WE DIDN’T HEAR MUCH about the king’s activities during the months of preparation for his military campaign, but we certainly saw the results of his labor. Regular shipments of food, horses, slaves, and weapons arrived at a depot near the royal fortress, transported on wagons from all over the empire. Hardly a week went by that we didn’t glimpse foreigners entering the city, most of them speaking languages I’d never heard. During the hours of early evening we could climb onto our rooftops, gaze out across the plain, and see the glimmer of the soldiers’ campfires. Thousands of tents dotted the flatland, occupied by slaves, mercenary soldiers, and the king’s Immortals. Every day they trained in the hot sun, and every night they wandered through the bazaar searching for amusement.
Though Parysatis and I were only girls, we couldn’t help getting caught up in the fever of war—the city was infected with it. Our devotion to the army only increased when Babar joined the army as an officer. Parysatis pretended that her brother’s position was no great honor, but one day I saw him riding a fine horse next to Mushka, nephew to the king.
I clutched at my throat, amazed to see him in such royal company. The realization that I knew a man who rode only an arm’s length from a man who knew the king left me breathless.
Parysatis and I took pride in our loyalty and did whatever we could to aid the king’s military effort. We bought silk in the king’s colors and wore our blue and gold dresses whenever we thought the army might march in or out for a training exercise. We cheered for the soldiers as they practiced maneuvers on the field; we stood by the city gates and offered dippers of cool water when the weary Immortals entered Susa. Of all the king’s men, they were the most impressive—ten thousand highly trained fighters, their beards curled and oiled, their long hair gathered at their necks. They wore brightly colored garments, gold earrings and golden chains, carrying their spears in their right hands, with their bows and quivers hanging from their left shoulders. Rumor had it that if one Immortal fell, another would immediately rise up to take his place, so they were, in truth, an immortal company.
When the commanders and generals stood before a gathering of Susa’s citizens to proclaim that the king would soon ride off to extend the glory of Persia and bring liberty to the citizens of Greece, we listened and wept, realizing that some of the men might not return from battle. The thought of beautiful Babar lying dead on some patch of foreign soil tortured my sleep, but Parysatis told me not to worry. “He will not do much fighting,” she said, shrugging. “Mushka has asked him to serve as a messenger for the king.”
The news left me wide-eyed with astonishment and joy. Not only would Babar be safe, but he would spend hours in the presence of the king himself.
The preparation for war awakened a passionate patriotism within my heart, but Mordecai and Miriam only shook their heads when I reported on the progress of the campaign.
“We are citizens of Persia, yes, but this is not our home,” Mordecai reminded me more than once. “We are children of Abraham. We are of Israel.”
I nodded, but in those days Israel felt more like a concept than a reality, my Jewish friends only a collection of dour, stodgy friends who insisted on tradition above all else.
Nothing short of dire illness could have prevented me from watching the great caravan assemble on the plain. With Parysatis by my side, we sat on a step of the grand staircase and stared at the pageantry of war on full display—bright colors, horses, men, and wagons clad in gleaming metal armor, flashing weapons, and heavily muscled men. The army had been divided into divisions, and for seven days a different division departed for the battlefield. I had never seen anything like it in all my fourteen years.
When the last group of horses disappeared over the horizon, I clutched at my throat, drowning in a flood of adolescent devotion. Those strong warriors, riding off to face noble death—such unbelievable bravery! Such honorable hearts!
Mordecai and Miriam must have sighed in relief when I came home, exhausted, and told them the army had departed. The whirlwind of activity surrounding the royal fortress vanished with them, leaving Parysatis and me bereft and bored.