Harvest - 01 - Harvest of Rubies

by Tessa Afshar

  I had thought of this eventuality, of course. It was the most likely possibility given the palace’s distance from town. I just didn’t like it. I couldn’t ride a horse to save my life, and donkeys made me queasy. We chose a donkey. At least we didn’t have to worry about travel documents; we were considered a suburb of Persepolis.

  Bardia and I shared a docile beast as we followed Teispes at a safe distance. Bardia, accustomed to riding the brute, sat in front and dealt with its ornery nature, while I sat behind him, clutching the gardener’s skinny middle, praying that I would not fall off.

  By the time Teispes entered the heart of Persepolis, the sun was rising in the east, looking as magnificent as a royal crown. Its showy glory made no impression on me. I had one desire: for the steward to arrive at his mysterious assignation so that I could get off that swaying beast. I received my wish soon enough. On a street lined with shops, he brought his mount to a stop and handed the reins to a waiting lad.

  Bardia and I stopped a long way off for fear that he would notice us. Teispes seemed unaware of our presence, however, and bounded up a set of wooden stairs to the top floor of a commercial building. I stood back and examined the street. Many of the lower buildings were occupied by modest shops—cobblers, potters, taverns. The top floors in contrast seemed residential. Though it was not a luxurious neighborhood, it was not a cheap one either. The buildings appeared in good repair, the street wide and clean, with miniature flowerpots boasting cheerful colors in front of many of the stores.

  “Wait here,” I told Bardia; he stuck to me like glue, following my every step. I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Keep quiet then, and don’t interrupt no matter what I say.”

  One floor below the apartment where Teispes had headed, a portly merchant began opening his diminutive shop.

  Cosmetics. Fabulous. The only cosmetic I knew anything about was kohl; I had once seen the queen’s maids making a batch of the black powder used for darkening the eyes. With painstaking patience, they had burned almonds and pistatues one at a time. The soot had been gathered on the bottom of a clay bowl, and scraped off to use as kohl.

  “Do you have any kohl? Made from almonds, mind, and fresh,” I said, trying to sound like I knew what I was talking about.

  “I have twenty-three varieties, mistress. Which would you like?”

  I nearly choked on my saliva. Twenty-three varieties? How many blighted ways were there of burning an almond to cinders? I pointed haphazardly to a silver amphora. It was small enough not to cost a fortune. He named a price that almost made me choke again.

  After a few more tries and severe haggling I became the owner of kohl I did not need. However, my merchant was in an expansive mood, which is what I did need.

  “I’m looking to rent a place in town. A friend told me that apartment above your shop might be available.”

  “That one there?” The merchant straightened his rounded hat. “That’s well occupied. You’ve been misinformed.”

  “Are you sure? My friend seemed certain that it was becoming vacant.”

  “Never. That set of rooms is occupied by Aspasia. She does pretty well for herself. She might be a courtesan, but she only has the one customer, and he takes good care of her, he does. In fact you just missed him; he’s up there right now.”

  Bardia started clearing his throat. I jammed my elbow in his side and he quieted down. “A hetaira, is she? Do you know if she needs any help? I could always use a partner.”

  Bardia began to cough violently. I slapped him across the back.

  “Is he all right?” the merchant asked.

  “Oh yes. Just getting on in years, you know. So hard to find good help these days,” I said. “About this Aspasia.”

  “That’s right. You wanted to know if she was in the market for a partner. I doubt it. Doesn’t need to, with this long-jawed fellow who visits her at least once a week on Mondays come rain or shine, and more, when he gets the chance. He pays for everything—her rent, her clothes, her food. What need would the likes of her have for a partner?”

  His gaze was bold as he examined me from the top of my head to the tip of my toes. “Now, if you’re looking for a protector, I might be interested in a classy girl like you. What’s your rate then?”

