“I know—and that is why I’ve come to you. I know you’ll think of something. Perhaps henna, to turn it red as fire?”
“And perhaps not.” What Queen Mother Amestris would do if Vashti dyed her empire-famed hair even I did not wish to contemplate.
Vashti frowned … and suddenly twirled around me again, stopped to grasp my hands as she smiled gleefully. “Oh, I know, Hegai! I know! I won’t hide my hair. All the other dancers will dye their hair to match mine.”
She stared at me expectantly, like a kitten entranced by a butterfly. My heart seemed to fall, a cold stone. There would be no stopping this outrageous trick now—not with the king complicit and Vashti herself checkmating my objections. “It will be difficult, my queen.” But not impossible.
“You’ll find a way to achieve it, I know you will. You are so clever!”
Slowly, I said, “Not so clever as you, my queen.”
She was right; her scheme would work. Nothing would turn their hair the pure pale moonlight of Vashti’s, but her dancers would perform before men who had been drinking all evening, would move constantly under the shifting light of torches and lamps. Powdered with gold dust and covered with veils of sheer glittering silver, all the dancers would seem to have queen’s hair—at least for one night.
Delight shone in Vashti’s eyes. “Clever? Do you truly think so?”
I nodded, afraid to do more. Afraid that if I so much as touched my fingertips to her cheek I would not be able to stop with chaste caresses.
She flung her arms around me and kissed my cheek, then danced around me, chanting, “Wise and clever, Hegai is most wise and clever,” until I could not resist laughing. Once she had made me laugh, she stopped and grasped my hands.
“And I, too, have a cunning thought, Hegai. Varkha shall be one of my dancers! There, am I not almost as wise and clever as you?” Vashti rubbed my hands against her cheek, then released me and began twirling about me once again. “Wise and clever, you and I are wise and clever!” she sang as she danced.
I looked down at my hands, still warm from her touch. Wise and clever—But neither wise nor clever enough to rule my mind or my heart. I could only do my best to keep my beloved happy.
And when Vashti won her wager with Ahasuerus, she would be delighted with me again, and hug me and kiss my cheek.
Her arms holding me tight. Her lips warm against my cheek. Only for a moment, but that moment would be enough.
It will have to be enough. It is not only Varkha who desires what he can never have.
* * *
The ill-starred jest began well enough. Halfway through King Ahasuerus’s banquet for the chiefest princes of the realm, a dozen dancers clad in gauzy gold-and-silver garments whirled in, bells chiming. No, not twelve: thirteen. The thirteenth was Vashti.
One of the dancers swayed forward, bowed deeply before the king. “Great king, one of us is a fit mate for you. Choose, great king. Choose your queen.” Without pause, she spun back among the other dancers.
The music rose and fell, the dancers curved and turned—and the guests loudly guessed that each dancer in turn was the queen. I stood close by the king’s chair, listening to the bawdy comments of his guests, who were dazzled by the swaying, spinning figures. Ahasuerus himself seemed amazed. He stared intently at the dancers, his gaze darting over the veiled faces. He leaned forward as Varkha curved and twirled before him. For a moment I thought Ahasuerus would raise his scepter, but then he sat back again and I saw him frown.
He does not recognize her. He cannot choose her from the others. I could not imagine how he could not find Vashti among the dancers. But Ahasuerus had watched Vashti swirl past him a dozen times and not known his own wife.
The music slowed; obeying the drumbeat, the dancers swayed before the king like white poppies in a gentle wind. “Very clever,” Ahasuerus said, “but I am not deceived by a clever trick.” He rose to his feet and pointed the scepter to his choice. The dancer came forward, bowed, and touched the tip of the golden scepter. Then the dancer lifted the silver veil.
It was Varkha.
That was the last banquet that King Ahasuerus permitted Queen Vashti to attend in any guise. “She is the queen,” he told me after the dancers had swirled out again, taking Vashti and her laughter with them. “It is not meet or proper that the queen attend men’s banquets, or be seen by men’s eyes. You are the Chief Eunuch, Hegai—you are in charge of the queen. Tell her she must behave like a queen. Now go.”
