“Are you mad? I need at least an hour to clean up, to prepare!”
Jesse had shaken his head, managing to banish the amusement he felt from his expression. “Master, her Highness insists on starting precisely at sunset. If I do not have you there right on time, not only may I lose my head, but you will certainly be shut out of the dinner. Her orders were most explicit.”
“But I smell like...” Haman waved his arms and glanced about him with a wild stare rather than elaborate on the nature of his stench. “Give me ten minutes!”
“I am sorry, sir. We are already late leaving, and I fear we may still not arrive on time to walk over with the King. If you do not come with me now, I will have to decline her Highness's invitation on your behalf.”
“Go!” Haman's wife shouted in exasperation as she pulled a fresh robe around her husband. “Just go! Do you want to compound the day's misery? Go and be with them, make excuses, douse yourself with perfume on the way-just go!”
I laughed so exuberantly upon hearing the tale that I dropped something loud, a large silver mirror I believe, upon the marble tile.
With every peal of laughter I could feel my inner strength to face the evening's challenges grow.
And the evening's challenges did arrive, both of them, within minutes of the appointed time. Jesse's insistence had borne fruit.
This night the banquet took place in my private quarters-my most familiar and comfortable environment lavishly decorated for the occasion. Veil after veil of wispy curtains were suspended from ceilings, anchored to walls, and shimmered softly in the evening breeze that swept in from opened doorways. The arrangement gave the rooms an evanescent appeal and separated the main spaces in a most ethereal yet effective manner. In a corner, largely out of sight, one of my handmaidens sat fluidly playing the harp.
And finally, the air inside was redolent with every form of delicacy most favored by the King. Roasted lamb, slow-baked venison, vegetables steamed in the meat's own vapors. Vast quantities of wine, of course. Bowls of curdled cream laced with honey and studded with every sort of berry and fruit.
I hope my own appearance was in keeping with my quarters' beauty and taste, for I had certainly endeavored toward that end. As men's preference in women and female attire seldom changes much over time, I will not repeat for you the now familiar adornments and anointings in which I had indulged. Suffice it to say that I had worked hard to make myself the evening's ultimate enticement-for the King, that is.
The two men swept in. At this banquet it was Haman, appearing strangely disheveled and smelling rather farmlike, who proved the quieter of the two. But all the better. I blossomed that night into a vivacious hostess, reminding Xerxes all the while that I could hold my own at conversation. I even courteously tried to engage Haman in talk of his family and other innocuous subjects. But his reponses were brief. I also recall that, for some reason, the food that night bore the most exquisite taste of any dishes I have ever eaten, before or since.
Haman confined himself to attacking the wine riatins on each side of the table early and often, which of course did not disappoint me in the least. For most of the evening he sat on the other side of the table and gazed blearily into thin air. Neither Haman's aroma nor my appearance compelled the King to favor our guest's side of the table. And so it did not take long for Xerxes to venture closer to me, then launch into the salient question at hand.
“Finally, my dear Esther, what is your request? For it will still be granted, to be sure-even if it is half the kingdom.”
And now the moment had come-no more delays possible, no more strategic retreats from the urgency of my plight. Now was the time to risk my favor, to achieve my ultimate purpose. This was the instant of my greatest influence and the reward of intimacy. I took a deep breath, looked him straight in the eye and softly launched into my plea.
“If I have found favor in your sight, your Majesty, and if it pleases the King, my petition is to be given my life, and my request is the life of my people. One man has schemed a monstrous plot against my whole people. We have been betrayed, I and my people both, to be destroyed. Killed. Annihilated. If we were only going to be sold as slaves, I would have kept silent, for it would not be worth troubling the King. But I believe my life and that of countless innocent men, women and children is worth begging your mercy.”
I did not look at Haman as I said this. I remained totally focused on the King-refusing to empower my enemy with so much as an inclusive glance. Yet I could see that the Agagite had emerged from his despondent state and sat listening with as much concentration as he could muster.
The King, for his part, became instantly enraged. His complexion flushed, his eyes narrowed in anger. His fingers gripped the stem of his wine goblet so tightly that they turned white. His voice came out as the perfect combination of a hiss and a low growl.
“Who is he, and where is he? Who would dare to do such a thing?”
In one of the most exquisite, destiny-defining moments of my life, I turned to Haman. I watched his eyes begin to widen in fear. I pulled my arm up above the tabletop and pointed, right in his face.
“The very same man who murdered my family. This wicked, evil Haman is my foe, my enemy, your Majesty! For I am a Jew.”
At once, Haman's breathing went from a contented purr to a frantic pant. He jerked upward in his seat and put on a groveling expression for probably the first time in his adult life. He almost fell backward, so great was his terror.
“Oh no, your Majesty. There's been a mistake. A terrible misunderstanding....”
Yet something in Haman's face, in the manner of his speech, virtually radiated guilt. Xerxes stood so abruptly that the table jerked backward with a clatter. He threw down his napkin, turned on his heel and marched out the door into the gardens. Rage seemed to have rendered him speechless.
