Читать книгу Jewel of Persia - Roseanna M. White - Страница 7

Kasia blinked her eyes open and stared at the rich, unfamiliar surroundings. Brick walls with a mosaic of mythical animals. Red-polished lime floors covered with thick rugs. By the door two stone dogs stood sentry. Was it her imagination, or did they snarl at her?

She pushed herself up in the bed, softer by far than her pallet on the floor at home. Light from the low windows winked off ornaments of gold and silver. Everything mocked her, screamed that she did not belong.

The heavy wooden doors swung open, and Hegai strode in, a line of servants behind him. He smiled, but it did little to ease the ache inside.

“Awake, I see. Good. We have much to do, and not much time to do it in. If you could rise, Kasia, we need measurements for a new wardrobe. Then you must have your first treatments in oil of myrrh.”

She swung her legs out of the bed and planted her feet on the floor, even as questions swirled through her mind. “I have heard about these preparations. They are a year in total, are they not?”

“Usually, yes.” Hegai sighed and motioned a man forward. She assumed him to be a tailor, given the string he held up to her. “But not in your case. The king granted me a week, and I had to beg for that much.”

She nearly fell back onto the bed. “A week? I . . . but . . . why?”

Hegai shrugged and motioned more servants to the bath sunken into the floor. “I do not presume to know the mind of the king. Perhaps it is because he anticipates leaving soon for his campaign against Greece and wishes to make you his wife beforehand.”

The room rocked around her. “What did Haman tell him about me?”

“I know not, but he need only speak the truth to capture the king’s attention.” Though his gaze turned critical, she saw satisfaction within it.

Kasia forced herself to swallow. “Who was the other man? The one with Haman when they first saw me?”

He motioned more servants to the other side of the room, where they set out dish after dish of aromatic food. Her stomach knotted in protest. “I am not certain,” he said. “Probably Masistes, the king’s younger brother. He and Haman often ride together.”

Masistes. She wanted to ask if she would ever have cause to meet him in the palace but did not dare. What was the point? She needed to purge her mind of thoughts of any other men. Michael, Mordecai, Masistes. Dwelling on any of them would only make her circumstances worse.

The door swung open again. She looked that way, expecting more servants, with more things that she would not know what to do with. But the first two who entered were empty-handed, and they stepped to each side of the doorway once through. Three more figures entered then. Servants on the ends, but in the middle glided a glimmering woman.

Hegai fell to his knee. “Queen Atossa. I did not expect you in the women’s house today.”

The queen mother? Kasia dropped to the floor along with the tailor, feeling blood warm her cheeks.

The queen’s laugh sounded sweet and amused. “I could not resist a visit when I heard about the unusual circumstances of the newest addition. Rise, please.”

Kasia waited for Hegai to obey before following suit. Careful to keep her chin at a respectful angle, she gave into curiosity and gazed at the matriarch of Persia. A daughter of Cyrus the Great, it was her influence that assured Xerxes would be king, rather than Darius’s older son by another wife. The whisperers called Atossa all-powerful. What were the chances that she would be an ally?

The woman smiled. “Your name is Kasia, I hear. My son is very much intrigued by you.”

She was unsure which son the queen mother referred to, but it seemed ill-advised to ask. “I am but your humble servant, my queen.”

“Today, perhaps. But soon enough you will be a consort to the king of kings. You have been here only a few hours, my child, yet already you have friends and enemies. Learning who is who is more important than oil of myrrh.” With a flick of her wrist, she sent servants scurrying out of her way so that she could float forward. When she paused, one of them pulled forward a chair, which she sat upon without so much as glancing behind to check its position.

The wrist motioned to her, and Kasia sank down onto the bed. She knew no chair had appeared behind her. “I am grateful for any advice the queen can give me.”

Atossa acknowledged her with a minuscule nod. “Wine.” As a servant dashed to the corner of the room, the queen folded her bejeweled hands in her lap. “You are a Jew, which accounts for some of your enemies. Haman in particular detests your people. Not surprising, since he is an Agagite.”

Kasia’s brows pulled down, but she pressed her lips together.

“You are wondering, then, why he encouraged the king to add you to his harem?” Atossa loosed a dry laugh. “He expects you to stumble, to displease my notoriously impulsive son, and so to provide the king with reason to punish your whole people.”

The world fell upon her shoulders in a suffocating burden. Perhaps tonight she could slip out of the palace and disappear forever.