  This was the first time in my life I had been propositioned, although I suppose I had unwittingly set myself up for it. I couldn’t make up my mind whether to be flattered or disgusted. It seemed impossible that a man should actually be interested enough in me to be willing to pay for my attentions.

  Before I could respond, Bardia stepped forward. “You’ll have to talk to me about that, and I’m busy today.” Then he grabbed my hand and pulled me behind him until we reached our tethered donkey, shoved me onto its back, and joined me before I could wave good-bye to my new admirer. He rode home so fast, my teeth were nearly jostled out of my head.

  As he strode out of the stables, he was muttering under his breath; I could not hear him well, but I caught something about his fate if Lord Darius ever found us out. I followed behind feeling subdued. Then I noticed that his shoulders were shaking. And he wasn’t coughing either.

  “You’re back early!” Pari cried as soon as she spied us walking toward the kitchen.

  “Not early enough,” Bardia said. “She almost got herself contracted as a courtesan to a shopkeeper.”

  “What?”

  “I was trying to get information out of him. And it worked.”

  “What did you find out?” Shushan asked.

  “We’ll tell you if you feed us,” I said. Minutes before, green from riding that swaying mule, the thought of food would have been the end of me. Now, standing on solid ground and free from the stress of spying, my stomach reminded me I hadn’t eaten anything since noon yesterday.

  Forgetting the differences between our ranks, we sat together around a simple meal of sheep cheese, hot flat bread, and cooked lentils with onions as Bardia and I shared our adventures with our comrades.

  Pari whistled. “Quite the ladies’ man, that shifty steward. One woman in Ecbatana, another in Persepolis. Where does he get the time?”

  “There’s something fishy here,” I said around a mouthful of lentils.

  “We know that,” Shushan said.

  “No. I mean something doesn’t line up. All the money he saves from the running of this estate is being poured into the factory in Ecbatana. Assuming that’s how he is supporting Mandana and his twins, what is he using to support Aspasia? The full-time upkeep of a courtesan isn’t cheap. He can’t do that on a steward’s salary.”

  “He must be mismanaging another of Lord Darius’s estates.”

  “I don’t believe so.” I had considered Shushan’s suggestion myself and had spent time amongst the records to ferret out similar violations elsewhere. “He is only in charge of a handful of properties. From what I could see, only two of them showed considerable irregularities. This one, and the one in Ecbatana.”

  “So he’s the sole supporter of a courtesan he cannot afford and the father of twins he never sees,” Pari said.

  “Precisely. Fishy, as I said. We need Gobry’s report, and then perhaps we’ll be able to put this puzzle together.”

  “In the meantime, my lady, I hope your days as a hetaira are over. I don’t think your lord husband would approve. And I dread to think what your father-in-law would say.” Bardia tried to look stern. The sight of his five teeth peeking through his widening mouth ruined the effect.

  I lifted up my hands as if in question. “I don’t see why they should object; I’m a classy girl.”

  Three people groaned in perfect harmony. “Fine,” I said. “I am retiring. But I want you to remember it was an illustrious career while it lasted.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Gobry arrived five nights later. He showed up at his grandfather’s doorstep without warning; he had had no chance to send us word of his coming. As it was, he must have pulled some strings to be able to complete his mission for us.

 
Royal couriers usually traveled in stages. At the end of each stage, the messenger handed his missive to a fresh courier waiting at an appointed royal staging house. This process sped up the delivery of messages throughout the far-flung kingdom of Persia. In every kind of weather, in sunlight or darkness, royal couriers delivered their dispatches with undreamed of efficiency. But rarely did a messenger carry a missive to its appointed end by himself if the ride was longer than one day, which the ride to Ecbatana certainly was. Somehow Gobry had managed to get himself sent all the way to Ecbatana and back, which meant he had persuaded someone of authority to shift the rules. It was not unheard of, though it required both ingenuity and good standing in the ranks. That he had completed this mission spoke highly of his abilities.