“Oh, your Highness, I had no idea!” Haman yelled, nearly weeping as he knelt abruptly and, to my astonishment, clutched my leg. “I mean, yes, your race and mine have been at odds for centuries, but that is a cultural matter-if I had known you were of Jewish blood, I would have never considered the edict! I would have found another way! It was nothing personal, it was just a terrible old Jew who sits at the Palace gates who refused to-”
“That `old Jew' is my father,” I interrupted, feeling a bit dizzy from the extraordinary irony of my declaration.
At that news he sank down onto the floor, and the seal of his impending death imprinted itself upon his face. Yet he turned to me again while a final hope of survival flickered upon his countenance.
“Please, your Highness. You are a person of mercy. You have received mercy yourself, on occasion. Please grant me pity.”
“The same pity you would have granted to the children and babies of Jewish mothers?” I asked. “No, I fear the only reason you mention pity is because you have been caught and exposed. If you want any quarter, you must ask the King.”
“No, your Highness!” he cried, barely coherent now. He grabbed my wrists and nearly pulled me to the ground. “Only your kind heart can save me now!”
Something about Haman's desperation suddenly made me fearful of being alone in the room with him. I quickly turned from him and retreated to a couch in the corner to await Xerxes' return. As I did, Haman fell headlong upon the floor and, actually clutching a corner of my dress, tore a piece of the fabric. I turned, gave him my most fierce scowl and took my seat. Haman, in the full throes of death-panic, was not to be deterred. He followed me and cried out in a voice unlike I had ever heard from the throat of a man, “Please! Oh please, your Highness!”
And in the very next moment, two things happened that sealed Haman's fate-first, the evil one fell in his desperation upon my couch, nearly covering me with his body, and second, my dear Xerxes returned from summoning the bodyguards he had stationed a discreet distance away in the garden.
I saw only the onrushing form of Haman descending upon me, then heard a voice of animallike rage erupt from across the room.
“What?! Will he even assault my wife while I am in the house?”
Xerxes, the source of the outburst, turned to Harbona-one of the attending eunuchs whom he had apparently summoned during his absence-and motioned toward Haman. The aide pulled a black scarf from his tunic, walked over to where Haman knelt in frantic tears and draped it over his face. The scarf of death.
Then Harbona turned to Haman. “Your Majesty, were you aware that the tallest execution pole Susa has ever seen now stands in Haman's yard? Word is he built the gallows pole in order to kill Mordecai upon it. Mordecai-the same man you sought earlier to honor for heroism and service to the King.”
“And my father,” I added. “The one who raised me.”
Xerxes shot me a look of greater amazement than I have ever seen on the face of any human being. Then he whirled upon his heels and fixed Haman with a gaze so icy cold that it gave me shivers just being in the same room. It lasted only an instant. He walked over, reached out to grab Haman's right hand and yanked the signet ring from his finger. Then he turned away, and anyone watching would have known the King would never set his gaze on the man again.
“Impale him on his own gallows. At daybreak.”
And on that order soldiers scurried in, picked Haman up and carried him from the room-a once haughty man now whimpering softly like a half-starved newborn.
he dawn was just a warm glow upon the horizon and the awakening city still largely unaware of the night's events when Haman was dragged into his yard to stare into the eyes of his own aide-the eunuch he had tormented for these past several weeks.
My Jesse of Susa, known to the Palace as Hathach the Good Man.
Haman at this moment was incapable of coherent speech. He had now reached a point of human consciousness capable of evoking pity in even his most enraged victim-sunk to the state of a whimpering, incontinent, jabbering fool. The condemned creature put up little resistance as his clothes were torn from his body and his nudity exposed before not only the whole execution party but his assembled family-who stood nearby, forced to watch. Glaringly, the once secret twisted cross tattoo on his back now announced him to the world as the scheming murderer that he was.
I will spare you the terrible details of his death by impalement, but you do not need a reminder of the unfortunate souls he had sent to their death in similar fashion.
The pole's absurd height, intended to display Mordecai's fate before the whole city, now helped Susa bear witness to the punishment of its most devious traitor.
In other quarters, Haman's remaining foot soldiers began ripping the twisted cross emblems from their uniforms and trying to smear the tattoos on their skin with dyes. Some even scraped their forearms with knives to remove the evidence-for they knew their day of reckoning had arrived.
Mordecai and I did not watch the execution. We spent the morning on a Palace balcony as far away from the sight as possible. As we talked together, Mordecai hugged me tightly and said, “You did it, my Hadassah. You were faithful to the position where G-d placed you. You were brought to the Palace for this purpose. To save our people.”
I held him as close as I could and nearly collapsed from sheer relief.
Later that day, King Xerxes called a grand audience in the Inner Court. There, in front of a packed crowd, he held up the signet ring that he had removed from Haman's finger and unexpectedly slipped it onto Mordecai's. I could hardly believe my eyes. My poppa, faithful Palace scribe of so many years, had now risen to the post of Master of the Audiences. He looked again like the Mordecai of old, hardly a young man yet standing straight once more with the old gleam in his eye and the bearing of a Palace veteran.
