When I found him, Mordecai's skin was the color of an overcast sky-white with a strong tinge of gray. I wanted to sit him down and feed him a good soup as badly as to hear what had brought him there. Unfortunately, Mordecai gave me no such choice. He immediately grabbed my forearms and began to pull me toward him. He spoke quickly, then caught sight of the two guards purposefully approaching him.
“Hada-your Highness, these guards must leave us,” he whispered.
“Nonsense,” I replied. “They are part of my personal retinue. They are trustworthy upon pain of death.”
Mordecai's face tightened and he whispered, “I mean it, your Highness. Absolutely no one else can hear my message for you. No one is safe.”
Mistakenly assuming that his only objection centered on the tired old ethnic secrecy issue, I began to argue. These guards did not care whether I was Jewish, Persian or a citizen of the moon. They were reliable. Besides, I was Queen of Persia, regardless of anyone's prejudice.
But Mordecai held his ground. Speaking through gritted teeth, he muttered, “When I am finished you will see the necessity for my demands, your Highness.”
So finally, with a heavy sigh, I dismissed the guards to just inside the door. They hesitated, wishing instead to form an outdoor perimeter for my protection, but finally relented.
Mordecai was only halfway through his account when I started to feel like the ultimate fool. Without taking my eyes off of Mordecai, I called out loudly for my senior guard. “Artechim, get me Memucan.”
“Your Highness?”
“Get me Memucan. Now. As fast as you can run.”
rtechim saw the fire in my eyes and his own widened immediately as he sensed my urgency. In fact, this was the first real test of my royal authority-to give an order to someone this adamantly. He turned on his heel and was gone, the rapid slapping sound of sandals on stone fading quickly into the distance. Mordecai gave me his usual tight embrace, this time punctuated by an extra long squeeze of the arms.
“I hope this can help you gain the King's trust,” he said.
“It might. But I will also tell him your name as the source,” I answered.
“No. Leave me out of this.”
This time I flatly refused. As much as I wanted to give Mordecai the respect he deserved, I was, after all, Queen of Persia and capable of making a few decisions for myself.
When the door opened again, he hurried off with a quick wave for a farewell, still angry at my refusal to disguise his involvement. Memucan walked over, his brow furrowed at the interruption to his day, and asked me what the problem was. I relayed the entire message to him, along with the names Bigthana and Teresh-the guards Mordecai had discreetly identified with the help of other soldiers at the Gate. He asked me only if my source was reliable; I assured him that it was of the highest order. An old family friend. He, too, turned swiftly and disappeared into the Palace.
While I stood massaging my temples and wondering if I had just proven to be an ungrateful and disrespectful daughter, I heard Memucan shout from inside the door. And a remarkable thing happened. It was as though an invisible shock wave had traveled from the depths of Memucan's larynx outward to the Palace and at the speed of lightning across the courtyards to the watchtowers. The great brass doors swung shut with a speed I never knew such massive objects could attain. Down below my vantage point, soldiers snapped into combat position, facing the Palace with their spears and swords held out before them and their knees bent. Civilians stopped walking and stiffened in their places, glancing in my direction with anxious expressions. My bodyguards rushed out from the door with panicked looks. “Your Highness, please come inside,” Artechim said, out of breath, “for they're about to lock down the Palace doors. Please leave this courtyard at once!”
I rushed inside to a scene I hardly recognized. The hallway I had recently left, once thriving with milling crowds of Palace staff and functionaries, now resembled an occupied camp. All of the usual people now stood rigid against the walls, terrified of the points of weapons holding them in place by an equally motionless row of soldiers. I trod tentatively through their midst as the only person allowed to walk openly through this tense gauntlet. I thought of the last crowd I had walked through days before at my coronation. How things could change in just a few days!
I turned the corner and ran straight into a loud commotion. Screams echoed across the marble and the row of Palace staff against the walls seemed to ripple with sudden apprehension. I peered into a roiling mass of people that seemed to propel itself into the hallway from our bedchamber-I made out two soldiers being lifted at their waists by enormous members of the Immortals, Xerxes' personal contingent.
“Death to Xerxes! I curse you all!” one of them was shouting. I could not believe he was so unhinged as to proclaim his guilt like that, but then, he must have known about the swiftness of Persian justice-especially when it came to royal security. Both men, I would later learn, had been found with concealed daggers upon their persons. Upon discovery, neither man had denied their intentions but spat haughtily upon their accusers and begun this shouting against the King. Someone had already draped the death scarf upon both of the men's heads-they had mere minutes to live.
I certainly did not follow this grim procession out to its destination, but Xerxes had just the night before informed me about the gruesome method of royal execution. No swift and merciful decapitation for those who plotted against the King or otherwise angered him. No, special prisoners like these were stripped of their clothes, thrown to the ground, and impaled straight through their bodies upon the sharpened point of a very long wooden pole. As the point eventually emerged at the top of their throat -I will leave you to imagine the place at which it first entered their body-the log was raised up and dropped into a pre-dug hole, and the prisoner died a long and agonizing death as the centerpiece of an unspeakable aerial display.
