Chosen

by Ginger Garrett

  There was an inscription along the main entrance of the harem. The first portion was easy to read from where I stood:

  A great god is Ahura Mazda,[2]

  who created this most excellent place,

  who created happiness for man,

  who set wisdom and capability down upon King Xerxes.

  Enter and be blessed.

  I wanted at this moment only to have Mordecai near, to see his own face taking this all in. It was too much for me to believe, and see, alone.

  A warm hand found mine. My young traveling companion had stopped weeping now and was as overwhelmed as I. New guards whom we had not seen before approached the caravan. They had armor I had never seen, shields as big as my bed, and spears that could have run a bull through. One by one these guards led the girls out and down the path to the courtyard of the palace. The guards began assembling us according to province. Several other caravans had recently unloaded. We could see those girls peering from inside the palace, or moving inside as they cast backward glances to see us. Many of the girls, I could see, carried heavy bags of clothes, perfumes, and adornments. Many had brought their household gods with them. It was clear that they would not waste this opportunity. I wondered what it must have been like to have a mother prepare you for this moment. I wondered about my own mother. Would she have fixed my hair and patted my cheek as we waited for the guards that day, or would she have seen to it that my marriage to Cyrus was secured quickly? I swallowed back my envy and sadness as the guards showed me to my place in line.

  Hours had passed since I had been stolen from my home. Cyrus must know by now. What had he done when he heard? In my mind I placed him coming over the wall, rescuing me at once. I lifted my robe at the edges so I could run at any moment. I willed myself to take in all these sights so that I might tell them to our children one day, the sole glance I had of the mad palace before Cyrus returned and I was safe again. I had saved him on the mountain; he would do no less for me here.

  I was placed between two girls who had come well prepared. Their hair was coiled on the tops of their heads, their breath smelled of cloves, and even in the moonlight I could tell they had been carefully attended to that morning; their skin shone with oils underneath their lucent garments. I could also feel the girls’ eyes taking me in and snickering. My heartbroken friend from the caravan, Yoshtya, was several rows in front of me, and she turned to meet my eyes. She had a mother, but a poor one. The girls were laughing at her, too. I tried to give her a smile.

  The girl on my left spoke first: “What were you doing when you were called?”

  It sounded more like a joke than a question.

  The second girl spoke. “It’s clear she wasn’t at her grooming table!”

  They stifled their giggles.

  I heard many other girls talking too.

  “Where are you from?”

  “Did your family get a good bride price?”

  “What have you brought?”

  “Will the king choose tonight?”

  As the stories circulated, and the boasting grew louder, the girls on either side of me seemed more aggrieved to be standing next to such an unadorned offering.

  Finally one could hold her tongue no more: “This one didn’t even bathe or dress for today! She thinks the king wants a shrew for a wife!” Her words were loud and cold.

  “I am hoping to be sent home. I clearly do not belong here with you,” I replied carefully.

  Several girls rolled their eyes as they laughed, catching the attention of the guards, who drew nearer.

  Then he appeared from inside the palace.

  His limbs were dark, like the dark pines of the mountains. He moved with the grace of the sea, clothed in magnificent robes with sashes of linen and rings of gold. And his face—not unlike, perhaps, the faces I had seen in the market, but strangely radiant, as if his great wealth resided in his heart and not just in this palace. As he took a step down into the courtyard, I fell to my knees in humble respect. Never had I seen such a man or such a place. Perhaps I would still be returned home, but I prayed suddenly now to find favor and live in peace, even from afar, with this great man. I prayed he would forgive easily. I was not prepared. I was not as these other beauties in his presence.

  I could hear the girls on either side of me stifling another giggle. I clenched my eyes shut. Had the king spied my shabby robe and loose hair?

  Heavy, sure footsteps quieted the noise. “Why do you laugh?” A deep voice slid quietly between us.

  The girl on my left answered first. “She thinks you are the king.” Several girls laughed out loud. My heart raced as confusion rose to meet my fear, but I could not look up.