Xerxes held out his hand toward him and said quietly, “Years of delayed reward proved you to be truly loyal.” Turning to the crowd the King shouted, “People of Persia and servants of the Crown, I give you this day my new Master of the Audiences, Mordecai, son of Jair, a child of Israel and citizen of Persia! It is my will that each of you obey and treat him in every way exactly as you would regard your King!”
A deafening cheer went up from the spectators, many of whom had dealt with Mordecai for years. I thought I saw a decade of cares fall away from Poppa's countenance in the moments that followed.
Then came my turn. I took both of Mordecai's hands in minehardly a conventional gesture for the Queen, but it seemed everyone was now aware of our relationship-and said, “Master, as the Queen's gift in your newly installed post, and at the King's request, I give you all the goods and riches from the household of Haman the Agagite, enemy of the Empire and plotter against its citizens.”
At those words Mordecai, whom I had not forewarned of this gift, blanched and seemed to sway a little. I had just given him a fortune equal to that of any nonroyal in the Empire. I stepped closer and we exchanged a tight, lingering embrace.
Making this gesture touched my emotions in a way I had not anticipated. Finally I had been able to do something for him as Queen that he was not able to shrug off or dissuade me from doing like a father scolding his little girl. Between the appointment as Master of the Audiences and the granting of Haman's wealth, Mordecai's life had just been transformed forever. And I, his daughter, had played a strong hand in both. He had taken me in when I was young-I had brought him in when he was old.
And then I turned away from Poppa and steeled myself for an entirely different gesture. I walked over to the King, who was still guarded by his soldiers and their ready swords, and abruptly fell upon my face. Despite my joy of only a second before, I broke into loud sobs. Tears began to flow down my face.
“Please, your Majesty,” I pleaded, “please thwart the evil scheme that Haman left embedded as law! Please stop this plot against the Jews!”
From the stunned look overtaking his features, Xerxes was as clearly shocked by the swift turn in my emotions as anyone in the room. He lowered the scepter and my breathing settled a bit. I stood and approached him.
“I know that even your Majesty cannot change a law of the kingdom sealed by his signet ring,” I said. “But if it pleases the King, and if I have found favor with you, and if it seems proper and I am pleasing in your sight, then let it be ordered to revoke Haman's order calling for the destruction of the Jews throughout Persia. For how can I endure to watch this awful fate come to my own people? How can I endure the destruction of my own flesh and blood?”
Xerxes reached out his hand and grasped my arm, his eyes glittering with a powerful intent. “Now listen. I have already approved giving Haman's goods to Mordecai because of his plot against the Jews. I am not about to let his treachery prevail now. So, you write a letter to the Jewish people, anything you see fit, and you may seal it with my signet ring, and it will be binding law.”
So I retired to a back room with Mordecai and a hastily called assembly of royal scribes-the same kind of conference Mordecai would have attended as a mere functionary only days before. And as one of their own, he dictated to the staff with a mastery of language and protocol that they had never before seen from a Master of the Audiences. Speaking in the name of King Xerxes, he announcedand the scribes translated into every alphabet and language of the Empire's 127 provinces-a most audacious proclamation. He declared that on the same day that had been designated for their extermination, the Jewish people would have the right to assemble and defend themselves as a group. They could destroy, kill and annihilate anyone who rose up against them, including women and children. They would even be allowed to plunder their enemies' spoils-and know that they enjoyed the King's blessing as they did so.
The sound of Mordecai's voice slowly echoed into silence in the stone room as his former colleagues scribbled furiously to render his words into the proper form. Then, after a long pause, they approached him one by one while he emphatically stamped the King's signet ring onto each copy of the new edict. Immediately following the procedure, each one filed out of the room and walked to an outer door where a small army of royal couriers awaited, each one mounted upon an offspring of the King's
own stallions. Imme diately, each cavalier grasped his designated copy of the decree and rode out of sight.
When the last of the scribes had left us, I grasped the King's robe from a nearby handmaiden and laid it again across Mordecai's shoulders. And then, to my eternal gratitude, Poppa was able to share with me one of the great sensations of my life-to step out upon a terrace, look out across a sea of faces and know that the roar engulfing the platform was composed of cheers directed at no one else but him-at least until the King and I followed behind.
The city so recently shrouded in confusion was now engulfed in celebration.
Oh, I wish you-I wish anyone-could have seen him on that day. My dear Mordecai, who once had to be reminded not to wear the same clothes for a week straight-now stood resplendent in a suit of fine linen and purple Kashmiri wool, a golden crown upon his head, a royal robe of blue and white draped across his shoulders. He was splendid, I must admit. I have never been so proud, and I despair of ever feeling such pride again. I wept with joy to look across and see him brace himself against the wave of love as if it were a stiff desert wind.
One Night With the King: A Special Movie Edition of the Bestselling Novel, Hadassah by Tommy Tenney;Mark Andrew Olsen Page 30