“In addition,” Atossa continued, “your presence has already enraged Queen Amestris. She is a jealous woman, especially of young virgins half her age who have caught the eye of her husband. She is a queen—she understands that her husband’s wealth is measured in sons and wives as well as gold. So long as she is certain her son will be the next king, she is docile enough. But his impatience where you are concerned has labeled you a threat. Tread lightly when around her, and avoid her whenever you may.”

Much more easily done if she were nowhere near the palace. Egypt was a temperate place, was it not? Perhaps she could hitch a ride with a caravan.

“However.” Here the queen paused and gave her a smile that seemed . . . motherly. Warm. Sincere. “You have friends as well. I am always pleased to welcome anyone who angers Amestris, as are most of the other wives. Keep your hand soft and your demands few, and the servants will respond well to you. Since you will see us more than anyone else in the palace once you leave the house of women and join the house of wives, those ought to be your priorities.”

Kasia could only nod.

Atossa breathed a laugh. “All women new to the palace have questions. You may ask yours—you have no time to learn the answers on your own.”

The servant who fetched the queen’s wine handed a cup to Kasia as well. She took a sip, grateful for the time to gather her thoughts. So many of them swarmed that she barely knew where to begin. “I understand that I ought to make the queen mother and other wives my friends, where possible. But what of the king? Ought I not try to please him as well?”

The queen’s smile went patronizing. “My child, that is a task no one woman can accomplish. He is eager to have you, and you may hold his attention for a while. A week, a month at the outmost. If you are lucky, you will produce a child, which guarantees another visit from the king. But there are always new virgins finishing their year of preparation. Discontented wives of absent nobles to seduce. The destruction of rival empires to plot.”

“He sounds horrible.” The moment the word slipped out, she slapped a hand over her mouth and prayed Jehovah would strike her dead here and now.

Atossa laughed. “Your opinion is not unexpected, given your upbringing. He is not horrible, child, he is . . . the king. His attention is by necessity fractured. He must be many things to many people. To his wives, he is at once the axis around which you turn and a star afar off in the night. Do what you can to please him, Kasia, or at least to keep from angering him. But know that whatever you find with him, it will be fleeting. That is the way of things. Life here, for all its polish and sparkle, is largely uneventful unless you fall into a scandal.” She leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “Which I would not advise.”

The advice seemed unnecessary—until Masistes’ teasing gaze filled her mind’s eye. “Noted. Duly. I shall . . .” What? Resign herself to a life of nothingness? She was not so sure she could. But she would not dishonor her father, her husband, and her God by acting on silly dreams.

She would not. “I shall find contentment in my place.”

“Then you will be better off than most of the wives.” Atossa smiled again and then stood. “I shall let Hegai proceed. After you go to the king, I will pay you another visit.”

Kasia jumped to her feet, though she had no idea how to say farewell to royalty. Would those lessons be poured upon her this week along with the oils and perfumes, or would she be let to blunder her way through? She suspected Haman and Amestris would be in favor of the blundering. Hopefully Hegai’s and Atossa’s attention would save her.

~*~

Mordecai nodded to his manservant as he shut the door behind him. Esther sat in the same place she had when he left three hours earlier. Her fingers kept busy with the mending, but her expression was a hollow mask of pain.

That was how she looked when he first met her three years before, after her parents’ deaths. He had hastened across the miles the moment the news reached him, but still she was alone for a month, with naught but a neighbor to watch her. His heart broke that day, when he beheld the small girl who looked ready to give up on life. It broke again now at the return of the dispassion.

“Daughter.”

She looked up with the smile she always gave when he called her “daughter” instead of “cousin.” But it was a dim echo of the smile that graced her features one short week ago.

Mordecai sighed. “We will be dining with Kish and his family tonight.”

Esther’s gaze fell again. “I am not hungry.”

“I know.” He crouched down beside her and urged her chin up with a finger. “But you must eat, dear one. If you waste away and leave me too, then how will I survive it? I need you, Esther. Kasia’s family needs you. You were closer to her than any of them, and they are comforted by your presence.”

Her face twisted in agony before she turned it away. “How can you be so calm about her loss? How can you go over there without it piercing you anew?”

A question he could not answer. Not honestly. How could he explain that the part of his soul that had blossomed as he watched Kasia, as he came to love her, did not accept this loss at all? It felt as though she were only on a journey. Visiting family in another province. Not here, but not gone. Not for good.

It was a delusion—he knew that. But when he cried out to the Lord his God, he felt a whisper of peace wash over him like the river flooding the plains. And the soil of his being was left fertile with hope.

