Читать книгу Jewel of Persia - Roseanna M. White - Страница 6

Kasia stared at her father for a long moment, certain her confusion clouded her face. “The king? I do not understand.”

Abba snorted. “Of course not. Had you any wit, you would have obeyed me when I told you never to speak to an unfamiliar Persian. And what do I find? You met two of them the other day and did not even see fit to mention it.”

The torc on her arm scorched her flesh, and her mouth went dry. “Abba, it was unintentional. We simply . . . came across them. This man,” she said with a gesture toward the somewhat-familiar Persian, “and his friend. The other offered to see us home, but I refused. That is all.”

“That is all,” Abba echoed. He folded his large arms across his chest. “And yet somehow that was enough to make it to the ear of Xerxes and intrigue him.”

Oh, curse her over-active tongue! But why would the king care? He did not have a reputation for valuing eloquence in his wives. Obedience perhaps, but she obviously had work to do there. “Abba . . .”

The familiar Persian stepped forward. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Haman, trusted only below the princes themselves. And this should not come as a surprise—surely you are not blind to your daughter’s extraordinary handsomeness.”

The muscle in Abba’s jaw ticked. “Her beauty is no business of the king’s. She is a Jew.”

“A Jew in his land.” Haman’s voice lost all hint of warmth. “Try to refuse him and you will learn how quickly the heel of Xerxes can crush. It seems to me you have too many mouths to feed to lose your livelihood over this.”

A shadow moved around the corner. Zechariah. She gripped Ima’s hand and prayed as she had never prayed before.

This could not be happening. It was not possible. Yes, she disobeyed her father by venturing to the river. Yes, she spoke to the Persian when he forbade it. But how had that turned into this? This was not what she had dreamed of the last few nights. She wanted nothing to do with Xerxes. The other man, perhaps, but even him . . . it had been a dream. Nothing more. Nothing that should have become such a nightmare.

Where was her Persian? Had he, too, told the king about her? Was he perhaps even one of the king’s scouts, who deliberately searched the land for beautiful virgins to add to the harem? Had his interest been only on behalf of his king?

“Kasia.” Ima managed to turn her name into a moan, a plea. “Tell them they have the wrong girl.”

Her shoulders sagged. Perhaps they could have tried that argument if only strangers had arrived today, and before she admitted to meeting them, but now?

Haman smirked and strode over to them. Kasia battled the urge to recoil against her mother as he approached.

He reached out, gripped her wrist, and raised her arm until her sleeve fell back. The silver torc gleamed. “No mistaking that, is there?”

Her parents both gasped, and a shuffle came from her brother’s hiding spot. Kasia let her eyes slide shut. She should have taken it off. Should have refused it to begin with, no matter how alluring the stranger’s gaze. It had probably been nothing but a brand—something to prove she was chosen for the king.

She was a fool. And now she would have to pay the price for it.

When she opened her eyes, Abba’s face was mottled red. “Is this how I raised you, Kasia? To play the harlot for a Persian dog?”

Haman spun around, jerked her with him. “Watch your tongue, swine.”

Abba ignored Haman and glared at her. “You have shamed us all. Why would you accept such a mark from our oppressors? Do you think they give without asking something in return?”

Tears stung her eyes. “I am sorry, Abba. I tried to refuse it, but—”

“Enough of this.” Haman released her arm and motioned the other man forward. “This is Hegai, the custodian of the women. He will instruct you on what you may bring to the palace. I suppose you have no dowry?”

Abba’s fingers curled into his palm. “Even if she did, I would not give it to you. No daughter of mine weds a Persian, even Xerxes himself. Especially Xerxes himself.”

Haman look unfazed. “Then I suppose you are officially one daughter less. This girl is coming with me. Fight me, and you will lose.”

Abba looked like he might try anyway. Kasia ran to him and threw her arms around his waist. “I am sorry, Abba. I did not mean for this to happen.”

“I know.” His voice went soft and low, a mere murmur against her hair as his arms closed around her. “I know not what to do, daughter. I do not want to lose you, but how does a lowly Jewish man fight the king of kings?”

