“She was carrying Xerxes’ heir and gave birth a few months later. I wonder if her son will have any standing at all in the kingdom, with Amestris bearing two sons in two short years of marriage.”
“Vashti is the first wife. Her son should rule after his father.” Hadassah recalled how bold she had been to even touch the future queen’s face.
“Yes, but Amestris is the wife of royalty. She wed Xerxes after he was crowned king. My guess is that her sons will rise above Vashti’s boy.” Levia glanced at Hadassah. “It’s a shame, really. Vashti is truly a queen. Amestris, from what the gossips say, is a cruel person.”
Hadassah shivered. “I am glad to have nothing to do with any of that. I want to marry a Hebrew man and move to Jerusalem.”
Levia scowled ever so slightly. “You are too young to marry, my child. As for Jerusalem, the walls are not yet built. It is not safe.”
“Perhaps by the time I am ready to marry they will be built and we will all move there together.” She smiled, hoping to diffuse any doubt in Levia’s mind.
But Levia shook her head. “Walls take years to build, child. As for all of us moving together—Mordecai would never do so. He could have gone before our sons were born and chose not to. Personally, I am glad of it. The rumors coming from Jerusalem say that rebuilding the temple was no easy task.” She bit her lip. “No. It is safer to stay here, despite our drunken king.” She lowered her voice and met Hadassah’s wide eyes. “But you must not worry, dear girl. Mordecai will always keep you safe.”
Hadassah merely nodded. There was no sense in disagreeing with Levia when she began worrying about Hadassah’s safety. It was something she could do nothing about. She wanted peace, but she enjoyed adventure too. Sometimes she wondered if she would ever know her own mind or what she wanted in life.
Not that it mattered. Girls didn’t get to choose their futures. Mordecai would pick a husband for her one day, and she would belong to him. Others would always make choices for her—at least the ones that mattered.
Hadassah sighed. She would think about her future later. For now, she simply wanted peace and time with her cousins and her friends. To be a girl, and not have to worry about the things that troubled Levia. She sensed that day would come soon enough.
CHAPTER
Two
Vashti looked up at the sound of the door opening. Little feet pounded the mosaic tiles until her son flopped onto the couch at her side. “Maman, you must come!”
Vashti laughed at the dimpled grin on Gazsi’s face. She set her needlework aside and took his young hands in hers. “And what is so important that I must see?”
“Omid showed me a place in the wall where we can look down on the dancing, and they are playing games and singing. Maman, you must see it!” Gazsi’s earnest look gave Vashti pause. She glanced toward the door, where the eunuch in charge of his care stood at attention.
“Omid, did you take my son to see the king’s celebration?”
Omid stepped closer and bowed low. “He saw only a little, my queen. The noise was so great that I could not keep him from constantly asking to see. It will not happen again, my queen.”
“See that it does not.” She would have called the celebration by a far worse name, for to her it was simply drunken revelry, but she knew to Xerxes it was much more. Her husband had a great war to plan against Greece, and he had no intention of losing. Thousands of men, some known as the Immortals, would march out within the year to subdue the Greeks in order to fulfill the promise Xerxes had made to his father, Darius, before his death.
A sigh escaped. If only her husband didn’t think six months of jovial merrymaking need be part of war planning. He was showing off the grandeur of Susa and the riches he possessed. And his power. His wealth most definitely showed that he also wielded great power. His father and ancestors had already conquered so many nations. Only Greece stuck out like a stubborn child who would not submit to Persia’s rule. Xerxes intended to make sure they were put in their place.
But that did not mean her six-year-old son needed to be party to or witness to his father’s actions or plans.
Vashti stood, still holding her son’s hand, and walked to the window of her suite of rooms. She pushed the curtain aside and pointed to the beautiful flowering gardens below and the hills beyond the rooftops. “This is a much better sight to gaze upon, my son.” She bent to look into his eyes.
