Game of Queens

by India Edghill

  For a few breaths, Vashti stared down at the shining fruit in her cupped hands. Then she looked at Samamat and smiled. “Vashti,” she said. “Call me Vashti.”

  Samamat laughed, Daniel smiled, and Vashti glared. Queens are not accustomed to being laughed at. I bit the inside of my lip to keep silent until I could speak in a steady voice. “That is not proper. Even if you are no longer queen, you are still a princess.”

  “Princess of Babylon.” Spoken by Daniel, the words seemed to summon a faraway time and place. Then he shook off whatever waking dream had claimed him. “Well, I don’t suppose the two of you came just to inform Sama and me what happened at the royal banquets. After all, I have a reputation to uphold, so ask your question, Vashti.”

  Not “queen.” Not even “princess.” But kings had bowed to Daniel Dream-Master. He spoke as his god directed. Never, since the day he had saved me from my owner beating me to death, had he said one word he did not mean.

  Vashti glanced swiftly at me, then gazed into Daniel’s eyes. “My world has fallen into shards around me. I am no longer Queen of Queens. What am I now? What do I do now?”

  “What do you want to be?” Daniel asked. “It’s your life, Vashti. How do you wish to live it?”

  VASHTI

  “What do you want to be? How do you wish to live…?”

  Once again I did not know the answer. Once again I knew nothing.

  After I had spoken with Daniel, I paced my rooms like a restless cat. Nothing I caught up pleased me. At last I stood quiet and weighed an ivory dagger in my palm. An odd gift, I had thought the day Hegai had placed it in my hand, although the dagger was very beautiful. Upon its moon-pale hilt, leopards of gold leapt at invisible prey. A leopard’s head of solid gold crowned the pommel. The beast’s eyes glinted fire and blood; rubies. What do you like to do? A question asked of me long ago, one to which I thought I had learned the answer. Now I knew that I had not.

  I let myself dream, trying futures as if they were jewels.

  Perhaps I will become an Amazon. After all, I could ride and shoot, even if Ahasuerus did laugh at my lack of true skill—if only the Amazons had not passed into the Land of Shadows a dozen dozen lifetimes ago.

  A soft scratching upon my door; I turned and saw one of my maidservants hesitating there. “O queen,” she began, and then stopped, her cheeks burning redder than the paint upon her skin.

  No one knew how to address me now. As the maid struggled to find the right words to begin, I said, “What is it, Elea?”

  Grateful that I had eased the path, she bowed and said, “The King of Kings awaits—awaits—”

  “Me,” I finished for her. “Thank you, Elea. Where is he?”

  * * *

  Ahasuerus awaited me in my reception room; although he did not wear his royal robes, he carried the gold scepter. An official visit, then.

  “So you are here as the King of Kings.” The words escaped unbidden, surprising me more, I think, than they did Ahasuerus. It is for the King of Kings to speak first. I could be killed for such an offense.

  “I am the King of Kings,” he said, and his voice sounded both sad and sullen.

  “Is there any doubt of that?” I sounded more bitter than I intended.

  He set aside the scepter; what he spoke now would be his words, not a king’s. “I am sorry, my queen—”

  “I am no longer your queen, Ahasuerus.” I would not dare interrupt a king’s words; a man’s, yes, that I would dare. “By your own seal, I am set aside.”

  “But not by my wish.”

  He looked so miserable I longed to clasp him in my arms, smooth his hair, comfort him as if he were a small unhappy child. “I know. They have tricked you, my—” Suddenly I realized he was not my love; I could not say the word truly. I drew in a deep breath. “My dearest friend, now it is our turn to trick them.” The words came from nowhere, but Ahasuerus promptly looked more cheerful; puzzles always amused him.

  “How? You know the law cannot be revoked once sealed.”

  “No. But—but another law can always be made, and sealed, can it not?”

  “I suppose it can. But to what purpose? I cannot decree that you be my queen again.”

  I do not wish to be your queen again. The words came unbidden; rang so clear in my mind that for a horrible moment I thought I had spoken them aloud. Shaken, I merely shook my head, which Ahasuerus took for abject grief and assent. He put his arm around me and said,

  “Don’t cry, Vashti. You won’t suffer for this.”

