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KHSHAYARSHA was sad. Despite promises and much searching on the part of the King's servants, Hadasseh was not found and now, on top of that, his niece and favourite concubine, the lovely Artaynte, had also been banished. Over the next few months, he went deeper into depression and the Queen became totally isolated from him. For purposes of prestige, they put on a show but the gap between them grew steadily wider as Khshayarsha found compensation in the arms of his other concubines.
In the spring of the next year, the Court left the city to spend the heat of the summer in the Median capital, Ecbatana, and the city of Shushan was relatively quiet at mid-summer. All the important officials were elsewhere and just the ordinary people were left, protected by Artabanus and his palace guard. In the poor section of the city, a teenager wandered around aimlessly, close to the palace which had been her home for such a short time. She raised the loose gown from her shoulders due to the oppressive heat and then sat down on the stone steps to allow the slight breeze through the gateway to waft over her parched body. The soldiers manning the gate watched her and, after some time, two of them approached. 'You would please us at off-duty time?' Artaynte shook her head and protectively wrapped her arms around herself. She may be ex-maid of the Queen, and ex-concubine to the King, but harlot she most definitely was not. However, the men refused to take "no" for an answer and one sat down beside her and reached out his hand to touch her. Artaynte squirmed away from him and attempted to stand but was pulled down viciously. Two of the men held her down as the third started to pull at her clothing until, suddenly, everything went quiet. The young girl looked around in perplexity as the grip on her arm relaxed. 'What are you doing?' asked the middle-aged man in the long, blue gown. One of the soldiers shrugged. 'Just having some fun, my Lord. It was nothing.' 'Then get back to your posts or I will have you flogged. Do you understand?' The men hurried about their duties as the girl was left facing the officer from the gatehouse. 'Thank you, my Lord,' she said when she was alone with the newcomer. The man smiled. 'You look hot, my dear. Would you like a drink?' Artaynte looked wary for a moment and wondered if she could trust this man, but when he turned and entered his office beside the gate, she followed, slowly and carefully. The interior was dark and it was several moments before her eyes could become accustomed after the harsh glare from outside. The outer office was well-furnished and clean and the man poured fresh water from a jug as she watched and then placed it upon the table in the middle of the room. When the man sat down and pointed to the embossed clay cup, she recognised that he meant her no harm and so shuffled inside and sat down on the wooden bench. He smiled pleasantly. 'What is your name, child?' 'I...I am Artaynte, my Lord.' He frowned. 'Princess Artaynte? Daughter of the King's brother?' 'Yes, my Lord.' 'I was sorry to hear about the execution of your family,' he said as she drank thirstily. 'So now you are alone and lost.' 'Yes, my Lord.' The man smiled again. 'I am not your lord. I am merely Chief of the Gatehouse. You must call me Marduka.' Artaynte started at the name. 'You are Marduka?' Her heart beat faster. Where had she heard that name before? She could not remember but, somehow, she knew it was important that she should. 'Do you live here alone?' she asked carefully, striving for a clue. 'Only myself and my daughter. She should be home from the market soon and you can meet her.' 'Daughter?' 'Yes,' said the man, still smiling. 'If you can stay awhile, Astur would be glad to have a friend to talk with.' 'Is your daughter young?' she asked, seeing that the man was not as old as her own father had been. 'Astur is but fourteen, my child. About your own age.' 'Oh,' she said and relaxed. Perhaps, after months of being shunned by all but frustrated soldiers, she would find someone to spend time with at last. A shadow fell across the threshold. 'Ah, Astur,' spoke Marduka, rising. 'Come. We have a guest.' The girl he had called Astur stepped closer with a spring in her step. Artaynte gaped. She had never seen anyone so beautiful in all her life. The girl's long, black hair cascaded about shoulders which were deeply tanned, and her slim body was perched atop long, brown legs. She had a smile which was warm and friendly, one that strayed to her big, brown eyes. Artaynte's heart began to beat faster with excitement. This was no Persian maid and she was definitely not of Shushan. She held her breath momentarily. Could this be...? 'Where do you live?' asked the voice which sounded like music. 'I..I no longer have a home,' replied Artaynte sadly. 'I used to live in the palace but do so no longer.' 'Would you like to stay with us for a while?' asked Astur with a genuine offer of friendship. 'I would like it very much, if that were possible.' Astur turned to Marduka who smiled and nodded. She held out her hand to Artaynte. 'Come, I will show you my room.' Hand-in-hand, the two girls climbed the narrow spiral staircase up the inside of one of the gate turrets. There were several small rooms off to the sides and in all her year or so spent in Shushan, Artaynte had no idea such places existed. At the top, the staircase opened out into a big room with a narrow, slit window overlooking the gateway, another which gave a view across the valley to the Zagros, and a third, bigger one, that gave a panorama right across the roofs of the houses. In the background, the walls of the winter palace stood proud and strong. Artaynte held her breath. 'Why, it is amazing. I can see the whole city.' 'This is my own room,' said Astur kindly. 'You must stay here with me.' 'Do you live here all the time?' Astur nodded. 'I sleep here while Marduka rests below so as to be available to call the guard quickly if anyone calls unexpectedly.' Artaynte stiffened with excitement. 'You do not call him "father" but "Marduka". Why is that?' Astur laughed pleasantly. 'Marduka is not my real father but my cousin. As a kind of foster-father, he has cared for me almost these last two years, since my own parents died.' Artaynte's heart beat frantically as she stepped closer to the girl and gently placed her hand on her arm. 'You are Hadasseh,' she whispered. | ||||
 CHAPTER
FIVE
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