by Wolf, Joan
“He acted entirely contrary to my orders.” Ahasuerus was furious, and Cambyses could not blame him.
“I told him that, my lord. I told him that my orders were to scout the pass and not provoke the Mardians.” He added one more time, knowing it was futile since his career was in ashes, “I am sorry.”
Ahasuerus stood and picked up his hat from the elegant desk he had been sitting behind. His mouth set into a thin line as he said, “Thanks to this debacle, I have reason to strip Mardonius of his military rank. It is a great pity that so many men had to die for such a thing.”
“Yes, my lord.” Cambyses bowed his head.
“But you did bring me some shepherds?”
“Yes, my lord.” Cambyses’ head came up. “I brought you two handfuls of shepherds whose flocks regularly graze the mountains that flank the Royal Road. And I made certain they are not Mardians.”
There was a sharp line between Ahasuerus’ brows. “Mardians don’t need to graze sheep. They have found an easier way to earn their living.”
“They have grown unbelievably arrogant, my lord. In order to get my wounded back to Susa, I had to pay them one hundred golden archers.”
Ahasuerus’ eyes widened with shock. Then he said, “Well, now they will have to deal with me.”
At those words, spoken in that quiet tone, a chill ran up and down Cambyses’ spine. Suddenly, and for no logical reason, he was convinced that the king would do it. Even Darius had backed away from the Mardians, but Ahasuerus would beat them.
“I would have liked to go with you,” he said impulsively.
Thoughtful gray-green eyes regarded him for a long assessing minute. Then Ahasuerus said, “Why wouldn’t you go with me?”
Caught up in that gaze, Cambyses felt his breath begin to come faster. He said with difficulty, “I failed you, my lord. I did not think that you would trust me again.”
Ahasuerus looked at the hat in his hands. “Your mistake was in allowing my uncle to accompany you, not in the way you handled the rest of your mission.”
Cambyses swallowed. The palms of his hands were wet with sweat. The king asked, “Have you learned from that mistake, Cambyses?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Then I do not think we need to discuss this any longer.” Ahasuerus fitted the high cidaris onto his head. “You may return to your duties.”
“I . . .” Cambyses took a deep breath and tried again. “Thank you, my lord.”
Ahasuerus nodded. The young captain prostrated himself reverently before he backed out of the room.
The following day Ahasuerus went riding, and on his way back to the palace he paid an unannounced visit to his uncle’s home in Susa. Mardonius was in bed, but his servants admitted the king.
Ahasuerus stood in the shadows inside the door of his uncle’s room, trying to get his temper under control. This man had been his enemy ever since he was a child, and now Ahasuerus was going to destroy him. The next few minutes would feel very good.
Mardonius was propped up against his pillows but he looked terrible. When he saw the king in the door he said in a harsh voice, “Forgive me if I cannot greet you properly, my lord.”
Ahasuerus crossed the floor toward his uncle’s bed. The shutters were closed for warmth and the overhead lamp had been lit. It swung gently from its ceiling chain as the king passed under it. He reached Mardonius’ side and said, his voice unusually clipped, “Others were not so lucky. They died in the Persian Gates because of you.”
Mardonius’ face was bruised and drawn with pain, but his eyes flashed defiance. “You are wrong. It was the Mardians who killed them, not I.”
Utter contempt surged through Ahasuerus. He is like a worm under my foot, he thought. “What would it take, I wonder, for you to admit that something is your fault? For you to take responsibility for your own actions?”
“My life has not been as easy as yours, Nephew. My father worshipped you almost from the day that you were born. Nothing was too good for his royal grandson. He had no thought for me, his own son. Everything was for you, the beautiful Ahasuerus.”
Abruptly the heat of contempt and disgust left Ahasuerus, leaving him cool and in command of himself. “My own father certainly did not worship me. Darius thought far more highly of you, and of Xerxes, than he ever did of me. He appointed you his Grand Marshal, Mardonius. He gave you command of half his army. And you bungled it—as you have bungled everything you ever set your hand to.”
