Star of Persia: Esther's Story

by Jill Eileen Smith

  He stopped at the door to his private chambers, recalling the last days he had spent here. Four years and the place looked no different, yet it seemed utterly foreign. Empty. Lifeless. This was the place he had shared with Vashti more often than any other wife, and he could not bear the thought of entering.

  “I want new quarters arranged for me this very night.” His command brought sharp gasps from a few of his servants. He turned about and glared at them. “Do you find my command too taxing?”

  “No, my lord. That is . . . where would you like us to move your things?” one servant sputtered.

  “I do not want these things. I want new things. A new bed, chairs, tables, everything! I never want to see these chambers again. Do you understand?” He felt heat crawl up his neck and wondered if he was being foolish. He had imagined crawling into his bed and remaining there for days. But now, after looking upon the furniture where Vashti had sat, the bed where they had shared their love, the table where they had shared many meals . . . he couldn’t bear it. What had he done to deserve such incompetent advisors?

  “I am sure the king’s servants can find new rooms with new furnishings in short order,” a voice said from the end of the hall. The man moved closer and bowed before the king. “Your Majesty. As I was your humble servant throughout the campaign, if you will allow me, I will make sure your eunuchs have you settled in the finest rooms in the palace before nightfall. If Your Majesty likes, might I suggest a brief respite in the gardens where the cooking staff has prepared refreshments for my lord. You will have complete privacy should you so desire it.” He bowed again.

  “Haman,” Xerxes said. “I thought you only a military man. But I see you are a man of many abilities.”

  “It pleases me to serve you, my lord. I have no other desire than to serve my king.”

  “And I am pleased to accept your service. If you can deliver on your promise before nightfall, I will promote you to one of my advisors.” Xerxes studied the man’s reaction, pleased to see nothing but a humble nod.

  “I will do better than my best, my lord.” He bowed again, then commanded the servants to follow him while Xerxes’ guards walked with him to his private gardens. Haman’s sudden appearance was not surprising, as the man had been around nearly every turn during the Greek campaign, always meeting a need before the king expressed it.

  He will go far in my service if he can keep his promises. Xerxes tucked the man’s name into the back of his mind and felt the slightest hope he’d had since entering Susa. A new advisor would be a welcome change.

  A week later, Xerxes woke in his new chambers, at last beginning to get used to the difference. The bed and other furnishings were new, the view from the window was better than his old one, and the tapestries and adornments were still simple yet somehow more elegant, as Vashti would have said.

  But despite the change, despite the feeling that he had returned to a new life, his heart still ached in a place no one could reach. He missed Vashti. Even deposing Memucan, which he had done against Amestris’s adamant pleas, had not taken away that loss.

  And his best efforts could not shake the feeling that struck him afresh each morning. Defeated, he thought briefly of sending for one of his concubines but quickly dismissed the thought.

  A servant approached as he rose and offered him his day robe. He slipped his arms through it and tied the belt, then walked to the window, where a table stood laden with food to break his fast.

  He had no appetite for food, but he sat and picked at the bread and cheese. When he had finished the last sip of pomegranate juice, another servant approached to clear the food away.

  “Tell me,” Xerxes said to the man, “how do the servants see me? What are they speaking about when they know I cannot hear?”

  The man set the utensils down, his expression wary. “I do not pay attention to gossips, my lord. I do not think I can answer the question to the king’s satisfaction.”

  “But you could tell me what you think of me.” Why he pressed the young man—too young, barely into his manhood—he couldn’t say, but somehow Xerxes needed a distraction. Surely someone could tell him what was wrong with him!

  “I think, my lord,” the man said, unable to hold the king’s gaze, “that my lord king is unhappy. That since the queen’s departure, he misses the queen and isn’t sure what he should do.”

  “Observant of you.” Xerxes studied the man for a lengthy breath. “Do you have a solution for your king?”

  The servant cleared his throat, but his gaze did not waver from studying something he found interesting near his feet. “Perhaps . . . let beautiful young virgins be sought out for the king. And let the king appoint officers in all the provinces of his kingdom to gather the virgins to the harem in Susa the citadel, under custody of Hegai. Let their cosmetics be given them. And let the young woman who pleases the king be queen instead of Vashti.”

  Xerxes stared at the servant, then let his gaze rest on the other young men who circled the room, waiting to jump at his smallest command or whim of desire. Had they discussed this among themselves? Surely one servant did not come up with this plan alone.

  “This is a good plan,” he said at last, looking from one servant to the next. “And since you probably all had a hand in coming up with this idea, I will allow you to speak to Haman and my other advisors to set this into motion immediately.”

  The first servant smiled and bowed. “It will be as you say, my lord.”

  Xerxes dismissed him along with the rest. Only his guards remained outside the door. But the silence, for once, did not oppress him. Suddenly he had a new goal. A new mission. To find a young virgin to replace Vashti. A queen of greater beauty and finer worth than his first love. An impossible task, but he would enjoy the process of seeking her.

  Mordecai saw the edict nailed to the post at the king’s gate and read it with increasing alarm.