  “And why should I not be?” His reply stung the girls into silence.

  I felt a hand on my shoulder and found the courage to look up. “I am sorry,” I stammered, feeling my nervous words tumble out now. “I’ve never … I thought you were the king.” I swallowed once. “Please be honored by my mistake and forgive your servant.”

  He smiled easily. “I am Hagai, and in charge of this harem palace. What is your name, child?”

  “I am called Esther.”

  Hagai studied me, and again I grew afraid. “Why have you come in these clothes? Why did you make no attempt to please the king?” he asked.

  “I should not have been chosen,” I answered. “I am only an orphan who tends lambs and roses and sells my goods in the market. I am not wanted as a bride in my own village; how then could I be chosen by the king?” My heart was raw, hearing this truth aloud. If the girls had reason to laugh before, now their torment would be endless. It would be foolish to tell anyone of Cyrus, to alert them for the one surely coming soon.

  Hagai took my hands in his, turning them over. My palms bore the evidence of carrying the rough wooden pails for miles every day, and from grinding my wheat and barley into flour to cook over the hot stones. Next, he ran his fingers through my hair, rubbing sections of it between two fingers. He traced the outline of my face, turning my cheeks in each direction with his wrist. Then he leaned forward to speak privately. “Have you any defects, child?”

  I shook my head no.

  “Have you ever sold yourself to a man?”

  My eyebrows shot up in surprise; that was answer enough for him. He looked at my robe’s bosom now, and as I grew afraid and my cheeks again flushed with shame, he lifted out the scrolls I had hidden.

  “What are these?” he asked. “Surely an orphan cannot read or write.”

  “But I can, gracious lord!” I replied in earnest, for I did not want him to keep the scrolls. “I was taken in by a cousin, and he has spent long hours teaching me this art. It has brought me consolation on many nights, and with your permission, lord, it will again be my comfort.” I tentatively held out my hand to him.

  He spun on his heel and barked a command: “Take her to the Chamber of Pearls. Assign Ashtari to her, and six more of our best handmaidens.” He turned once more to me and smiled. “Let us see the flower that will bloom under our care.” And, placing the scrolls back inside my robes, he nudged me toward the guards who were coming to escort me.

  Hagai turned now to address all the girls assembled. “You have been brought tonight to the harem of the great King Xerxes. My name is Hagai, and I am your father now, your one source of sustenance and advancement.” (Here he eyed the taunting girls plainly.) “Tomorrow will mark your first day in this new world. You will each be given one year of beauty treatments: six months of cleansing and softening of the skin, and six months of cosmetics and adornments. At the end of your time here, you will be led to King Xerxes for his good pleasure. You will take only what you have learned here, plus one gift to offer for his good graces, and you will have only one night to please him. One of you will, perhaps, be chosen as the new queen to rule over us all. I bid you to think
on these things, and as my servants escort you to your chambers, I bid you good night.”

  I was led, stunned, past all the girls, up the marble stairs into the harem palace. As I passed my little traveling companion, she smiled broadly at me. My knees grew weaker with every step, for deeper inside the harem were more riches. Now I knew why the outside world had seemed so poor: Surely everything of wealth had been brought here. I was accustomed to walking barefoot over the hot-caked sand to fetch our water; here every step was greeted by a cool mosaic of precious stones and pearls, and water flowed from a waterfall large enough to bathe in. Several girls lounged in its mists as servants stood close by, fanning them. Wild thoughts surged through my head. I wanted to scrape up the floor and run out there. Mordecai and I could be free with the riches of just the floor. Mordecai could buy a wife, and I would have a dowry.

  “Ashtari!” my guide called out. “Your newest one has arrived!”

