Hadassah

by Tommy Tenney

Hegai appeared beside my feet and looked up at me with a smile. “Are you all right, my dear?”

  I just nodded as gamely as I could.

  “We’re over halfway there,” he continued. “I know it’s a trek, but just know, you are looking exquisite. No royal approach has caused this much amazement in many days.”

  “I can’t tell if they’re watching me or ready to leap on me and tear my head off!” I replied, but I saw he had already returned to the front of the litter.

  We now approached the third set of walls. I inwardly prayed it would be the last, that its opening would reveal indoor dimness rather than a repeat of waning daylight and yet another courtyard. The cordon of guards surrounding the perimeter was a dozen deep and even more rigid and alert.

  Indeed, the feeling of increasing vigilance and coiled-up danger seemed to grow with every passing moment. I began to imagine what kind of man could live out his days at the epicenter of such awesome diligence and watchcare. How did he step out of bed in the morning without fearing that his tiniest gesture would set off the mobilization of regiments or the migration of thousands?

  Be quiet, I reminded my inner self. I focused back on the peaceful glow that had permeated my final hours at the harem. G-d, grant me peace, I asked, and indeed I began to feel the placid quiet return.

  The doors opened, and my last wish, too, was granted. I looked inside to the warm light of white marble rather than another expanse of orange and blue sky. Finally, an interior. We passed inside and my relief from the evening sun was immediate—coolness flowed over me. My eyes, while briefly blinded, soon widened blissfully at the reprieve. The sight slowly appearing before me was a hallway the height and breadth of a canyon, lined with slender pillars, indoor palms, and people by the hundreds. Men and women of every Palace variety had lined up beside our path to watch. There was a renewal of applause and cheering, but more polite this time, tinged with a definite air of obligation.

  I smiled warmly, although inside I was thinking of the King. I centered my thoughts on him with all the determination of a distance runner gritting through his last few strides.

  We continued along the awesome hallway for what seemed like another enormous distance—again, the span of one of those massive courtyards—then turned at a right angle and began a stretch so similar to the previous that I began to wonder if we had really turned at all. Doorway after doorway continued as far as I could see, each seeming to lead into offices—as I gazed into several, I saw rooms filled with frowning, intent generals and large tables of sand and stone, replicating battlefields and war strategies. This side of the Palace was surely in a war mode, I noted to myself. Even the hall’s many couches were lined with elegantly dressed officers—no rough soldiers here—nearly all of them flirting with some courtesan woman or other. Finally I stopped trying to meet the eyes of all those lining the way, as their sheer numbers threatened to shake my concentration.

  I began to wish I had merely closed my eyes at the beginning of this journey and taken a nap. But part of me knew that would not have been a very good idea.

  Hegai reappeared, his eyebrows arched. “Are you ready?”

  The question startled me, for a perverse voice had begun to whisper to me that we would never actually reach our destination. Yet I nodded yes and took another deep breath over my pounding heart.

  You’re here, I told myself. You’re at the end of the waiting, the preparation. You’re ready to go in, into the presence of the King.

  And then a cool assurance fell upon me, as sure as the air.

  We paused before another tall door, but this time we did so with a finality that told me indeed, the litter would go no farther. The conveyance began to descend to the floor, slowly, carefully. I took Hegai’s outstretched hand to pull me up and—I am still unsure whether it was the sudden rush of blood or the final realization of where I stood—a shudder and a thrill rushed through my body. A strange mixture of trepidation and utter confidence took hold of me. I wanted to run away and hide, but also storm the King’s room, all at the same time.

  I stepped away from the litter and stood facing the great doors, guarded on either side by two Immortals. Hegai turned to me, assessed my face with several quick darts of the eyes and reached out to rearrange two or three errant strands of hair.

  “Just remember,” he whispered. “He’ll be fortunate to choose you. He’ll be the one to be congratulated if he does—not you.”

  As he lowered his hands I grabbed them and squeezed them tightly. “Hegai, I do not know how to thank you,” I told him. “I am so grateful.”