Walking through the hallway, I winced as I recalled Xerxes' account and watched the knot of soldiers recede from view. The King himself soon exited his room, his face as pale as the marble underfoot.
“Esther, Esther, are you all right?” he cried. “I heard you were the source of this information. How on earth did you learn of this?”
I thought again about my decision, then silently reaffirmed it. “I will tell you in confidence. An old family friend informed me. His name is Mordecai. He is a court scribe who does his work with royal couriers at the King's Gate.”
Xerxes' face grew solemn and majestic, and had I not known of the occasion I would have feared Mordecai in deep trouble. “Summon this Mordecai. I wish to speak to him.”
I exulted inwardly, thinking how much he deserved the accolade that awaited him. I knew he would have a moment of panic, but his recognition as a faithful, loyal subject would be worth it.
Xerxes called for his personal scribe to come with the Chronicles of the King, and we moved into one of the private dining rooms surrounded by a phalanx of tense soldiers.
“Can we not call off the alert?” I asked.
The King shook his head. “It is not over. We do not know who these men were working for. Surely there are other traitors about, awaiting my death.”
A general appeared at Xerxes' side. “We will find them, your Majesty. The gallow poles will go up all over Susa.” I shuddered.
Mordecai was even paler when they brought him in than when I had seen him last. The soldiers sent to bring him had not been told whether he was a co-conspirator or a hero-only to not harm him. And since Mordecai did not know whether the plot had succeeded, none of them had any idea if he was going to his death.
Xerxes wasted no time putting him at ease. He stepped forward to greet Mordecai, grasped him by the shoulders and gave him a warm kiss on both cheeks.
“Mordecai, today you have saved my life, and for that you will have my eternal gratitude.” He turned to the scribe sitting off in the shadows. “Scribe, please record in the Chronicles of the King that Mordecai gave exemplary service to the Crow
n this day. Xerxes will be forever in his debt.”
Mordecai bowed low, the new glow on his features betraying the pride he was too humble to convey. “It is my honor to serve you, your Majesty,” he said.
“I understand you have known my beloved Esther for a great many years, honorable Mordecai.”
Mordecai glanced up at me with eyes frozen in shock, unable to formulate a response. Finally realizing that his pause was more pejorative than my disclosures, he spoke. “Ah, yes, your Majesty. I have known Her Majesty since childhood.”
Xerxes chuckled. “Well, Mordecai, when the time allows, you and I will have to sit down and have a long conversation.”
“Sir?”
“To determine how such a rare woman was raised.”
Mordecai glanced rapidly from Xerxes to me, trying to assess the situation. He took a deep breath and said, “I would welcome the occasion, your Majesty.”
“Upon the first opportunity available,” Xerxes continued, “a banquet will be given in your honor and a generous reward will be forthcoming. Let it be known that the King's favor is upon you!”
Xerxes was not able to reward Mordecai in the customary fashion, which required two days or more to prepare, for the next day he departed for war. It was my first introduction to the truly excruciating aspects of royalty. As Queen I was obliged to wear a brave and optimistic face while constantly on the verge of weeping. We said our good-byes in the bedchamber, with a great many tears and long, wrenching hugs. Then, after an interminable dressing session in which he was fitted with a full ceremonial suit of armor, we rode through a triumphant crowd to the outer courtyard. There, we walked out to the crest of the Inner Court and looked out over the assembled troops. Once again a staggering mass of humanity lay arrayed before us, this time in perfect military rows. I stood two steps behind Xerxes as he held out a martial salute and was answered by the deafening Hail! in return. Then he turned back, wrapped me in a theatrical embrace, kissed me one last time and walked down to his chariot. He cracked his whip and rode off, and the Persian army followed him-taking hours to fully exit the city. I, the Queen of Persia, had to stand and wave ... and weep inside.
e was gone for four years.
I cannot overstate to you the impact of marrying a man I had just fallen in love with only to have him depart for such a length of time. I did not fear for the country in his absence, for Memucan was placed in charge and, as he was the King's closest advisor, the transition was seamless. No, I feared for the security of the country and the viability of Xerxes' reign if things went badly in Greece. There were ominous rumors almost from the beginning; therefore, it was both a blessing and a torment that messages took so long to reach Susa from the front.
I cannot tell you how deeply I missed him. I eventually took to my bed following his departure and hardly left it for days. Once again, I am ashamed to say, my ability to fully trust G-d wavered. I could only lament the fact that the man I had come to adore would soon face the might of a great military power intent on killing him. What would happen to me if he was slain? I did not want to learn the answer.
The Palace felt empty without Xerxes. Although the halls held activity and motion, it seemed to me that everyone was merely going through the motions, acting busy while the underlying reason for their busyness was a vast distance away.
