I honestly began to feel his sorrow, his grief, and my eyes moistened more than once. I had never imagined being able to sympathize, let alone feel sorry for, the sovereign of my known world. Yet the honesty of his disclosures gave me a raw glimpse into his very own, very real inner pain.
I gathered up my courage and told him about the great ordeal of my childhood-what it felt like to burrow into my mother's side for protection only to find her beheaded. The disclosure created an atmosphere of empathy-he winced and held me then, and I shed several more of my belated tears at her neglected memory.
I did not reveal my Jewishness, yet I answered his many questions about the attack and where it occurred. He seemed to think hard at that moment, trying to search his memory, then shrugged and returned to our conversation. I did not tell about the twisted cross insignia, still unsure to whom the emblem belonged and having seen it now several times around the Palace.
Somehow, somewhere in the early hours of the morning, we came to acknowledge each other as fellow orphans, strangely and oddly stranded in the world by events beyond our reach. Although the means and circumstances of our respective tragedies clearly differed enormously, the more we talked the more we realized that the resulting traumas were strangely alike. He was forced as a young crown prince into the isolation and otherworldliness of Palace life, while I became a recluse and unwilling refugee at a very early age, then another kind of recluse in the Palace harem.
And strangely, as fatigue began to wear away my reserves, I ceased to see either his royalty or the danger he embodied. It may have been imprudent of me, but I began to see just a man beset by countless cares and machinations. A man afflicted with unquenchable loneliness and insecurity. A flawed man, to be sure-obsessed, for one thing, with ransacking Greece, one of the world's great civilizations, and slaughtering scores of its citizens. But for some reason, my reaction to him vanquished his defenses and caused him to reveal his innermost self to me. And that self was remarkably like other human beings I had known.
When I told him what I had seen in his eyes, he sighed and began to unburden himself even more directly. “I am weary, Star. So weary. I tire of the constant maneuvering and gamesmanship of court,” he said, looking away. “I always have to keep watch behind me, careful that some hidden enemy or other does not usurp my throne. The seven Princes of the Face, to name but one group, while on the surface my closest advisers are at the same time my fiercest competitors. My grandfather was one of the Princes years ago, and he inserted himself into the throne, as everyone knows. Ever since then the other Princes have pushed and strained for the chance to do the very same thing, always trying to improve their claim to royalty, always straining to inch one level closer than the others. It is an endless matching of wits, a perpetual game of positioning and repositioning themselves. I must always be thinking of strategies to outflank my enemies, to surprise them, to pit them against one another and waste their energies on meaningless rivalries rather than on me.”
He held me then, and I felt that the tighter he held me the more he was squeezing away the worries he had just listed. I tried to mentally detach myself and take stock of the incredible situation I was in-here I was in bed, having one of the most intimate and satisfying conversations of my life ... with the King of Persia.
The King seemed in no dire need of a woman's body but rather in desperate need of a loyal soulmate. Apparently the wonder of what was taking place between us far outweighed his immediate craving to discover any sensual mystery about my womanhood, let alone relieve any pent-up tensions.
Lastly, I believe he did fully intend to take my virginity that night. Before he could, though, our conversation dwindled hours later, and he fell asleep in my arms, just as the torches began to gutter down to mere embers and the sun warmed the light in the room's high windows.
My fears waited until after the King's slumber to assault me. After all, the evening's most notable event, the one thing I had prepared for the most carefully, had not taken place. So with the end of our time together came an onslaught of insecurities. Had some flaw in my appearance caused him not to desire me? Had I miscued the simplicity of my presentation? Did he finally decide I was not attractive to him and that any further intimacy was futile?
I had not heard of any girl waking up a virgin after this night. Although who knows-perhaps they had simply declined to let it be known, silently bearing the ultimate rejection.
Another misgiving soon pounded its way into my consciousness. Any woman later found to be carrying His Majesty's child was guaranteed an exalted place among the concubines, for she could be carrying a future king, or at least a potential apple of his father's eye. Our platonic evening had denied me even that bit of leverage.
In fact, since only a royal deflowering ensured a girl entry into the concubines' house, I wondered-would I, still a virgin, be sent back to the candidates' harem, there to be mercilessly taunted by the other girls? The prospect filled me with dread colder than a blast of winter air.
But then, had he not profusely complimented my beauty? Had his gaze not lingered over my form in its simple silk gown?
And yet the fatigue he had spoken of clearly overtook him in the end. Xerxes had truly been a weary man.
These warnings and reassurances tumbled over one another in my mind until I became literally dizzy with anguish. Finally, exhausted both mentally and physically, I stared up into the room's dim elevations and gave up-I simply asked G-d to give me peace and direction.
Then I must have fallen asleep for some short period, for I awoke with the King moving about beside me. I immediately bolted forward with my worries fully deployed. How would he treat me now? What would the morning's unkind light reveal that had been withheld during the night's overwrought emotions?
