Lilah is not at home.'

Antinoes put down his cup of palm beer and looked him straight in the eyes.

Mordechai sighed as if a stone were weighing on his chest. ‘One of the Queen's cupbearers came to fetch her.'

‘Parysatis? Lilah is with Parysatis?'

‘Since this morning.'

‘May Ahura Mazda protect her!'

‘And our God Yahweh! Yes, my boy.'

They were silent for a moment. The rain was still falling as heavily as ever on the flagstones in the courtyard, filling the air with the smell of wet dust.

‘I was hoping she'd be back before nightfall,' Mordechai resumed, ‘but with this rain, the cupbearer won't want to get wet bringing her back. I'm getting worried. She's been too long in Parysatis' hands. What if the rumours about her are true?'

‘I should have guessed,' Antinoes said, without
answering Mordechai's agonized question. ‘In a few days' time, I'll receive the arms of Artaxerxes' heroes. I'll be given a new command. That was what attracted Parysatis' attention to me, especially as I also deposited the tablets announcing my marriage to Lilah.'

‘But what does she want with you? Why summon Lilah?'

‘Parysatis likes nothing better than to interfere in the marriages and careers of the officers loyal to her elder son. That way, she can keep an eye on everything our King of Kings does.'

‘Lord almighty!'

‘It works. She's so powerful now that Artaxerxes himself fears her. They say her lions ate some of our king's favourite generals because they'd fought Cyrus the Younger, sword to sword.'

‘But Cyrus led an uprising against Artaxerxed!' Mordechai said indignantly. ‘He was marching on Babylon and Susa in an attempt to usurp his brother's place!'

‘Cyrus was Parysatis' favourite son. That's all that matters. Artaxerxes didn't even dare oppose his mother. But now Parysatis can't hatch any more plots against him so she has to be content with manipulating the lives of his officers.'

‘Do you think—' Mordechai's voice broke, and he passed a hand wearily over his face. Then he
asked, more firmly, ‘Do you think we need fear for Lilah?'

Antinoes paused for a moment. ‘We can fear anything from a mad queen with a lot of power. Perhaps she only wants to see her and persuade her not to marry me. Or perhaps she wants her as a handmaid. Who knows?'

‘You have friends in the Citadel. They could—'

Antinoes interrupted him with a gesture. ‘Tonight, I'll be refused entry to the White Palace. If I insist, I'll upset Parysatis. But if Lilah isn't back by tomorrow, I'll go to the Queen, whatever the cost.'

‘God of heaven!' Mordechai muttered. ‘We were so happy that you'd come back and were going to marry Lilah. Now I don't even dare talk to Sarah for fear she'll start moaning!'

The rain had eased, but daylight was fading rapidly. Neither Mordechai nor Antinoes had asked for a lamp. The sky was perfectly suited to their mood.

‘And to think I quarrelled with Ezra!' Antinoes suddenly groaned.

‘Oh?' Mordechai said, lifting his eyebrows. ‘How is the sage of the lower town?'

‘I thought it would be a good idea to talk to him about Lilah and me,' Antinoes said. He shrugged his shoulders and looked out again at the wet, shadowy
courtyard. He jumped when he thought he heard the rumble of a chariot, but it was only a noise from the workshop.

‘Don't say anything, Antinoes,' Mordechai said, exchanging the anxiety that had been tormenting him for his usual anger against Ezra. ‘Don't say anything! I can guess what happened. Our sage Ezra treated you as if he didn't know you. He threw back at you a few phrases from those scrolls he reads all day long and told you that you couldn't make Lilah your wife because the Everlasting was against it.'

Antinoes could not help smiling bitterly. ‘Yes,' he said. ‘He's threatening never to see Lilah again if she marries me.'

Mordechai raised his eyes to the streaming sky. ‘Oh, Ezra!' he moaned. ‘I loved that boy like a son. You were there, Antinoes, you know I'm not lying. I still love him. He's the finest, most intelligent young man the Everlasting has ever given life to. But I admit it: sometimes Sarah has to hold me back, I get such a strong desire to run to the lower town and teach him a good lesson. May Yahweh forgive me!'

He moaned again, sweeping the air with his powerful arms, and his long face, usually so full of life, seemed to drain of all energy, as if washed by the rain. ‘Ezra isn't Parysatis,' he said. ‘If we have to celebrate the marriage without Ezra, we'll celebrate
it without Ezra. Lilah will have to be content with my approval. Provided—'

He broke off and leaped to his feet. Axatria was crossing the waterlogged courtyard, waving a lamp. The sound of the rain covered her cries until she was near.