  He frowned unexpectedly. “You can repay me by being a good and righteous Queen, should you win. And by being a wise advisor to His Majesty. He needs this.”

  Then the doors opened, as slow and ponderous as trees falling in the distance. Or at least it seemed they opened at a stately pace—perhaps my memory has slowed them out of reverence for the golden moments that followed.

  In a way, the goal of this seemingly endless journey seemed at first its most disappointing. All I saw was darkness—many, many cubits of it. Then my eyes focused on a pool of light seemingly far away, and a moment later I could make out a bed canopy as tall as my old home’s rooftop, surrounded by man-high torches.

  What I thought was another guard appeared from behind the door, his brow deeply furrowed. Hegai leaned in toward him. “This is Star of Susa, Master Memucan,” he whispered. “My personal favorite Queen candidate. For His Majesty’s company this evening.”

  “Is she weapons-clean?”

  “I saw her dressed myself, sir. Of course, yes.”

  “It is on your head,” incanted the other man. “As always.”

  Hegai nodded. “As always.”

  The royal Master of the Audiences, second most powerful man in the empire, glanced my way and nodded for me to proceed. He closed the door behind himself as he departed.

  I was alone with Xerxes. Alone with a man I had never met yet was about to know intimately.

  32

  Now, I am not sure how to describe the moments that came next, for my memory has traveled over these events so many times that the line between a wondrous memory and mere imagination or even hallucination has become blurred. I know for certain that I moved inside and took several steps forward. I know that my gaze settled upon the figure of a man standing at the edge of the ridiculously large canopy bed.

  Beyond that point, the accuracy of my descriptions remains open to question.

  I will tell you now, after all these years, that I have a strong memory of being drawn toward him by a longing that felt elemental, like a force of nature.

  As for his physical appearance, the importance for some reason seemed almost secondary. My eyes soon captured the image of a man so handsome and captivating that I began to wonder if he was actually a mirage created by my time in the sun. Either way, I did not care. The image consisted of a man in his early thirties with bronzed cheeks and eyes glittering at me over broad, masculine cheekbones. He possessed broad shoulders, the arms of a stone-cutter and the bulging leg muscles of a distance runner.

  But it was his face from which I could not glance away. He truly had the visage of a king—strong, fearless and endlessly intelligent. Eyes with such depth that I felt drawn as to a pool of clear water. They seemed to gleam more brightly as I approached, and I wondered if this was some response to my appearance or merely his usual appraisal of the candidates. I felt truly beautiful with the wrap clinging to my waist, the star medallion hanging from neck, my hair arrayed over my shoulders and behind me. (But, still, I wondered if I was beautiful enough. There is always room for doubt, I am afraid.)

  I reached up to unclasp the Kashmiri cloak, and it fell to pool about my feet on the marble floor.

  As I moved forward, I suddenly remembered the drunk who had advanced on him so recklessly at the banquet and lost his head. I risked the briefest of glances from side to side and saw none of the scabbard-carrying guards from before. We were truly al
one.

  I now stood at the edge of his shadow, near enough for our fingers to touch.

  “Good evening,” he said in a rough and weary voice. “You will forgive me, for I am very tired this evening. The rigors of the throne and all—but I have forgotten your name. Memucan told me a few minutes ago, but in my fatigue—”

  “Star, your Majesty.”

  “Ah, yes. Star of Susa. And that you are. You are most beautiful.” He frowned and glanced slightly downward at my neck. “Is that your only jewel, your only adornment?”

  “It is, your Majesty.” I felt my lips forming words as though the loftiest part of my brain had forged a direct link to my mouth and bypassed my conscious mind. “It is a near replica of a medallion I once had, my most prized possession in the world. My seventh birthday present from my father, who was killed immediately afterward. I was named for its shape. Star.”

  “Well, Star, some would call you foolish indeed. Every girl who preceded you had a keen eye for the riches she would take away from the Palace.”