Xerxes rolled onto one elbow and brought his face within inches of mine. And he smiled a smile that instantly left me at ease.
“I woke up wondering what you must think,” he said in a throaty whisper. “I know that you came prepared to give me pleasure last night, and clearly that did not happen. But, Star, you must know this. And do not forget it. You are by far the most beautiful and desirable woman who has ever graced my bed. And believe me-that is saying much. I was a fool not to ravish you last night. But I was also enraptured by something more than your lovely form. I was completely overwhelmed by your manner with me.”
I breathed in deeply out of sheer relief. “Thank you.”
“And what's more, Star,” he continued, “no one needs to know what did and did not take place here last night. It will be our complete secret. I will have Memucan burn our sheets and swear him to secrecy upon pain of death. Believe me, he will obey. Nor should you worry about not carrying the royal seed-”
“It was not your seed I craved,” I whispered. “It was your presence. And your love.”
He looked at me with the distant gaze of someone realizing that his life has just taken a major turn. “You have that, my Star. Know that you have that.”
Then he kissed me again, long and hard, and bounded from his bed calling loudly for his valet.
nd then everything swirled into a blur-aides poured in through the suddenly open door and a hum of activity broke out within the chamber. Two eunuchs presented themselves at my side of the bed and helped me rise. One of them must have retrieved my cloak from the floor, for he handed it to me with his eyes averted. I swept the cloak about my shoulders. I stood there, uncertain what I should do next. Did I simply walk away? I did not know my way back nor where I should go. Did I wait for someone to attend my return? I stepped off the canopy platform, was given my sandals by one of the eunuchs and looked about me. The King was already so surrounded that it would have required making a commotion to gain his attention. Perhaps this was the royal manner-a night with his rapt attention, then forgotten among all the details of running his kingdom.
Before I could grow too bewildered, however, Hegai presented himself, apologizing profusely for his delay. We walked out to t
he hallway from which I had entered, now choked across its width with milling throngs of people. This time, however, hardly anyone turned as we left. I was just part of the crowd drifting through the hallways adjacent to the royal bedchamber.
Hegai walked me through the crowd, over to a far wall and a small door carved out of its side. There, just outside, awaited the same litter, this time with no entourage around it or attending applause. Just as well, I thought, for I was too perplexed to endure much attention. I climbed in and the eunuchs lifted me and carried me off at a brisk saunter. Already the sun was high and hot. This time Hegai reached over and produced a broad sunshade. I accepted it with profuse thanks. He examined me with his eyes.
“Are you in good spirits, my lady? I had pictured you emerging-well, happier than this.”
“I am not unhappy, Hegai. I am just confused. I thought last night went incredibly. Magically. Yet after waking up this morning, the King jumped from his bed and launched into his affairs as though our time together had never happened.”
“That is his way,” Hegai called to me through his panting, for he was now running lightly to keep up with the litter. “It means nothing! He focuses intensely on one thing, then shifts completely on to another.”
I wanted to seize Hegai and quiz him for hours on every subtlety of royal behavior, but Hegai had moved away; the issue was settled for him. He was, after all, a man.
I remember next to nothing of my trip to the concubines' house. Perhaps the building's resemblance to the harem I had just lived in contributed to my indistinct memory, but more likely it was just my turbulent state of mind. I do vaguely recall the litter being set down before the door. I turned to Hegai.
“What do I do now?” I asked.
He shrugged amiably. “You wait. The King has urgent business in Persepolis and will be away for several days. Do you think anything special happened between you?”
“I thought so. But now-I don't know. You're right. I'll just wait.”
Waiting was, of course, far easier said than done. I spent the next few days in an unbearable state of bewilderment and torturous doubt. In fact, the interval felt longer than the twelve months that had preceded it. I retreated to my room, nearly identical to the very first one I had occupied at the candidates' house. Hegai had thoughtfully arranged for my personal items to be relocated to my new quarters. The first eight hours I spent recovering from my lack of sleep the previous night. I slumbered erratically, restless under the torment of fitful dreams in which King Xerxes berated me for being such a forward and presumptuous commoner. Both the sting and the venom of his diatribes stayed with me after I awoke, like a sour taste upon my tongue. I went through the day unable to shake the peculiar tone of his disapproval and rejection, despite knowing that it had only been a bad dream-and that Hegai had warned me against making any assumptions.
Besides fighting against feelings of dejection and confusion, I also felt adrift. I had spent the last year relentlessly focused on preparing for a single night. Now that night was over forever, and I was already living out the likeliest outcome as a new resident of the concubines' house. Odds were, I would spend the rest of my life in this monotonous luxury, waiting like all the rest for a second evening summons from the Palace.
And how would he remember my name days or weeks from now, when he hadn't even remembered it minutes after my introduction the night before? Doubts swirled relentlessly through my mind and heart. Reality seemed so cruel. I could not shake the merciless fact that unless he called for me by name, I would never see him privately again.
