She entered his chamber that night, and did not leave in the morning. The king held no court that day. He did not appear in his throne room. For three days and three nights he stayed in his chamber with Esther. He became like a youth again. His jaded appetite revived. After three days he led her forth and declared, “Esther shall be my queen.” He set the royal crown upon her head and ordered a great feast where the rites of marriage were performed, and Esther became queen in Vashti’s place.
Everyone did the new queen honor, not only because of her rank, but because they began to love her. She remained modest and gentle-spoken, and was never cruel. Mordecai rejoiced privately at Esther’s triumph. But he boasted to no one about their relationship, nor disclosed who she really was. He held his own counsel, and each day went to the palace and stood in the gate, hoping for a glimpse of her.
But now that she was a queen she was able to leave the palace and visit whom she pleased. Often she would visit Mordecai’s home. And they would embrace each other and converse for hours, as in days gone by. But he would not allow her to reveal herself as his kinswoman, or to use her influence for his advancement in office.
Standing each day at the palace gate, the shrewd Mordecai picked up current and cross-current of intrigue. His keen ear caught whispers; his sharp eye spotted secret gestures. He noticed who spoke to whom. He read faces, studied entrances and departures, sudden friendships, quarrels. One evening, when Esther came to visit him, he had something important to tell her.
“There are two among the king’s chamberlains, Bigthana and Teresh, who are plotting against your husband. Their duty is to keep the door of the king’s chamber. But they plan to open that door and admit armed men who will kill the king, and elevate one of the princes to the throne.”
Esther hurried back to the palace and told the king what had been told her. He immediately ordered an investigation. The plot was uncovered. Bigthana and Teresh were hanged from a tree. Then the entire matter was inscribed in the book of records. And Mordecai’s part in breaking the conspiracy was written down, also, at Esther’s dictation. But the record was sealed and the king did not read it.
Now the king promoted a man named Haman to be chief counselor. He was a wily man, Haman, belonging to the Amalekites, a tribe that had always hated the children of Israel. He was proud, ambitious, ruthless to his enemies, and as single in his purpose as a sword blade. The king, dismayed by the treachery of his two most trusted chamberlains, put Haman in charge of all the palace staff. Haman gathered power in his hands. He labored night and day, and acted for the king in all things, and made his name so feared throughout the land that people bowed to him as though he were the king himself.
But Mordecai had observed Haman for a long time, and loathed him, and did not bow to him when he passed through the gate. A servant of Haman raged at Mordecai, “Who are you that you do not bow to this man who stands next to the king?”
“That is not bowing,” said Mordecai. “That is prostration. You cast yourself on your face in the dust before this man. I am a Jew. I prostrate myself only before God.”
This was told to Haman, who did not seek to avenge himself immediately upon Mordecai, for he sensed a greater opportunity. He went to the king and said: “O great Ahasuerus, you who are king of kings and hold empire over land and sea, know that my one purpose is to serve Your Majesty.”
“I know it,” said Ahasuerus.
“Then I must tell you a grievous thing, O King. There are those in your realm who do not recognize your sovereignty. They refuse to do you homage as everyone else does, and refuse to honor those whom you honor.”
Ahasuerus frowned. “Who are these people?”
“A rebellious people,” said Haman. “A peculiar people, who separate themselves always from their neighbors and follow their own god and their own ways. They are the Jews. Lo, you have protected them against adversity. In the shelter of your compassion they have prospered and multiplied. Now they mock you. May I do you one more service and rid you of this pest?’
“Bring me a blank scroll,” said the king. “I will stamp it with the royal seal. Then you may write upon it whatever you wish, and do to this people what you will.”
Haman, the Amalekite, believed in moody gods. He believed in lucky days and unlucky days. Before doing anything important, he had his astrologers consult the stars and his soothsayers cast lots. Now he wished to choose the right day for the massacre. He wanted to kill every Jew throughout the land suddenly and completely in one bloody stroke. He had his soothsayers write the names of the months on pieces of paper and number the days of each month, and cast lots to find the best day.
