by Tessa Afshar
The queen raised a delicate eyebrow. “You wish to leave us, Nehemiah?”
“Leave you? No, my lady. I only want to go for a short while to help rebuild Jerusalem.”
Artaxerxes heaved a sigh. “How long will you be gone? When do you plan to return to us?”
“As soon as the walls are completed and a semblance of order and safety is restored to the city, I shall return. I hope it will not take me overlong.”
Artaxerxes seemed to consider Nehemiah’s words. With a sharp movement, he leaned back. “Jerusalem is in the satrapy of Beyond the River, isn’t it? How far is that from Damascus?”
“The whole province of Judah is located Beyond the River, sire, or as your scholars call it, the Trans-Euphrates. I am not certain of the distance from Damascus. But it cannot be far.”
“Perhaps there is wisdom in sending you to the land of your forefathers. I do not wish for any part of my kingdom to crumble from neglect. What do you need for this journey?”
Nehemiah took a deep breath. An exuberant sense of hope filled him as he realized that the king had not only granted him permission to go to Jerusalem, but was also open to helping him.
“If it please the king, may I have letters addressed to the governors from Beyond the River? Our convoy will have to travel through their provinces to get to Judah, and a word from you would make our journey safe.”
Artaxerxes signaled for his personal scribe; the man, a reedy-looking eunuch, rushed forward and began to work on the letters immediately.
“You must need some provisions, surely,” Damaspia said.
Nehemiah turned to her, bestowing a grateful smile in her direction. “Indeed, Your Majesty. A work of construction of this magnitude will need extra lumber. If it please the king, may I have a letter to Asaph, the manager of the royal forests, instructing him to give me timber? We need beams for the gates of the Temple fortress, for the city walls, and for a house where I can reside.”
Artaxerxes did not demur. With a royal nod, he set his eunuch to write a letter to Asaph. Overwhelmed by the king’s generous consent to every request, Nehemiah felt relief flood through his limbs. The gracious hand of God is on me, he thought. He has opened this door. A new strength filled him as soon as his mind grasped hold of this realization. No matter how hard the journey ahead might prove, he knew now that it was the will of God. The Lord had called Nehemiah, and He would provide for him.
“You cannot go as a cupbearer, Nehemiah. You would have no authority for governance.”
“Your Majesty?”
“You need a new title. I am making you governor of Judah until you return.”
Nehemiah bowed, overwhelmed. “The king’s generosity knows no bounds.”
“Don’t be foolish. It’s a demotion. To go from being my cupbearer—a position that gives you daily access to me and nestles you in the kind of affluence few ever see—to go from that to being the governor of a forsaken region with barely enough food to keep you alive is a questionable move. It is not the act of an ambitious man. You are moving backwards, in order to serve the land of your fathers.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Artaxerxes and Damaspia laughed. “The man asks for a demotion and thanks me for giving it to him. Either he has lost his wits or he has interesting values.” Artaxerxes took a sip from his cup.
“There is also the matter of an escort. It is a long way to Beyond the River. Without proper escort, your convoy may find itself under attack by highwaymen. You need military accompaniment. And I have just the man to lead it.”
“Jerusalem!” Darius stood before Artaxerxes, his hands clasped like a knot behind his back. “I am to become the wet nurse to the cupbearer, roaming around the backwaters of the world in order to make certain he doesn’t get himself robbed? Your Majesty, there are more urgent matters for us to consider.”
Artaxerxes’ expression became blank. “I thought you would be pleased, Darius. Between your mother and your wife you are bound to find some interesting relations hanging about Jerusalem. Think of it as a family reunion, with the empire footing the bill.”
Darius made sure that his face was as blank as the king’s. “Thank you, sire. But my Persian relations are quite enough for me to deal with at the moment,” he said, looking straight into the dark eyes of his second cousin. “I don’t need a new passel of them.”
“Point well taken,” the king said mildly. Darius flushed. Nothing could make a man squirm like Artaxerxes’ gentle responses.
“I am concerned about the ongoing investigation of this failed assassination plot, Your Majesty. A journey to Jerusalem and back will take months.”
Artaxerxes rested his jaw into the palm of his hand and leaned forward. “Of course, Judah is located in the satrapy of Beyond the River. And since you are convinced the plot originated there, it might give you an opportunity to conduct a discreet investigation. You will have a perfect cover as Nehemiah’s military escort; no one is likely to suspect you of being my spy when you already have a job.”
Darius broke into a grin. “You had me worried, sire. Now I see your mind remains as subtle as ever. May I take my men?”
“My men, you mean, since their wages come out of my pocket. By all means, take them with you.”
“Have you heard from your agent in Syria yet, sire? I would like to pay him a visit when we arrive at Beyond the River. Perhaps we can help each other.” For reasons of his own, which he did not deign to share with Darius, Artaxerxes had kept the identity of his spy in Damascus a secret. It was obvious that the man had made as few inroads in his investigations in Syria as Darius had in Susa, for he had nothing of use to report. But Darius thought that together they might be able to accomplish more.
“If it becomes necessary for my agent to meet with you, I will ensure that the meeting will take place. In the meantime, for safety if nothing else, it’s best that you remain strangers to each other.”
