own hand shaking. “Yes. Indeed.” All she could think to say, but the words held no meaning.
He straightened, as if they had been talking of nothing but potions and charms. “You will accompany me again, to visit the sick?”
She smiled. If the desire to heal ever overcomes my fear of the queen . “Perhaps.”
His glance at the sky reminded her of how far the day was already spent. Shealtiel’s burial would occur at sundown, and she could not afford to offend his family, not with her marriage request still unanswered.
Tia took her leave of Seluku, stretching neck muscles grown tense. Her questioning had yielded little information, and it would not be long before news of Kaldu’s death would spread. She was her father’s only protection.
And she was running out of time.
CHAPTER 8
Darkness fell upon the Jews’ Shabbat, and Tia hurried to join the family assembled in the first courtyard inside the palace arch. Twelve chariots and their horses circled and waited for passengers. An evening burial was odd, but the Judaean vassals insisted on burying their dead within twenty-four hours. Shealtiel had been piously faithful in life; of course he would be in death.
That Tia had been excluded from all preparations was not surprising. His family had accepted her only as a token of good faith between families, a relationship long since degenerated. She had never been a daughter to Marta, nor a sister to Shealtiel’s siblings. Now she belonged to no one.
Amytis joined her at once, clutched her arm, and dragged her toward the lead chariot.
“Tia, you are his wife.” Her tone was like a slap. “You should have been among the first to arrive.”
Amytis’s perfume lay heavy and Tia’s eyes teared. “I had some business to—”
“Your business is here. Acting the part of a royal daughter.”
Marta glared from the second chariot at her wayward daughter-in-law. Did she wish Tia had not attended? Beside Marta, Pedaiah’s gaze fixed beyond the palace arch, as though nothing here was worth his attention. She would not wait to catch his eye.
It was a strange relationship, her father’s hold on the world, this forced alliance between the vast Babylonian empire and the tiny province of Judaea. Nebuchadnezzar subjected entire nations to his reign, turned kings into vassals, but somehow those he trampled retained his respect. The Jews had been decimated in their own land, with even their great temple destroyed, over forty years ago. Her father had brought the best of them here to Babylon to ensure the cooperation of those left behind in their ruined land. Though captives, many held positions of prominence, like Nebuchadnezzar’s own chief advisor, the Judaean Belteshazzar, though Tia had seen little of him these seven years. And the family of King Jeconiah enjoyed special privileges, despite their father languishing in prison, for some reason known only to her father, or known to him once, when his mind was whole.
Still, the Jews resisted assimilation into Babylonian culture. They kept their holidays, their feasts, their rituals. They refused to eat certain foods, dressed according to their old ways, and most significantly, held tightly to their “One God,” as though they had brought him here from Judaea and the Babylonian gods were nothing.
All the same, Tia had been wed to Shealtiel, and the family had been invited to reside in the palace. Such connection made today’s burial procession a royal event.
Tia climbed into the foremost chariot alongside Amytis. Sitting within, wrapped in heavy robes, was the peasant whose life had become one of deceit, simply because he strongly resembled the king. Tia bent to give him the obligatory kiss but did not meet his eyes. They had never spoken, and his presence was reserved for the occasional public wave from the palace balcony. Or a funeral procession. Compared with her father, he was like an empty shell.
Another chariot held Tia’s two sisters and their husbands. An
He straightened, as if they had been talking of nothing but potions and charms. “You will accompany me again, to visit the sick?”
She smiled. If the desire to heal ever overcomes my fear of the queen . “Perhaps.”
His glance at the sky reminded her of how far the day was already spent. Shealtiel’s burial would occur at sundown, and she could not afford to offend his family, not with her marriage request still unanswered.
Tia took her leave of Seluku, stretching neck muscles grown tense. Her questioning had yielded little information, and it would not be long before news of Kaldu’s death would spread. She was her father’s only protection.
And she was running out of time.
CHAPTER 8
Darkness fell upon the Jews’ Shabbat, and Tia hurried to join the family assembled in the first courtyard inside the palace arch. Twelve chariots and their horses circled and waited for passengers. An evening burial was odd, but the Judaean vassals insisted on burying their dead within twenty-four hours. Shealtiel had been piously faithful in life; of course he would be in death.
That Tia had been excluded from all preparations was not surprising. His family had accepted her only as a token of good faith between families, a relationship long since degenerated. She had never been a daughter to Marta, nor a sister to Shealtiel’s siblings. Now she belonged to no one.
Amytis joined her at once, clutched her arm, and dragged her toward the lead chariot.
“Tia, you are his wife.” Her tone was like a slap. “You should have been among the first to arrive.”
Amytis’s perfume lay heavy and Tia’s eyes teared. “I had some business to—”
“Your business is here. Acting the part of a royal daughter.”
Marta glared from the second chariot at her wayward daughter-in-law. Did she wish Tia had not attended? Beside Marta, Pedaiah’s gaze fixed beyond the palace arch, as though nothing here was worth his attention. She would not wait to catch his eye.
It was a strange relationship, her father’s hold on the world, this forced alliance between the vast Babylonian empire and the tiny province of Judaea. Nebuchadnezzar subjected entire nations to his reign, turned kings into vassals, but somehow those he trampled retained his respect. The Jews had been decimated in their own land, with even their great temple destroyed, over forty years ago. Her father had brought the best of them here to Babylon to ensure the cooperation of those left behind in their ruined land. Though captives, many held positions of prominence, like Nebuchadnezzar’s own chief advisor, the Judaean Belteshazzar, though Tia had seen little of him these seven years. And the family of King Jeconiah enjoyed special privileges, despite their father languishing in prison, for some reason known only to her father, or known to him once, when his mind was whole.
Still, the Jews resisted assimilation into Babylonian culture. They kept their holidays, their feasts, their rituals. They refused to eat certain foods, dressed according to their old ways, and most significantly, held tightly to their “One God,” as though they had brought him here from Judaea and the Babylonian gods were nothing.
All the same, Tia had been wed to Shealtiel, and the family had been invited to reside in the palace. Such connection made today’s burial procession a royal event.
Tia climbed into the foremost chariot alongside Amytis. Sitting within, wrapped in heavy robes, was the peasant whose life had become one of deceit, simply because he strongly resembled the king. Tia bent to give him the obligatory kiss but did not meet his eyes. They had never spoken, and his presence was reserved for the occasional public wave from the palace balcony. Or a funeral procession. Compared with her father, he was like an empty shell.
Another chariot held Tia’s two sisters and their husbands. An
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