A short while after sunset, as the palace settled down to rest, a group of eunuchs approached the robing room, and Hegai entrusted me to their care.
And so I was delivered to King Xerxes’s bedchamber at Susa in Tevet, the tenth month, during the seventh year of his reign.
A squad of seven silent eunuchs escorted me out of the harem, through straight corridors and twisting paths, up stairs and over marble patios. Finally we approached what I assumed to be the king’s private residence. A company of Immortals stood outside, with armed men guarding three separate doorways. Though they had sworn to be vigilant and alert for danger, the guards stared at me with weary, bored expressions, reducing me to complete insignificance. How could I have ever hoped to be anything more than an anonymous girl who existed to pleasure the king?
I lowered my gaze as a blush seared my cheeks. With the extravagant imagination of girlhood I had dared to dream of being queen, and under Hegai’s tutelage something in me had begun to hope the king would at least remember my name. But because so many beautiful girls competed for the same prize, I knew I’d been a fool to dream of anything.
I daresay every girl in the harem secretly wished to become one of his favorites, guaranteeing that he would send for her a time or two. If we were ever to experience love, affection, or motherhood, it would have to come from our relationship with the king.
One of the eunuchs murmured something to the burliest guard. After raking me with his eyes, the man stood aside and allowed the two of us to enter. My heart trembled within me as we passed through the doorway, but instead of entering a room, I found myself following the eunuch through a hallway so narrow that two men could not walk abreast in the space. Wondering if the design had something to do with security, I followed the eunuch so closely that I didn’t see the serving girl until the eunuch turned and flattened himself against the wall, allowing the slave to slip by. She must not have expected to see anyone else, because she ran straight into me, spilling her tray with a most alarming noise.
The slave girl stood in transfixed horror, her hands pressed to her cheeks as she surveyed the remains of fruit, meat sauce, and poached pears on my spotless gown and the marble floor. She whispered something in a foreign tongue, probably an oath, but I shook my head, knelt, and began to pick up the gold dinnerware. “Don’t worry,” I murmured, reaching for a still-spinning bowl. “I’m sure this sort of thing happens every now and then.”
The girl dropped in front of me, tears forming in her eyes as she ran her palm over the polished tiles, desperately attempting to wipe gravy from the floor.
The eunuch bent toward me, his face tight with stress, his eyes blazing. “Get up, girl! Turn away this instant and run back to the harem. Hegai must send someone else. The king won’t be happy about the delay, but I will not present him with a mess like—”
The eunuch fell silent as a shadow loomed over our small huddle. I looked up, my blood curdling with dread, and saw Harbonah’s narrow face.
“The king will receive you now,” he said, looking directly at me. Though his lips did not curve, I thought his eyes flickered with the faint beginnings of a smile.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Harbonah
SOMETHING IN ME PITIED MORDECAI’S little Hadassah the night she entered the king’s chamber, but something else in me wanted to laugh aloud. My weary master had been standing near the interior passageway as Biztha and the girl approached. When the eunuch moved aside for the departing slave girl, the king and I saw everything—the clumsy slave, the nervous virgin, and the resultant mess.
But what Biztha and Hadassah did not see was my master’s expression. Instead of hardening in anger at their clumsiness, his haggard face softened at the sight of that beautiful young woman on her knees. “Look yonder, eunuch,” he said, his voice barely reaching my ear. “Have you ever seen one of our noble families’ daughters bend to help a slave?”
I replied with a quiet grunt, knowing he needed no other response.
Then, suspecting that Biztha would hurry to send the sullied virgin out of the room, the king looked at me. “That girl is not to leave, do you understand? Set out a robe for her at once.”
Struggling to keep an exultant smile from my face, I first ran to my flustered friend. I told Biztha that the king was ready to receive the virgin, then waved the frightened kitchen slave away.
Biztha, red-faced and trembling, crept out of the hallway and into the king’s bedchamber. “Your majesty, the lowliest of all your servants does sincerely apologize—”
The king, who had wandered to a wide window overlooking the river, did not even turn. “Who has Hegai sent tonight?”
“A most lovely young woman, my king. He calls her Esther.”
“Where did he find this beauty?”
“Susa, my king. She is from Susa.”
At that point, the king turned. Biztha stepped aside, revealing the pale young woman with waist-length brown hair, wide eyes, a lovely face, and a gravy-spattered gown.
My master took the virgin’s measure with one glance, his eyes widened with appreciation, and his jaw flexed as he tried to restrain himself.
But my master had never been able to restrain his emotions for long. After a momentary valiant effort, he burst out laughing.
And then, to Biztha’s obvious horror, the girl laughed, too.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Hadassah
I DON’T KNOW WHY I LAUGHED. Maybe as a release of pent-up nervousness, or perhaps because the king’s laughter proved infectious.
Maybe I laughed because tears might have ruined his mood.
All I know is that when he laughed, I joined in, and I laughed even harder when I saw Biztha’s stunned expression. He must have thought the king and I had been affected by some sort of sorcery, or that the stress of the encounter had caused me to lose my wits.
In any case, the eunuch backed out of the chamber as swiftly as he could, head bowed, feet shuffling as he closed the doors behind him.
