Lilah by Marek Halter

pit. She had no doubt that Parysatis, small as she was, was strong enough to do it.
    â€˜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.
    â€˜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?’
    â€˜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.
    â€˜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.’

The Sage of the Lower Town
    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