Jewel of Persia

by White, Roseanna M.

  Did he dare? The king had always liked Mordecai. But then, he need not name him. He would define him by his actions, just as he had done before.

  Yes, he would do it. At first light, he would put it to the king. Then he would watch the first of his enemies die.

  He spun to his eunuchs. “Do as my son suggests. Build a gallows, fifty cubits high.”

  His friends cheered him as the servants left to do his bidding.

  Forty-Nine

  Would he ever sleep again? Really sleep, without jerking awake in a panic? Xerxes had his doubts. For the third night in a row he gave up while the moon stood at its highest point in the heavens and dragged himself to his table.

  History. Nothing would tire a man like the chronicles. He had Zethar bring it over.

  “Here you are, master.”

  “Thank you.” He unsealed the scroll and nudged it so it would unroll to whatever spot it willed.

  Six years ago, when he returned from the war. He read through it, barely seeing the cuneiform script.

  Still he did not think he could sleep.

  Five years ago. Esther’s first year with him, and when Kasia had Artarius. Mardonius’s army had just returned, emaciated and near-starving. His hands had been full with so many things tied to that. Then—what was this? He frowned and reread. The assassination plot, the doorkeepers. They had verified the truth of it, had them put to death. But no other notes finished the story. “Zethar, what honor was given Mordecai for this?”

  Zethar glanced down, read the spot on the parchment that he indicated. “Nothing, master.”

  “Nothing?”

  His eunuch’s lips twitched up. “It was the same day you learned Kasia carried Artarius, master. You were . . . distracted.”

  He grunted and glanced toward the window. Nearly dawn. “Is anyone in the court yet?”

  Zethar jogged out, returned a moment later. “Haman just arrived, master.”

  Perfect. “Call him in.”

  When his friend entered, Xerxes smiled. Haman would have excellent advice on this matter. “What shall be done for the man I would delight to honor?”

  Haman’s brows lifted in thought for a moment, then he grinned. “For such a man, a royal robe ought to be brought which the king himself has worn, and it ought to be put on the man’s shoulders. Then he ought to sit upon one of the king’s own horses, a royal crest upon its head, and the reins should be given to one of the king’s most noble princes, that he may lead this man through the city and proclaim before him, ‘Thus shall it be done to the man whom the king delights to honor!’”

  Well, Haman certainly lacked no imagination. “Let it be done for Mordecai the Jew, exactly as you said. And you yourself should guide him, since I hold you in higher esteem than any of my sons.”

  Haman’s face froze. “The Jew.”

  “I know you are not fond of his people, but I never rewarded him for saving my life five years ago. See to it immediately, Haman. I would start the day without this unpaid deed over my head.” Feeling a bit of energy for the first time in days, Xerxes stood and turned toward his bedchamber.

  While it was done, he would visit Kasia. Perhaps, if Jehovah saw him honoring one of his chosen, he would show some mercy.

  ~*~

  Haman shook as he plodded to his home. His family and friends were still gathered, most dozing on their couches after the night of feasting. His servants returned even now from the gallows they had built overnight.

  He felt diseased. Three hours he had trudged through the city, each word of praise forced from his tongue tasting of wormwood.

  How could the king make him do that? For the Jew, of all people? Walk the streets with that swine lording over him, mocking in his silence?

  And the people—most had cheered, some had looked confused when they realized he was honoring a man whose death he had so recently ordained. Turmoil would ensue. Probably reach the palace.

  Then the king would realize what he had done. Inevitable, yes, but he had hoped the witch would die first, so that Haman could use it to point to the power of Ahura Mazda, the inferiority of her God.

  Now what was he to do? His original plan to kill her would not work now, with her confined to her bed under guard constantly.

  Where was the god? Where was his might, his power? Why did he not fill him now, as he had in Sardis all those years ago?

  “My husband, what is wrong?”

  Haman shook his head and walked past Zeresh. “The king just honored Mordecai the Jew—by my hand.”