“As Your Majesty wishes.”
Artaxerxes’ reticence puzzled Darius. The king’s network of spies, notorious in its ability to uncover furtive information, had become one of his strongest weapons in the maintenance of his sprawling dominion. Artaxerxes did what he could to protect them from discovery, but Darius had not known him to keep his operatives secret from one another.
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “When does the cupbearer plan to leave?”
“Nehemiah? I wouldn’t be surprised if his trunks are already packed. He is in a tearing hurry to get himself to the province of Judah. You better bring fast horses if you want to keep up with him.”
“No doubt he will be encumbered by an enormous baggage train.” The thought made Darius’s shoulders droop. Nothing was more boring than escorting a lumbering baggage train for months. He had done his share of such work in his younger years. Under normal circumstances, an experienced military commander like Darius would never have been assigned to such a menial task. But Artaxerxes was right. It was the perfect cover.
The king shifted on his throne. “And what of your wife?”
“My wife?”
“I believe her name is Sarah? Does that jog your memory? Do you plan to take her with you?”
“I doubt it. It presents too great a danger. When we were attacked on our way to Susa, I thought my hair would turn white when I considered what might have befallen her. She would be a distraction.”
Artaxerxes shrugged. “On the other hand, she might prove helpful. Think of how she has aided us already. Besides, Nehemiah could use her help. He is going into a hotbed of jealousy and discord. Their neighbors are none too fond of the Jews. You should see some of the letters the court has received from them through the years. They’ll be kicking up a fuss before Nehemiah has laid the foundation of that wall, you mark my words.
“Sarah’s skills as an experienced royal scribe would be a formidable asset to the new governor. In any case, I don’t imagine she will relish the thought of being parted from you for
such a lengthy period.”
“Sire, are you ordering me to take my wife?”
Artaxerxes smiled. “Merely a suggestion.”
“In that case, the cupbearer can scrounge another scribe for himself. I don’t wish to risk Sarah’s neck on a long journey to the pit of the empire, especially when I will be busy trying to uncover a clever assassin.”
“You must do as you think best.”
Darius was disconcerted to find the king gazing at him with a mixture of amusement and pity.
“One more thing before you leave.” Artaxerxes nodded to his steward who rushed forward bearing a plain ebony box, shiny from careful polishing. Artaxerxes snapped the box open and showed the contents to Darius. “For Sarah, as I promised. With my thanks.”
A delicate gold necklace set in terra cotta–colored carnelian sparkled in its black nest. Darius bowed. “Your Majesty’s generosity is beyond compare.”
Artaxerxes waved a hand, his expression sour. “Away with you, if you are going to spout flattery at me.” He stretched his feet before him with sigh. “Besides, you’ll need every minute to get ready for this mission. I doubt if it will prove easy.”
*According to the lunar calendar, in the year 445 BC the month of Nisan occurred between April and May.
Sarah set aside the letter from Nehemiah, her eyes shining. Jerusalem! She tried to picture Nehemiah in their native land acting as governor, rebuilding the city, and organizing the city’s officials. She did not know whether to pity them or envy them.
Since the previous year when she had given up striving against God and had surrendered her life to His care, a desire to see the new Temple had so burned in her heart that she used to pray fervently about it. With a frown, she acknowledged that it had been some time since she had done so. Her prayer life was no longer as passionate as it once had been, if she were honest. Settling into her new home with her husband had taken much of her focus and her time. She bit her lip. The joys of being a wife to Darius and helping to run his estates had not replaced her need for the Lord. She needed to return to the discipline of coming before Him more often.
And yet, in spite of her unintentional distance, He had answered her old prayers about seeing the Temple. It seemed as if God in His mercy had gathered the desires of her heart and saved them for the right time. Even her faithlessness had not cancelled His goodness. For here was Nehemiah, asking her to accompany him to Judah as his scribe. The best part of the invitation was that Darius would lead the military contingent attached to the convoy. In fact, the reason Nehemiah had extended the invitation to Sarah could only be because he knew that Darius would bring her along.
Since the king himself had given the assignment to Darius, he could not decline to go. Sarah was painfully aware that her husband had no interest in going to Jerusalem. On several occasions, she had asked him to take her for a visit to the city of her fathers. He had refused, proclaiming it a pointless journey to a shattered land.
Sarah almost laughed. The Lord had His own plans and used His own means. Darius might resist his wife’s requests, but he was no match against the God of heaven and earth. And now she would see Jerusalem with Darius. Perhaps he would even come to believe in the Lord.
Her grin turned into a grimace as a wave of nausea overwhelmed her with sudden force. She had learned to keep a basin under her bed, for the nausea had proven unpredictable. She managed to make it to the basin just in time. For the past two weeks she had found herself teetering between glowing health and debilitating bouts of inexplicable nausea. At first, she had assumed she had eaten something that disagreed with her body. Then she realized that she had missed her monthly cycle and hope had bloomed in her heart.
