Jewel of Persia (16 page)

Why did Darius look saddened? He patted her hand, drew in a long breath. “You will rally. Just promise me, Mother, you will cause no more trouble. I know this concubine distresses you. I know you are angry. But if you try Father more, I fear nothing will keep him from ordering your execution. Please—for your children’s sakes, control your temper.”

She watched the face of this eldest son, glanced beyond him in time to see a smaller figure dart away. Hystaspes, undoubtedly spying as usual. He too, then, would have seen his mother’s disgrace firsthand.

What choice did she have? Darius was right. Her day would come again, but not while Xerxes sat on the throne. She would have to be careful, sly as a serpent, until he could be removed. “Of course, my son. I promise. I will not try him again.”

Not yet.

~*~

Zechariah tilted the chair so that the sun caught the engraving he had chiseled. Nearly perfect. Nearly. One more tap. . . . He positioned the chisel, reached for the hammer. Halted at the sound of heavy footsteps nearing the door.

Abba’s grumble told him Persians entered the shop. Zechariah put down his tools and stood to intercept them before his father could scare them off. His smile wavered when he saw clothing peculiar to the palace servants. Had something happened to Kasia?

He cleared his throat. “Good morning. How might I help you?”

One of the men extended a tablet with cuneiform script. “An order from the palace of Xerxes. A table and two chairs. The table is to be engraved with lilies. One of the chairs ought to be of a height for a woman at a loom.”

Zechariah took the tablet and glanced at the writing. Abba had made him learn cuneiform so that he would not have to. His eyes widened at the price promised for the pieces. “Certainly.”

Abba stepped up behind him. “Tell them to leave.” He spoke in low Hebrew.

Zechariah turned his head and answered in the same. “These are feminine pieces.”

His father obviously understood his meaning. Abba faced the Persians. “May we know for whom they are intended? We would tailor our work to suit the recipient.”

The servant smiled. “The king’s favorite concubine. If possible, she would have them before the king’s house leaves Susa in a fortnight.”

Zechariah’s breath hitched. His sister was a favorite of the king? An odd thought. Odder still to think that in a few weeks she would leave the only city they had ever known. Headed where? To the magnificent ceremonial capital of Persepolis? Or perhaps one of the other two capital cities? Pasargadae? Ecbatana?

So far from home. From family.

How unfair that Kasia, who never wanted anything but a house full of children, got to see the world while he was stuck here in Susa. He said quietly to his father, “It has to be her. Would you deny her something to remember us by, something carved by her father’s hand?”

Abba sighed.

The second servant turned from examining some of their completed pieces and held out another tablet. “From the king—orders enough to keep you busy for several years. He wishes all new furnishings for his personal palace, both here and in Persepolis.”

Abba stared at the tablet without taking it. “Why would the king commission so much when he has never seen my work?”

The servant arched a brow. “He sees it now, through me. I was authorized to offer this only if I approved.”

“Take it,” Zechariah urged in Hebrew. “Surely you know what this would mean.”

Abba’s nostrils flared. “It is a bribe, that is all.”

The first servant lifted a brow. “You are mistaken.” Zechariah’s mouth fell open at the Hebrew words. Was this man a Jew, then, or just well educated? “It is a man wanting to please the wife he loves and help provide for her family. Is that not a noble thing for a son by marriage to do? Is it not in keeping with the Law?”

Abba blinked rapidly. “How would you know he loves her?”

The man smiled. “Her chief servant chose me to come here because I am a Jew. He told me many things about your daughter, so that I might answer your questions. He assures me none have ever seen the king show such favor as he has for her. And she, in turn, wishes you to know that though she misses you all, she is happy with her husband.”

Abba loosed a blustery breath. “Why did you not deliver these messages to begin with, man, instead of acting as though you did not understand us and knew not who sent you?”

“I was cautioned that only a few members of the family knew the truth of the situation, and that I was not to speak of her identity to anyone who thought her dead.” He shrugged an apology. “I only respect your decision for secrecy.”

Abba grunted but took the second tablet. “We will have the first pieces done before they leave. Are you able to carry a message back?”

The servant nodded, and Zechariah lifted his brows. Abba had not mentioned Kasia as though she were alive until now. What would he say to her?

Abba reached up and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Tell her we pray for her.”

“I will. Good day to you both.”

Zechariah watched the two men leave and turned to his father. “I am nearly done this chair for Bijan. I can get started on the table within the hour.”

Abba put the tablet down and moved to the corner, where he kept his best wood. “You will have to work on all three of those pieces, my son.”

“Will you start on the others already? These are more pressing.” He had not asked for the tablet to be translated, though, so how would he even know what the king had requested?

“No. There is something else more pressing still.” Abba lifted out a few lengths of cedar. A ghost of a smile haunted his mouth. “Something more special than a table or a chair. You can handle those, can you not?”

“Of course.” He wanted to ask his father what the “more special” piece was, but he would wait and see. Abba had that closed-mouthed look about him.

Zechariah picked up the second tablet. His breath leaked out as he read item after item that the king wanted made, the details for each and the price he would pay.

Enough to keep them busy for years to come. Enough to feed the family long after they finished.

Enough to guarantee his father would never allow him to leave with the army. Even with two of them, it would be difficult to complete all this in the amount of time the king had designated.

Time for his brother Joshua to learn the trade. Zechariah had hinted all year that Abba ought to bring him to the shop, but he had been ignored—probably because his father knew well he only wanted to train a replacement.

Things had changed. The great Xerxes may take Kasia away to places unknown, but he had effectively shackled Zechariah to Susa. He would have to resign himself, would have to shoulder the responsibility without complaint.