His dark brow furrowed as though he did not believe her. “But there are no games or dancers. It’s just an old garden, Maman.” Gazsi pulled his hand from hers and crossed his arms over his small chest. “I want games.”
“Then we will have Omid find some appropriate games for a young boy to play. And perhaps it is time your tutors teach you all of the things that hide beneath the garden’s beauty. There is more there than your eye can see.” Vashti patted his head, then gave orders to her servant to call the boy’s tutor and gather some young boys to engage him in games.
The servant left, and Vashti settled on the couch again while Gazsi pulled out carved images and set them up in battle array as though he were the one planning the war with Greece. She looked on with a hint of dismay. No other children had been born to her these past six years. She could not bear to have this one grow up and leave here to go to battle with his father. But if he took the throne one day, war was inevitable.
Unless Amestris’s son Darius was declared king over her son. The thought troubled her. Amestris troubled her. She had always known things would change when Xerxes took the throne and married the woman his mother had intended for him. But she hadn’t expected her mother-in-law to turn so strongly against her.
“She is Persian, my son,” Atossa had said to Xerxes on a visit to his chambers, knowing full well that Vashti was nearby. “You know you cannot have that half-Persian woman’s child wearing the crown after you. You must marry a woman of royalty—of full Persian blood—once you wear the crown. Her rights will surpass this foreigner’s, and you will never need fear that woman’s son usurping the throne of your rightful heir.”
Atossa’s words still stung, though three years had passed since the coronation and Xerxes’ marriage to Amestris. It hadn’t helped that Amestris had already borne her husband two sons while Vashti could claim only one. Am I so unworthy in his eyes?
But she knew that was not the truth. Xerxes had been devoted to her for sixteen years before his coronation, and even with the addition of Amestris and many concubines, Vashti remained his favorite. To Atossa’s dismay, Vashti bore the title of queen above Amestris, something that brought a smile to Vashti’s face when she thought on it. Still, she did her best to think on other things.
The noise of the men’s revelry drifted to her from the king’s rooms and audience chamber. His private court was located at the opposite end of the palace from her privileged, secluded rooms. He had promised never to put her in a harem, and thus far had kept his word. How long she would retain the title of queen, however, was a question that often surfaced. Amestris clearly had set her sights on wearing the crown and sitting at Xerxes’ side. Vashti determined she would not let that happen. Not as long as she had her son to protect.
She glanced at him sitting on the rug, making war noises and loud battle cries. She must do more to make sure he was taught all he needed to take his father’s place and not allow her sons to wedge their way between Gazsi and Xerxes. A boy needed his father. Especially the firstborn. And she would do all in her power to protect his place as the rightful heir.
“Please make them stop!” Amestris walked from the nursery, where her two young sons wailed in protest that she refused to hold them. She’d held them long enough and needed time away from them. Ungrateful children.
She pushed past her maids, who hurried to coddle the boys, and headed to the door that led to her small private court. It was not nearly large enough in comparison to what Vashti had at her disposal. The woman had no business being queen. Atossa had assured Amestris that marrying her son would give her the status of ri
ghtful queen and Vashti would take second place once Xerxes was crowned king. But none of those promises had come to pass. Apparently Atossa did not know her son as well as she thought she did. Xerxes, despite the fact that Amestris had given him two whiny children, did nothing to place her above Vashti. Vashti, the favored one. Vashti, his first love.
She felt sick at the very thought. She paced the court, cursing its size, determined to insist that Xerxes give her bigger rooms at the first opportunity. But he was so wrapped up with the governors and rulers of the provinces that he hadn’t been to see her in months.
He’d probably been to see her, though. Amestris felt her hands clench of their own volition. How she hated that woman. She really must do something to change her situation. If only there was a way to get rid of Vashti completely. Or at the very least have her demoted from her high place. Give her a taste of the life she should be living.