  As we wound up a marble staircase that seemed to ascend to heaven itself, a silk curtain parted slowly and the most beautiful woman I had ever seen glided out to meet us. Her hair was wrapped in precious jewels that seemed to cascade down her body, resting on her neck, fingers, waist, and even her toes. Her lips were rouged to a smoky red and a stroke of black kohl gave her the gaze of a tiger. She smiled softly at me and dismissed the guard.

  Silently, she led me inside by the hand and motioned for me to sit. The couch she gestured to was gold, with bull heads carved on each end, scarlet linen pillows tied with blue cords, and bells along the edge of the covering that made a soft music when I sat. The floor seemed to be made out of one endless pearl, little arcs of color washing across it as the light from a hole in the ceiling filtered down. There were hanging plants of all kinds, some with fruits and some with small flowers dripping with nectar. There was a bed covered in tapestries and gold basins filled with water and floating blossoms. Along the back wall were jeweled jars of all types and fashions. The staircase that led up to this room continued on past us to somewhere overhead.

  “My name is Ashtari. You will be served by me, and the six maids I have chosen. While you remain in this harem, you are under my care. Until you understand our world here, I would ask you to give yourself over to my counsel completely. Do not talk to anyone other than your servants and Hagai.” She looked over the balcony toward the floor of the harem. “There are women down there who have set themselves against you.”

  “Me?” I asked.

  Ashtari smiled. “Let us begin.”

  She clapped her hands and six women appeared from just beyond a silk curtain across the room. They nodded at me with careful smiles and stood behind Ashtari, who took a seat on a gilded chair with crystal feet, neatly tucking her feet under her body.

  She motioned me to the room’s center. “Please disrobe.”

  They all stood there, staring. Blood rushed to my face. I stood for a moment, hoping I had not heard this command correctly. But Ashtari’s cool gaze, and that of the waiting servants, told me I must obey. My hands found the fastened cord on my worn garments, and I began to remove my robes. (My clothes were soiled, yet had been so serviceable for the lambs and hot fires at home. I could not be glad for them now.) I felt only shame, standing bare before these creatures of comfort and elegance.

  “Turn please,” Ashtari commanded gently. I could hear them whispering, one to another, and Ashtari giving careful directions. Oh, the whispers in this place! Suddenly I wanted nothing more than to turn and run home. For there, although nothing was mine, I was free. Here, wealth was all around me, but I was a prisoner.

  When I had spun slowly for their inspection, the smallest handmaiden took me by the hand and led me, still bare, up the stairs. I felt the eyes of the girls on the main harem floor below. I was so grateful to be unable to hear their whispers, too. They hated me already, and here I was, naked before their stabbing eyes. As I climbed, away from the harem and the whispers and vengeful glances, I could see now that the stairs opened to the roof of the harem. The roof was itself a garden, with a large pool to one side. The girls motioned me in, and to sit, and began pouring the water over my hair and shoulders, squeezing fruits and their juices into my hair and rubbing the scent in vigorously. With a porous stone they rubbed at the rough skin of my hands and feet. I took a deep breath now, and let the water do its healing work on my exhausted body. My mind was scattered in so many directions, I did not even try to pull in the pieces. I longed to be alone and to sleep this nightmare away.

  Ashtari came and stood by the side of the bath. “After the girls dress you, they will return you to your quarters. You will be fed, and then sleep. Tomorrow our work must begin in earnest.” (And it happened as she said. Perhaps everything here does—I will have to learn more about my exotic jailer.)

  But I was washed and, mercifully, robed, and led back down to my chambers. A low table had been brought in, and although there were steaming dishes set forth, I could not tell what was inside. I sank into a floor cushion and a girl came forward to serve me. I motioned her away.

  “I know how to eat,” I told her.

  She looked confused.

  “Should you join me?” I asked.

  Now she looked stricken. “I am to serve you,” she insisted.

  When I shook my head no and began lifting the lid from the dishes, she huffed in exasperation and fled downstairs. I was, at last, alone, even if I would have to explain my behavior to Ashtari later. Hunger tore at my stomach, and the relief of being alone and this dreadful day being done made me giddy at the prospect of being left alone with a platter of the king’s fare.