  “I was taught, your Majesty, that when you visit the King, rather than expect a gift, you bring the gift yourself. And this—“ I reached up to my nape, detached the necklace, cradled the gem at its core and held it out toward him—“is all I have in the world.”

  “You are giving this to me? Why? I have everything.”

  “And now, sir, you have a reminder that I bring you my all. Not only my body,” I said with my head bowed, “but I give you my mind, your Majesty. My heart. All of me.” Words I had rehearsed but which felt as natural at this moment as if I had never phrased them before.

  He seemed to frown even more darkly at that, and for the briefest of seconds I wondered if I had miscalculated badly. Then he extended his hand and took the necklace, dangling it for a moment in the light, then clasped it in his hand.

  “Thank you, Star of Susa. You are a most eloquent giver of gifts. And a beautiful one. I have never received such a . . . cherished present before.”

  “It is only a symbol, your Majesty. The gift I most wish to give you is that of myself.”

  He smiled. “In due time, my dear.” Then his smile faded. “And why are you smiling?”

  “Sir?”

  “Why in the name of the gods are you smiling like that? Every other girl who has preceded you appeared on the verge of bursting into tears, regurgitating or both. What is it that causes you such cheer?”

  “It is you, your Majesty. I am so delighted to be in your presence. For a year I have bathed in your oils and perfumes until every pore of my skin emits a scent that you favor. I discovered your preferred fragrance and anointed myself with it just before coming here. I have prepared so long to come here and . . . bring you joy—and now I find I am the one feeling joy at being so close to you. May I tell you: you are most appealing, even beyond your royal stature? I want to know you. And . . .” My voice trailed off, overpowered by my emotions.

  I meant it, every word of it. His proximity felt like a cascade of honey down my shoulders, like an indulgence.

  I, little Hadassah from the backstreets of Susa, a little Jewish girl not even allowed to leave her house for years, the most socially deprived and maladroit girl in the city, was now enjoying the undivided attention of the ruler of the world. I was being allowed to partake of one moment of a royal life, though I did not yet know it was already destined to be chronicled in the annals of history. I had succeeded in venturing beyond thousands—no, tens of thousands—of bureaucrats and officials whose only function was to keep ordinary citizens far away from this place, from the vicinity of this man. Most of his subjects would consider it the event of a lifetime to come within four or five of these royal buffers to His Majesty. And there were physical barriers, as well—all those rings of fortress walls, each one thick enough to repel an army, each one defended by legions, concentrically arrayed to keep people away.

  Well, none of the ramparts or the terraces or the countless officials stood between me and the supreme ruler at this moment. I had made it past all of them. Every layer of insulation was gone, every intervening shield peeled away like the skins of an onion. It was he and I, only the air between us.

  “You want to know me?” he asked, his voice pulling me back to reality. “Or the King?”

  “All of you. The part that is King and the part that is a man. They fascinate me equally.”

  He smiled again—a smile of amazement, I must admit—and shook his head. Then I saw that his expression had changed. A tinge of emotion, of grief even, had stolen over his features.

  “I do not know why I admit this to you, a commoner. But I am not sure I know the difference between Xerxes the man and Xerxes the King any longer.”

  “Perhaps I can help you find it again.”

  I had spoken the words before considering that I was speaking to the ruler of millions like a mother might speak to a child. Yet I was gliding on pure instinct at that moment, and considerations of tact and etiquette had now served their purpose. Having reached his innermost presence, I felt emboldened. I could sense that destiny was in full command.

  And indeed, my reply seemed to find favor—no, far more than that, it seemed to touch something deep within him, for Xerxes held out a hand and touched my cheek with a wondrously tender look.

  “You are a remarkable woman, Star.” Then he raised my gift again in his other hand. “No one has spoken to me like this in a very long time.”

  “Well, how do your people speak to you?”