His uncle’s fists clenched on the bedcover and his face twisted with fury. “Darius was a greater soldier than you will ever be, and he trusted me. It is you who are the bungler, Ahasuerus. You fear taking on the Greeks. You have made Persia a laughingstock to the world.”
The hotter his uncle became, the colder Ahasuerus felt. “I have been reluctant to take on the Greeks with my father’s incompetent commanders in charge. However, I am about to get rid of the most incompetent of them all. You are dismissed from your position as Grand Marshal, Mardonius. In fact, you are dismissed from the army and the court as well.”
“What?” Mardonius stared incredulously. When he realized that Ahasuerus was serious, he screamed, “You can’t do this to me!”
Ahasuerus raised his brows. “I just have.”
“I have my own following,” Mardonius threatened. “They won’t stand for this.”
“Your following consists of Greek exiles who hate Athens and want to use Persia to get revenge. Your other cronies, Smerdis and Teresh, are dead. You have no following, Uncle.”
“If I leave court, I will take Xerxes with me,” Mardonius threatened.
“That will be his choice to make.”
Mardonius pounded his fist upon the bed. “Gods! Why did Darius name you? Why?”
“Because, despite his paternal faults, Darius was a king. Once you have recovered from your injuries, Uncle, you will remove yourself from Susa.”
Mardonius opened his mouth to protest again, looked into Ahasuerus’ eyes, and fell silent.
“Very wise,” Ahasuerus said, his words dropping like chunks of ice. He turned and walked to the door, paused for a moment, then pushed it open with the flat of his hand. Without a backward glance, the king walked out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Ahasuerus moved quickly once he had dealt with Mardonius. He interviewed the shepherds Cambyses had brought back to Susa and he spent long hours in discussion with his military commanders. Finally, after he was certain everything he wanted was in place, he gave orders for the Immortals, along with the Royal Guard, to prepare for a march up the mountain passes to the Persian Gates.
The king’s intense involvement with military matters left Haman feeling as if Ahasuerus had forgotten him. Haman was jealous of the time the king spent with Coes. He was jealous of the time the king spent with the queen. Most of all, he was jealous of the time the king spent with Mordecai, as the two of them went over the costs of the campaign. Haman tried a number of times to get an appointment to speak to the king, but Ahasuerus kept putting him off. When finally he was summoned to the king’s office, he was determined to make Ahasuerus understand that Haman was the person he could trust; that Haman was the person who was always looking out for the king’s interests; that it was Haman who was his truest friend.
Ahasuerus was sitting behind his elegant desk when Haman came in. He had some papers in front of him, which surprised Haman, as the king did not read. Coming closer, however, Haman saw that the papers contained drawings and numbers. Military matters, he supposed grimly.
He halted in front of the desk. Ahasuerus was dressed in riding clothes and he looked up to give Haman a brief smile. “I know you have been trying to see me, old friend, but I have been busy. We are leaving in two days for the mountains, and there is still much to be done. I do, however, have a few things I must discuss with you before I go.”
“And I have something to discuss with you, my lord,” Haman returned.
Ahasuerus folded his ringless hands in front of hi
m and said courteously, “I am listening.”
“What I wish to speak about is directly related to the campaign against the Mardians, my lord.”
A lifted eyebrow invited him to continue.
“I know you have been concerned with the military and financial aspects of the campaign, my lord, but I am concerned about the historical aspects.”
“Historical?” Ahasuerus echoed, clearly bewildered.
“Yes, my lord. A king’s reputation only survives through the concrete evidence he leaves behind him. I know the Persians are not as concerned about written records as are the Babylonians, but in this matter I think you must be attentive to the future.”
The king said impatiently, “Haman, what are you talking about?”
Haman drew himself up. “It is my duty as your Grand Vizier to inform you, my lord, that when a Persian king moves against his own subjects, it is necessary for him to issue a proclamation stating his reasons for taking such an action. That is the law, my lord. You cannot take legal action against the Mardians without doing this.”