I stopped laughing when I heard the doors come together, shutting out the world and confining me with the king who held my life and my future in his hands.
I lifted my hand to wipe a tear of mirth from my eye, then lowered myself to the floor in proper obeisance. Crouching there, my nose pressed to the polished marble, I wondered if I should have kept silent. He was a king, after all, and I but one of his most lowly subjects.
“Rise and come closer,” the king said, gesturing for me to step away from the entrance. “Let me see what damage has been done.”
A wave of relief lifted me and carried me into his presence. He wasn’t evaluating my beauty or my grace; apparently he simply wanted to see my gown.
I moved a few steps closer, then halted and peered at the stain on my bodice. “It isn’t too—oh!” I fell silent, forgetting that I wasn’t supposed to speak unless asked a direct question. I bit my lip and peered at him, but he didn’t seem to be angry. “May I—may I speak, my king?”
He granted me a forgiving smile. “Please do.”
“The stain isn’t too terrible—a soak in cool water should make things right. Miriam taught me how to wash away worse messes than this.”
“And who is Miriam?”
“My—the woman who took care of me as a child.”
The king tilted his head, then walked to his couch and sank onto it. “Why didn’t your parents take care of you?”
“I was an orphan. My father died before I was born, and my mother did not survive childbirth.”
“So you were raised by strangers?”
“No, sir—by cousins. They were very kind to me.”
“But they used you as a servant? Made you do the cleaning?”
“We all worked, sir, at daily chores. Whatever had to be done, someone had to do it.”
“Your family had no slaves?”
“We never saw the need, my king. We worked together.”
The king stretched out in a languid pose, resting his elbow on t
he arm of the couch. “I must thank you, little one. Virgins are brought here to entertain me, but you entertained me more than most before Hegai left my chamber.”
Uncertain of his meaning, I gave him a wavering smile. Had I already fulfilled my purpose?
Apparently not. He lifted his chin and folded his hands. “I’m sure Hegai told me your name, but I’ve already forgotten it.”
“Esther, my king.”
“The name suits you. Do you sing, Esther?”
“Not very well, sir.”
“Do you dance?”
“A little.”
“A little, she says. Then we shall not bother with dancing. What have you planned for my entertainment, little Esther?”
“I thought—”
I hesitated when a servant entered from another passageway. I did not notice his face because he carried a gorgeous robe of deep purple silk, a luxurious garment that looked as though it would wrap around me twice.
“For you. Esther.” The king gestured to the eunuch, whom I recognized as Harbonah when I finally looked up. “Take off that sullied gown and give it to my servant. Put on the robe. I will wait for you on the balcony.”
I lifted a brow as the king stood and left the room, granting me a measure of privacy. Harbonah turned away, one hand extended as he waited for the soiled gown.
I undid the belt and the shoulder strap, then stepped out of the silky puddle at my feet. I took the purple robe from Harbonah’s arm, wrapped myself in it, and tied it with the belt. Then I picked up the stained gown and handed it to Harbonah.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
He glanced back and caught my gaze. “Congratulations.” He spoke in a faint whisper. “You are the first to make the king laugh right away.”
I wasn’t sure my misstep qualified for congratulations, but as the eunuch walked off, I drew a deep breath and wondered what the rest of the night would bring. I had either made a good start or ruined my life altogether.
I walked toward the patio, my heart braced to pass the next few hours as stoically as possible. I had already ruined my appearance, broken royal protocol, and proved that I would never be as dignified as Vashti. Surely I had done all the damage a girl could do in the space of half an hour, so why should I worry about the rest of the evening?
“My king,” I called, my fears falling away, “you asked how I planned to entertain you? I thought we might talk before you took me to bed.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Harbonah
AS USUAL, I ENTERED THE ROYAL BEDCHAMBER about an hour before dawn to lead the king’s concubine away. I had pulled many women out of the massive bed—some who would become the king’s favorites, and some who proved to be so completely forgettable that they remained in the palace of the concubines for the rest of their lives. Some woke easily and followed me without question, while others ignored my tapping on their shoulders. Those I had to grip firmly and pull, even though their resistance sometimes woke my royal master. But the king and I had an understanding. He wanted the women gone when he woke, so if a concubine proved reluctant to leave his bed, he would roll over and pretend to sleep through the unruly exit.
When the woman returned to the harem, she was free to share whatever she wanted to share with her fellow concubines. As a youngster, I spent a fair portion of my day working in the harem, so I knew what passed for entertainment in that place. Some of the women spoke of their hours with the king in glowing terms, crediting him with the strength of a lion and the ardor of a stag in rut. Others responded to queries with a coy smile, as if their experience were too sacred to frame in words. No one spoke ill of the king, for in the harem any disloyal comment or insinuation might be repeated until it reached unforgiving ears.
I smiled as I passed the spot where the kitchen slave had spilled my master’s dinner tray. What would Mordecai’s innocent Hadassah say about her night with the king? She was one of the gentlest and most pliant women in the house of the virgins, and I shuddered to think that the king might have handled her roughly. A young woman like Hadassah should be treated with delicacy. . . .