How to do such a thing, though? She couldn’t just go to Xerxes and ask him. He was in love with the woman, foolish as that was. No, she needed to think. To plan. But the more she thought on it, the more hopeless any sort of change seemed. She moved back to her rooms. At least her children were quiet now. She rubbed her neck, cursing the headache that had assaulted her in the courtyard.
This was not the life she had intended. She was a princess. Royalty. She deserved to rule, and one way or another she would change her circumstances. No matter what she had to do to achieve her wishes.
CHAPTER
Three
Hadassah bent over the plants in the garden, picking weeds from between rows of cucumber, leek, radish, and melon. The plot of ground was small compared to those in the yards of the homes she had seen on walks to the marketplace. But Mordecai seemed to prefer the small, obscure house to one that might afford them more space and allow them to hire a few servants. Of course, she did not know whether Mordecai could pay for anything better, and Hadassah did not mind the close quarters, except for those times when her neighbors fought or babies cried in the night.
She rubbed the dirt from her hands and leaned back on her heels. The sun beat down on her covered head and a bead of sweat trickled down her back. Levia would have called her inside to rest at this time of day, but she had gone several blocks away to help her son’s wife with one of the children. Hadassah enjoyed the time to herself, though she took care to stay near the house as Mordecai had asked.
The revelry of the past months had risen to such great noise that Hadassah was glad for the instruction to stay as far from the palace as possible. Nearly six months had passed, and Mordecai had assured her that the governors and satraps would soon go home, if palace informants were correct. “But,” he told her, “it is said that the king plans another feast immediately following this one.”
“What?” Levia was spinning wool but allowed the spindle to come to a stop as Mordecai explained.
“Apparently the king wants all of Susa to celebrate with him. His plans for war against Greece have gone very well, and all of the people in the citadel are invited to celebrate.” He paused. Rubbed a hand over his beard. “I am expected to attend as well.”
Levia looked at him while Hadassah continued to wind dyed wool into a ball. “For how long?” Levia asked.
“They say it will last a week. The invitation was to all the people, but they meant the men. You and Hadassah must stay far from the palace, even if I do not come home for a week.” Mordecai seemed troubled, but he said no more even when Levia pressed him with questions.
No doubt Mordecai had remained silent for her sake. Levia would talk privately to him when they were behind the curtain of their chamber. Hadassah often heard muffled conversations, though she rarely understood the words. They were protecting her. Always protecting her.
She straightened, then stood and moved into the cooler house. Water filled a skin they had drawn from the well that morning, and she took a long drink. A knock on the door startled her. Who would come visiting in the middle of the day? Had something happened to Levia or Mordecai or one of their grandchildren?
She crept to the door and peered through the window beside it. Jola! She hurried to let her friend inside.
“What are you doing here?” Hadassah motioned Jola to sit and offered her a drink from the skin she had just used.
“Is that any way to greet your best friend? I came to see you, of course.” Jola plopped down on one of the cushions in the house’s main room. “Ima was resting, so I snuck out.” She grinned.
Hadassah smiled. Jola’s mother would not be upset with her once she knew where her daughter had gone. But Jola would cause her no small amount of worry in the meantime. “You will be confined to your house for days.”
Jola chuckled. “It is worth it to get away for a few minutes. Aren’t you weary of everyone hovering? And all because the king decided to have a six-month-long party. Why should we be worried about being seen? They all act like someone is going to snatch us up and take us away.”
Hadassah sat beside her friend and wiped her brow. “Abba seems to have good reason for concern. The city has been overrun with hundreds of extra men. I don’t think he trusts any of them.”
“I suppose they will stop worrying once we marry.” Jola’s face took on a dreamy expression. “Do you ever wonder who they will pick for you? I’ve had my eye on some of the boys who come to the meetings. I think it will be fun to help Ima choose.”
Hadassah laughed as her friend dramatically fluttered a hand over her heart. “We are too young to wed yet,” she said, wondering who fascinated Jola so much. Mordecai stayed away from the meetings most of the time. Though he did his best to follow the laws of the Hebrew God, he avoided mingling often with their people. “I wonder if they are afraid.” The words were out before she realized she had spoken.