Ahasuerus frowned. “I have never heard of such a law. My father certainly did not issue a proclamation every time he went to war!”
“This is the first time I have ever heard you cite Darius as a model, my lord,” Haman retorted.
A rueful smile flitted across Ahasuerus’ face. “That is so. But who would read such a proclamation, Haman? What is the point of it?”
Haman leaned forward, urgent to convince. “It will become part of the royal records, my lord. Believe me when I tell you that it is important. It will reflect on your reign and show to the generations to follow that you were a just and fair king.” He straightened. “I am only concerned for you in this, my lord. I would never want your excellent intentions to be misconstrued, not now, not ever.”
Ahasuerus waved a hand. “All right, all right. If you think it is so important, we will have a proclamation. You can write it yourself.”
“I will be happy to do so, my lord. What do you wish it to say?”
Ahasuerus thought for a moment. “Say that my reason for moving against the Mardians is to rid the empire of a pack of bloodsuckers. I will leave the exact wording up to you.”
Haman was hurt that Ahasuerus clearly wanted to get rid of him so he could return to military matters. He said stiffly, “Very well, my lord. I will draw it up and bring it to you tomorrow for your approval.”
“As to that . . .” Ahasuerus opened the top of an intricately carved wooden box that stood on the corner of his desk and lifted out a cylindrical object. Haman knew the object well. It was the Royal Seal, made of lapis lazuli and capped on both ends with gold foil. The picture on the seal itself showed Ahasuerus standing beside a chariot and shooting arrows at a lion, which reared up on his hind legs like a half-human demon. Two date palms framed the scene and in the sky between them appeared the symbol of Ahuramazda. The king’s name and title, “Ahasuerus, Great King,” were inscribed in Persian, Elamite, and Babylonian.
Ahasuerus said, “One of the reasons I wished to see you was to put my seal directly into your keeping. The business of the empire cannot simply grind to a halt while I am in the mountains. You know my mind better than anyone, Haman, and if there are decisions to be made, I know you will make them as I would wish you to.” He smiled. “Your first action in my name can be to affix my seal to this proclamation you want so badly.”
Haman’s heart almost burst with pride at this sign of Ahasuerus’ regard and trust. His own hand trembled as he received the precious seal from the king’s slender fingers.
“Th-thank you, my lord. I will pray for your safe return.”
“Thank you, Haman.”
There was a pause while Ahasuerus looked down at his desk. When he spoke again, his voice was brisk and businesslike. “There is one more thing I wish you to write down and sign with my seal.”
“Yes, my lord?”
“Write that should I not return from this campaign, I name Xerxes as my heir.”
Haman’s mouth dropped open. “Xerxes, my lord?”
Ahasuerus’ face was unreadable. “We must hope that he has grown up a little in the last few years.”
“But . . . what of the queen’s child?”
“I cannot name a baby to be Great King. It would be disastrous for the empire. Darius was able to put aside his personal affections and name the heir he thought would be best for the empire, and I must do the same. It has to be Xerxes.”
Haman stared at him in consternation.
Ahasuerus smiled. “Come, Haman, don’t look so dismal. I have every intention of returning to Susa. I am making this disposition only because it is my duty to cover all the contingencies. Now, give me your parting kiss and let me go. Coes is waiting for me in the stable yard.”
Haman approached the king and touched his mouth to the cool skin that stretched over Ahasuerus’ cheekbone. He began to withdraw, one pace, two paces, three paces away. At the door he said, “Do not worry, my lord. I will see to your commissions and safeguard your empire.”
Ahasuerus smiled. “I know you will, my friend.”
In the hallway outside, waiting his turn to see the king, was Mordecai. Haman could feel the blood draining from his face as he beheld the Jew. His fists clenched involuntarily, but Mordecai walked past him as if he were invisible and disappeared into Ahasuerus’ office.