She buried her face in his chest. It smelled of wood and Abba. “You do not, or the family will suffer.”

He held her tighter for a moment, then eased up again. “It will be like burying you, child. You will be in another world, another life. They will make you Persian. Strip you of your heritage.”

“They cannot strip my soul of its love for Jehovah.”

“They will try.” He pulled away and touched his knuckle to her chin. “I will spare your siblings the truth of this. I am sorry to do it, sweet one, but it is better they think you in the bosom of Abraham than another wife to the tyrant.”

A few tears splashed onto her cheeks. “You will tell them I am dead?”

“I see little choice.”

“Abba!”

Ima bit back a sob. Kasia shook her head as a wash of numbness swept over her. Anger and pain, as cathartic as they would be, would change nothing. But perhaps logic could. “People will have seen them come in here. They will see me leave.”

“I will tell them the Persians came inquiring on a price for carving. They have done so before, even if they rarely deign to give me their business.”

Haman snorted. “I imagine if your daughter pleases the king, he will gladly have a few pieces commissioned.”

Abba’s nostrils flared. She was unsure what he thought about that suggestion, but it made her knees go weak. How, exactly, was a girl to please a king? “What of my leaving with them?”

“You will not.” Abba straightened his spine, rolled back his shoulders, and stared down the Persians. “You will leave separately, head to the river where you met them before. ”

Haman waved a hand as if such details were of no concern to him. “As you please. Hegai, instruct her on her possessions while I settle the contract.”

The other man gave her a gentle smile. “You will receive new garments and jewelry, perfumes and oils. Bring only a few small items of sentimental value. With all respect to your father, you seem to have nothing else worthy to be seen in the king’s household.”

Kasia swallowed back her dismay. She would have nothing familiar, then. Nothing of home, since they never had enough money to spare for trinkets, and she had given all her childhood treasures to her sisters. “I . . . I can think of nothing to bring.”

The sorrow in his eyes said he understood. “Very well. Eat with your family one last time, then go to the river. We will be waiting there.”

She managed a nod, kept her back straight as the two men left. But the moment they were gone, her knees buckled and she fell to the floor. Ima’s arms encircled her in the next second, Ima’s tears mixed with hers.

This was not how she should have felt upon her betrothal. This was not the betrothal she should have had. Had she not been thinking just minutes before about marrying Mordecai? Now he would think her dead. And Esther . . .

“Ima, please.” She spoke in a whisper at her mother’s ear. “Please tell Esther the truth. She should not have to face yet another death.”

Ima’s sobs hitched. “I dare not cross your father on this. I know how it will hurt her, but we will comfort each other.”

There was nothing to do but nod. And wonder who would be there to comfort her.

~*~

Zechariah stood just inside the doorway, where the cool breezes brought by the rain could whisper over his skin. Behind him, the house was silent. No weeping, no mourning, no frantic prayers to a deaf God. No more pleas to the heavens that Kasia be returned to them.

His nostrils flared as he swallowed back anger and grief. They knew he had been listening. Still, they expected him to play along. To bid his favorite sister farewell as if she were only running an errand. To wonder with the others where she was when darkness fell and the rains came with it. To search the banks of the swollen river long into the night.

He had done what they expected. Had trudged back home with a solemn Mordecai a few hours earlier. Had held his tongue. But his heart—his heart cried out to Jehovah, “Why? Why did your creation help in this terrible ruse?”

He had thought, when he heard Abba’s plan, that it would never be believed. But then the unexpected monsoon had rolled in, and it became all too possible that a girl could have fallen into the river and been carried away. Never to be found, never to be seen again.

That much, at least, was true. She might as well have been swallowed by the palace, never to emerge again. Except, of course, when the king’s household left Susa and headed to its summer home at Persepolis. When would that be? Another month? A fortnight? Soon. They never stayed longer than half a year.

Zechariah folded his arms over his chest and watched the water drip from the roof. It seemed as though in a few minutes, Kasia would come stumbling from the room she shared with the other girls to get breakfast started. She would smile, joke about his secretive nightly training. He would tease her about her suitors.