  I lifted the lid on the deep, etched silver bowl. My nose recoiled before my mind could decipher the smell. The soup was a thick green sludge, with waxy fat beans floating like dead fish in the river, and an odor to match. I closed the lid. The next dish proved happier, for it was rice. This rice had a new sort of spice sprinkled on it, but it was soft, and palatable, and familiar. The largest dish I saved for last—a tremendous gold plate, with foreign writing all along the edges, covered by a dome of gold inlaid with a band of silver. I stared at it a moment, deciding if it held friend or foe, and lifted the lid. It was a shank of lamb, rubbed with spices and roasted with lemons and onions. How could something make me so happy and so forlorn at the same time? Lamb was what I sold in the market, for feasts and celebrations, and here I was, alone, a prisoner whose very cell was coveted by hundreds of girls. I had never tasted lamb, the price even of my own being too dear. Mordecai and I had eaten only goat and fish. “G-d bless the hands that prepared this dish,” I whispered, “and forgive me for eating it.” It was delicious. I mashed the tomatoes into the rice, and gnawed at the lamb bone. I would not think of home tonight. I could not and still keep my appetite. I had but a moment’s strength from the service of the girls and my warm bath. To think of home, of Cyrus, would leave me too weak to think of an escape.

  I looked round the room once more, my eyes no longer shy. Along the wall that held the jeweled jars was a mural etched in gold, with a braid of bronze running along the bottom. The mural told the story of the ancient kings who had held sway over this palace. Their dead eyes watched me eat. Who was this king who now controlled all of this wealth? Why did he want so many girls? My people married once, for life. What could this king want with each of us that he could not find in one woman?

  A noise behind me caught my ear, and I turned to see Ashtari coming up the stairs. She carried a small platter of steaming tea, with fruits and what looked like bits of hardened honey. Another servant, the one who had grown so aggrieved with my behavior at dinner, followed behind her. The servant cast a hopeless glance at me as she cleared my table and left. Ashtari sat opposite me, with her tray between us. Silently, she poured us each a cup of tea. I accepted mine. She held my gaze as she put one of the hardened bits of honey into her mouth, holding it between her teeth as she sipped a long draught of t
he hot tea. I did the same. It was indeed like honey, only sweeter. The bitter tea drawn through it became like a tonic to me. Once again, I found my shoulders dropping and deep breaths finding their way out of my lungs.

  “Is it what you expected?” Ashtari broke the silence between us.

  “Nothing is what I expected. I wanted only to remain at home. How is it a life can change from one sunset to the next, in such terrible, unforeseen ways?” I could not reveal myself as a Jew, or as a girl already pledged in love, but I would not hide the truth.

  Ashtari’s expression did not change. “You are not the first to be brought here unhappy, and you will not be the last. It is not for us to choose our days.”

  We sipped our tea in silence then.

  Below us I could see girls moving about, as I peered through the ornate ledge near the staircase. The girls were of all nations, and beautiful beyond description. Some wore such immodest outfits! Only mere belts of coins that held loosely draped fabric over their most secret places, and thin scarves covering their breasts as well. Some wore thickly woven brocaded jackets and flowing black pants that shimmered against the jeweled floor. Some wore their hair loose; others had it sculpted in the most marvelous ways on top of their heads. But one woman, moving slowly through them, surely ruled them all. Alongside her walked a white tiger, held to her by a heavy gold chain. She was a dark beauty with straight black hair falling to her waist and a robe of white cinched at her waist with another gold rope. Other girls moved quickly out of her way. As if she could feel my eyes, this woman stopped and stared toward me in my haven above them all. She glared at me and made a series of small, delicate signs with her hands. I didn’t think they were good.

  Ashtari caught my expression and looked over the ledge. She hissed something in another tongue I did not recognize to this woman, who continued her walk to another room in the palace.