Harvest of Rubies (41 page)

I leaned just as far back from him. “What extraordinary talent you display,” I said with cold humor. “In the course of a few words you manage to insult the Persian aristocracy and its foreign heads of state, as well as me. You really ought to teach me how you do that.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled. “In the interest of self-preservation, I must refuse you, my lady. You have enough weapons at your disposal. It would be suicide to add to your arsenal.”

As his temper cooled, my own temperature rose. “I know not of what weapons you speak, my lord.”

I found myself in his arms. “Here is one,” he murmured against my mouth. “And here is another,” he said as he continued to kiss me.

With the last of my strength I resisted him. “It’s not fair that you resent me because you miss me.”

“I know.”

I woke up to find Darius staring out through the lattice window. He had bunched the blue linen curtains to one side and the light of the moon poured into our chamber. Wrapping myself in a robe, I tiptoed to his side.

Without turning to me he said, “The court moves to Susa soon, but I want to return to my estate in Persepolis, Sarah. I want to ensure that everything is in right order.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful! I’ll see Bardia and Shushan again.” I thought about Caspian whom I would
not
see and my chest contracted with pain.

He turned to me. “You do not mind going back? You shall miss the feasts and pageantry of the court for most of the season.”

“Of course I don’t mind. I would rather be with my friends than stuck with lords and ladies I don’t know.”

He frowned. “You’ve grown quite popular, from what I hear. Many ladies seek your company now. You’ll not long for that?”

“Not so much popular as entertaining. I have no real friends in court, save perhaps the queen. I am grateful for the acceptance I have found amongst the ladies of rank for your sake if nothing else. As to their company, I can do very well without it.”

He was silent for a time as he resumed his vigil of the garden through the window. When he spoke finally, his words were measured. “Since Teispes, I have become mindful of how vulnerable my estates are to harm. I am often away and haven’t the time, nor the nature, to examine every detail of the management of my lands. I used to think that I could leave such matters to my stewards and servants. Now I see that is not enough.”

His breath trickled out like a deflated sigh. “I see how much damage one dishonest individual can cause. So I have a proposition for you, Sarah. I want you to oversee the management of all my properties. That is what you did for the queen, is it not? You would have less to do in my household, as your job would be to manage my managers, so to speak. I know ladies of your station are not expected to work. I realize I am asking an unusual favor, and I want you to know yourself free to refuse me.” He kept his gaze trained away through this speech, as though wishing to give me complete freedom in the making of my decision.

My stomach performed a neat summersault. Was he truly throwing what I had yearned for into my lap as if it were a favor to
him?

I took time to examine my heart before jumping to give an answer. How did I feel about returning to the work I knew and loved so well? If he had made me this offer when I first had wed him, how different my life would have been. Would I have learned to make friends? To place people and their needs above my achievements? If he had offered me this position when I began to recognize my feelings for him, would I
have grasped on to it as a means of proving my worth? As the only way I knew to make him care for me, just a little? Would I not have become once again a slave to my own accomplishments?

How great a temptation would his offer prove even now? God had given me a glimpse of His freedom, it was true. But was I ready to face my old obsession, my darling passion, my idol? Could I work without twisting my achievements into a means of winning acceptance and security?

I pressed my eyes shut and asked for guidance. What was the will of the Lord, not my will, nor Darius’s, but the Lord’s will, in this? I would obey. Though it slay me, I would obey. As I made that absolute determination, a sudden and inexplicable relief flooded me. I had no angelic visitation. No one spoke to me with a voice like thunder. But I
knew
that the Lord was bidding me to grant my husband’s wish. He who had knit me together in my mother’s womb would guide me daily and shield me from idolatry. And when I failed, He would lift me up, lead me to repentance, wash me clean with the blood of His sacrifices, and set me on the right path again.

Opening my eyes, I gazed upon my husband. Darius’s mouth, pressed tight, had grown white with tension as he waited on my response. I realized with dawning clarity that he had more invested in my answer than the convenience of gaining a free scribe. This was a test to him—a test of my nature, my loyalty, my honesty.

I smiled as I gazed on his tense profile. “I would be honored, my lord. To tell the truth, I have been bored half out of my mind. There were days when your whiny heads of state would have seemed the height of entertainment compared to another treatment by one of Damaspia’s makeup artists. I would love to serve you as I served the queen.”

“Are you certain? I would not punish you for refusing.”

“I have no wish to refuse.”

A strong tapered hand wrapped itself around mine as he continued to stare through the window. I pressed his fingers and joined him in his study of the moon-drenched garden. He might not love me, but he missed me through the course of one day’s absence. He might not trust me with his heart, but he entrusted me with the breadth of his wealth and the care of his vassals. He might resent and fight it, but each day, he surrendered another part of himself to me. My smile glowed with satisfaction.

I thought of how the Lord had parted the River Jordan for Israel in order to lead them into the Promised Land.
Part his heart for me, Lord. Part his soul for Yourself
.

