Game of Queens

by India Edghill

  King Haman—why not? His blood was as royal as Ahasuerus’s. They were half-brothers, after all.

  And King Haman would need a queen; who better for him to marry than the daughter of Babylon’s kings? Who better than Vashti? Haman saw himself reigning as King of Kings, with me as his adoring queen. Haman vowed he would not be a weakling swayed by a woman’s soft voice and pretty face. A king should be stone and iron; strong and feared.…

  The image of himself enthroned and crowned, with me kneeling before him kissing his feet and vowing eternal love and gratitude to my husband King Haman, brought a smile to his face.

  Then, of course, said Zeresh in a flat, dead voice, Haman realized that to achieve his desires, both Ahasuerus and Esther must die.

  This caused Haman no distress. He did not love Ahasuerus. And he hated Esther.

  * * *

  Haman had hated Esther since the day she had stopped him as he drowned mongrel puppies. To find her elevated to Queen of Queens shocked him, and discovering how greatly Ahasuerus relied upon her infuriated him. To Haman, Esther was everything he loathed in women: educated, talented, strong-minded.

  Jewish. Haman hated the Jews, too—sometimes it seemed, Zeresh added, that before he died, Haman had hated everyone. Why did Haman single out the Jews for his hate? Oh, because five hundred years ago a Jewish prophet had slain an Agagite king, even though the Jewish king had spared him, and Haman himself was descended from that slain king.

  Not even Haman himself seemed to believe this a sufficient reason even for so uncritical an audience as his wife. More important, and more plausibly, a large number of vital posts in the imperial bureaucracy were held by Jews—a people notoriously loyal to the royal house. As Haman’s plans transmuted from securing a place as the king’s favored friend to claiming the crown for himself, the massacre of the Jews became vital to his plans. Such a bloodbath would create chaos; in such madness, the murder of the king and queen could easily be blamed on whomever Haman wished to name.

  So Haman always intended the Jews within the civil service to die.

  When the new queen turned out to be an old enemy, Haman expanded his plan still further.

  All the Jews in the empire would die. And the Jewish queen would know she had brought about the death of her entire people. She and her cousin Mordecai.

  Both of whom had committed the same crime.

  They had told Haman “no.”

  * * *

  Esther had refused to let Haman murder dogs and befoul water. Mordecai refused to let Haman trample people and law. Mordecai’s encounter with Haman had occurred at the foot of the Great Staircase a few months after Ahasuerus married Esther. Haman’s temper had grown even more vicious than it usually was, and he had ridden through the city with his usual brutal carelessness. But at the Great Staircase even Haman had to rein in, unable to see a clear path.

  “Make way!” his servant called out. “Make way for Prince Haman, the king’s friend!”

  Few heard or heeded; the noise of hundreds of voices swept over the Great Staircase, rhythmic and unstoppable as the sea. Haman’s servant shouted again, waiting for a path to open before moving upward. Being thwarted even in so small a matter set Haman’s temper past anger into fury.

  “Out of my way!” Haman spurred his horse, iron thorns drawing blood. The stallion bounded forward, thrusting Haman’s servant aside and fleeing across the first stair at a gallop, in defiance of every rule governing use of the Great Staircase. A half-dozen strides, and the stallion shied, half-reared. A man barred Haman’s path.

  He stood straight and tall, and regarded Haman with stern reproach. “Such riding is a danger to you and to others, and it is against the law besides.”

  Haman glared at the man, recognized him as one of the king’s favored scribes. A scribe—how dare the man accost and accuse him? “I am Prince Haman. Bow before me and get out of my way.”

  “No,” said the scribe. “You are in the wrong, not I.”

  Rage burned; Haman slammed his spurs into the stallion’s sides again. The stallion sprang onward—but Haman’s hope of seeing the scribe knocked to the ground and trampled was thwarted by the man’s simply stepping aside. Haman looked back and saw the man still standing, watching him.

  By the time Haman reached the top of the Great Staircase, hot fury had cooled to steady anger. And he had remembered the scribe’s name.

  Mordecai.