Another cause for concern was a task Xerxes had left unfinished upon his departure-the ultimate conspirator behind the captured guards was not found, let alone punished. But on the verge of his departure, Xerxes instructed Memucan to continue the investigation. He assumed that the pause for war, and his eventual triumph, would destroy any impetus for an overthrow. Time would simply sweep away the confluence of people and events necessary for a coup to succeed. But those of us remaining in Susa were left with a profoundly unsettled feeling, knowing that the plotter remained free and quite possibly in our midst. At times I could feel palpable tension in the air, and I began to honestly fear for my own safety. My only hope was that the traitor was a part of the army hierarchy and was deeply involved in the current conflict.
After somewhat recovering from the shock and sadness of his leaving, I gradually came to find that Xerxes' absence from the capital had its advantages. First of all, the heat of the public spotlight on me seemed to diminish. I was still treated as royalty, but people looked more relaxed, and their manner around me grew more natural. Secondly, I, myself, felt more free to act. I spent more time with both Mordecai and Jesse. I frequently moved around the Palace grounds.
In my short time as Queen, I had already grown accustomed to going through my day with the eyes of hundreds upon me. I had begun to adjust to the strange feeling of being watched during the most ordinary moments of my day, while quietly relishing any time I could spend alone or in the sole presence of those I trusted. I never would have imagined, while still a girl who never left home and who had spent most of her life in the company of only three people, that I would adjust so quickly to such a public existence.
And then, just as suddenly, a great deal of the scrutiny had died away. I often felt, traversing the vast hallways and glazed brick walls of the Palace, that I was just another high-level functionary with business afoot. Perhaps some of that is due to the fact that I never demanded grandiose royal treatment for myself. Vashti, from all I had heard, might have insisted on being carried in a royal litter and surrounded by a regiment every time she set foot outside her quarters. And in her defense, her royal lineage no doubt made her expectations quite different from mine, raised a commoner. All I desired was security, human respect and the proximity of my loved ones.
What I craved most in this world, of course, was the presence of my new husband. But for many, many long months, that would be denied.
As for the war news, it started out highly encouraging, with but one area of concern. It sounded as though the Xerxes I had fallen in love with, the reflective conversationalist of our first weeks together, had turned into an irrational tyrant on the battlefield. I received word of a great victory at someplace called Thermopylae, and while the outcome itself was cause for joy, I heard that when the weather did not cooperate, Xerxes had ordered the sea itself lashed with whips. Then he had ordered the summary execution of engineers whose bridge had floundered in the storm. Furthermore, Memucan had begun warning me that the scope of this war was costing enormous amounts of money and that without a quick victory, it would soon deplete the royal treasury entirely.
This made me ill at ease. From my very first entry into the Palace, it had seemed that the King's wealth was limitless-so great that it would replenish itself no matter what happened to the Empire. Now I realized that in fact these riches were finite, beset by gargantuan expenses that extravagances like palaces and foreign wars posed. Xerxes had left with nearly two hundred thousand men and 160 ships. It was at that point that I began to earnestly crave my husband's counsel. Did I have the authority to cut back somehow on the Palace staff? Should I have implemented some sort of measures to reduce costs? Or did the appearance of endless wealth matter more than the state of the royal finances? I decided to consult with Memucan regularly upon these matters.
Every several days, he would enter my chambers, wearing a sober and contemplative expression, to give me news from the front. For some reason he had come to consider me a confidant, someone with whom he could share his most candid observations about the Empire. From what I understood, this was a new and unusual role for a queen. I suppose his loyalty was so unassailable that he knew he could voice criticism without being labeled an enemy.
“Your husband is an impetuous man,” Memucan would tell me in the quiet of my counsel chamber. “I wish he never developed this obsession with destroying Greece. I pray to the gods it is not hisand our-undoing.”
In retrospect, I think Memucan had found me to be one of the few impartial and sincere people with whom he could be truly honest. My peasant lineage had labeled me to Memucan as immune from the loss of balance and perspective that afflict
ed so many Palace insiders. And so, as the months turned into a year and the seasons flowed seamlessly into one another, I came to rely on the Master of the Audiences as deeply as I depended on Mordecai and Jesse.
One day Memucan entered my suite at the noon hour, and his face was ashen. I could feel the pounding of impending doom throb across the Palace and across my temples.
EGALEO HILL-ISLE OF SALAMIS, GREECE-479 B.C.
Flush with the satisfaction of just having sacked Athens-setting fire to not only the city itself but its renowned Acropolis-King Xerxes of Persia strode up the mountainside to the marble throne just erected there and sat down as only the King of the world could. He grasped the throne's arms with both palms, spread his legs and smiled with the assurance of one about to watch his last foe go down in utter defeat.
Three thousand cubits below him, sprawled across a spectacular vista of shining waters and bulging island landforms, lay the two greatest navies in the world, preparing to do battle. On the island to his right the fleeing inhabitants of Athens had taken refuge. Once their naval forces had been obliterated, Xerxes would order his ships to land and his men to slaughter the Athenians wholesale.
One Night With the King: A Special Movie Edition of the Bestselling Novel, Hadassah by Tommy Tenney;Mark Andrew Olsen Page 23