  Zeresh sucked in a breath. “Why would he do that, when they are all to be killed in a few short months?”

  He covered his head, wished he had the luxury to weep. “He does not know. I told him there were troublemakers, but I did not tell him who.”

  “Haman.” His wife hissed, then took a step away from him. “You are crumbling before this Jew, and it will not stop until he towers over you. Worse, you will drag your family down with you. What have you brought on our heads?”

  Before he could answer, the king’s eunuchs entered. Bowed. “The queen requests your presence at her banquet now, my lord.”

  Ahura Mazda, where are you?

  ~*~

  Esther expected her hand to shake. Jehovah steadied her. She expected nerves to sour her stomach. She ate and drank without problem. She expected her tongue to twist when her husband looked over at her and asked, “What is this petition of yours, Esther? It shall be granted to you, up to half my kingdom.”

  Peace infused her, and she could look from Haman to the king without a qualm. Perhaps her life would be forfeit, but her people would be saved. She knew that. When he realized what Haman had done, he would find a path of mercy for the Jews. He would do it for Kasia’s sake, for her family and friends.

  As for Esther . . . who knew how angry he may be to learn she had lied to him all this time? He would spare her people, but the price could very well be her head.

  She drew in a calm breath and set her cup upon the table. “If I have found favor in your sight—if it pleases you, my king—then I ask for my life.”

  Xerxes frowned and set his cup down with a splash. “Your life is in no danger.”

  “On the contrary, my husband, my life and the lives of all my people have been sold for destruction. Had we been sold as slaves, I would not speak, though the enemy never would have been able to compensate for the loss it would mean for you. But the wicked man who did this would have us all killed. Man, woman, even our children.”

  His frown deepened. “What enemy? Who?” He sat up straight, that infamous temper kindling in his eyes. “Who would dare devise such a thing?”

  She had always retreated in the face of his anger, left Kasia to handle it. But tonight it brought strength to her spine. She whispered a mental prayer, inclined her heart to Jehovah.

  The lights grew brighter, the shadows darkened. Esther nearly gasped. Was this what Kasia had told her about? The clear presence of the Lord, and the enemies held at bay? Was that warmth at the base of her neck the touch of an angel? And the emptiness that tried to suck the life from the room, that seemed to crouch behind Haman, was that what her friend had to battle every time she looked at him?

  The Spirit settled over her. The breath she drew in expanded her lungs, her shoulders seemed to grow and harden. And the man before her shrank into a shriveling shadow.

  “Him.” She held her arm out straight, level with Haman. Though it trembled a little, she felt no fear. No, only indignation, and fierce determination. “The adversary and enemy is Haman.”

  Haman sprang to his feet, face devoid of color. “My queen, I do not know what you mean. Your people—I do not even know who your people are.”

  Letting her arm lower, she raised her chin. “Perhaps you ought to have inquired before you sent out a proclamation of death against all the Jews.”

  “You are a Jewess?” Panic and disgust did battle across his countenance. The panic won. “Please, my queen. My king. I did n
ot know. I did not—”

  “Silence!” Xerxes surged to his feet, knocking over the table before him. “How dare you use my authority for such a grotesque task? After I trusted you with my kingdom, after I called you brother? I could . . .”

  He clenched a fist, took a step. But when Haman cowered, Xerxes only spat a curse and charged through the door to the gardens.

  Haman fell to his knees, weeping. “Please, my queen. Please, spare my life. Spare my family.”

  The darkness came off him in waves, a foul odor in her nostrils. How could anyone embrace it as he had? How could he not see that it did not fill him but rather left him a hollow shell? “You would have spared none of mine.”

  “Please!” He crawled over to her, gripped her feet in supplication.

  She fought the urge to recoil, to kick at him. His touch may be despicable, but it was only that of a defeated man.

  The darkness could not reach her.

  ~*~

  Xerxes sent an urn of flowers into the fountain and gripped his hair at the roots. Haman. What had that devil done? What had Xerxes allowed him to do? He would really sell the Jews to their deaths? All of them?