  * * *

  Haman already knew all about Mordecai the chief scribe. The man lived a life of almost unbelievable virtue. His work was praised, his character extolled, his wisdom lauded. A Jew, Mordecai had little family in Shushan, for most his kin journeyed to Jerusalem when the king granted the Jews the right to return to their homeland. Mordecai’s only family now was a cousin, his uncle’s daughter, Hadassah.

  Queen Esther.

  * * *

  Easy to declare that all the Jews in the empire must be destroyed—harder to put such a plan into action. The mere execution would not, Haman thought, be difficult; most of the Jews dwelt in the empire’s cities. Trapped within city walls, they would be easy to catch and kill.

  But such a slaughter required legal backing … that would be difficult to arrange. Not impossible, but difficult … Haman once again calculated paths to his goal. When he settled upon one, he assessed it carefully, mentally tested each facet until he saw no flaw. Then he waited until the time was ripe for him to set his scheme in motion.

  That time came when King Ahasuerus had left Shushan on a royal visit to Babylon and did not asked Haman to accompany him. Haman took this as the sign he had waited for.

  And then, Zeresh said, Haman requested an audience with Queen Mother Amestris.

  ESTHER

  When Haman begged the Queen Mother to receive him, deep satisfaction warmed Amestris. She knew Haman intended to use her to forward his own schemes—but he was her weapon, and must be taught his proper place. Once she no longer needed him, Haman would fall as swiftly as he had risen.…

  How do I know Amestris’s very thoughts? I did not—then. Only much later, when Amestris surrendered the power she had stolen, did she reveal her mind during those murderous days. Once she had fallen, I found myself—not her friend, but her confidant. I rarely had to ask a question, for Amestris longed to talk. To display her long clever schemes, her plots intricate as silk knotwork. And that was when I realized that for all her power, Amestris had been lonely, even if she herself did not understand that.

  For she had kept too many secrets, and had no one in all the empire who could know what she did, and marvel, and praise.

  So here, then, is what Amestris did, and why she did it.…

  When I first became queen, Amestris had been willing to be pleased with me once her first anger passed. A merchant-class Jew, well-educated and well-mannered—yes, Amestris had been prepared to shape me into a useful tool. She had done it before, with Queen Vashti.

  But I was no pliable, obedient child, as Vashti was. It was too late for Amestris to mold me as she had Vashti. And even had I been meek and biddable, I was too in love with my husband to be of any use to Amestris.

  If I had desired only to be queen, all would have been simple, but all the court saw how dearly I loved the king. Amestris saw far more; saw that I sought to open his eyes, to urge him to grow into his power. To Amestris, who had ruled as the Queen Mother for nearly twenty years, I posed a danger.

  Amestris saw far too much of herself in me.

  So she decided she must distract me from such meddling. She considered a number of ways to accomplish that delicate task: Poppy, had been Amestris’s first thought. Common, easy, simple to insinuate into food and drink. Create in me a taste for poppy syrup and I would dream away my life.

  But Amestris could not truly envision me captured by that vice—and feared I would notice the change in myself. What, then? Amestris considered inculcating in me a desire for voluptuous pleasures, for rich food and drink, for costly gems and garments. Even, per
haps, an over-fondness for my handmaidens—

  Amestris chastised herself for sparing so palpably foolish a notion even a moment’s thought. The most natural distraction would be a child, something outside Amestris’s power to provide. Of course Ahasuerus and I most virtuously and often performed our marital duty, so surely soon I would announce I carried Ahasuerus’s child. With the blessing of the Good God, I would bear Ahasuerus a son …

  And then Amestris looked into the future, and what she saw there nearly doomed an entire people.

  My son would be heir to the empire.

  I would be Queen Mother if Ahasuerus should perish. Amestris knew she herself would be as nothing, with her son gone. Power would slip from her hands into mine. Amestris could not endure the thought.

  So Amestris decided that I must be removed from her path. Once she reached this conclusion, she decided to set the question of my fate aside for a time. She was certain a solution would present itself.

  Patience was one of the few virtues Amestris possessed.

