Lilah (10 page)

For a while, they advanced in silence. Lilah made an effort to conceal her fear and her humiliation at being almost naked in front of everyone.

Letting go of Lilah's hand as abruptly as she had seized it, Parysatis turned into a path lined with bamboo. The garden, enclosed by the outer walls of the palace, was extremely dense in the middle, the undergrowth tangled. As they passed, thick clouds of butterflies flew up from the clusters of amaranth and buddleia and whirled above their heads.

Adapting her pace to the Queen's, Lilah wondered what mad questions Parysatis would ask next. Would she get out of this palace alive? What should she answer and not answer? What did the Queen want? Was Antinoes in danger?

The path sloped gently towards the centre of the copse. A strong smell, pungent and feral, came from the undergrowth. It grew stronger and more unpleasant as they advanced. It was a smell such as Lilah had never known, but it did not seem to trouble Parysatis.

The undergrowth thinned, and a clearing appeared. Here, the bamboo trunks were merely a low hedge bordering a pit a dozen cubits deep and with sides as sheer as if they had been cut with an axe. At the bottom, Lilah was surprised to see thick bushes, ponds, stunted trees with torn trunks, and the ground furrowed with well-trodden paths of soft earth.

Not much more than twelve or so feet from the path along which Parysatis was advancing, a platform of logs jutted out. Black carrion birds were sitting on it and as the two women approached, they flew off, screeching, on heavy wings.

‘Come closer, Lilah,' Parysatis ordered, without turning. ‘Let me introduce you to my friends.'

As if in response to her command, a roar split the air. It was answered by another, then another. Down in the pit, the bushes moved. Lilah glimpsed
flashes of fur, and cried out. Simultaneously, two lions with waving manes leaped onto the platform, and stood there, mouths open to reveal shiny yellow fangs. With their huge paws, they stamped on the logs as if they were about to launch themselves into the air. Lilah was unable to hold back another cry, certain they were about to leap at her.

But it did not happen.

One of them tipped back its head and raised its muzzle towards the sky. Its flowing mane spread over its breast like a corolla of fire. It gave another terrible, ear-splitting roar, while the other, whipping its tail, growled and turned in a circle.

Lilah was petrified. Her teeth chattered and her bare skin was covered with gooseflesh. The lion roared again, not as loudly this time – perhaps it was becoming bored. Its mouth opened threateningly and its ink-black pupils fixed on the newcomers, whose smell excited it, but it lay down. Behind it, with the humility of a lesser male, the other lion followed suit.

For a moment, silence fell. The birds had stopped flying above the copse. Lilah could sense Parysatis' eyes on her, the humiliating smile, the greed and cruelty.

So the rumours were true: Parysatis' greatest pleasure was to have people at her mercy, to observe their fear.

Lilah's pride sustained her: she struggled to dismiss the terror that would have stopped her fleeing a moment earlier. She rose to her full height, held her shoulders back and clenched her jaws, aware of the hate growing in her heart.

‘Until now,' Parysatis said, ‘my lions have never jumped as far as this path. Have no fear, Lilah. Come closer.'

Lilah lowered her arms and obeyed without hesitation. Behind her, the handmaids, the eunuchs, the third cupbearer and the guards stood a fair distance away and showed no desire to move any closer unless Parysatis ordered it.

‘Forgive me for crying out, my queen,' Lilah said, ‘it took me by surprise. I've never seen a lion before. They're beautiful.'

The Queen half closed her eyes and laughed. ‘Don't act proud, Lilah. I know you're afraid. Everyone is afraid of Parysatis. Haven't you heard that in the upper town? I'm sure you have. I know people tell tales about me. And they're right to fear me, because it's true: I'm cruel and pitiless. These creatures you see before you are my friends. My only friends. They rid me of anyone I find troublesome. That's what it means to be a queen, the wife of one King of Kings, the mother of another. Even my sons may one day put poison in my bread. But they're the only ones who have nothing to fear from my friends.'

She laughed, walked up to Lilah, and again took one of her hands in what appeared to be a gentle, affectionate gesture, but was in fact quite terrifying: it drew Lilah so close to the bamboo at the edge of the pit that she could feel it rubbing against her bare legs.