  “My lady, I cannot linger. I have yet to report at Persepolis.” It was clear that Gobry had ridden directly to see us. His face was grey with fatigue and the dust of the road.

  “Of course,” I said. “Tell us what you can.”

  “For a start, there are no twins.”

  “No twins?” I squeaked.

  “Not even one child, male or female. It’s a fabrication. Mandana has never borne children. Also, I asked around, and there are no rumors of Mandana ever being involved with a man.”

  “Did you meet with her face-to-face?”

  “I did. She claims that she has never received a raise in pay in the past three years. Her lifestyle is simple and seems to bear out that claim. I interviewed a few of her workers. Everyone thinks highly of her. She is honorable and fair according to her employees. There’s never been even a breath of scandal attached to her conduct.”

  “I don’t understand,” Pari said. “Where does the money go if not to her?”

  “Teispes has a middleman in Ecbatana,” I guessed.

  “That he does, my lady. His brother, to be exact.”

  “What does that mean?” Pari asked.

  I leaned against the back of my chair. “Rather than sending wages directly to Mandana, Teispes sends them to an agent. This agent then pays the arassara. But he pays a fraction of the wages he has received.

  “Meanwhile, in the records here, Teispes claims the larger payment and has the receipt from his agent to prove it. There is no one to dispute the difference. The arassara has no reason to object to the amount of her payment; she only knows she is being paid as usual.

  “The whole story about the twins is a fabrication to make the increased allotments for Ecbatana acceptable in case someone wants to ask cursory questions, which I doubt Lord Darius ever has. As Bardia pointed out before, he, like most landowning aristocracy, is not interested in the details of his accounts. If they seem to make sense on the surface, he is satisfied and leaves the rest to his steward.”

  “So Teispes and his brother are splitting the extra money between them?” Shushan asked.

  “Precisely. It’s not a sophisticated scheme. We can easily prove their guilt now that we have uncovered the details. Mandana will have her receipts for the lower amounts from the agent.”

  “Wait. Doesn’t this only implicate the agent? Perhaps Teispes is as much in the dark as Mandana.”

  I gave Pari an approving nod. “Good point. However, as we have established, unlike Mandana, Teispes has been living above his means for a long time. He must be smitten with his courtesan if he refuses to share her with other men. How far would he go to keep her?

  “Another detail that points to Teispes’s involvement is that Mandana’s current wages are ridiculous. Any steward would investigate such an enormous irregularity.

  “You add to this his secretiveness, and the fact that his agent is not a stranger, but his own brother, and well, the pile of evidence against him grows as high as the tower of Babel.

  “Of course Lord Darius will have to make his own investigation and get the local judge involved. But it’s time to make his lordship aware of what’s been going on behind his back.

  “Gobry, you have lingered long enough with us. I am most grateful for your excellent work. I could not have found a more capable man in the queen’s own employ.” Bardia blew out his chest as if I had been singing his praises.

  “Make your report at the palace,” I went on. “However, come and see us again when you can. In the meantime I will draft a letter to Lord Darius, outlining the case against his steward. If you could help get this missive to Ecbatana, I would be most grateful, Gobry, as his lordship also will be, no doubt. Any courier would do; you need not ask for any special favors that would send you all the way up there again. We simply need a missive delivered to Lord Darius.”

  The letter to my husband proved complicated. I decided to draft it as an official document rather than a personal letter. Nonetheless, I had a problem. He was likely to suspect me of trickery, deceit, and thievery by the time he had read the first line. The very fact that I accused his steward would probably turn the man into a hero in Darius’s mind.

  I composed fifty different versions of that scroll in my head and discarded every one. At one point I considered making Bardia write it, except that Bardia was not literate.

  Four days had already gone by and I still had no letter. To clear my head, I went for a solitary walk along the main avenue of the garden. Out of nowhere, Teispes appeared before me.

  “I want my scrolls back.”

  “Pardon?”