  I stared at him, and saw that he truly believed what he said. Well, why should he not? He was King of Kings, Lord of Half the World. And he was a man; given even the breath of a chance, he would convince himself that I was better off set aside than I had been as his indulged wife. Suddenly I felt much older than he, and very tired. I sighed and rested my head upon his shoulder, as I had so often done before.

  “I will not suffer if you will seal into the laws that I shall still dwell here, in the Queen’s Palace, and that I shall keep all that belongs to Vashti, and not to the Queen of Queens. Let it be written and sealed that—”

  Then I paused. That what? Desperation summoned my next words. “The edict says that Queen Vashti shall come no more before King Ahasuerus. But if you come here to me…”

  “Then you are not coming before the king!” He smiled at last. “Yes, that is what shall be written and sealed. That Vashti shall dwell within the palace and the king may go to her as he wishes,” Ahasuerus finished. He put his arm around me; kissed my forehead. “Vashti, I don’t—”

  “Write the decree now,” I said. “Please, for me?”

  “Anything you ask.” He sounded happier, now that he could grant me favors, mitigate the harsh command that had severed me from him. “Send one of your pages to fetch Mordecai the chief scribe—he will know how to word it properly. This law must be perfect before I set my seal upon it.”

  The scribe came and bowed to Ahasuerus and then to me, and listened to Ahasuerus describe what he desired. Mordecai had bowed to me with respect; he looked upon me with neither avid interest nor pity. I decided I liked Mordecai the scribe.

  Mordecai sat and wrote, and then read the decree aloud. “By the will of Ahasuerus, Lord of Half the World, King of Kings, Emperor over the Medes and the Persians and all the lands from the Western Sea to the Eastern Mountains, the royal lady Vashti shall dwell in the Queen’s Palace in Shushan with all that is hers, and the King of Kings will enter the Queen’s Palace as pleases him.”

  Mordecai looked up from the decree. “Does that wording please the king?”

  Ahasuerus took the decree and read it for himself. Then he handed it to me. “Should anything be added, Vashti? I want nothing left out.”

  I read the decree; so simple. Surely there should be more? Then I remembered what Ahasuerus had said: that the scribe Mordecai would know best how to write it. I looked at Mordecai and raised my eyebrows in silent question. Without hesitation, Mordecai nodded. I handed the decree back to Ahasuerus.

  “Add nothing,” I said, and Ahasuerus took the decree and set his seal upon it. Now it was law; now I was protected, honored. My heart warmed with love for Ahasuerus—but I loved him as a sister loves her brother. I did not love him as a woman loves the man she desires most in all the world.

  Amestris had ensured that I did not. She had denied us passion, knowing its power.

  But a friend’s love is great, too. Amestris, friendless, did not know that truth.

  * * *

  I had thought myself well-loved. Now that I was no longer Queen of Queens, I swiftly learned that I had only been well-liked. Liking that vanished swiftly as swallows the moment the Star Crown no longer circled my brow.

  Oh, some, cautious, still bowed and flattered. I still dwelt within the Queen’s Palace; I still was treated well by the king. These vacillating courtiers saw that while Vashti came no more before the king, the king still came to Vashti.

  Others, more fickle, sought to av
oid me. They would not look upon me, and would hastily slide away if I chanced to stroll through a corridor or a garden in which they stood. I will not pretend it did not hurt. Some had been, I thought, my friends.

  And some remained unchanged—and only now did I know them for true friends. Hegai was one. My scribe Nikole was another; she and her husband Doud, one of the court singers, remained, as Nikole assured me, my humble servants.

  “I don’t need humble servants, Nikole,” I told her. “I need friends. I have learned that, if nothing else.”

  “Then you have learned a great lesson.” Nikole hesitated until I held out my arms to her. Some boundaries are too great to cross without a sign that the risk is worth taking. When I reached out first, Nikole dared put her arms around me.

  “It will all come right, my queen,” she said as I buried my face against her neck.

  “How?” My voice was muffled by Nikole’s hair; she stroked my back as if soothing an infant. “Nothing is the same now, nothing.”