I bowed very low. “As the King of Kings commands,” I said, and went away before he thought of any more commands he wished to add. Telling this one to Vashti was going to be bad enough.
VASHTI
The year that I had been Queen of Queens for half my life, Ahasuerus decided to demonstrate his power and his generosity by giving a feast that would last a full seven days. All the princes would be invited, and the great warriors, and every manner of man in all the empire.
And I did not see why I, too, should not attend. I had spent the last hour first asking, then cajoling, and now begging, Ahasuerus to let me attend his great feast. For once, he had steadfastly denied me, something I was not accustomed to. “No,” was not a word I often heard.
“But Ahasuerus, I can borrow some of your royal robes. We’ll fool everyone again. I’ll be a prince—I’ll be the prince of—of Cherkessia!” For a heartbeat I thought I’d won, and then Ahasuerus sighed, and shook his head again.
“Oh, Vashti,” he said, “don’t be silly.”
* * *
My husband’s refusal to permit me to attend his great feast incensed me. Every time I remembered his rebuke, my irritation grew. How dare he speak to me so? Had he not once been as eager as I to deceive the courtiers, to create jests, to amuse ourselves at their expense? I frowned; tried to remember when Ahasuerus had last laughed with me, eager to fool the court. When he wagered on my ability to deceive him as a dancer—so long ago as that—?
“Vashti, don’t be silly…”
Those few words explain why I decided to hold a feast of my own, for the wives and daughters of the king’s guests. If the King of Kings could give a great banquet for his half of the world, the Queen of Queens could do as much for her portion of the empire. Once my anger at Ahasuerus faded, the idea of my own feast became more and more pleasing.
Of course there had been queen’s feasts before, but those had been small, intimate gatherings. This feast of mine would be on the same grand scale as the king’s. Everything the king’s feast had, the queen’s would have also. And I would have new garments for the feast—and a new crown. I ordered Hegai to oversee the creation of the crown, telling him I wished it to be the most beautiful adornment ever created. Then I went running down to the kitchens to badger the cooks into producing the newest, most costly, most intriguing dishes ever invented.
When I told Amestris—although of course she knew already, having been informed the moment I spoke the words that set preparations for the feast into motion—she smiled, and approved. And so did Ahasuerus. He ordered that whatsoever I desired for my own banquet should be given me.
* * *
Cloth of gold and silver draped my banqueting hall; I ordered the rarest wines and most precious spices to give savor to the delicacies that would be served. And I demanded a fountain whose water would be scented with attar of roses.
Seven outfits were sewn for me, one for each night of the feast. Each night’s garment was a different color, adorned with different gems. I was pleased with this notion. But nothing pleased me so much as the new crown that Hegai created for me.
Hegai carried the crown to me upon a cushion of silk the deep blue of a full-moon midnight. “Here is your Star Crown, O Queen of Stars. Does it please you?”
I stared, dazzled by perfection. A broad circlet of ruddy gold, etched with the symbols of the heavens about the band. Pure rock crystal formed tiny stars. That was all—but it was so beautiful my breath caught in my throat and my eyes glistened.
&
nbsp; “Oh, Hegai.” That was all I could say, but that seemed to be enough. Hegai smiled.
“Put it on, little queen. I wish to see its stars shining against your hair.”
Carefully, I took my new crown into my own hands and set it upon my head. It weighed oddly heavy; I ignored the sensation and let Hegai lead me to his own apartments to gaze upon myself in his tall silver mirror. When I looked into my reflection in the shining silver, I saw that I had been right.
The Star Crown was perfect.
* * *
Had Amestris been there, matters would have fallen out differently.
But that last night, Amestris lay ill upon her bed. Very ill, so that the word poison slipped from some lips. I was sorry she suffered, but wondered if she had indulged too greatly in the rich foods and wines that had been set before her since my feast began. I sent Hegai to tend her, and forgot the matter as my handmaidens dressed me. So neither Queen Mother Amestris nor Chief Eunuch Hegai was by my side that fateful night.
