“I knew he would be. But Jehovah will take care of me.”
“As I told him.” She leaned over, kissed her sister’s cheek. “But you must take care of yourself, too. We would all be lost without you.”
The gleam in Kasia’s eye was more than contentment, more than satisfaction with her place. “I have no intentions of leaving, so rest assured I will take care of myself.” She glanced toward the palace again. “I will check on him.”
“Good idea.” Esther would go back to her elegant rooms, where she had the luxury of praying with no prying eyes to discover her. She would lift up Kasia and Xerxes both to Jehovah until the last of the fear released her.
She had a feeling she would not get much sleep tonight.
~*~
Persepolis, Persia
Amestris cursed, cursed again. Better anger than despair. Better vile words than hot tears. Failure again. A loyal servant dead instead of a faithless husband. And saved by whom? The hand of a Jew.
She spun, then seethed to a halt and looked out into the gardens where Artaxerxes frolicked. Patience was called for. Patience and perseverance. She would wait for Haman to thrust the Jews from the king’s favor. She would bide her time, woo the right men. The ones who could succeed where Bigthan failed.
Then Ahura Mazda would finally rule. Through her chosen son . . . and through her.
Forty-Six
Five years later, in the first month of the twelfth year of the reign of Xerxes
Esther scanned the gardens for her daughter and tamped down a grin when she saw Zillah urging her into the fountain. Her Amani—could she possibly be three already?—dipped one toe in the water and shrieked. Six-year-old Zillah laughed and plunged in until the water reached her knees.
So like Kasia and her, only these two truly were sisters. Whoever would have guessed at such a future?
Kasia settled at Esther’s side with a moan, one hand on her swollen stomach. Child number four would join them any day. Any hour, if Esther correctly interpreted the tension that crossed Kasia’s face. Her friend grimaced and rubbed at her side. “I feel as though one wrong move and I will rip in two.”
Esther chuckled. “I recall that feeling.” She had hoped to experience it again by now, but Xerxes called her so rarely lately . . . not surprising. Whenever Kasia grew large, he could think of no one else. Perhaps it was because his worry overwhelmed him. Or perhaps it was because that was when Kasia was too tired to insist he pay attention to the rest of them.
She suspected the latter.
Esther touched her shoulder to Kasia’s. “You look exhausted. Nightmares again?”
Kasia shuddered. “I know not why they plague me in my last weeks of pregnancy. Every time I sleep, I am back on the wall at Sardis, watching the darkness descend. Hearing the scream behind me, smelling that blasted scent, feeling the push.”
Esther could only shake her head as Kasia craned around to note where her sons scampered. The elder of the boys, Artarius, led two-year-old Arsames in a game of chase. “Do you have any idea who . . . ?”
Kasia’s mouth tightened. “None that Xerxes will entertain. But I have my suspicions.” She looked up at the wall.
Esther followed her gaze. A chill swept her spine when she spotted their husband’s closest friend. It was no secret Haman was an enemy of the Jews. But exactly how far would that hatred take him? She could only hope the king was right to believe him trustworthy.
Doubt eclipsed the hope every time she saw him.
~*~
Haman clasped his hands behind his back and looked out over Susa. The morning sun bathed him in light. Each degree it crept higher, each increase in heat made the secrets of his heart burn hotter.
It was time. He had waited so long, patient and polite. Done the king’s bidding, carried out his wishes even before he could ask him. Finally, finally he had been given his due. Elevated even above the princes. A week ago he had dined at a feast in his honor. Everywhere he went, the palace servants bowed to him.
All except one. Haman glanced toward the gate where the Jew always sat. Obstinate and rebellious. He knew the king had a fondness for the swine, but he was done waiting for the affection to fail.
It was time to force matters. And he knew exactly where to start—the Jewess witch. From there, it would be easy enough to obliterate her entire people.
The very thought made him smile.