‘You're beautiful, but that's neither here nor there. My palace is full of beautiful handmaids, and up there, in the Citadel, my son has hundreds of concubines, each more beautiful than the next. Beauty bores me, Lilah. They think I envy it, but they're wrong: it bores me. You have a little courage and a lot of pride. Perhaps some intelligence, too. That's a lot of qualities for a girl. That fool Cohapanikes is right: your Antinoes has made a good choice, which is a point in his favour. It's braver and more difficult for a man to choose an intelligent woman than a beautiful one.'

For a moment, she was lost in thought. Below, the bushes moved. A black panther with a magnificent coat appeared on one of the paths and raised its golden eyes towards her indifferently.

It occurred to Lilah that the Queen had only to move her hand to throw her headlong into the pit. She had no doubt that Parysatis, small as she was, was strong enough to do it.

‘You've known Antinoes since you were children, but do you know the man you take between your thighs when he comes back from the wars?'

Lilah shuddered. She had barely heard the question. Down in the pit, more animals had appeared in the bushes. Four impatient she-lions took up position beneath the platform and growled.

‘A warrior is like a young lion,' Parysatis continued, without waiting for a reply. ‘He kills, he tears the flesh, he thirsts for blood. He rapes, he forgets. He's not meant for a young girl like you. But Antinoes is a good boy. His father was useful to me once. He behaved well. I may be cruel, but I'm not disloyal. Your Antinoes is like his father, honest and upright. There are not many people in this palace you could say that about. He's fought for my son Artaxerxes, but hasn't raised his hand against Cyrus the Younger.' Parysatis grinned. ‘Did you know that my friends have rid me of all those who raised their hands against Cyrus the Younger at the battle of Kounaya? What a banquet that was!'

She laughed, and held out her hand, still joined to Lilah's, towards the two lions, which seemed now to be dozing on the platform. ‘Look at them! They've eaten their fill!' She laughed again. ‘You're Jewish, Lilah. What will you do if the King of Kings names Antinoes satrap of Bactria? Will you follow him to Meshed, Bactria or Kabul? Will your God follow you that far? To a place where you won't have your uncle or your brother with you, or any of your people?'

‘I shall follow him,' Lilah replied unhesitatingly. ‘Long ago we made a promise to each other. I shall keep mine as he will keep his.'

Parysatis gave Lilah a sideways glance and let go of her hand. She seemed pleased with herself, as if she had enjoyed a good piece of entertainment.

‘I like you, Lilah. You're innocent, but I like you. What I don't like is the thought of your becoming Antinoes' wife. I don't know what I'm going to do with you.'

THROUGH THE BEATEN
earth of the kitchen, then rising through his feet into his crippled legs, Sogdiam felt a heavy vibration. He listened carefully, and heard a rumble of a kind that was too rare in the lower town not to attract attention. He went out into the courtyard. A chariot and horses: he was sure of it. Hooves and chariot wheels were making the ground shake. He heard people shouting, children yelling, still quite far away. He saw dust rising above the wall of the house and the surrounding roofs. As incredible as it might seem, someone was venturing into the streets of the lower town with a chariot and horses!

The dust came nearer. He had a premonition that whoever it was would be on their way here, to Ezra's house.

Through the open door of the study, he glimpsed Master Baruch hunched on a stool, flourishing a papyrus scroll in his hands as he talked. On the other stool, staring at the wall in front of him as if it were the most fascinating of landscapes, Ezra was listening. From time to time, he bowed his head. Sogdiam had seen them like this so many times that, for him, it was the most normal, most reassuring sight in the world.

He limped rapidly across the courtyard and opened the gate that led to the street. Some of the neighbours, drawn like him by the noise, were already there.

Sogdiam thought of Lilah. Could it be her chariot? But it wasn't ‘her day'.

This might be a special occasion, though.

No, it was impossible! Lilah would never come in a chariot, as special as her visit might be. She would be too embarrassed to flaunt such luxury in a slum like this.

He frowned. If it wasn't Lilah, who was it? A noble of the Citadel? Or guards, soldiers: the kind of people who never brought anything good with them when they came into the lower town.

Suddenly, at the end of the street, men and women stood aside. Some climbed onto the walls, others jumped into the gardens. Two black horses appeared, their coats as shiny as silk, their manes
woven with tassels of red wool, drawing a light chariot with iron-clad wheels, its body strengthened by a strip of brass. The handrail at the side was lined with leather sheaths and pouches – room enough for spears, arrows and a long-bladed sword.