This was not by chance, of course. As I later learned, the Seven Princes had dared greatly, and paid enough in gold darics for one of Amestris’s kitchen maids to add a drop of poison to her food. A drop, to make Amestris ill—although had it killed her, I doubt the Seven Princes would have mourned. Without the Queen Mother at my side, the Seven counted on my own folly to aid their plan. And they were right.
* * *
For the seventh and last night of my feast, I wore a gown of cloth woven so thick with gold thread I glittered like a new-lit torch. To display what the world considered my greatest glory, my hair, I had ordered it combed out and left free. The command had scandalized my servants, but the widened eyes as my guests gazed upon my hair proved I had chosen rightly. Over the past days, the women had become accustomed to my gowns, my gems, even my new star-bright crown.
Tonight my guests saw me as the most beautiful Queen of Queens.
As I settled myself into place upon my cushions, I was greatly pleased with myself. For a heartbeat, I wondered what my grandmother Ishvari would think of me now—a thought I hastily pushed away.
* * *
It happened thusly, or it did not.
This is truth—or it is not.
The great king over all the lands between the river Sindhu and the Western Sea, from Cush to Colchis, invited all the empire to a feast worthy of his greatness. All the high princes attended this great feast, and all the governors of the one hundred and twenty-seven provinces. All the rich merchants came, and all the far-traveling traders. All the commanders of the army sat at the tables beside the noble lords of the land. All men were welcome at the king’s feast.
A pleasant exaggeration, of course. It is true that during the feast, sweet cakes and wine and beer were handed out at the city gates to all who held out their hands for them. But only the nobles, and the wealthy, and the highest officers received invitations to the palace feast, to sit in the presence of the King of Kings.
Tyrian purple linen curtained the great courtyard; cords of purple and gold tied the curtains to silver rings set in marble columns. Each man reclined upon blue and yellow cushions on a couch of silver. Each man was given a goblet of pure heavy gold; each goblet different. And each man had a servant at his side to keep his vessel filled with as much wine as he cared to drink.
Each man kept his wine-goblet, too. Amestris was livid when she learned that; she counted costs. Still, the king created a magnificent setting, stinting on nothing. Including the wine.
And the great king smiled upon all his assembled guests, and commanded them to drink only as they willed. No man was to be constrained to drink as the king did.
Since a custom old when the land was young demanded that men drink each time the king did, this command was a thoughtful act. It was the last thoughtful act committed the seventh evening of the king’s great feast.
The feast began at sunset, and continued for seven days and seven nights. Each man ate and drank as pleased him. And the assembled princes and nobles and commanders and merchants drank to the great king. Often and often they drank, and the great king smiled upon them. But the great king himself drank only sparingly of the royal wine.
And on the seventh night, as the moon rose high, the great king drank to his loyal guests.
A mistake; Ahasuerus had a poor head for wine. But the feast had been long and the night grew late, and he longed to rest. Weary, he drank deep of the royal wine each time his guests loudly praised the king’s many virtues. And each time, one of the Seven Princes urged Ahasuerus to drink more, and more still.
The great king’s guests vied to praise him most highly. The princes extolled his power, his sway over the wide world. The governors of the one hundred and twenty-seven provinces commended his justice. The commanders acclaimed his courage. The merchants applauded his riches. “Surely the great king is the sum of all virtues, and the possessor of all that is best in all the world.”
“I possess everything worth possessing. I am King of Kings, owner of all the world desires.” And King Ahasuerus raised his goblet, of the heaviest gold set all about with pure crystal and sapphires, and drank deep of the royal wine.
“The most precious gems,” someone shouted. “Drink to the king!”
“The most learned mages. Drink to the king!”
“The most valiant soldiers. Drink to the king!”