Numbers were drawn. The day that came up was the thirteenth day of the twelfth month. But months were numbered differently then. The twelfth month was not December but March, a beautiful month in Persia, a month when the almond trees blossom. Then Haman prepared proclamations for every city and every province, naming the thirteenth day of the twelfth month a day of massacre, when every Jew in every place would be hunted out and killed—every man, every woman, every child.
Mordecai, with his uncanny quickness, learned what the proclamations were going to say before they were written. He rent the clothes from his body, put on sackcloth, and covered his head with ashes. Then he returned to stand at the palace gate. Esther’s maid saw him there and went and told Esther how the tax officer who always stood at the gate was now clad in sackcloth and ashes, and was weeping as though a loved one had died. Esther sent him down fresh garments to wear, but he refused them and said to the queen’s servant: “Send me Hathach, the queen’s chamberlain.”
Hathach went down, and Mordecai said: “I have a message for the queen.”
“Who are you to send messages to the queen?” said Hathach.
“A man with something to say that she will want to hear,” said Mordecai. “Whoever I am, she will thank you.”
There was something in Mordecai’s face that told Hathach, who was a man of discernment, that this matter merited the queen’s attention. “Take this scroll to Queen Esther,” said Mordecai. “Upon it she will read tonight what the governors of the provinces and the governors of the cities will read in five days, the words of a proclamation by Haman. Take it to her quickly.”
Hathach took Esther the scroll. She read it, put on a dark cloak, and went out of the palace. They met at Mordecai’s house. “You must stop this thing,” said Mordecai. “You must use your influence with the king.”
“Alas,” said Esther, “I do not know how much influence I still have with the king. He has not called me to him for thirty days.”
“Do not wait for his summons,” said Mordecai. “Go to him.”
“I cannot,” said Esther. “He is in the inner court. You know the law of the Medes and the Persians, that when the king is in the inner court no one may enter without permission. And whoever enters will be put to death.”
“Death will find you, anyway,” said Mordecai. “Haman has declared that all Jews must die. And when massacre is in the air, the nose of the Jew killer is sharpened, and he smells out Jewish blood no matter how well concealed. Haman will know you as a daughter of Judah; he may already know it. You will die, also. Listen to me, Esther, my daughter, my queen. Listen to me, beloved girl. God has a way of preserving His people. He will not let us all be destroyed. But if you do nothing to save your people, then God’s hand will be upon you. Who can fathom His deep intention? Perhaps you have been elevated to the throne for precisely this occasion—that you may be the instrument of your people’s salvation. Go to the king.”
Esther stood tall and looked in Mordecai’s face. “I am not afraid of death, only of failure. I will seek the king, even in the inner court. Now I have instructions for you in turn, my father. Gather all the Jews of Susa, and fast for three days and three nights, and pray that I may be strengthened to do what I must. And I and my maidens will also fast, and pray to God. Then I will go to the king in the inner court, and if I perish, I perish.
”
Esther returned to the palace. Mordecai gathered the Jews of Susa and they began their fast. After three days, Esther clad herself in her most queenly garments and put the gold crown on her head. She made her way to the inner court. The guards crossed their swords in front of her. She put a hand on each sword and pushed them aside, and they did not dare bar her way. She went through the gate into the courtyard, where the king sat on his judgment throne. All voices stopped. The courtiers looked at Esther in amazement. Haman stared at her. All knew the law; all knew that she had transgressed; all knew that her transgression meant death.
Ahasuerus went stony with surprise. Who was this who dared defy the ancient law of the Medes and the Persians and enter the inner court without invitation? Whoever it was deserved death. The king raised his scepter high, intending to bring it straight down, rapping its haft on the paving stones in a sign that meant “kill.”