F
or our journey back, Darius consented to ride along the royal highway with our whole party. The fact that we spent the nights in the king’s stage houses instead of tents, and set our pace at the relative ease that accommodated the covered carts containing Pari and our furnishings, made the trip a tranquil experience compared to our mad dash to Ecbatana. Twenty days flew by in a pleasant haze.

Darius had sent word of our coming to the palace in advance. We arrived after sunset to find the whole place ablaze with lamps in anticipation of our arrival. The sumptuous smell of Shushan’s cooking greeted us before we had stepped out of the stables.

It seemed to me that most of the indoor staff must have assembled to greet us, for lined up before us stood over fifty men and women, many of them strangers to me. Shushan came forward bearing a bunch of late-blooming roses. “Welcome home, my lord. My lady.” She bowed and gave me the flowers.

I threw my arms about her angular shoulders and gave her a proper hug. “I missed you.”

She tried to look disapproving, but even in the lamplight I could see her mouth twitching.

“Where is Bardia?” I cried.

“Here my lady.” Darius was first in line to offer the old gardener a greeting by kissing him on both cheeks. At the court, he would have outraged more than one aristocrat by his behavior, for a commoner was expected to bow to an aristocrat. Kisses were bestowed on the cheeks of men of rank, only. But my husband gave more due to a man’s character than to his rank. My heart melted with approval.

I was home. I had my friends about me. For the first time in long years, I felt that I truly belonged somewhere.

Though part of me celebrated this comforting sense of homecoming, another part of me anguished. This marked the first night I would sleep in a room apart from my husband since my return from the queen’s residence in Ecbatana. The separation stung. Swallowing self-pity, I bestowed a small smile upon Darius before retiring to my apartments.

I knew Pari was as tired and grimy as I from the journey, so I sent her to find a maid who could help with my bath and told her to take the evening off. All the dust of Persia seemed to have worked its way into my hair and clothing. Luxuriating in a long bath, I finally emerged to change into a nightgown and woolen robe before dismissing the new maid.

I crawled into bed alone. Henceforth, I would have to wait on Darius’s pleasure to see him. I could not run to him at will, or seek him out without serious cause.

The silence gathered about me with oppressive weight. If I had not lost Caspian, no doubt he would be with me now, smothering me with his wet kisses.

In the light of the lamps I took in the rich tapestries, the opulent furnishings given me from the hand of a queen, the embroidered linens. How different my life had turned out from even my wildest imaginings!

So many of my dreams had come true. So many had been lost.

This was the nature of life. Loss, grief, sorrow, regret were woven through the fabric of human destiny as uncompromisingly as joy, hope, and fulfillment. If one’s happiness rested only in the capture of one’s dreams, then happiness would prove fickle indeed. There were many things I wanted with desperation that I might never have: Darius’s love, my father’s approval, a child of my own flesh, the ability to go to my husband at will. And what I did have, I might someday lose.

No. If my joy hung in the balance of having everything I wanted, I would always wrestle with unhappiness.

There had to be another way to joy, another highway to happiness apart from gaining all the desires of my heart.

I thought of how King David often spoke like a man who walked on two roads at once. He had one foot placed firmly on the road of suffering, and the other on the road of hope and joy. It wasn’t a case of
either, or
with David. He had learned to do both at once, when needed. He could grieve while rejoicing.

I remembered one of his psalms, where he began by praising God for His goodness:

While in the next breath he cried out with anguish:

David knew how to walk the path of affliction while being settled firmly in the joy of God’s presence. I wanted to learn to be like David, to have eyes that saw the loving hand of the Lord even in the midst of unfulfilled dreams.

A soft knock on the door dragged me out of my reverie. Pari slipped inside, her hair still wet from its recent washing.

“What are you doing here? I gave you the night off.”

“I remember. I am visiting, not working.”

I grinned and patted the pillow next to me. She scrambled on the bed and sprawled out comfortably. “I noticed a long line of men waiting at Lord Darius’s door. He’ll no doubt be busy late into the night. I thought you might be lonely on your first night home.”

The best—and worst—quality about my friends was that they knew my insides without my having to explain it to them.

“I’m glad of your company.” I also rejoiced to find out that the reason Darius had not sent for me was not because he had no wish for my presence, but due to his responsibilities.

“Have you had dinner?” she asked.

“Not yet.” I had secretly been hoping that Darius would invite me to eat with him. But if he was as busy as Pari said, he would have no time.

“I’ll fetch some,” Pari said.

She came back with no tray.

“Oh good. Invisible food. Does this mean I will gain no weight when I swallow it? I hope you brought a lot if that’s the case.”

Pari chastised me with a stern look. “His lordship requests your assistance.”

“Ah.” Assistance
. It was the scribe he wanted, then, not the wife. I donned suitable clothes and made my way to Darius’s apartments, Pari in tow. We certainly were about to forge some new precedents here. It was one thing being a scribe to the queen. I worked with eunuchs and women most of the time, and being a commoner, my rare interactions with men hardly raised an eyebrow. But I was part of the nobility now and was held to stricter rules of conduct. Darius had stretched many a protocol by this scheme.