~*~
There ought to have been pain. Kasia felt every muscle coil, every ounce of strength focus on the next push. She could feel the pressure, the way the babe within her inched closer to life.
Why was there no pain? There had been pain with Zillah. With Artarius and Arsames. Even with each child she lost in the first years of her marriage.
But this . . . it was too like the time in Sardis. The time when Mordecai had prayed her agony onto himself so that she might survive it. The time when her child had been born lifeless and she had nearly joined him in the bosom of Abraham.
Sardis. Why did everything remind her of Sardis?
Something was wrong, and fear of it shook her, from sweat-soaked brow to curled toes. “Pray.” The command croaked out, rasped, but she knew Desma heard. Not just the word, but the desperation.
Her maid’s brow furrowed. “Mistress, what is it? Everything is well.”
“No. No, it is not. I cannot . . . there is no . . .” More tension, more pressure. She squeezed her eyes shut. Why did Jehovah take the sensation from her again? She was not injured, not weak. She could handle it. She could . . .
The tension eased. Leda caught the babe, shouted, “A girl! Another beautiful daughter, mistress. Two of each now.”
She wanted to smile, she wanted to laugh, she wanted to cry. She wanted to reach for this newest wonder and put her to her breast.
A single arrow of pain shot through her like lightning. And she could not move. Could neither lift an arm nor open her mouth. Her bent knees fell flat, and the rest of her went lax.
No! No, no, no. She must move, she must regain control. The babe—Leah, they were going to name her after Ima’s mother—would need nursed. Zillah and the boys would be in soon.
“Mistress?” Desma squeezed her hand, shook her leg. She could feel it. She could hear, she could see. But . . . “Mistress, what is wrong? Mistress? Mistress!”
Oh to be able to soothe her, to calm the fear that she saw rock her trusted friend. A stream of tears tickled her cheek, and she could not even sniff, could not wipe them away.
Chaotic shouting clanged in her ears, but she saw them fall to their knees, all her loyal servants. She saw precious Esther come in, saw the horror in her eyes. Heard her wail as she knelt beside Kasia’s bed.
Sweet friend. Dear sister. She would take care of the children, Kasia knew. But Xerxes—if she died, he could fly into a rage that would shake the world. Or crumble, which would rock it. How could the nations stand firm when their foundation gave way?
Jehovah, sustain him. Comfort Esther. Knit them together with something other than me. Put your arms around my children. Oh Jehovah, why? Why is this happening?
Warmth on her left side, as if someone sat beside her. Yet the mattress did not sink, no sound filled her ears. She could blink, she could move her eyes. But she was not sure what she saw. An edge of light, so white it nearly hurt. An outline of a man, of broad shoulders and . . . wings?
Comfort. Peace. Familiarity. A shimmering, half-visible arm lifted, and warm fingers touched her cheek. Rest, child. This is the only way.
Kasia closed her eyes and sank.
~*~
Xerxes could only stare at Esther, unaware his knees had buckled until he felt the cushion of a chair beneath him. “She what?”
His queen trembled, and tears rushed down her cheeks in a swollen river. “I do not even know what to call it. She cannot move, cannot speak. We called in the physicians, but they have never seen the like, not exactly. Apoplexy is their best guess.”
“Stroke?” He pushed to hi
s feet so he could pace, raked a hand through his hair. “No. She is only twenty-five.”
“They have seen it strike women in labor before, though it does not match the symptoms exactly.” Esther raised her hands, let them fall. “Perhaps she will come out of it.”
“She must. She must.” His arms swung out, swept an urn from a shelf.
Esther jumped when it clamored against the stone of the floor. His queen had never learned how to deal with his temper—of course, she rarely saw it.
He lunged toward the door, a million thoughts battling in his mind. Kasia could not die—he would not allow it. He would do whatever he must, bring in the best physicians from the world over. Anything, so long as she lived.
Esther ran after him, but he spun and halted her with a raised hand. “No. I will go alone.” He needed to see Kasia, see his love, without any other company.