Perhaps he was a fool to think she might return. But he was not enough of one to share that, to get another’s hopes up where they could be dashed against the rocks of reality. Still, he could not escape the peace, the feeling that the young woman he loved so much was well.

To Esther he could only say, “I trust in Jehovah, my child. I find my sustenance in him.”

“But he allowed this to happen. He sent the rains that killed her.”

“Those rains fall on the just and the unjust alike. He allows much tragedy, or so it seems to us. But we cannot see the future, precious Esther. We do not know what greater tragedy may have come had this one been withheld. It is our part to have faith in his divine orchestration. To put our hand into his and keep our eyes open, so that we might see what small blessings blossom under our tears.”

She turned her face back to him. He would not have said she looked convinced, but her eyes were no longer shuttered behind the dull pain. They blazed with an ache magnified by her tears. “What blessing can come of this, cousin? You have lost yet another woman you love. I have lost a dear friend, a sister, a would-be mother.”

“Yes, we have. But there is another family of friends three doors down that has also lost a daughter, a sister, and one they loved far longer than we did. Who are we to withhold what comfort we can give them, because it hurts us? Is it not our part to ease their burden in whatever way we can?”

When she blinked, a drop of brine fell from each eye. “You are too good, my father. I cannot be like you.”

“No?” He smoothed back a few stray hairs from her face and smiled. “Odd. In you I see a spirit far sweeter than mine has ever been. If you will turn over your injured heart to Jehovah, I think you will find far more strength at your disposal than I have.”

Her lip quivered, making her look far younger than her twelve years. “How do I do that?”

“Pray, little one. Ask him to touch you, to speak to you. Ask him to bring clarity through the pain.”

A frown creased her brow. “And that will work?”

“Jehovah will not keep his comfort from a contrite spirit. Seek him, and he will pour a balm over your soul.”

Her nod was small. “I cannot fathom what good can come of Kasia’s death . . . but I will look for some.”

Not the total surrender to almighty Jehovah that he would have wished, but at least she would keep her heart open to the Lord’s ministrations. Mordecai nodded and stood, held out his hand. “Come. We must go to our friends.”

The pinched look eased away from her face as she put her hand in his. “Yes. Let us go to our friends.”

~*~

Gossip sprinted through the palace, and it did not earn Kasia any friends. For a week, she endured hostile glances from the virgins nearly finished their year of preparation. She listened to their mutters and snickers as she walked by on her way from lesson to lesson. More than one “accidental” bump sent her into a table corner or statue.

She would go to the king tonight, and she would go with bruises on body and soul. She would go knowing the other soon-to-be wives hated her for receiving the best room, a higher daily allotment of oils and perfumes, the undivided attention of Hegai. And for being put ahead of them in the line of women awaiting their turn with the king of kings.

Gladly would she have traded places with any one of them. But instead here she stood in her chamber, listening to Hegai instruct her on her final minutes before meeting her husband.

“You may take anything you like with you,” he said. “Most select their own dress and jewelry. Some take incense or gifts they make for the king. What do you wish?”

An escape? Kasia swallowed, though her throat felt dry and swollen. Perhaps some fatal disease would strike her down before she came face to face with Xerxes. One could hope.

Moistening her lips, she shook her head. “What do you recommend?”

Hegai smiled, even chuckled. “No one ever asks—they spend so long planning, they care little for what I have to say. But I offer my advice freely to you. Dress simply. Do not detract from your natural beauty with too many adornments. Take no gift, as you have had no time to make one with your hands and could otherwise give nothing the king has not first given you.”

He held up a hand and twirled a finger. She spun in a circle so that he could see her from all angles. “The king was intrigued by stories of simple beauty, not riches. Go as you. Offer him what you are, who you are. I think he will find it pleasing.”

Though she nodded, her hands trembled. She clasped them together. “Will you select my clothing for me?”

“I will.” He moved to where the new garments rested, chose a few of the fine pieces—a sleeveless red sheath in the style of the Egyptians, topped with a robe of white linen so finely woven it was translucent. Servants helped her into them behind the screen, and then she emerged and turned again for the custodian’s approval.

He nodded. “They suit you well. One necklace, I think, to showcase the fine column of your throat.”

“And my torc.” Perhaps that would prove a mistake, wearing the gift that reminded her of Masistes, who continued to haunt her dreams. Or perhaps the king would recognize what marked her as his, if that was its purpose.

“Of course.” He handed her the silver with its two lions’ heads, and while she fitted it onto her arm, he selected an intricately worked necklace for her.