  * * *

  The solution was presented to her by Haman, although when she granted his request for an audience, she had no idea her problem—me—was about to be solved. Amestris listened to only a few words of Haman’s well-practiced flatteries before lifting her hand.

  “Enough, Prince Haman. Tell me why you have come.”

  “O queen, I have learned of a people within the empire who threaten its peace—and its king.”

  “Really? And which race is that, Prince Haman?”

  “The Jews. They keep their own laws, not ours. They are arrogant—”

  “So are you, Haman … at times. So are the Seven Princes.” Although she did not shift so much as her lashes, Amestris tensed, waiting; like a hunting cat, she sensed prey. Whatever Haman wished to say about the Jews would be very important to her.

  “As my lady queen says.” Haman smiled back and spread his hands wide.

  “Yes, as I say. Now, Haman, what precisely is it that you want?”

  Haman regarded Amestris steadily. “I want a decree ordering all the Jews killed. I will, of course, undertake the administration of the decree.”

  “Why?” Amestris asked, hoping to catch Haman off guard. He disappointed her.

  “As for why I ask this—it’s a simple thing, really. These people are…” Haman paused, as if selecting the word least likely to sully the Queen Mother’s ears, “… a nuisance.”

  “A nuisance?” Amestris raised her perfectly arched brows. “So much trouble for you to take, my lord Haman, for a mere nuisance.”

  “No effort is too great when serving the King of Kings.” Haman bowed and looked up through his lashes, silently implying his true service was to the Queen Mother herself.

  “Of course.” Amestris stroked her fingertips over the lion’s head snarling beneath her hand. “And what would this so-great effort on your part cost the King of Kings?” She eyed Haman coldly. “To surrender an entire people into your hands—a people who pay tribute and taxes—the empire will lose much if you gain this boon.”

  Haman smiled. “There are not so very many of them—a few thousand at most. And the empire will lose nothing. I myself will pay for them.”

  “I see. Shall we say—ten thousand talents of silver?” Now she would see just how greatly Haman desired this favor.

  “A most fair price,” Haman said, and Amestris laughed, low and scornful.

  “You would pay ten thousand talents of silver to rid the empire of a nuisance? Do you think me a fool? Tell me your true reason or the Jews will live long and prosperous lives.”

  Haman sighed, and seemed to yield. He claimed long-smoldering anger at the Jews, that he was heir to a feud dating back to King Agag’s defeat by King Saul, and Agag’s execution by the Prophet Samuel. “I am descended from kings—from King Agag. It is my duty to avenge him.”

  Here, Amestris told me, she nearly laughed—a joy she denied herself. Amestris did not believe for even a breath that this was Haman’s motive. “Vengeance for a battle lost five hundred years before Haman was born? What nonsense!” she told me, and I had to agree. “Men,” she said, and for a moment I felt sorry for her.…

  However, Amestris allowed herself to smile at Haman. “I see. Well, that will do for a reason, I suppose. Well, since you think the Jews worth ten thousand talents of silver to you, you may have them.”

  Haman had bowed very low, perhaps to conceal his expression; he had, after all, apparently won the encounter. “But there is one slight difficulty—oh, not with the silver; that is a trifle. There must be a decree written, and it must be sealed into the Laws of the Medes and the Persians with the king’s own seal.”

  “That should not be even a slight difficulty.” Amestris tilted her head to the side, regarding him slantwise. “Write an edict against the Jews using the words you think best. And my lord Haman?”

  He paused in mid-bow, looked up. Amestris kept her face still and cold as mountain stone.

  “There is no need to trouble the King of Kings over so trifling a matter.”

  “But the seal? The edict must be sealed into law by the king.”

  Amestris knew this for the most dangerous, delicate part of Haman’s murderous plan. My softhearted son will never knowingly seal such a decree into Median and Persian Law. Even if his own queen were not condemned by it—which she is.

  Amestris smiled. “Sealed by the king’s seal. Bring me the edict, when you have written it as you would have all done, and the king’s seal will turn your edict into law.”

