Harvest of Rubies (19 page)

I followed the noise of Caspian’s barks and Teispes’s curses across the dark corridors of the palace until I came in sight of them. Feigning a huge yawn and sleepy manners as though I had just abandoned my bed, I came to a sudden halt.

“What on earth are you doing, you lout? How dare you hit his lordship’s favorite dog?”

Arrested mid kick, Teispes’s mouth fell open. “I … I … He is a thief! He stole my chain and keys.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! He’s just a dog. If you will leave your things around, he will play with them.”

“This chain never leaves my neck. The dog stole it from me, I tell you.”

“You’ve lost your mind, steward. Take your chain and give me the dog. Your master shall hear of this behavior. You can count on that.”

Without another word, Teispes disentangled his chain from Caspian’s toothy grip. The dog gave up his prize with innocent obedience while I stood near. Then he trotted over to me and we walked away.

Ensconced in my room and safe at last, I bent to pet Caspian. “Brave boy. Why did you let him beat you? You could have snapped his hand off.” It dawned on me that although Caspian had been trained to fight in battles, he must have also been carefully tutored to honor those he considered his masters. Extraordinary beast. I lay my head against him. “My valiant friend.”

“Won’t he find out that you stole those rolls?” Pari asked me, her voice worried.

“Chances are good that he will not. He is a steward, not a scribe, so most of his work concerns current accounts, and I took two older ledgers. Unless he goes searching for them for some reason, we should be safe.”

We had congregated in the herb garden where Bardia was busy working. Pari and I had joined him, pulling out persistent weeds and helping to plant some late seedlings. As with most things, Bardia was running behind with the planting of his herbs. His part-time assistant was busy in the almond grove, which left him with us for help.

He made no objection to our assistance, for this was considered a noble pastime, suitable for people of high or low rank. Pari made me wear linen gloves to protect my hands, however, and insisted on bringing a parasol to shield me from the sun. I always felt like a fraud when she treated me like the lady I was not. I may be married to a nobleman according to official documents, but in truth I remained the daughter of a scribe and a servant at heart. It did not help knowing that my husband and I were in perfect agreement on this one subject. For the sake of peace, I bore Pari’s shows of courtesy with leashed unease.

“My lady, I want to show you something,” Bardia said and beckoned me to go to him. He was standing near a willow tree with sweeping branches, its narrow leaves already unfurled and twinkling their green reflection into the irrigation canal that flowed past. It was a breathtaking sight. I had a soft spot for the willow, a fairly recent transplant to this part of the empire. An adventurous traveler had brought it along the Silk Road to Persepolis, where it gained wild favor and quickly spread across the rest of Persia.

“She is lovely,” I said. “When did you plant her?”

“I did not. My Lord Darius did when he was no more than a lad.”

“Did his father command him to do it?” I asked, thinking it unlikely that Darius would have the patience for agricultural pastimes.

“Oh no, my lady. His lordship sought me out himself. He was home on a rare leave from the palace. The magi had just completed an agricultural training for the lads his age at court. With so few hours at his disposal, he elected to spend a good deal of his time planting this tree.”

It was hard for me to imagine my husband as a young lad at his studies. Sons of aristocrats were sent to the palace at the age of seven to receive a rigorous and comprehensive education. Through their years of training, they learned the arts of war and leadership. They were given breathing lessons to make their voices audible on a noisy battlefield. A Greek scribe had once told me that Persian warriors were known to have the loudest voices in the world. I had never heard my husband shout; he didn’t have to. His quiet tones were sufficient to reduce me to a state of near panic.

The magi also taught the older pupils ethics and right living, and trained them to hold truth more sacred than every other virtue. Their goal was to raise honorable leaders who practiced the principles of truthful living. I had not realized that the magi included gardening in their training.

“Did you choose the tree for him, Bardia?”

“No, no. He chose his own tree.”

“That’s odd. I wouldn’t have thought a willow as typical of his taste. Perhaps a walnut tree. Or even a cherry—something strong with a useful harvest.” The willow bore no edible fruit and offered little practical use other than cool shade on hot days.

“He loved the willow—loves it still—not because of its usefulness, but because of what it is. It touches the soul, that’s all.”

I shrugged, not comprehending. In fact, I could not see why Bardia was so bent on sharing the story of this tree with me. I would rather plant my own herbs than hear stories of my husband’s prowess in the garden.

If Bardia sensed my impatience, he ignored it and continued with his tale. “His lordship came and sought me out.
I haven’t had a chance to talk with you for months, Bardia
, he said.
You can supervise me, but you are not to touch anything. I’ll do the work. Just keep me company
.

“He chose this spot himself, and as he worked, told me stories about life in the palace. Wouldn’t let me dig one shovelful of earth for him. He was a young man to be proud of—strong, humble, caring. He was everything a lord should be.” I ground my teeth. “Why do you tell me this?”