When he turned her to face the mirror of polished bronze, Kasia held her breath. But the image was not so unfamiliar. Finer clothing, yes. And the wink of precious metals was new. But it was her face, unchanged. Her hair, if glossier and trimmed to have more motion in its length. She was still Kasia, daughter of Kish. But how would Kasia, daughter of Kish, fare as Kasia, wife of Xerxes?

The door opened, and seven servants entered. Hegai welcomed them with a nod and a smile. “Your escort. They will take you to the king’s chambers and will remain your servants in the house of wives. The rest of your things will be taken over in the morning, once the king gives instruction on where you will stay.”

She looked to the servants, but none met her gaze. She turned back to Hegai. “Is there anything else I should know?”

“More than I can tell you right now, and we are out of time.” He smiled and approached her, rested his hands on her shoulders. “You will be all right, Kasia. Queen Atossa has promised to take you under her wing, and she will see that you learn all you must. For now, think only of the king, your husband.”

Did he not realize that those thoughts made her stomach clench in terror?

He dropped his hands and stepped from between her and the door. “Go.”

She knew not what else to do, so she obeyed. Strode forward with all the false confidence she could muster and took her place in the middle of the servants. They led the way out through the gardens, toward the king’s palace. Twilight lit the path, and the fragrance of jasmine touched the air. Soothed her soul.

They moved through a small rear door, along a dark hallway, and finally into a chamber far larger than several of her neighbors’ houses combined. The rich appointments did little to make the cavernous space feel more welcoming. At least it was empty of anyone but her own company.

One of the servants turned to her. “The king declared a week-long feast as plans are finalized for the war. Some nights he may return early, other nights when dawn streaks the sky. We will wait with you until he comes—is there anything you would like?”

She could be waiting here for hours? Kasia shook her head. “Thank you, but no.”

The darkness of the room propelled her to the low windows, where the last streaks of sun were visible on the horizon. She sucked in a breath of appreciation when she beheld the vista from the king’s window. The entire city of Susa stretched before her, awash in fire and shadow from the setting sun. There, far to the side, wended the river. There, the temple. That meant that her family’s house was somewhere in that cluster of darkened silhouettes.

A pang of homesickness struck her in the chest. She had barely had time to miss them during waking hours these last days, but now thoughts of her family filled her. Ima would be putting the littlest ones into bed for the night, picking up the remnants of a busy day. Abba would be settling down to a few minutes of repose, talking with Zechariah about the project they would work on the next day. Zechariah would try to work in a few comments about joining the army, but Abba would put him off again, saying God’s chosen people had no place fighting for their oppressors.

Did they miss her? Did they weep for her still?

A shaft of pain lanced through her, and her eyes slid shut. Hebrew words, usually spoken only at home, came to her lips. “Jehovah God, pour out your healing balm upon my precious sisters and brothers, upon my parents. Ease their grief and their pain. Help Zechariah release the anger I know he felt. And Esther . . . she must feel like yet another loved one has abandoned her. Help her to find a friend to sustain her, and to find comfort in comforting my family. Bless Mordecai for all his goodness and righteousness. Let him not suffer any more for my sake. He deserves better. He deserves the best you have to offer.”

She paused, half expecting loneliness to swamp her. To feel isolated, cut off from God and her people alike as she had all week.

But her conscience resonated now within her. Her God was a living God. A present God. Even in the midst of captivity, when the remnant of his children called out to him, he answered. He was as close as a prayer. Had she but cried for him sooner, this week would not have passed so slowly, with such agonizing solitude.

So long as she kept her heart aligned with him, he would sustain her. No matter the back-biting, the sneers from the other women. No matter the disregard she knew to expect from her husband. Even here, she would remain a child of Jehovah.

A shift rippled through the servants, and the one nearest her whispered, “The king comes.”

Even as the words were spoken, Kasia heard the door open. She drew in another long breath of peace and thanked Jehovah for stilling the tremble of fear in her limbs.

“Leave us.”

The voice sent a different kind of tremble up her spine. It should not have surprised her that the king sounded so much like his brother, but she had not been braced for the similarity. It brought an image of that forbidden face to her mind, one that she struggled to push back down.

The shuffle of feet moved toward the door, and Kasia knew she must face her king. Her husband. As she turned, she wondered what other similarities she would find between this man and the one she had met at the river.

The king stood at the mid-point of the room, his eyes locked on her. Eyes that were filled with light. He had a nose straight and strong. A mouth quirked up into a half-smile.

Kasia let her eyes go round, let the last of the anxiety seep out. “You? You are the king?”