“Of course they are afraid. They want to keep us pure until the marriage bed. In this pagan land, we are in more danger than we would be if we had gone back to Israel with the exiles.” Jola looked thoughtful. “Do you ever wish we’d gone back?”
“I meant I wonder if they are afraid of being together as Jews. Why does my abba keep us from most of the meetings yet observe the Jewish law at home? Are Jews truly in danger here? If we were, surely our families would have gone back with the other exiles.” Hadassah picked up a piece of straw that had come loose from a basket and chewed on the end.
Jola gave her a strange look, then shrugged. “I don’t know. Ima thinks so, but we’ve lived here for more than seventy years and the Persians have never treated any people in a treacherous way. They don’t even make us give up our God for theirs. I don’t know what your abba fears, unless he knows something we don’t. Then again, maybe he doesn’t like the rabbi.”
Hadassah laughed, but inside she knew it was more than that. She could feel something beyond their simple conclusions, but she had no idea why she sensed Mordecai had reasons for secrecy toward his fellow Jews that he would not tell his family.
“So answer my question now.” Jola stood to explore the cooking room for dates or nuts, something she loved.
Hadassah followed her. “Which one? Do I wonder who they will pick for me to marry, or do I wish we had returned to Jerusalem?”
“Both.” Jola laughed. “I’ll tell you if you’ll tell me.”
Hadassah gave her friend a sociable scowl. “I’m curious about Jerusalem. I wonder if my parents would have gone back if they’d lived. And I’d like to see the city. But Ima tells me the walls are not done. I don’t think she likes it when I talk about wanting to go back.”
“She loves you. She fears losing you even in marriage, if my guess is right.” Jola bit off the end of a fresh date. “Now answer the other question.”
Hadassah leaned against a wooden table where they chopped food. “I will have to accept whoever Abba picks for me. Perhaps Ima will let me help pick the man. When I’m old enough. And twelve isn’t old enough yet.”
“Thirteen is.” Her friend gave her a smirk. Jola was a year her senior
and had just turned thirteen.
“Fifteen is better. Ima insists that is the earliest she will consider someone for me.”
Jola finished the date and gave a dramatic sigh. “I will have baskets of dates at my wedding, and my beloved and I will feast on them throughout the night.”
“I see I have lost you to your dream world again. I suppose you will marry a prince as well?” Hadassah gently pushed Jola back toward the sitting room. “Though now it is your turn to answer your questions.”
“A prince? Nay. A king!” Jola laughed and Hadassah joined her. Of course, neither of them would wed a prince or a king, for there was no king left in Israel. “There are a few young men who come to the meetings. I haven’t decided which one I like best yet.” Jola crossed her arms. “And I would only return to Jerusalem if I could go with the man I pick. If Ima gives me to someone awful, I am not leaving Susa!” She waved her hand in a flourish. “I will be forever exiled in this pagan city.”
Hadassah pondered Jola’s words, knowing that most of what she said she did not mean. Both of them would marry men from among their people and do as they were told, even if that meant leaving Susa. Women did not go against the customs of their men, and men did not go against the customs of the Jews, whether Mordecai wanted to mingle with their people or not.
CHAPTER
Four
Vashti entered the king’s opulent rooms, which were decorated much like other parts of his palace—with blue and white linen curtains fastened to silver rods that hung from marble pillars. Xerxes’ couches were crafted of gold and silver and cushioned with lamb’s wool. The floor sparkled of alabaster done in a colorful mosaic pavement of turquoise and black-and-white marble.
Since his coronation, Xerxes had spared no expense in redecorating the palace to his liking, and each time Vashti entered his apartments, he seemed to have added some new vase or tapestry or vessel of gold to adorn the walls and shelves and tables of gold and silver. When the sun shone through the tall windows, the effect nearly blinded her.
Star of Persia: Esther's Story Page 2