“Because you don’t know your husband. You see the state of this palace and you blame him. You think he takes ill care of his people.”

“I never said so.”

“You didn’t have to. It’s plain to see on your face. You have no respect for him. Begging your pardon if I speak out of turn, my lady, but you commit a grave mistake in what you think of him.”

My jaw would have landed at the base of the willow tree had it not been attached to my head.
“I
commit a grave mistake in what I think of
him?
Here is irony.”

Bardia pulled on his beard. “Did you really appear at your wedding looking like a creature of darkness?”

Was there anyone in the entire Persian Empire who did not know the full extent of my disgrace? I felt like Job, for what I feared had come upon me; what I dreaded had happened to me. I had turned myself into the laughingstock of courtiers and servants alike.

“It’s true.”

“So you cannot blame my master for being mistaken in you.”

I sank to the ground and leaned against the tree my husband had planted. “Given what you know, how is it that you never held me in contempt, Bardia? Why do you not resent me for mistreating your beloved master?”

“I’m privy to a few things that Lord Darius cannot know. He was away attending school at Persepolis at the time and will not remember, but years ago my lord and lady had a great friendship with the king’s cupbearer.”

“Nehemiah?”

“The same. He’d often have supper with Lord Vivan and Lady Rachel. Sometimes they would stroll in the gardens. Whenever I was present, Lord Nehemiah engaged me in conversation, and treated me with cordial respect.

“I am a good judge of plants and trees. I can tell you with one glance what is hardy and what sickly. And I am a good judge of men too, and I judged this man to be wise and trustworthy. Every word that passed his lips was truth, though sometimes he was fiery with expressing it.” Bardia flashed a gummy smile.
Fiery
was a good word for my cousin, I thought.

“In time, Lord Vivan was transferred to a different region, and then my lady died. The king’s cupbearer’s visits grew rare, though I think the spirit of the friendship remained strong through the years.

“Knowing that both Nehemiah and the queen had approved of you, I concluded that there was more to the story of your wedding than met the eye. Nehemiah is not a man to put his kin forward solely for the sake of advancing his connections. If he thought highly of you, then he must have had just cause.”

So Lord Vivan had known Nehemiah and trusted him. Now I saw why he had rushed into drawing the marriage contract. He had not only the Queen of Persia’s recommendation, but also the confidence of an old friend. He had anticipated no problems and had expected the best for his son.

I recalled with clarity Darius’s livid accusation flung at my cousin:
My father trusted your word
. He had placed his life in the hands of friend and monarch and they had both failed him. A man who had resisted marriage against every conceivable pressure and reasonable expectation had finally given in, relying on the word of one who had been friend to his mother. No wonder he had been so angry with Nehemiah.
And with me
.

I stretched my legs and dangled my feet into the canal. The water was bone-chillingly cold. It soothed my fire-hot thoughts. “Why is it that you were able to forestall your suspicions when my own husband concluded the worst and denied me the benefit of explaining myself?”

Bardia began to strip the tree of broken limbs. In spite of his age, there was a confident agility about his movements. His forearms, wiry with muscle, flexed and relaxed as he ministered to the needs of the tree. “If I may be so bold to point out, you’re not
my
wife, my lady. Much as I love my master, I can still think straight regardless of the circumstances, which he, caught in the center of them, undoubtedly cannot.”

“You have an answer for everything, old man. I am going back to my stolen records. They don’t pester me with such convoluted arguments.” On the way back to my room I stopped by a flower border to pick a bouquet of pale yellow lilies. Bardia had inspired a passion for flowers in me. The sight of their crisp, beautiful petals cheered my heart as I headed away from one difficult situation and into another.

T
he problem was that my precious stolen records were turning out to be as tricky as Bardia’s revelations. I tinkered with them for days, growing more puzzled at each turn, for Teispes was not saving any money by stint of his parsimonious actions.

To add to my vexation, it seemed I would hardly sit down to work when some interruption or other drained my time. Caspian broke my train of thought with his barking and nipping until I gave in and took him outdoors for extensive walks. Bardia kept me busy in his gardens, forcing me to enjoy the fresh air, he said. Mostly, I reckoned, I was cheap labor and human company. Pari dragged me away from my records by subjecting me to some ridiculous treatment designed to improve my looks and revive my mood. Even Shushan joined in by insisting that I eat long formal meals at table as befit such a great lady. My portions remained small in spite of the fact that it took the cook and Pari an hour to serve them.

In the old days, I would have spent unbroken hours drowned in figures and translations, my only human company those who participated in my work. My world had taken a turn, however, so that companionship became its new center. Hard as I tried to force my existence back into the old mold, I could not. Living creatures vied for my attention. While I found their interruptions frustrating, even depleting, I could also see that spending time with them met a deep yearning in my soul. And with an unexpected twist I discovered that I could not deal with Teispes without them. Their aid proved essential to the fulfillment of the arduous task before me.