Free Harvest of Rubies by Tessa Afshar Page A

commit fraud upon a royal person. Rather than chastise Gaspar’s parents for hiding him, however, Damaspia gave them a little money and packed them off to a village she owned near Susa. She wanted to ensure their continued safety.
     
    I thought it typical of her to show clemency to an old couple who would have caused her harm in their desperation. She often said that the greatest king of the Achaemenid line, Cyrus, won nations by his mercy as much as by his sword. He had set my people, the Jews, free from their captivity in Babylon, so I held him in great esteem myself. He was the only Gentile to whom our prophets referred as the
anointed one
. I honored the queen’s efforts to follow in his footsteps.
     
    We had not even started packing for our annual summer journey north when the lady Alogune was officially exiled to Babylon in public disgrace. Artaxerxes, who had lived through the murder of his own father and older brother in a palace coup, had no patience for plots. I breathed easier after that, knowing Frada and the young servant boy under his care were safe now from threat of harm. I thought life had returned to normal, and busied myself with the tedious work of preparing for our summer move to the cool mountains of Media.
     

Chapter Six                   
     
    T he queen ruined my life with kindness.
     
    The Achaemenids regarded special acts of faithful service worthy of reward. For generations, they had grown accustomed to bestowing tangible favor on those who provided them with notable aid. Usually these gifts came in the form of a luxurious offering—necklaces and bracelets fitted with precious stones, handwoven garments, silver and gold chalices, rations of fine wine and grain. If Damaspia had given me any of these in appreciation for discovering and foiling Alogune’s plot, I would have wallowed in grateful excitement for months. If she had even given me a decorated saddle for a horse I did not own and could not ride—another common royal gift—I would have soared on wings of joy.
     
    But no. The queen chose to bestow on me the highest honor imparted from royal hand: she gave me a husband. A Persian aristocrat.
     
    A week before our departure for Ecbatana, Damaspia sentfor me. Puzzled at this irregularity, I tried to forget that the last time she had summoned me like this, I had become embroiled in a web of perilous intrigue. Ignoring the knot in my stomach, I forced my reluctant feet to walk faster, and found myself ushered into her presence.
     
    She smiled widely when she saw me. She was in good humor, I thought, a little reassured. It seemed that every member of her court had gathered about her; her handmaidens and eunuchs and lesser servants turned in unison to gaze at me. I began to feel myself perspiring under the scrutiny of so many people. I was not accustomed to such attention.
     
    Disconcerted as the stares continued, I approached the queen with misgiving.
     
    “You are very good at uncovering secrets, scribe. But I have kept a few from you for some days now,” Damaspia said.
     
    I made some inane comment about her wisdom and began to feel a prickling of worry. It was clear that everyone in the room knew of this secret and was amused by it at my expense.
     
    “Some nights ago as I supped with the king my husband, he told me of the predicament of one of his cousins, the lord Vivan. This predicament, I wish to share with you, Sarah, for it concerns you now. Before I do, however, I must tell you Vivan’s story.
     
    “Many summers ago, when Lord Vivan was still a young man, he fell in love with the daughter of his steward, a beautiful girl named Rachel.”
     
    My eyes widened at that name, which was not Persian, but Jewish. The queen acknowledged my recognition with a faint nod and continued. “She was one of your people—a Jew. Lord Vivan’s love for Rachel was so consuming that he refused to take her as concubine, which befit her station, but married her instead