  “Nothing ever stays the same,” Nikole said, “not even what is written in the laws of the Medes and the Persians.”

  So I still had friends. And I still saw Ahasuerus, my dear friend and brother. For despite the iron rule of the law, we had seen the loophole through which our own wishes could slip.

  But it was a strange, half-lived life.

  HEGAI

  Vashti’s fall from grace opened the door wide for Haman … always lurking about the court, always ready to do any man a favor, he now became the king’s friend—his dearest friend. This was Amestris’s doing, for now that Vashti was queen no longer, she needed someone to guide Ahasuerus in the ways she wished him to go. She needed a new tool, another toy to distract and amuse her son.

  Haman seemed perfect for the role. Still young enough to ride and hunt and race with the king; old enough to know how to defer without seeming to do so. Wellborn enough to be at court, lowborn enough to seem harmless to the Seven Princes.

  And so Amestris made her greatest mistake.

  She introduced Ahasuerus to Haman.

  * * *

  In his new role as the king’s greatest friend, I saw Haman more often. Ahasuerus thought nothing of bringing his dear friend Haman into the Women’s Palace; into the Queen’s Palace. Of course Ahasuerus might grant entry to the harem to any man he chose to honor. I should have been mad with rage—for years I had longed for Haman’s disgrace and death.

  Death was easy to achieve. Disgrace—I had not yet conjured up a way to achieve that. Every plan I concocted proved inadequate or impossible.

  But oddly, the more I saw Haman, the more tranquil I became.

  Do not mistake me; I never lost my hate, but the raging blaze became a banked fire. Patience, have patience, my son. Wait. I do not know whether the command was truly my mother’s ghost guiding me, or simply my own good sense. For soon or late, Haman would overreach himself. Make a mistake. Haman climbed high—and the higher Haman climbed, the greater would be his fall.

  So, obedient to that silent voice, I waited, serene.

  Save for my dreams.

  In dreams, Haman groveled at my feet. Felt the gelding knife on his flesh. Screamed and begged for mercy as I thrust a blade deep into his greedy, cruel heart.

  I did not need Daniel Dream-Master to interpret those dreams. And someday …

  Someday they would come true.

  VASHTI

  Happier than he had been since he had been forced to cast me aside, Ahasuerus wished Haman to be my friend as well as his. I was glad to hear the joy back in Ahasuerus’s voice, the light once more shining in his eyes. I was less delighted to have him bring Haman to visit me as a matter of course—or that Haman seemed suddenly to have become Ahasuerus’s closest friend and advisor.

  I had seen Haman on the occasions when I had played the king’s page—and although I had heard him described as tactful, thoughtful, and talented, I could not quite like Haman. I knew Hegai distrusted Haman, although when pressed for a reason, Hegai said only,

  “I do not like his eyes, my lady Vashti.”

  But Ahasuerus loved Haman dearly, and that delighted Amestris, who had chosen him for her son’s companion. A companion whom she could use to sway Ahasuerus’s decisions. A clever, circumspect tool.

  Time proved Haman all that Queen Mother Amestris thought him—and more. Haman was as ambitious as Amestris herself. He was even more ruthless. And unlike Amestris, Haman was reckless as well.

  Who else would have envisioned choosing a new queen with a contest open to all the empire’s maidens?

  The contest began as a jest—at least I think that is how it all began, for Haman’s jests always seemed labored. Ahasuerus had come to dine with me and, for the first time, brought Haman with him. I did not like Haman, but I could hardly refuse hospitality to the king’s dearest friend. And to give Haman his due, he treated me with as much reverence as if I were still queen. Haman’s courtesy to me pleased Ahasuerus, and I was glad to see Ahasuerus happy. So the dinner progressed well. My cooks had created a new dish of apricots and honey that sweetened all our moods, and Ahasuerus had sent a gift of rich Shiraz wine that my clever cooks had fashioned into an icy drink that soothed throat and tempers.

  So content, we spoke idly of nothing—or rather, Ahasuerus and I spoke without great thought, amusing ourselves between bites of melon and sips of wine sherbet by discussing the new fashion for topaz rather than turquoise. Ahasuerus had drunk the last of the wine sherbet; I noticed and beckoned to the steward.