But as the king raised his scepter something gripped his arm, and held it upraised. He could not lower his arm. The courtyard tilted; the king’s vision spun. When it cleared, he saw who it was who had parted the swords of the sentries and was approaching the throne. It was Esther. Her face burned on the gray air, and was more beautiful than it had ever been before. And the goggling courtiers saw their king turn his scepter in the air and hold it toward Esther, knob first, changing the sign of death to the sign of mercy.
Esther went close to him and touched the knob on top of the scepter. Then, as on the day when he had first seen her, the king smiled at her, and descended the steps of the throne, and took her hand, and kissed her cheek.
“What is it, Queen Esther?” he said. “It must have been a mighty reason that brought you here. What do you want? Whatever you want, you shall have.”
“I come only for this,” said Esther. “If it please you, my lord, come to my chambers tonight, to a banquet—and bring Haman with you.”
“I thank you,” said the king. “I am pleased to go to your banquet. I know that Haman will be pleased.”
Haman was delighted to hear these words. For, despite the high favor he had found with the king, he sensed that Esther disliked him. And, knowing her influence with the king, he had always tried to ingratiate himself with her. But she had never smiled upon him. Now he was overjoyed by this invitation. He went home and called Zeresh, his wife, and his closest friends, and began to speak almost as if he were drunk, babbling and boasting. He told them how rich he was, and how many fine children he had; how the king had honored him and promoted him.
“What’s more,” cried Haman, “Esther, the queen, gives a banquet tonight. She has invited only the king and myself. And it is said she has prepared every dish with her own hands to do us special honor.”
“You are fortunate above all men,” said one of his friends.
“I am,” said Haman. “And should be the happiest of men, except for this: Mordecai, the Jew, still stands at the gate. And when I pass through that gate tonight on my way to the banquet, he will do me no honor. He alone will refuse. He will not bow to me. By the gods, I will not wait for the massacre! He must be dead by tomorrow.”
Haman called to his men and said: “Let a gallows be built. Build it taller than any tree, reaching high above the gates. Let a high gallows be raised, and tomorrow let Mordecai be hanged there.”
Now, before the banquet Esther sent her servant to the king, with the court record telling how Bigthana and Teresh had plotted against him, and how Mordecai had uncovered the plot and revealed it, saving the king’s life. The king read this for the first time and said to his chamberlain: “I have not known the whole truth of this matter. What reward has Mordecai received for his service to me? Has he been enriched? Dignified by office?”
“He has received no reward,” said the chamberlain.
The king sent for Haman, and said: “As my chief advisor, tell me this: What should be done for the man whom the king delights to honor?”
That’s me, thought Haman. Whom would the king delight to honor more than me? And Haman answered: “O bestower of gifts, whom you delight to honor should be dealt with in this fashion: Royal garments should be taken to him. And a horse given to him, as fine as the king’s own stallion. Then, wearing a golden crown, this man should ride through the streets conducted by princes. And heralds should call out before him: ‘Behold the greatest man in the kingdom!’ so that all the people should know it. Thus would I deal with this worthy man.”
“Your words are full of sense,” said the king. “All shall be done as you advise. Now go; we meet at the queen’s banquet tonight.”
Haman hurried off to garb himself, more joyful than ever.
That night, the king and Haman and Esther sat at a table. Gold and silver plates glittered on the table. Tall tapers burned, scenting the air. Servants passed food and wine. The savor was delicious. For Esther, knowing every shade of the king’s taste, had prepared every dish herself. And she had never been more beautiful. She wore a gown of white samite, and had twined diamonds and pearls in her long black hair. The king was very pleased.
“O Queen,” he said to her, “thank you for this delicious repast.”
“Tell me, my lord,” said Esther, “what would you do to a man who threatened my life?’
“Threatened your life?” said the king. “The life of my queen? Of my star? Of my beloved? Why, I do not know what I would do to him. There are those who serve me who are expert in torment. I would give him to them with special recommendations. In an hour he would be pleading for death. But why do you ask me such a question? Who could possibly threaten you? Have you had a bad dream?”