It was her beauty that cursed her. He had known her face was exceptional—it was hard to miss when his friends stared constantly—but he had never thought she would gain the attention of the king. That did not happen in their neighborhood, to their community. It should not have happened to his sister. Why could the king not have given his attention to the women of his own country, who would be honored and pleased to become another of his concubines?

Light footfalls alerted him that he was no longer alone a moment before Esther’s soft voice broke the stillness. “Any word?”

He turned, saw that her eyes were red and swollen, circled with dark shadows. She had stayed with the younger girls through the night but obviously had not slept much. Zechariah shook his head. “I cannot imagine there will be any, at this point.”

Esther blinked rapidly. “How can you say that? Perhaps she took shelter with someone.”

“They would have heard us searching.” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. These lies tasted like wormwood. Did the king realize he was chipping off another shard of this young girl’s heart? As if he would care, even if he knew. “I am sorry, Esther. But Kasia is gone.”

The shake of her head was violent, and the tears she had blinked away from her eyes ripped from her throat. “No. I cannot accept it. She is . . . she was . . . oh, Zechariah, it is all my fault! She never would have gone down to the river yesterday, but for me. She must have been looking for my bracelet.”

“Esther, no.” He raked a hand over his hair. How could Abba insist on this falsehood? Poor little Esther—she did not deserve such guilt. He knew Kasia would have wanted her to know the truth. Even in her last moments with them . . . “I’d forgotten—everyone must have. They found your bracelet yesterday. They mentioned it at dinner last night.”

Though a measure of pain left her face, confusion replaced it instead of relief. “Then why would she have . . . ?”

Realization flushed her cheeks. Zechariah’s tired mind took a long moment to make sense of that, until he realized Esther would have been with Kasia four days ago, when she had first met the Persians. And now she would think she could have prevented this had she told someone what happened.

Zechariah sighed and rested a hand on her shoulder. She was nothing but a wisp. Too delicate, surely, to carry such a burden. She would try. But perhaps she would let him shoulder part of it, if she realized it would not be a betrayal of Kasia’s confidence.

He bent down so that he could meet her watery brown eyes. “She told me,” he whispered. “About the men you two met the other day at the river. You are thinking of that, are you not? That she went back to that spot?”

How could a girl no more than a child look at him with a gaze so very old? “I know she did. She had been unable to put it from her mind, but then I told her . . . you know Kasia. She would have gone back there to settle her thoughts.”

Zechariah reached up to thumb away a stream of tears from her cheek. “What did you tell her?”

She pulled her lip between her teeth, eyes on his shoulder.

He drew in a long breath and straightening. “Tell me, Esther.”

She would not appreciate the tone—it would remind her that he was a man, she a child, in spite of the shy smiles she gave him. He had done his best to ignore her attention in the past to keep from embarrassing her, but right now he would demand obedience along with her childish devotion. It was the only way to help her.

Her shoulders slumped, her gaze fell to the ground. “Mordecai was going to speak for her.”

A curse very nearly slipped out. If only he had, a week ago. Then Kasia would have been too busy with wedding preparations to sneak off to the river, and the ill-fated meeting with the Persians would never have happened.

Zechariah scrubbed his hand over his face. “Let us not mention that to Abba, hmm? It would upset him all the more, to realize what could have been.”

Her nod looked heavy, sad. “I am sorry, Zechariah. I should never have mentioned it to her. Then she would not have—”

“Shh.” Unable to stand the sorrow emanating from her face, he pulled her against his chest and rested his chin on the top of her head. “This is not your fault, Esther. It was an accident. Kasia escaped to the river more frequently than you know, to think and relax in the few moments she could.”

“But—”

“No buts. She went for a walk last night, nothing more. Got caught in the rain, slipped into the river. It is a tragedy, but it is not your fault.”

A shudder ran through her.

He knew the feeling. “We have both lost a sister this day. The pain will not soon ebb, but we shall get each other through it. I will be a brother to you, as she had been your sister.”

It may not be what she dreamed of right now, but it would suffice. It was all he could offer, especially if he convinced Abba to let him join the army that would soon set off for Greece. And even after the war, after she had grown . . . there could never be more.

Not with this secret between them.