He would focus on the blessing Kasia had sent them. He would rejoice in what this meant for his brothers, who would now have ample opportunity, for his sisters, who would now have dowries to ensure good marriages. He would be glad. He would.

If only his soul would not yearn for what could never be.

~*~

“Is that all?”

Mordecai glanced down at the scroll in his hands and nodded. “It is. Thank you, my king, for taking the time to share your wisdom with your servant. I will make your judgements known.”

He rolled the parchment up again and bowed. Only twice a year did he go before the king to present the cases that could not be handled by lower officials—once when the royal house first arrived in Susa, and once before they left. This time he had wondered if the king would be distracted, given what had so recently transpired with the queen, but he had seen no difference in his behavior. Had he not heard the decree himself, he never would have guessed that this man had just deposed his first wife.

Who could understand the mind of a king?

Before he could turn away, Xerxes held out a staying hand. “Would you walk with me?”

Mordecai fought to keep his surprise from showing. “I . . . of course, my lord. I would be honored.”

The king looked pleased as he nodded and stood. With a single motion he swept his royal robes behind him and descended the step. Mordecai could not recall ever seeing him on even ground, but Xerxes did not need the step to tower above the court. They were of a height—something Mordecai encountered rarely.

“I will not keep you long,” the king said as he led the way through the hall, “but I could not pass up the opportunity to ask a few questions of a man obviously learned. You must be of strong faith, to be so esteemed by your people. Am I right?”

Mordecai nodded. “My faith in Jehovah has sustained me through many a trial, my king.”

“And you are a descendant of Shadrach, who was friend to the great Belteshazzar. One of the three who emerged unsinged from the furnace.”

“That is right.” Mordecai glanced over his shoulder when he felt people crowding in. The king’s guard—he ought to have realized.

“I confess I am bemused by your God. In some ways, he seems much like mine. Both your Jehovah and my Ahura Mazda are uncreated. Both are said to be the father of all things good. Correct?”

Mordecai smiled. “Largely. Jehovah is the father of
all
creation.”

Xerxes, his hands clasped loosely behind his back, sent him an incredulous look. “And this is where Judaism ceases to make sense to me. How can you worship a deity from whom both good
and
evil flow?”

“I do not.” How to explain? Mordecai inclined his heart to God and prayed for the right answers to come to his lips. “Jehovah is all things good, yes—all wisdom, all justice, all mercy. Which means he knows that worship offered only out of duty is meaningless, so he gave his creation choice. And surely the king knows that creation often chooses unwisely.”

Xerxes chuckled and motioned toward the exit. They stepped into the blinding sunshine. Summer would be upon them soon, and while the grounds within the palace complex remained green with life from the irrigation canals, the rest of Susa glistened golden brown in the unrelenting rays.

“Humanity is unwise, indeed.” The king descended the steps and headed toward a lush strip of garden. “But we do not claim Ahura Mazda is all-powerful. Our god could not take choice away, and men are often swayed by Angra Mainyu. Does your religion have an evil one?”

“Certainly. We call him Satan. But unlike your Angra Mainyu, Satan is a created being, one who chose to oppose Jehovah. He was once an angel—like your lesser immortals—but rebelled against God.” He hesitated, but decided he might as well voice his question. “I have often wondered about the opposition of good and evil in Mazdayasna. According to your religion, Angra Mainyu is also uncreated. How, then, is he not the equal to your Ahura Mazda? How can you know good will triumph?”

Xerxes lifted his brows and gave him a lopsided smile. “Is that not why we call religion ‘faith’? We trust—and we labor.” The king sighed and cast his gaze out over the garden. “I have respect for your people, and for your Jehovah. Yet according to Jartosht, there is only one god—Ahura Mazda. All other deities are demons, servants of the evil one.”

“And according to our prophets, there is only one God—Jehovah. The deities other nations serve are idols, lifeless and without power. Even your ancestors acknowledged that my God is a living God.”

“I have read their words.” Xerxes’ brow knit. “I know the stories of the three thrown into the fire, of the great Belteshazzar and the den of lions. I know that while some kings of Babylon and Persia had no use for your God, others acknowledged the power demonstrated on behalf of the Jews.”

The king paused in the shade of a wide-stretching hornbeam tree. “The law of Persia and Media cannot be altered, because tradition holds that the king is a god. The words of our most esteemed prophet say that none but Ahura Mazda should be worshiped. In order to keep peace and prosperity in our empire, we allow all to believe as they please. It is a difficult balance.”

Mordecai focused his gaze on a delicate flower, pink and vibrant where there should have been only desert. “It is. In the history of my people, it is when they concern themselves with other gods and forget Jehovah that ill befalls the nation. We seem to remember him better when in exile.”

A hint of a smile captured the king’s mouth. “I have a Jewess in my house—she has been entertaining my children with many of the stories of your people, and they are always so delighted that they tell me about them whenever I visit.” The smile faded, and Xerxes faced him again. “Many of you claim your Jehovah is a personal God, that he cares for his children and orders the universe. I cannot discount the evidence of him. Yet with my own eyes I have seen Ahura Mazda.”

Mordecai straightened. His curiosity was piqued . . . and his soul seemed to stretch forward, waiting to see if it would recognize truth or lie. “Have you?”

“Two years ago.” Xerxes motioned him on again, following a winding path through the garden. “I was new to the throne, and my friend and cousin Mardonius was adamant that I punish Greece for rising against my father. The only voice of disagreement was my father’s brother, Artabanus. When he first spoke against me, I was furious.”