  He took a step toward me, standing too close. I did not want to show how intimidated I was by him and stood my ground.

  “The scrolls you stole from me. I want them back.” His breath reeked of onions.

  “They belong to my husband, not you. If he asks for them, I’ll give them back.” I pulled my scarf closer about my shoulders.

  “Do not meddle with my business, woman. You will be sorry if you do.”

  “Do you dare threaten me?”

  He picked at the black substance lodged under one nail. “I will dare more than that. Keep in mind that you are alone here. Who has come to visit you since his lordship deposited you at my doorstep? Who has sent you a letter to ask after your well-being? You are nobody and no one cares what becomes of you, least of all Lord Darius.”

  I swallowed hard. I had agonized for hours over the fact that not just Darius, but everyone in my life seemed to have abandoned me. My father, Nehemiah, my aunt, my old coworkers, the queen—none had seen fit to inquire after my well-being these past four months. I could be dead for all they knew.

  Teispes could poke my hurt until he turned purple, I decided. I would not give in to his dirty tactics. “In spite of what you think, I have prominent friends.” I was astounded to find that my voice was steady. I forced my lips into a smile. “It is you who will be sorry if you meddle with me.”

  He locked his teeth. “Give me my records back.”

  “I’ll think about it,” I said and whirled around to walk back to the palace. I did not feel safe until I was within my chamber with Caspian and Pari at my side.

  I needed those records to show Lord Darius when he finally came to investigate my claim. He was not going to take me at my word.

  My one advantage was that Teispes had no idea of the extent of knowledge I had against him. I certainly would not want to face him once he found out that there were five of us who had enough evidence to land his head at the end of a very tall pike.

  After my encounter with Teispes in the garden I went nowhere without company. I knew Teispes had not exhausted his threats. Caspian, with his usual uncanny sense of timing, developed an intense aversion to the steward, which meant that the very sight of the man sent him into feral snarls and threatening barks. The dog and I grew inseparable.

  We took the precaution of stashing the two scrolls in the kitchen. It seemed the safest place. Shushan came up with the idea. She had a faulty bread oven that hadn’t seen the sight of a fire in a year. We wrapped the scrolls in leather bindings and stuffed them in the back of the oven, covering them with wood chips and old ash. I doubt even Caspian could have unearthed them.

&nbs
p; Our precaution proved wise. One day when we returned to my chamber after a visit with Bardia, we found the place in complete disarray. Teispes hadn’t even bothered to cover up his search. It took us hours to straighten up the place.

  On top of my bed lay the crumbled parchment of the Psalms that Nehemiah had given to Darius on our wedding day. In his rude explorations, Teispes had further damaged the scroll. I unrolled it with delicate care and found to my relief that it could be repaired. Without thinking, I began to read.

  I love you, O Lord, my strength.

  The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer;

  my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge.

  He is my shield and the horn of my salvation,

  my stronghold.

  I call to the Lord, who is worthy of praise,

  and I am saved from my enemies.

  To my surprise I found a strange comfort in those verses. I felt as though the man who had penned these words could understand the condition of my own heart. He would know my fears, my sense of insufficiency, my continuous battle not to lose heart.

  He had been pursued by a powerful king, intent on killing him. He had lost everything through that incessant pursuit—home, wife, friends, comfort. And yet somehow, through every soul-crushing trial, through every mistake of his own making, he had battled against despair and won. In the end, he had found peace in the Lord. And the Lord had brought him through what seemed impossible odds.

  “What’s that?” Pari asked.

  “Do you remember the boy David who fought Goliath the giant? He grew up to be a wise and powerful king. But before that, he was a musician, a soldier, a mercenary, a madman, and a poet. This is one of his poems.”

  “That’s a man who held many jobs.”

  “He made the best of what he was given. Perhaps it was God’s way of training him for the future. Perhaps David needed to learn humility before he could be trusted with great power.”

  “Did the Lord rescue him from his enemies in the end?”