Author Games: Golden Age

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500 BCE: Alba Minor

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250 BCE: Ishani Pemmaraju

When Dhanesh all but staggered through the door to their house long after the sun had set, Ishani knew better than to ask why. After all, the answer was always the same.
The servants had long since bustled away, and the lavish dinner had been prepared since sundown. As sunset had come and gone three hours ago, what remained after the family and guests had eaten their fill was lukewarm to the touch and unappetizing in the light of the low-burning lamps. Rich odors of mouthwatering meat and spices had long since been taken by the breeze through an open window, leaving only faint traces to tickle the senses with memories of cinnamon lassis and chicken with cumin seasoning.
Ishani gave her husband a considering look— it was difficult to predict whether she could hold a conversation with him after days like this. When she was lucky, the emperor demanded little of his trusted consul, and the weight of his toils was light. On those days, she could see again the smiling man who had taken her hand all those years ago.
Eying the deep creases exhaustion had pressed into Dhanesh's face, Ishani knew she wasn't going to be so lucky.
Deciding the time was now right, she raised her voice. "At least have some mango before you go to bed. It will give you strength for tomorrow."
Dhanesh paused his slow shamble towards their bedchambers, turning an imploring look towards his wife. She responded with a perfectly neutral expression, not allowing herself so much as a flicker of anger or pity. After a moment, he trudged his way to the table and took a seat by her side, noting an array of food on a suspiciously fresh-seeming plate. He reached for the sliced mango, read Ishani's unchanging expression, and changed direction for the seasoned chicken and rice instead.
She softened, then, and relaxed her previously rigid posture into something more approaching welcome. Dhanesh awarded her with a weary smile that was genuine for all it drained him.
"Troublesome woman," he muttered around a bite of chicken. His chewing sped instantly after the first mouthful and the delectable taste reminded him of his hunger.
"You shame me, my husband," Ishani said primly. Dhanesh grinned at that, and for a moment seemed neither old nor tired. "You would have every noble in the court think me a nagging shrew."
"You do nag, my love. And I have no idea how I would survive without it. By the gods, this is good. Did Padma make this?"
Ishani shook her head. "You can tell it isn't Padma's because the spices haven't set your mouth on fire yet. Your son's wife-to-be swears by this recipe, and her family lent us their cook for the evening so that we could taste it for ourselves."
Dhanesh swallow, then creased his brows in confusion. "My son's wife-to...oh. Ishani."
She considered assuming the neutral expression again, but decided it was ultimately counterproductive. "You may wish to apologize to Kanwalinder. He was rather looking forward to his dinner honoring his betrothal, particularly since it has been a great while since he has dined with his father."
Her own weariness and hurt laced her tone this time, and Dhanesh's head sank in shame. "My love, I...I have no excuse. The emperor commanded me to direct the dissembling of military supplies yesterday, and I grew worried about testing his patience. I completely forgot about the dinner. Do you think Jasmira's family will ever forgive me?"
"They were hardly pleased by your absence, I can assure you. But Jasmira is a good girl, and I'm sure she won't ask her cook to poison you as vengeance. You may not wish to mention that you found supply distributions more interesting than their company."
"Perhaps not." They sat in relative silence for a few minutes as Dhanesh finished his plate, and then for another few as he reached for the soup, noticed it had Padma's distinctive odor of fiery spices, and took some panjiri to devour in its place.
A moment after his last mouthful, he sighed with satisfaction. "I'd forgotten what food tastes like when Padma doesn't prepare it. One of these days we have to find a new cook and give ourselves a bit of true luxury. "
Ishani considered Padma, a ferocious crone with scathing, hilariously articulate derision for everyone who was not Ishani or Ishani's children. "Perhaps one day, my husband. Until then, I appreciate that she attempts to keep you lively. Until Lord Ashoka releases you into a peaceful retirement, I suspect fire in your meals is the only thing that keeps you from falling asleep among your records."
Dhanesh chuckled without humor. "I'm beginning to think that day will never arrive, my love. Somewhere around the eighth hour staring at figures, I begin to suspect he'll keep me until I drop dead. Even then, it wouldn't surprise me if he found some use for my corpse."
Ah. So it was one of those nights, the resentment which lived only between too exhausted to care and light enough not to bother. Ishani stood abruptly. She never cared for these nights, however much they were deserved.
"You are weary from your labors, my husband. I think it is for the best if you would come to bed. We have work to do in the morning. There are apologies that must be said, regardless of whether or not the fault was yours. I would see you make them rested and ready."
Dhanesh didn't move, frustration clouding his features. "There is so much to do, Ishani. Everyone needs my wisdom, my rulings, my assurance that I know what must be done. I...I never felt this way before, but there is such a sense of powerlessness, knowing Ashoka will take me at my word and have my head if I bungle it."
She paused on her way. "That is because you are a man, Dhanesh." The use of his name pulled his gaze up. "A wise man, but a man. Only the gods see all. You can only be responsible for what you know and understand, and be content once you have done all you can."
Her looked up at her, eyes still clouded. "And how will I know that?"
Ishani laughed gently. "I will tell you. As I am telling you now. And you know I have yet to be wrong."