“But . . .” Hurt filled her eyes, but that only kindled his fear-soaked anger.
“Will you argue with me? Disobey me?”
Gaze on the ground, she took a step back. He ignored the tears on her cheeks and sped away.
The palace grounds passed in a blur, light and shadow merging. Until he stepped into her room. In there he saw the light and, at its slicing edge, hovering darkness. His knees struck the floor beside her bed.
Perhaps she only slept. How could it be otherwise? She looked perfect, her hair flowing over the pillow, her face peaceful.
Yet she was never so still, even in slumber. Her chest barely rose, scarcely fell. When he wove his fingers through hers, they did not tighten in response.
A sob ripped up through his chest and lodged in his throat.
“Father?” Zillah crept close and leaned into him. His precious girl. “What is wrong with Ima?”
“I do not know, princess.” He pulled her into his lap and held her tight. He motioned the boys over too and wrapped an arm around them. “She is sick. We will get the best physicians to care for her.”
“And Savta.”
Yes, she would want her mother. “You are a smart girl.” He kissed her head, then glanced toward the servants. “See that a message is sent to her family. Tell them to come straightaway.”
Squalling filled the room, and Xerxes started. He had forgotten to ask about the babe.
As if reading his thoughts, Desma picked up the squirming bundle and swayed his way. “A daughter, master.”
“Leah, then.” He gave the three older children each a kiss and reached for the newest addition. The sob threatened to tear loose. She looked so much like Kasia. “My love, you must wake up. You must meet little Leah.”
Surely she could not resist that.
Her eyes opened. Then slid closed again.
He swallowed against the pain. Leah’s cries subsided for a moment, then her face screwed up once more. She needed her mother. They all needed her mother.
Desma took her back. “I will deliver her to the nurse to be fed. Come, children, give your father a moment with your ima.”
He took her hand again as the room emptied. “Kasia, you must not leave me. If you do not open your eyes and speak to me, there is no telling what I might do. You do not want to unleash me on the unsuspecting world, do you?”
He could hold the tears back no longer. He rested his head against her hand, clasped between his.
Her sleeve slid up her arm, revealing the heavy torc she still wore. Proof of her love. Their love. “Please, lovely Kasia. Do not give up.” If she did, he did not know how he would keep from doing the same.
Perhaps he would refuse to move until she did. It was only a matter of time before someone demanded something of him, but he had no idea what he could give. He felt suspended along with Kasia. Useless.
The world would just have to understand.
~*~
Haman stared at the servant. “What happened?”
“Apoplexy, as best as they can guess. She is unresponsive. Immobile.”
Unbelievable. He had not even had to raise a hand against her. Did he need any more proof that the god was for him? Ahura Mazda had struck down the witch himself, and the king was no doubt too grief-stricken to care for anything else.
Perfect. Utterly perfect. “Quickly, bring the Pur.”
His man dashed off, returned a minute later with the lots. As Haman watched, his servant let loose the two small discs. The first slid to a halt over the symbol for the twelfth month. The second over the marker for the thirteenth day.
Nearly a year away—he must need that much time to prepare. To rouse the anger of the world against the Jews.
So be it. He strode from his home, toward the palace, and deliberately chose the gate where the witch’s friend would be seated.
His servants went ahead of him, insisting all nearby bow in deference to the favored of the king. Satisfaction swelled in his chest. Until, of course, they reached the Jew.
“Why do you transgress the king’s demand?” his head eunuch demanded.
The swine looked past them, to Haman. Recognition of an enemy flickered in his eyes. “I will bow the knee to no man, especially a man such as him. I worship only the one God, Jehovah.”
Hatred boiled up as Haman strode past. Yes, he worshiped only Jehovah, just like the witch. Now he and all his people would die because of it.
He headed toward the quarters of the royal family and found the king in the Jewess’s chambers. Hunched beside the bed, looking as lifeless as the figure on it. “Master?”