“No dream,” said Esther. “The threat is real. You have never inquired of my origins, O King. But I am a daughter of Judah, cousin to Mordecai, for whom a gallows has been built beyond the palace gate. This man of whom I speak seeks to hang Mordecai first, then to slaughter all of my people, every man, woman, and child. He has assigned the day of massacre, and that day is two days from now, the thirteenth day of the twelfth month.”
“Who is this man?” cried the king, leaping to his feet. “Who is he? Who?”
Esther rose, too. She stretched her arm and pointed at Haman. “Behold the man! Your chief advisor, Haman!”
The king clapped his hands. Armed men rushed into the room. “Take this man,” said the king. “Hang him from the gallows that he built for Mordecai.”
Then the king sent for his chief scribe and dictated these words to him: “Out of those children of Israel and Judah who sojourn in this land, two people have come forth, a man who has saved your king’s life, and a woman who has made that life worth living. I speak of Mordecai, son of Jair, of the tribe of Benjamin, and of his cousin, Esther, who is my queen. Therefore, know this: That the Jews dwell in Persia in the shelter of my special gratitude, and that he who touches a hair of the head of one of these people shall immediately be seized and taken to a place of execution, and there hanged.”
The scribe hurried off. “Now let Mordecai be sent for,” said the king. His chamberlain went down to the palace gate and brought up Mordecai. He was still clad in sackcloth; ashes were in his hair. Esther went to him and took him in her arms. The king embraced him, also. Then servants led Mordecai away. He was bathed and anointed and clad in the king’s own colors, which were blue and white. He was given a royal stallion to ride. Heralds ran before him in the streets, proclaiming, “Hail, Mordecai ! Hail the man whom the king delights to honor!”
And so Mordecai took Haman’s place as chief advisor to the king. He lived a long and busy life, and under his guidance the kingdom prospered.
For the rest of Ahasuerus’ reign the Jews of Persia lived in peace. Since that time the thirteenth day of the twelfth month has been celebrated. For some twenty-five hundred years now, it has been a Jewish holiday, a time of feasting and rejoicing. It is called “Purim” after the Persian word “pur,” meaning the casting of lots.
JUDITH
THE KING OF ASSYRIA was known simply as the
Great King, for he had sent his armies against the most powerful nations in the world and had overthrown them. He had conquered the Medes, the Persians, the Babylonians. Their kings ruled only by his consent, and paid him yearly tribute. The palace of the Great King was at Ninevah, a walled city, enormous and strong, on the east bank of the Tigris. His court was the richest and most brilliant in the entire world.
The Great King sent for his chief captain, Holofernes, and said: “Behold, my son, you have led my armies and overthrown my enemies. Now I have another task for you.”
“To hear is to obey, O King.”
“I have planned great works. I would build a summer palace set among a hundred gardens. I would build an artificial lake there, also, with a pleasure garden in the center of that lake, swans upon the lake, and peacocks in the garden. Also, the walls of Ninevah need repairing. I plan a string of fortresses and a great road from the city to the southern border. We shall require thousands of slaves for this work. And I must stuff my treasury again. Therefore, Captain, take an army. Take spearmen, horsemen, iron chariots, and march against those rich countries that do not yet pay us tribute. Go into Egypt. Go into Syria and Lebanon. Make yourself master of these nations. Destroy their armies. Sack the treasure cities of Pithom, Rameses, Tyre, and Damascus. In the vaults of Jerusalem, also, will you find much treasure. Kill the weak, the old, the sick—those unable to work. Bring the able-bodied here as slaves.”
“A noble task, sire,” said Holofernes. “I will do all that you command.”
“As for those of Judah,” said the king, “know this: They are clever and rebellious and make dangerous slaves. Therefore, kill every man, every male child in that land. But the women are lovely. They talk too much, but a taste of the whip cures that. So choose the most beautiful of the women and maidens of Judah, and bring them here for my harem.”
Signs and Wonders Page 32