Ahasuerus drank too, acknowledging their praise. “Great king,” his chamberlain murmured, “the moon nears zenith. Perhaps my lord the king wishes to retire—” A sensible suggestion; one that Ahasuerus ignored. By this time he stood unsteady on his feet, wine and poppy raging in his blood.
“The most beautiful women! Drink to the king!”
A careless, drunken accolade. King Ahasuerus drank deep again, then held out his goblet as if it were the golden scepter of Death and Life. “I do. The most precious, most learned, most valiant. And the most beautiful. Anything that is mine you all may look upon, to know you have spoken truth, which is a Persian’s honor.”
All might still have passed safely until sunrise, when the feast ended. But the wine spoke now, rather than the men. Words escaped their lips, apparently unwary. Dangerous words.
“Drink to Queen Vashti!’ cried Prince Shethar, the most ambitious of the Seven Princes.
And as men laughed and drank, another voice—no one after could truly say whose—soared above the noise of praise and laughter.
“Show us Queen Vashti!”
The King of Kings stopped with his wine-cup to his lips and stared out over the courtyard, seeking the face of the man who had made that outrageous demand. And as the king remained silent, so men fell silent in their turn; silence rippled back from the king’s high table, flowed over the men gazing upon the king.
Then Prince Shethar said, “The great king promised to show us anything that is his. Show us Queen Vashti, the most beautiful in all the world.”
The demand sobered Ahasuerus enough for him to realize what he had done. He remained drunk enough to be unable to free himself from the trap. Prince Memucan leaned close; spoke low and urgent. “It is forbidden for a woman to attend men’s feasts. Would you bring your queen unveiled to the king’s banquet hall?”
Prince Shethar laughed. “It’s not as if she is a stranger to men’s feasts.” He said openly what until that night had only been whispered.
“O king, you cannot do this,” Memucan said. “It is contrary to custom and to law.”
“So is a king failing to do what he has promised.” Shethar’s words fell cold and heavy as stones.
The Seven Princes had Ahasuerus trapped. If he sent for me, he treated his queen like a dancing girl or a harlot. If he did not, he failed to keep the king’s promise he had made.
The word of a king binds him. King Ahasuerus set down his golden goblet and sent his chamberlains to command Queen Vashti to come before him. And the chamberlains took the word of the king to Queen Vashti, where she sat feasting with the women, for Queen Vashti had given
a feast also, vying with the king’s glory.
“O queen,” said the chiefest of the chamberlains, “the King of Kings summons you to come before him. Rise and walk with us, for the great king wishes to display your beauty to his guests, that they may see with their own eyes that the King of Kings possesses the most beautiful woman in all the world.”
And when she heard this, Queen Vashti looked upon the chamberlain with scorn and said,
“Tell the King of Kings that the queen will not come.”
* * *
That is how the tale fled from the palace of the King of Kings: That Vashti scorned the king’s command. That Vashti’s arrogance and pride goaded her to insult the King of Kings.
That Vashti thought herself above the king and above the law.
Well, I did disobey my husband. That much is truth.
* * *
When the king’s chamberlains entered my banqueting hall, I was laughing at some jest. I laughed as I held out my hand to the newcomers and said, “Why see—the King of Kings has sent more guests to me! Come and sit. I am quite sure my feast will amuse you better than his!”
A harmless enough remark, and since it was mine, all my guests laughed. The king’s chamberlains did not. After I stopped laughing—for like my guests, I had drunk a bit too much honey wine—I looked more closely, and thought it odd that Ahasuerus should have sent all seven of his highest-ranked chamberlains to me. A surprise? A gift? Then why did the seven eunuchs look so—I groped for the right word to describe their expressions, and at last settled on uncertain.
Uncertain, and embarrassed.
I set down my wine cup. “Well? What is it?”
Silence. The king’s eunuch chamberlains looked at each other, and at the spangled silk panels draping the ceiling, and at the silent watching women, and at the Star Crown glittering in the lamplight. At everything in the banqueting hall, except at me.
“Tell me. The queen commands you.”
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