The kind of chariot Sogdiam had never seen before. A war chariot!

Too stunned to move aside, Sogdiam stared open-mouthed as the chariot and horses came straight towards him. The officer who held the reins was wearing a pointed felt helmet decorated with woven ribbons and a long cape of blue wool flecked with yellow. Behind the chariot was an escort of about ten soldiers carrying spears. Children yelled with excitement.

Nimbly, Sogdiam leaped to the gate to allow the chariot to pass into the courtyard. But as the horses, nostrils quivering, passed – so close to him that he could feel their breath on his cheek – the warrior brought the chariot to a halt with a mere flick of his wrist on the reins.

The soldiers ran to take their places against the wall of the house on either side of the gate. The children stopped yelling. The warrior got down from the chariot. A plain sheath containing a broad knife with a steel hilt lay against his thigh. The gold brooches holding his cape were decorated with the heads of bulls and lions. He was smiling through his
beard – and the smile was for Sogdiam: the officer was staring straight at him.

Brave and proud though he was, Sogdiam retreated into the courtyard. The officer followed him through the gate and held out his hand. Then everyone in the street, neighbours and children, heard these incredible words: ‘Don't be afraid, Sogdiam. I'm your friend.'

Sogdiam blushed and threw an anxious glance towards the study. Master Baruch and Ezra had noticed nothing.

Leaving the soldiers, the chariot and the crowd of onlookers in the street, the warrior closed the gate behind him. He took off his helmet, and his oiled hair fell to his shoulders. Sogdiam turned hot, then cold. He knew who the officer was.

The man Ezra hated. The man Lilah loved.

He swayed slightly as anger, envy, vexation and pleasure danced a sarabande in his heart. The warrior frowned, but there was nothing threatening in his expression, quite the contrary. He uttered the words Sogdiam had been waiting for: ‘I'm Antinoes and I've come to see Ezra.'

‘Ezra is studying,' Sogdiam replied, sounding, he thought, weak and foolish. ‘He's with Master Baruch. He can't be disturbed.'

Antinoes looked at him in surprise, then turned
towards the study and saw that Sogdiam was telling the truth. He nodded, pulled the end of his cape onto his shoulder, and made as if to walk towards the house. Sogdiam, unafraid, considered barring his way, but his legs refused to move. Antinoes also came to a halt.

By now Ezra had stopped studying, and was staring out at the warrior with his dark eyes. Beside him, Master Baruch was silent. Antinoes raised a hand in greeting. In response, Ezra turned his back. He unrolled a scroll on the table and said something to Master Baruch. The old man nodded, and the two of them resumed their murmuring.

‘You see?' Sogdiam said, with all the confidence he could muster. ‘They haven't finished. You'll have to leave.'

As if he had not heard, Antinoes continued to gaze into the study. Then, to Sogdiam's surprise, he burst out laughing: a good-humoured laugh, without a trace of irony. ‘That's all right. I'll wait. Bring me a cup of water, will you?'

Relieved, Sogdiam hurried to the kitchen. When he came out again, Antinoes was standing in the middle of the courtyard, as if keeping guard on the wall of a citadel. His cape fluttered in the sharp north wind. The stormy light filtering through the low, dark clouds glinted on his knife as well as in his eyes. He showed no impatience, and made a friendly
gesture to Sogdiam when the boy handed him the cup.

To Sogdiam, the thought of Lilah snuggling in this man's arms was as painful as a burn. It was one good reason to hate him. Ezra was another. Yet Sogdiam could not help blushing with pleasure when Antinoes gave him back the cup and said in a soft voice, ‘Lilah loves you a lot, young Sogdiam. She told me so. She said you were very brave and not at all like other boys.'

Sogdiam bowed his head and wondered how to reply, but had no time to speak: Antinoes was walking towards the study. When he reached the doorway, he bowed politely. ‘Forgive me, Master Baruch, if I interrupt your teaching. I have come to talk to my brother Ezra. I haven't seen him for a long time.'

There was a strange silence. Master Baruch looked up at Antinoes, eyes glittering with curiosity: he did not seem the least bit offended. Ezra, though, stood up, pushing back his stool noisily. He walked up to Antinoes, coming so close to him that Sogdiam thought they would either embrace or fight. But his face was cold and his voice made the boy lower his eyes. ‘You're disturbing me in my studies, stranger. I don't think that's very polite.'