I approached with the stealth of a cat, so that my sandaled feet made no sound on the tiled floor. Moonlight streamed through the open balcony, spangling the marble floor with silver. Through the gauzy bed curtain I saw the king sprawled over the mattress, one leg extended toward the foot of the bed, the other bent to support the small woman who lay curled beneath his arm. A gnat of worry pestered me—had he been too rough with her? This king could be erratic in his moods, and for all I knew he might treat an intelligent woman like he treated intelligent men—as though they were enemies to be conquered. Hadassah deserved a better fate.
I tiptoed to the side of the bed, pulled back the curtain, and peered at the girl’s sleeping face. Then I drew a breath and poked her upper arm.
Her eyelids flew open. She blinked at the sight of me standing before her, then nodded when I held my finger to my lips. The king’s silk robe lay on the floor like a dark stain, so I grabbed it, held it up, and averted my eyes as she slipped into it.
When she had wrapped the robe around herself, I shifted to peer at the king’s face. My master lay with his mouth agape, his beard dark against his pillow, his skin as pale as stone in the moonlight. Not a muscle flickered. He was sleeping deeply, a good sign.
I motioned for Hadassah to follow, then led her out of the king’s bedchamber and into his dressing room. “Here,” I whispered, offering her a plain tunic. “Do not wear the king’s garment outside this room. That could lead to trouble.”
She lifted a brow and took the gown I offered. “Is the king possessive of his robes?”
“It’s not the king I worry about,” I replied, thinking of Vashti and her palace spies. “It’s the symbolism. Wearing the king’s robe in public is improper for a concubine, no matter how lovely she is.” I tapped my lips, abruptly returning to the present. “So—did you enjoy your night with my master?”
She looked at me, her eyes wide and dark, and then a slow smile blossomed across her face. “Shouldn’t you be asking if he enjoyed his night with me? That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? For his pleasure?”
I shrugged off her question. “Well?”
“I don’t know what he thought of me or my company.” She tightened the belt at her waist. “And I don’t know if he’ll ever call for me again.”
Her indirect answers began to annoy me. “Any girl could say the same thing. But you, Hadassah, are not just any girl. What did you think of my master?”
In response, the young woman I had thought completely open and honest laid her finger across her smiling lips and walked toward the door, leaving me to follow like a shadow.
My master did not send for a virgin the night after Hadassah’s turn in the royal bedchamber, yet none of us were surprised. The man might be a king, but he was also forty and had just returned from an arduous journey. Not every man wanted a woman every night.
But at the conclusion of the next day, when Hegai entered to ask what sort of woman the king might desire, my king sat upright, smiled broadly, and asked for Esther.
Hegai blinked in pleased surprise. “The maid who visited you two nights ago?”
“Has your memory slipped so soon?” The king smiled. “Yes, bring me Esther. And you, eunuch—” he swiveled to face me—“do not spirit her away in the middle of the night. For once, I would like to wake with the woman who has shared my sleeping hours.”
Hegai and I bowed, then gave each other knowing looks and hastened to do the king’s will. Hegai hurried to prepare Esther for another royal appointment while I hurried to arrange a gathering of the vice-regents. The king had not yet announced his intentions, but I knew him like no one else. I suspected that soon he would want to address his counselors about a matter of some importance.
I was right.
The next morning, a few hours after Hadassah had returned to the harem to change her clothing and reapply her makeup, she appeared at the back of
the royal audience hall. Flanked by the two eunuchs I sent to escort her, she walked through the assembled vice-regents and members of the nobility. She appeared young and small, like a child creeping past giants, and seemed to tremble as she walked past the hulking guards. Yet every man present gazed at her in awe, impressed by her gentleness and fragile beauty.
The counselors and nobles murmured to each other, wondering who she was, because the king had made no mention of her to anyone but Hegai and me. Yet onward came this slip of a girl, no older than sixteen, walking past burly men who could snap her neck with one twist.
Approaching the king without permission meant death, which usually occurred without hesitation or explanation. If the king did not immediately extend his scepter to pardon the interloper, the Immortals around the throne would draw their swords to execute swift and final judgment . . . unless the guards at the door managed to spear the offender first.
But my master smiled as the girl he knew as Esther came down the long aisle that bisected the audience hall. And as she glided toward the dais where he sat upon his throne, he not only held out his scepter, but stood and walked down the ivory-clad steps to greet her.
Mordecai’s brave ward seemed to collapse when she reached the throne. She bent to prostrate herself, then stretched her arms toward the man who held her life in his hands.
“Behold, counselors and noble friends,” the king said, lifting her from where she knelt. “By the favor of Ahura Mazda, on this day I have chosen this woman to be my queen.”
Mushka, the king’s nephew, stood close enough that I heard his reaction: “If only I had seen her first. What I wouldn’t give to bed a woman like that.”
Thankfully, the king did not hear his nephew’s brash comment. The room broke into furious buzzing as eunuchs, officers, and counselors craned their necks and marveled at the pale beauty and grace of the young woman gripping the king’s hand. This one had not entered the great hall like Vashti, with an uplifted chin and mincing step. This girl would never stiffen her spine in defiance of the king.
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