  Why? Why did he hate them so? Yes, he was an Agagite. Yes, centuries ago the Jews had all but destroyed his people. What did that have to do with now, with the people who made Susa flourish, who had prayed them through war and disaster?

  What did that have to do with his wife—his wives, apparently—and their families?

  He seethed to a halt at the bolt of realization. Haman had always disliked the Jews, but it had been of little import before he wed Kasia and took an interest in them for her sake. He had watered the seed of hatred as he poured favor upon her and hers.

  He should have paid attention. Should have realized it was not merely disdain. Why had he not listened to Kasia’s grumbles about that?

  Because he had been guilty—guilty of killing Masistes, Haman’s closest friend.

  It was his own fault. He had brought this upon them. And now he would have to figure out a way to save the Jews. To save Kasia, if she lived long enough to be saved.

  And Esther.

  He turned, stared at the window to her rooms. He still needed a few answers from Esther.

  He strode back through the gardens, back into her banquet, then came to a halt when he saw Haman across her lap and horror on her face. Familiar red tinged his vision. “Will he also assault the queen?”

  Haman jolted up, tear-streaked and shattered. Terror consumes his countenance—and well it should. Xerxes charged across the chamber and plowed a fist into his face, satisfied when the beast sprawled on the floor.

  One of Esther’s eunuchs stepped forward with a smirk. He pointed to the window that overlooked Susa. “Look, master. Even now in Haman’s house are gallows, fifty cubits high—he had them built for Mordecai.”

  He stared at the man he had called brother. Nothing but reviling filled him. He leaned down long enough to rip his signet from the wretch’s finger. “Hang him on it.”

  The servants smiled as they grabbed him and dragged him screaming from the room.

  When the racket died down, Xerxes turned to Esther. “And you. How can you call yourself my wife, my queen, yet hide who you are from me?”

  She folded her hands peacefully in her lap, as if nothing in the world could disturb her. And blast it if that peace did not try to curl into him too, to soothe the ragged edges of his soul.

  He pushed it away and folded his arms across his chest.

  Esther drew in an easy breath. “Had my heritage been known, I would not be your wife and queen.”

  “You wanted the crown so badly that you lied to get it? You, who I always thought above such ambitions?”

  Hurt flashed in her eyes, but the calm smothered it. “It had nothing to do with ambition, only with obeying the will of Jehovah. Do you think he did not know all along it would come to this? Haman would have executed his plan regardless of who your queen was. If it were not me, who then would have spoken to you?”

  He spun away, plunged a hand into his hair. Her questions did not bear considering—the answers were all too apparent. Had Esther not spoken, he would have remained in his cloud of oblivion until the guard arrived to hack Kasia to pieces.

  He shuddered and faced her again. “Even so. You could have told me at some point, after you were queen.”

  Her lips curved up. “My husband, if I were going to risk your wrath, it was going to be for a purpose.”

  He opened his mouth to rebut that, but movement in his periphery captured his attention. He turned—and his words died on his lips.

  Kasia gripped the post of the door. “If you are going to be angry, my love, be angry with me. I am as guilty of this deception as Esther is.”

  Xerxes could only stare.

  ~*~

  Kasia willed strength into her stiff limbs and motioned her servants to stay back. If she must face her husband on this, she would not do it leaning on Desma or Theron. Jehovah would be support enough.

  The screams had jarred her from her stupor, screams she knew well—Haman’s. The same screams that had sounded before the mountainside rushed at her in Sardis. And as they rent the air, the gentle shackles holding her down released.

  She had all but flown here on her unsteady legs.

  “Kasia.” Xerxes breathed it as if uncertain of what his eyes beheld.

  Unable to ignore the desperation in his voice, she took a step inside. Her knees protested, and she wobbled. In the next moment, her husband’s arms were around her.

  “My love.” His voice shook, as did the hand that stroked her hair. “I feared you would never wake again.”