Xerxes lifted his head. “Haman. I am glad you have come. She is . . .”
“I received the message. Master, you are over-wrought. Yet there is business to be done. Even now I have learned of a people dispersed throughout your kingdom that refuse to keep the king’s laws—and the last thing you need right now is an uprising. If it pleases you, let a decree be written to destroy them. I will pay ten thousand talents of silver into the hands of those who do the work, and have the plunder from their homes and businesses brought into your treasury.”
The king did not even look at him. “Do whatever you deem necessary, Haman. Here.” He covered one hand with the other, tugged.
Haman nearly shook when he saw the signet ring.
“Act in my stead, my brother. Do as I would do.”
Better, he would do as the king should. He took the ring, slid it onto his own finger. Was it his imagination, or did power pulse from his hand? “You will not want to be disturbed, master. Let us also make a decree that none are to enter your presence without being called, or they shall be put to death unless you hold your scepter out to them.”
“A wise thought.” The king rubbed his face. “I shall have to return to court for a few hours each day. To keep up appearances.”
“Of course. But I will take care of everything in your time of need, master.”
“Thank you.” His voice broke, and Xerxes rested his head on his hand. “I do not know what I would do without you.”
“You need never find out. I arranged for some wine for you, master—you must keep up your strength. Go, refresh yourself for a moment.”
Xerxes sighed, but he stood and shuffled from the room. The Jewess’s eunuch immediately entered, but Haman ignored him. He sat in the king’s seat and leaned close, so close his breath would have tickled her ear had she any ability to sense it. “You are lucky the god struck you before I could, witch—I would have cast the blame on your precious people. But it is no matter. No matter at all. Die now, as you should have done in Sardis, or die later. It makes no difference to me.”
Did her face pale? Was there a twitch in her cheek? He could not be sure, but it hardly mattered. Whether or not she knew who caused her undoing, the point remained she would be destroyed. Finally.
Chest full of satisfaction, he left the room with its glowering but oblivious eunuch and headed for the inner court. His place of honor. He summoned a scribe and smiled when the servant stood with tablets at the ready. “Take this down. ‘To every satrap, governor, and officials o
f all the people under Xerxes, the king of kings over all Persia and Media. That on the thirteenth day of the twelfth month, the month of Adar, every Jew shall be annihilated. Young and old, children and women, and their possessions shall be taken and added to the king’s treasury.’ Let the word go out to all the land and be read in every public place.”
Chuckling in delight, he took his seat beside the throne. His gaze fell on the signet circling his finger. With its seal, he created law. And no Persian law could ever be undone—even by the king himself.
Forty-Seven
When his parents fled, weeping, Zechariah took their spot beside his sister. Poor Kasia. To look at her, one would think she only slept. Her hair was neatly arranged around her, no pain on her face. But her cheeks were pale, and even at Ima’s urging, at Abba’s begging, Kasia made no response.
Zechariah took her hand and sighed over it. Closed his eyes. “Dear Jehovah, whatever your purpose here, I ask that you minister to us. Kasia needs your strength and, if she can still hear, will grow frustrated. Soothe her spirit as you heal her body. And the rest of us need you too. Need your support and peace.”
“Amen.” The sweet, soft voice flowed into the room like a brook.
He jerked up, spun around. His breath snagged. Esther. All these years, he had managed to avoid her whenever he visited his sister. He had never felt up to facing her, seeing her exactly as she was now—regally dressed, elegant and beautiful. He never could have given her the things that suited her so well.
He inclined his head. “My queen.”
Her lips twitched up. “No need to stand on formalities. You are my dearest friend’s brother, after all.” She stepped into the room, one hand behind her. Behind her skirts he spotted a little girl with an adorable mess of dark curls.
He smiled at the little one and crouched down. “You must be Amani. Kasia and Zillah have told me all about you.”
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