All of Haman’s satisfaction fled as the door closed behind the Jew. As he walked down the corridor he was not thinking that the king had made him Grand Vizier and entrusted him with the Royal Seal; he was not thinking that his was the highest position in the land after the king himself, or that while Ahasuerus was on campaign he, Haman, would be the virtual Great King of Persia. In truth, Haman was not interested in the kind of power that drew most men.
What Haman wanted was quite simple: he wanted to be the most important person in Ahasuerus’ life. Political power was only important to him as a sign of the king’s regard; it meant nothing otherwise. Stewing in Haman’s mind was the fear that his rival Mordecai was trying to insinuate himself into Ahasuerus’ affections and that he might be succeeding.
All these years I have stood by him, Haman fumed. I was his friend in Babylon when he was an untried youngster. I have always looked out for his interests, putting them above my own. And how does he repay me? He gives his trust and friendship to a Jew!
As he continued to walk down the corridor, Haman’s whole body shook as if he had been infected by a fatal fever.
Like everyone else in the palace, Esther had been shocked to learn about the men who had been cut to pieces by the Mardians, and she fully understood Ahasuerus’ fury with Mardonius, although it frightened her a little. With her he was always so different.
If only she could rid herself of the dread that Ahasuerus would find out who she was! Yes, he loved her, but he thought that the person he loved was the daughter of a Babylonian mother, not a Jew. The image of Vashti was hard to dismiss from her mind. Ahasuerus was capable of great gentleness, but in the end, he was a king. He would not take kindly to being duped.
Then she learned that Ahasuerus was planning to lead the next attack against the Mardians himself and she panicked. Surely his presence was not necessary. He had thousands and thousands of soldiers; why could they not do the job without him? Why couldn’t he send Coes? Why did he have to go himself?
When she poured all of these questions out to him, he patted her arm soothingly and said she was not to worry. He was not Mardonius and he would certainly not throw away his men by leading them into an impossible situation. They would be safe, and he would be safe, and she was not to worry. Then he buried himself in preparations for the coming campaign, evidently feeling that there was nothing more to be said on the topic of any possible danger to his life.
But Esther had a terrifying fear that God might take Ahasuerus from her to punish her for deserting her religion. She had been praying less and less of late. It was hard to pray; praying reminded h
er of her duplicity, and she was trying not to think about that. She was doing her best to live in the present, where she was happy. Thoughts of the future made her anxious and fearful. It was better not to let her mind go that way.
But Esther knew her scripture and she knew of the numerous instances where God had wreaked punishment on those who fell away from His worship. He had caused entire cities to be destroyed in some cases. One man would be as nothing to Him.
What if such punishment was about to fall on her and her innocent husband?
He had stopped coming to her bed because he was always so late he said he didn’t want to disturb her. But her sleep was restless and her dreams showed her nightmare images of Ahasuerus lying dead on the cold mountainside. She would lie in her solitary bed, her heart crying out, I cannot live without you, Ahasuerus. I cannot. I cannot.
The evening before the army was departing, Ahasuerus sent her a message saying he would come to her that night. Esther waited in her bedroom, trying to summon up her courage. I am a soldier’s daughter, she thought. I must be brave. Ahasuerus expects that of me. I cannot send him away with the image of a weeping wife in his mind.
The charcoal in the brazier had burned down and the room was cold when finally the bedroom door opened and Ahasuerus came in. Esther was sitting up in the canopied bed, with the covers pulled up to her chin, and she did not speak as she watched him close the door quietly behind him.
He said, “I was afraid you might have gone to sleep. I spent more time than I had planned with Coes.”
She looked at him mutely.
He crossed the floor, sat on the bed next to her, and picked up her hand. “There is something I must tell you, my love. I want you to hear this from me and not from someone else.”
Esther’s heart began to hammer. The skin had tightened over his cheekbones the way it always did when he was worried. “What is it?” she whispered.
“I have left instructions with Haman that, in the event of my death, Xerxes is my heir.”
The bottom dropped out of Esther’s stomach at those words. He has named his heir. He thinks he is going to die.