I had reached my goal of spending a memorable night with the King. At least it had been memorable for me-I wasn't sure about him. What now was I supposed to do?
And more important, what was he thinking? He had the weight of the world on his shoulders. I know now that he was planning a war of staggering proportions against the world's second greatest military power. Had I slipped from his mind the moment he had jumped off the bed platform? Where did the choice of his queen rank in his thoughts compared to world war, Palace jockeying and the affairs of state? Was I the worst sort of simpleton for thinking that little Hadassah could intrude on thoughts and plans of such magnitude?
And then the face of my beloved father flashed before my mind's eye, and I was reminded of my Heavenly Father. Oh, YHWH, I prayed, show me your way and help me to trust you in all this uncertainty....
He had a wayward general, problems with the treasury, countless minutiae of the Greek invasion to think about and so much more-but Xerxes, the King of Persia, had but one thing on his mind during his land journey to Persepolis. It was the girl who had shared his bed the night before. Star of Susa.
Never had a woman borne herself with such straightforward confidence in his presence. He had possessed women with poise and inner reserve, but those qualities had most often accompanied coldness and emotional distance.
The warmth of Star's enthusiasm and her unabashed passion for him remained about him like a lingering scent. He could close his eyes and picture her smile so easily, those bone white teeth in a face so perfect, so appealing-and yet, was it the way she lit up around him that made her so beautiful? No, he concluded, she would have been classically lovely had she worn a frown. But she hadn't. Every inch of her seemed aglow with pleasure at simply being around him. He had felt so at ease with her. So affirmed and cherished.
She had made no pretense about her willingness, her eagerness even, to share herself with him-her mind, as well as her body contours draped in the blue silk, were seared upon his imagination like the branding of red-hot coals.
He pictured her as his queen and saw a lively, spirited woman, an engaging companion, one with whom he could discuss affairs of state along with issues of the heart. The realization struck him broadside. He couldn't wait to start a life with her.
But she was a commoner, and that was a problem. Everyone expected him to wed one of the candidates from a noble family, especially one with political connections. Such a choice was not only traditional but would make political sense-on the surface. But the added claim to royalty would also turn such a bride's father into an instant contender for the throne, and Xerxes could live without one more of those. Besides, the noble-born girls had so far been the worst of all the candidates-haughty and self-centered, always wanting to make sure he was sufficiently aware of their highborn state and their various allies at court. They had been less than satisfying lovers and even worse company, he concluded with a bitter wince. He would not suffer one of them in exchange for a century's worth of political stability.
Yes, it would raise countless eyebrows for him to take a peasant girl, a commoner, and make her his new queen.
He grinned. That made him want to wed her all the more.
But of course I did not know this until later....
y the time one moon had passed, I needed every ounce of willpower I possessed to keep from despondency. The darkness deepened when I heard the King had returned four days ago from Persepolis and still had not called for me. My hopes and expectations had been raised beyond the stars during my night with the King. Now I wandered through my days in a sort of blur, working to remain as unfocused and unthinking as possible. I hardly noticed the other concubines around me as I woodenly ate what was put before me, slept as often as I was able and implored G-d to again give me purpose and direction. My handmaidens had urged me to dress in readiness should the King call, and I let them prepare me every evening. But each day the flicker of hope burned itself out more quickly. By nightfall the girls probably recognized my humiliation at the silence from the Palace, and they tried to cheer me with promises and expectations we all knew were not more than feathers in the wind.
I had given up hope and was lying beside the courtyard pool on that fifth afternoon, covered only with a simple length of cotton, when the sound of a distant drumbeat reached my ears. It sounded martial, warlike, unlike anything I had heard in my year of Palace life. I sat up to see if any peculiar sight
accompanied this noise.
I saw a dark jumble of motion on the horizon. People. Carriers of some sort. A parasol that dipped up and down, as though held by a slave over the head of someone of high rank. A caravan of some importance was approaching.
I noticed a woman standing behind me, also staring, and then two more behind her. I looked farther-within moments, a dozen concubines had silently gathered nearby, their squints turning to frowns as the drumbeats grew closer. I heard murmurs about a court official coming this way.
I thought briefly of retreating to the house and observing what happened through a window. And then it hit me-I was as likely a choice as anyone. I had forgotten! In just a few days of emotional despair, I had allowed myself to utterly overlook the fact that I was a leading contender to become the next Queen of Persia-all royal fickleness aside.
Instantly flushed with embarrassment, I quickly wrapped the cloth around me and ran inside for a long linen robe in the preferred style of the concubines. I hurried back through the hall to rejoin the others and almost ran into Carylina, the last candidate before me, as she ran giggling out the door.
Memucan, the King's Master of the Audiences, was walking Carylina's way. The assembled concubines and his own varied entourage were now a mere backdrop, arrayed behind him in myriad expressions of awe and surprise.
One Night With the King: A Special Movie Edition of the Bestselling Novel, Hadassah by Tommy Tenney;Mark Andrew Olsen Page 20