  She watched as Haman realized she possessed a copy of the king’s seal—but that Amestris had not actually admitted as much.

  Once Haman bowed himself out, all sly reverence and cunning evil, Amestris put her hand between her breasts, reassuring herself that her copy of the king’s seal still lay there, as it had since the hour the infinitely precious object had been delivered into her hands. Ahasuerus had been a child of seven then.

  No one but she herself knew of its existence. The jeweler who had created it had died suddenly—a pity, for he had been very skilled, but Amestris trusted no one. Whoever held the king’s seal owned the empire. Ahasuerus had never suspected—why should he? What great king can know every edict governing an empire stretching from Hind to Tyre?

  And Amestris had been very, very clever. She had not had two seals made, but three. Two she had, with all due ceremony and honor, placed in Ahasuerus’s hands when he came of age. Half the court had whispered that she had a copy of the king’s seal; that never would she give it up—whispers that ceased when she gave those two seals into Ahasuerus’s keeping. Ahasuerus kept one seal; the second had been ground into dust.

  The third remained her most cherished secret; her ultimate weapon.

  Now that seal would once again serve her well. Of course Ahasuerus would, in time, know of this law concerning the Jews—but not until the edict had already been sealed into a law bought and paid for by Haman’s silver. Even the king could not alter a sealed law. And why should Ahasuerus care about the Jews?

  But Amestris knew he would care about me. This edict would condemn even the Queen of Queens to death—and even the King of Kings could not save her.

  Amestris decided to ensure that Ahasuerus was far from the heart of the empire when Haman’s law was carried out. That would be wisest—the king far away from Shushan, hunting in the Zagros Mountains. By the time he returned, it would be too late for the Jews.

  More important to Amestris, it would be too late for me. Amestris decided to tell Haman he must kill me himself, and first. Yes, Ahasuerus must be far away …

  And then it would be necessary to find her son still a third queen. Briefly, Amestris considered trying to reinstate Vashti, rejected the idea. Vashti no longer seemed as malleable, as oblivious to all but her own childish pleasures, as she had been before she had defiantly refused to obey a royal command.

  No, Amestris must find yet another queen. She strove to regard this as a chall
enge. Oddly, she could not summon any emotion other than a flat distaste. For a heart-freezing moment, she found herself thinking, I am growing old and tired.…

  Silent words that frightened her into fierce anger, a fury she released on the slaves who had the misfortune to enter her presence bearing bowls of grapes and peaches and tall pitchers of wine. Their fear helped reassure her that she was not old.

  Not powerless.

  Not yet.

  VASHTI

  I heard of the edict against the Jews before any other, for Haman himself hastened to reveal it to me. He had his reasons, which I soon learned. I have said Haman cherished ambition greater even than that of Queen Mother Amestris, who merely sought to cling to power she considered her own. Amestris preferred others to be happy—happy men and women did not think too hard or long.

  Haman could be comforted in his heart only when all around him were less than he in all things. For Haman, it was all for him—or it was nothing.

  Unaware that I did not like him, Haman sent a message to me. I thought this strange, so I took the folded and sealed parchment to Esther before I broke the seal.

  “Esther—Haman has just sent this to me.” I held out the small triangle of parchment on the palm of my hand as if it were an offering to a goddess.

  She smiled. “Perhaps you have an admirer, Vashti?” As I made a disgusted face, Esther laughed. “Well, it looks like a message. Why don’t you read it?”

  “I don’t want to. I don’t know why, but I just don’t. I thought of burning it.”

  “A waste of papyrus. You want me to open and read it, don’t you?”

  “The queen is, as always, wise,” I said in the honeyed tones of an importunate courtier, and she laughed again.

  “Oh, very well—but you’re as lazy as that cat, Vashti.” Esther gestured at the long-haired white kitten sleeping on the window ledge; the small creature radiated warm peace. I set Haman’s message in Esther’s hand, and she gazed down upon the black wax, sealed with the sharp-beaked bird that was Haman’s sigil. She slid her gilded thumbnail under the seal, prying it off unbroken, a knack I was always too impatient to employ.