  He leaned back against the bed and glanced up at the faraway ceiling to form his answer. With surprising candor, he said, “Oh, you know. Two ways, mainly. First are those who want something from me. I can see the desire, the avarice, the ambition in their eyes from a parasang away. It has nothing to do with me but what I can get them. Money, position, revenge. The others are people who for some reason have cause to fear me. Subjects, servants, prisoners—I can see the fear, even the hate in their eyes. And on those occasions the knowledge that they do not see me but my position is actually a relief. A balm.”

  “Is there no one close enough to your stature to whom you can speak as a true friend, who can look at you and see a person?”

  “That’s what a queen is for.”

  I looked away and did not answer, for the opportunity to serve my own ends was too obvious to be exploited.

  “I see none of those pitfalls in your eyes, Star.” His voice called me back to face him again. “In fact, what I see there is so rare I am not sure what to call it.”

  “It is attraction, your Majesty. And delight. Forgive me—I am a girl of very little experience. I did not grow up in the company of many other people. I did not ever imagine that I might be considered to spend time in your company.”

  “I hope you spend a great deal of it. I am enjoying our conversation.”

  “And I.” Then my hand traveled upward. I asked him tremulously, “May I?”

  He nodded yes. My hand continued upward to touch his face. His skin felt hot and impossibly smooth. Yet just beneath it lay the hardness of bone and the tautness of lean flesh. I moved my fingers ever so slightly over his face, barely grazing his thick beard, his cheek. The feeling of tenderness seemed to flow freely between my fingers and his face.

  And then he did something I had never heard anyone describe him doing on a candidate’s first night. He took my hand, pulled it down and leaned forward to kiss the palm.

  Then his lips touched mine.

  33

  I must pull away from the moment, perhaps to take a breath, perhaps to ready myself to disclose what I am thinking about revealing to you. As you may know, all sorts of assumptions have been made through the years about what I did next with the King. I have had women of highest repute turn up their noses at me. I have had rabbis denounce me in their synagogues for the laws they think I betrayed. All sorts of moralists have had their say about me even though they were not there with me and Xerxes that night nor have they lived through the experiences t
hat led to that fateful encounter. They did not pray the prayers I raised to G-d for guidance, for rescue out of temptation, for a way to conduct myself in a manner that would please Him and exalt His name before others.

  YHWH is a righteous G-d, I know, a G-d of the law. But He is also a gracious G-d who sees our hearts, our intentions, who meets us in the very difficult and nuanced situations where our lives take us. And I know beyond a shadow of doubt, as history has borne out, that He used what actually did occur that night for His good, for His purposes.

  Why am I telling you these things? Because, my fellow candidate, I am going to tell you what I have told no one beyond Mordecai and my beloved Jesse-turned-Hathach in all the years since these events took place. It is a disclosure that might have saved me from a great deal of pain and condemnation had I made it years ago. I suppose I have been too stubborn, too ambivalent—and too offended—to offer this very tender fact up for public consumption.

  But you see, as truth would have it, there was no sexual intimacy between me and the King that night.

  It is not a matter of eternal importance to me, since I was fully prepared to become everything I could for him, with every womanly skill I possessed. And I also know that what we purpose in our hearts is as important as our actions. To begin with, I believed Mordecai when he told me that my being taken against my will and forced into the King’s bed on pain of death relieved me of culpability. Had I given myself to him, I would have felt utterly absolved of guilt. Furthermore, as I’ve already said, I believe G-d had brought about this divine appointment that night for a destiny that went far beyond a King’s desires.

  Something far more special and profound took place between us in those precious hours. We engaged in a conversation the likes of which he said he had never enjoyed in that room before. I can say it now, too, with no fear of vanity or pride.

  We fell in love.

  We lay on his bed—without embarrassment or discomfort on my part, without being overtaken by lust on his part—and talked of our lives—of things Hegai had never prepared me to converse about. Only G-d himself prepared me for that night. Xerxes unburdened himself of his struggles, of years’ worth of pain and grief. He talked about how it felt to come upon his father’s body pierced with arrows, lying upon the field of battle like some punctured bag of corn. He described the pain of seeing his own brothers, his childhood companions, treat him like an adversary the moment his crown had settled upon his head.