She thought of the tender evening spent with Darius in the bathhouse, and began to believe that she had conceived a baby as a result, although it was early days yet and hard to be certain. Shyness and something like fear had prevented her from sharing her suspicions with her husband. What if she was wrong? What if she built up a hope in him, only to find out that she had been mistaken? So she had kept her secret, hugging it close, not ready to share it with anyone.
Pari suspected, but kept her thoughts to herself, too wise to press Sarah before she felt ready to share her suspicions. She cleaned up the befouled basins without comment, and left plain bread by Sarah’s bedside to calm her heaving stomach in the mornings before she rose.
Sarah considered Nehemiah’s invitation in the light of this new development. For the first time it occurred to her that Darius might not allow her to go, not if she were pregnant. Running deep through his character was a protective streak as hard as iron. He would not risk her safety on such a grueling journey. From Nehemiah’s letter, Sarah had received the impression that Judah stood on the verge of ruin, poor and endangered by ruthless enemies. This was no pleasure holiday. It would be an arduous task, taxing her strength as well as her heart.
Would she place her baby in danger by participating in this journey? Sarah considered not going. It would mean that she would be apart from Darius for many months. The baby would flourish within her in his absence. He would miss the first quickening, miss the increase in the size of her belly as their son or daughter grew within her. They would not be able to celebrate the small joys of her pregnancy together. Alone, she would have to walk through the pregnancy day after day, without her husband to comfort and encourage her.
He might not even be back for the birth. Sarah did not know the length of this assignment. Yet it seemed reasonable to assume that including the months of travel, it could last a year. She did not want to be parted from him for so long!
She wanted to see Jerusalem with every fiber of her being. She wanted Darius to be by her side when she visited the Temple, because she hoped that the seeds planted by his devout Jewish mother might bear fruit once he experienced the presence of God. But none of these desires were grave enough to endanger the health of her child.
Sarah considered the choices before her. The real question was whether this journey would indeed place her baby’s life at risk. She remembered several of the king’s concubines who had travelled with the court while expecting. Journeying on royal highways in a baggage train was not nearly as rough as the way Darius preferred to travel. Nehemiah would have a large baggage train, and must therefore journey more slowly. If the king’s concubines were considered safe on such roads, surely Sarah posed no danger to her child by travelling in the same manner?
She felt better the longer she considered it. But she knew that Darius would never agree. He would not listen to reason. He would force her to stay at home, where she would be safe, surrounded by friends and court physicians. No amount of cajoling, convincing, crying, or wheedling would move him.
Sarah began to pace around her apartment. Her puppy, Anousya, kept pace with her. He skipped by her side backward and forward, occasionally making plaintive sounds, as though wondering what ailed his mistress. Absently she bent down to pet him before resuming her agitated walk.
She needed a physician, first to confirm that she was indeed expecting a baby, and second to ascertain if travel to Judah would be safe for her and the child. Where could she find a competent physician who would not betray her secret to her husband? For if she were to go to Jerusalem, her only option would be to keep her pregnancy a secret from Darius until they were too far from Susa for him to send her back.
She had given him her word to be forthright and honest, to keep nothing hidden from him. Was it wise to risk their relationship by withholding this secret?
The alternative would be to part from him for endless months. She would not be lying. She would just be delaying telling her husband the truth.
The thought brought on another wave of nausea. Sarah tried to breathe deeply, calming herself. Darius would interpret her actions as a betrayal. He would be furious. He had once told her that he could not abide lies. The mere suspicion that she had lied to him at the start of their marriage had kept him apart from her for months. She could
not risk her marriage by hiding her pregnancy from him. But neither could she face the prospect of living without him for a year and bringing their baby into the world in his absence.
With a frantic motion she doubled over into the basin and retched, even though there was nothing left in her stomach to bring up. She curled up on her bed, exhausted and sick. And still no solution presented itself.
“From the king, for you,” Darius said as he dropped a black box on the bed next to her. Sarah picked the box up in surprise.
“For me?”
“In appreciation for your part in discovering the murder plot.”
Sarah, whose stomach had thankfully settled down for the past few hours, felt well enough to enjoy the gift. She pulled out the carnelian necklace and examined it with care. “It’s breathtaking.” She held it against her throat for a moment before dropping it back in its box. “I will write the king a letter of thanks. And I will not mention the fact that the queen’s gift is exceedingly more to my taste than His Majesty’s.”
Darius sat on the bed next to her, stretching his legs to the floor. “Am I expected to feel flattered at being considered more worthy than a bauble?”
Sarah had been rewarded with an aristocratic marriage to Darius after solving a potentially damaging plot against Damaspia. She blew a kiss to her husband and nodded. “Baubles are very appealing, my lord. They often appreciate in value and come in handy during times of economic distress. Besides, they are never moody or unreasonable.”
“Unlike husbands, you mean?” With a sudden shifting of long limbs, Darius pushed Sarah back into the pillows for a deep kiss that melted her insides. “But can they do this?” he asked.
“I told you I preferred the queen’s gift.”
He turned a half revolution from her so that he lay on his side next to her. “Pari tells me you’ve been sick all day. It’s not the first time you have felt unwell in the past week or two. It should have passed by now if it were a simple stomach sickness.” His hand felt cool against Sarah’s heated cheek. “You feel warm.”