  “As did I, at first. But it was the work of Jehovah, Xerxes. He held me protected in his embrace to spare me Haman’s scheme.”

  He shuddered and pulled her closer still. “To think I could have lost you to one of my own decrees . . .”

  She tilted her face to him for the brief, intense brush of his lips. “Jehovah had a plan in place.” She pulled away enough to look past him, to where Esther had taken to her feet. “I am proud of you, my sister.”

  Esther inclined her head. Humble, even in perfect confidence. “I did only what you would have done.”

  “You did what I could not. Had the Lord not held me immobile, Haman would have killed me and blamed it on the Jews to rouse the king’s anger against them.”

  Xerxes stiffened. “Impossible.”

  “He confessed it to me, that first day. I could hear, even if I could not respond. You have proven before how far you will go to avenge me.” She searched his gaze, praying he would finally believe her. “And he tried before. In Sardis. He is the one who pushed me from that wall, I am sure of it.”

  “I have no reason to doubt you now.” He sighed and led her over to Esther’s couch. “Sit before you fall.”

  She obliged. When Esther sat beside her, she gripped her friend’s hand.

  Xerxes eyed them warily. “So then. You knew all along she was a Jew.”

  Esther smiled. “We were neighbors. Best of friends.”

  “She was told I was dead. Neither of us knew what became of the other until she arrived here.”

  Each muscle of Xerxes’ face hardened. “And instead of letting me rejoice with you over reuniting with this dearest friend, you shut me out. You lied to me, both of you.”

  Esther’s fingers squeezed hers. Kasia drew in a long breath. “Yes. We did.”

  He leveled an accusing finger at her. “You—you swore you would never play at intrigue. But you manipulated me for your own purposes.”

  A dozen defenses sprang to her tongue—that he had told her to pick the next queen, and she had chosen wisely. That he had done far worse to her, and she had forgiven him. Every time, she had forgiven him.

  But if he were to forgive her, it could not be because he owed it to her.

  She bit back all but one truth. “Not for my own purposes, my love. For the Lord’s.”

>   “She only went along with what Mordecai and I decided.” Esther squared her shoulders and intercepted their husband’s gaze. Quiet strength pulsed from her.

  Xerxes frowned. “What does Mordecai have to do with this?”

  “He is my cousin—my guardian.”

  He turned his back on them, mumbling something Kasia could not make out as he paced the length of the room. When he stomped back, his face was set in a rare emotionless mask. “And you will not even apologize?”

  Esther lifted her chin. “I am sorry, my husband. Sorry this was necessary. Sorry I had to deceive you to assure the safety of my people. Sorry if it hurt you.”

  “But not sorry you did it.” He turned his gaze on Kasia. “And you?”

  Tears stung her eyes. “You have known all along I will obey Jehovah above you—even when that comes between us. But I hope you will forgive me. And Esther, especially—she made the decision before she knew you. I am the one who did it knowing full well how it would hurt you.”

  He blinked rapidly, drew in a hard breath.

  “Master,” Zethar said from the doorway, “Mordecai the Jew is here. Shall I show him in?”

  Xerxes muttered a mild oath. “Why not? It seems he played quite a role in this as well.”

  A second later, Mordecai entered. “I saw them drag Haman toward the gallows he—Kasia. You are well.” Relief saturated his tone, but no surprise.

  She offered a tight smile. “I imagine you prayed for me, as you always do. Thank you.”

  Her husband’s jaw ticked. “You are more concerned for her health than whether your daughter has been forgiven? It begs a question I have done my best to ignore all these years—why it is always our friend Mordecai that Jehovah asks to pray for Kasia?”

  Kasia drew in a deep breath.

  Mordecai smiled. Whatever his answer, he seemed at peace with it. “Perhaps because I love her. Or perhaps I love her so that I could pray her through these years with dedication. Either way, there is no need to be jealous—Jehovah also ordained that she be yours. I never held her heart.”