by Tessa Afshar
I chose my words with care. “There seems to be some confusion.”
“Confusion! This is an evil-hearted attempt to destroy a good man for the sake of harming me.”
The queen’s conclusion was the most obvious one, I had to concede. There was no love lost between the two women. If Amestris wished to embarrass her daughter-in-law, this might not be a bad plan. Yet in the language of the document I noted a genuine sense of outrage. The words sounded more emotional than legal in places, as though dictated by the wronged party rather than a disinterested scribe.
Furthermore, the document was written in Persian, the prestigious language of the court. If the legal document had been meant for the average man, it would have been prepared in Aramaic. For a royal brief such as this, tradition would require the use of Akkadian, the complicated language of old Assyria, still held in high esteem amongst the educated. But Akkadian was known predominantly by scribes, not by aristocratic women. Once again the personal nature of the document struck me; this was not a detached legal construct. Affront leaked out of every accusing word.
I had another reason for hesitating. The queen mother’s chief scribe, Nebo, happened to be a friend of mine. In our own fashion, palace employees at times forged unique bonds of camaraderie. Nebo and I did not share the intimate secrets of our hearts, but we stood together as scribes sometimes strove to do, and exchanged what information we could without violating confidences. Nebo had told me that his mistress, though proud, was a fair woman. In over fifteen years of service, he had never known her to punish anyone without provocation. The picture he had painted was not of a woman who would cause harm through petty fabrications.
“Your Majesty,” I began, and hesitated. Without my bidding, the lion hunter’s last words echoed in my mind: You will not last long in Persepolis with that mouth.
“I have not known you to mince words before, scribe. Speak before you give me a sour stomach.” Damaspia clasped her hands behind her back, causing her thick gold bracelets to jingle like bells.
I bowed. “Give me a week to look into this charge, Your Majesty. I see no benefit in your rushing into open enmity with the queen mother.”
The queen raised a shapely eyebrow. “When I invited you to speak, I meant as a scribe. You forget your place. Your job is to tell me if this document is binding. Should I wish for political advice, I would appeal to greater minds than that of a mere girl who can read and write.”
“I beg your pardon.” It seemed my day for apologies. “The document is wholly legal, though …”
“What?” she snapped with impatience.
“The language is odd in places. For one thing, it is written in Persian. It does not sound like the work of a scribe, but of one who is personally outraged.”
“I would not be surprised if she dictated the whole of this malevolent document with her own wrinkled lips,” the queen said with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“Another irregularity is the date of the crime. The robbery happened during the last harvest, which would have been months ago. Why has the queen decided to complain of it now?”
“She is capricious and unreasonable. Who knows what is in the mind of that woman?”
I decided that I had said as much as I could and that the matter was out of my hands. The queen clearly had no interest in my opinion.
Damaspia dismissed me with a regal nod of her head, and with one final bow I retreated. I was at the door when she barked, “Wait.”
How could I have known that reluctant order would change my life?
“Explain your reservations.”
Like a fool, I did.
“You are saying you do not believe this to be a plot hatched by Amestris? You think she truly believes this drivel about Frada?”
“Quite so, Your Majesty.”
“How could this be when you know as well as I do that Frada would never steal a single shriveled walnut from that woman or anyone else? It is either Frada or Amestris. For my part, I know whom I believe.”
“I, too, believe Frada is innocent.” I shifted my weight from one leg to the other. The tension of the long formal audience with the queen was beginning to wear on me. My arm itched and I had to force myself not to answer its irritating demand. Persian court protocol was fierce. “I cannot explain this mystery. I merely suspect that all is not as it seems.”
“What do you suggest? That I sacrifice Frada based on your unlikely suspicion of Amestris’s innocence?”
“Of course not, Your Majesty. But give me a week—or better, two—to try and solve this puzzle.”
“I give you three days.”
My heart sank. I could not get an audience with someone as lowly as an assistant apothecary in that time, let alone investigate such a complicated matter with the delicacy it required. I knew better than to argue, however. Resignedly, I bowed before retreating.
* 446 BC
* * *
We hope you enjoyed this excerpt from Harvest of Rubies. Go HERE to purchase your full-length copy.
STRIKING BEAUTY COMES AT A PRICE
Rahab paid it when at the age of fifteen she was sold into prostitution by the one man she loved and trusted—her father. With her keen mind and careful planning she turned heartache into success, achieving independence while still young. And she vowed never again to trust a man. Any man.
God had other plans.
The walls of Jericho are only the beginning. The real battle for Rahab will be one of the heart.
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More Biblical Fiction From Tessa Afshar
The prophet Nehemiah’s cousin can speak several languages, keep complex accounts, write on rolls of parchment and tablets of clay, and solve great mysteries. This cousin becomes a scribe who rubs elbows with royalty and solves intrigues for the Queen. There is only one problem: Nehemiah’s cousin is a woman.
Darius remains skeptical that his Jewish wife is the right choice for him, particularly when Sarah conspires with her cousin Nehemiah to rebuild the walls of Jerusalem. Will the journey there help Darius to see the hand of God at work in his life and even in his marriage? A hidden message, treachery, opposition, and a God-given success will lead to an unlikely bounty.
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