  “Bring more of the wine sherbet,” I told him. “If we have not already drunk it all, that is.” I laughed, knowing it important to make such an order an easy thing. My servants and slaves never feared telling me truth.

  My steward smiled. “There is more wine, princess. Ice, however—of that we have only one more block. Does my lady wish us to make more of the sherbet?”

  I glanced at my guests. Ahasuerus shook his head, very slightly, and Haman remained silent, understanding that Ahasuerus did not wish to trouble the kitchen for more of the drink. “No,” I said. “But please tell the kitchen staff how greatly their work pleased the King of Kings.”

  “As my lady princess commands. Shall I return with the dish my lady princess created for the king?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Bring it and set it before the king.”

  “My lady princess honors me.” My steward bowed and left us, and I turned to Ahasuerus, who smiled.

  “You created a new dish for me, Vashti? I am flattered—and amazed.”

  “Flattered the king may be, but there is no need for amazement. I did nothing but suggest certain fruits be combined with certain spices in a honey-cake. The cooks did all the work.”

  Ahasuerus reached out and took my hand. “See what a treasure I possess, Haman?” Ahasuerus kissed my palm; I found myself pulling my hand away. Haman stared at me, his eyes dark wells, revealing nothing.

  “The king is most fortunate,” Haman said, and Ahasuerus sighed.

  “Fortunate and foolish. If only…”

  No. Do not say it, Ahasuerus. I sensed that freeing the words would give Haman a power he longed for but did not yet possess. I should have spoken, even though it meant interrupting the king. But I waited too long, and Ahasuerus revealed what many had guessed, but that only he and I had known as truth.

  “If only Vashti were still my wife—still my queen. I was a fool, Haman.” Ahasuerus turned away from me, gazed at Haman. “You’re a clever man. Surely you can tell me how I may once more rejoice in my queen?”

  Haman lowered his gaze; stared into his wine-cup. He must think hard and fast, for what Ahasuerus had asked of him could not be answered with any words that it would please the king to hear. An act sealed into the Great Laws could never be revoked. And even if the laws of the Medes and Persians could be swept aside—

  I do not want to go back.

  Haman kept his head bowed, as if deep in thought. And when he spoke, he ignored Ahasuerus’s plainti
ve demand to do the impossible. Instead, Haman offered up the wildly improbable for the king’s approval.

  “If my lord the King of Kings languishes for lack of a queen”—Haman cleverly transmuted the king’s wish to defy the law into a perfectly reasonable desire to wed again—“is there not a simple remedy?”

  “Is there?” Ahasuerus glanced up swiftly, as if gauging my reaction; I smiled, hoping to reassure him of my support for whatever plan he had devised—that I would not be jealous if he chose a new queen. Abruptly, he tossed the lion-cup to Haman, who shied away from the gold missile, but managed to catch the cup just before it crashed to the floor.

  Ahasuerus laughed. “Keep it, Haman. A sign of the king’s favor. Now tell me this simple remedy.”

  To give Haman the credit due him, he was ready with an answer. “O king, does not your empire stretch from the Western Sea to the Eastern Mountains? And does not such an empire possess the rarest, the finest of living gems? Let the best of the empire’s most beautiful, most accomplished maidens be selected and brought here to the palace.”

  Ahasuerus leaned forward, his interest caught. “A clever notion, Haman. But how would such maidens be chosen, and brought to Shushan?”

  Haman paused as if to draw a breath; I saw it for what it was—Haman stalling for time. “Oh, all that can easily be arranged, great king.”

  He has no more notion than I how this may be achieved.

  “The important thing is that no worthy maiden be overlooked.” Haman’s voice gained confidence as he spoke. “Then my lord king will have his choice of the sweetest fruits of the empire.”

  Haman need only present this grand and glorious scheme to King Ahasuerus—and then bow himself away, leaving others to try to fulfill the king’s command. So Haman began to speak, sounding more certain that he spoke rightly each time Ahasuerus nodded approval. As for me—I sat astonished. Who would dare even dream such a thing, save Haman?

  “O king, may you live forever, nothing could be simpler.” Haman smiled; I knew he plotted something—but what?