  All beautiful virgins of marriageable age are to report to the palace in Susa, to Hegai, the eunuch in charge of the king’s harem. The virgin who pleases the king will become queen in Vashti’s place.

  All virgins? He hurried down the steps and half ran, half walked the entire length of the journey home. Hadassah! What had he done? He should have found a husband for her. Especially once Gad’s father had betrothed him to Jola. He should have sought out every Jew in Susa until he found a suitable mate for his girl.

  Was there still time? If he hid her from the king’s men, who would surely search the city to make sure every virgin was accounted for, could he betroth her to someone before she was found?

  His side hurt as he ran, so he slowed his pace and dragged in air. Would the king honor a Jewish betrothal? He could not rush a wedding. Could he? What man would wish to wed so soon? Everyone would talk and assume the worst of Hadassah.

  But what would they think of her if she ended up in the harem of the king? He placed a hand to his forehead and muttered frustrated words. Why had he waited so long? He could not blame Levia’s death on this, for Levia had begged him to begin the search a year ago. Foolish Mordecai. This is your doing—your punishment for keeping her too long. Levia wouldn’t have condemned him quite as harshly as his own thoughts did, but she would have worried and nagged him. She might have kept him from waiting until it was too late!

  He turned a corner and saw the lights coming from the surrounding houses. Hadassah would have the evening meal ready and would greet him with joy. And he would greet her with the worst news of her life.

  What should he do? He glanced heavenward, but no inspiration came from the place where Adonai dwelt. If he had been a faithful Jew, he would have taken his family to Jerusalem with the rest and worked to rebuild the temple. But no. He had stayed in Susa to serve a pagan king.

  And now he would lose his last treasure to that king, to be lost among thousands of women who would never again see their families. All because he had waited too long. All because the king was a selfish pagan.

  He did not allow himself to dwell
on that overmuch. He must work instead to find a way out, perhaps take Hadassah even now out of Persia.

  His thoughts churned. He should tell her. But he wasn’t sure he dared.

  CHAPTER

  Fourteen

  Hadassah moved from the cooking area of the inner court into the house, where she could observe her neighbors from the window. She had baked, chopped, weeded the garden, spun thread, worked the shuttle, and woven in silence, never able to shake the restlessness that filled her every waking moment.

  This was not supposed to be her life. She was the one who was supposed to be betrothed to Gad. Not Jola. Not her best friend.

  Levia was not supposed to be in the grave. Her parents were not supposed to have died before she could know them. And she most definitely was not supposed to be Mordecai’s only solace.

  Where were her cousins and their wives? Why did they not come to visit more often? But she knew the answer. They had work and families, and Mordecai had assured them he was fine. Don’t trouble themselves. But she disagreed. He needed them now more than ever. She could not be all that he had. She could not replace Levia.

  And now what was to become of her? She turned from the window and paced the sitting room. Mordecai would be home soon. The evening meal was nearly ready, but she was torn with how to approach the subject that had remained closed between them. She had told him of Gad and Jola’s betrothal in order to spare him the trouble of seeking out Gad’s father, but nothing else had been said beyond that basic information. And Hadassah grew more concerned with each passing day.

  Footsteps outside the door startled her. She whirled about to see Mordecai enter the house.

  “You are early.” She met his gaze, noting the furrowed brow. “Is something wrong?” His expression sent a feeling of dread to her middle.

  He looked at her for a lengthy moment, then bent to untie his sandals and closed the door behind him. He moved to the window and closed the shutters, then walked through the house, making sure every window and door was latched as though night had already fallen.

  Hadassah followed him to each room. “You are scaring me, Abba. What is going on?”

  He turned and released a deep sigh. “Come.” He took her arm and led her to the sitting room, to a couch opposite him. She sat on the edge. He sank into the cushion, elbows on his knees.

  “There is news,” he said at last, his eyes never leaving her face as though he were memorizing each feature. “You are too beautiful.” His voice was suddenly distant.

  Hadassah blinked. “The news is that I am too beautiful? Are you trying to hide me away from the rest of the city?” She nearly laughed at his outrageous behavior.

  Mordecai shook his head and then bowed as though praying. He looked up again and took her hands. “The king has sent messengers throughout the kingdom. An edict has been written and posted on the doors of the king’s gates and in other prominent places throughout the city.” He swallowed.

  “What does the edict say?”

  “The king is sending men throughout the kingdom to gather beautiful virgins and bring them to Susa in order for them to enter the king’s harem. The king will pick a new queen from among them to replace Vashti.” He let out a rushed breath.

  “Beautiful virgins.” Hadassah repeated his words, her tone dull. “And I am too beautiful.”

  “Yes. Unless I can find a Jewish man to wed you immediately.” Mordecai met her gaze with an imploring look. “Surely there is someone among our people who would be suitable for you. Under the circumstances, the man would understand. You are a worthy woman and will make some man a fine wife. I am only sorry that I did not try to find someone for you sooner.”

  Hadassah held back the hurt that he should have consulted Gad’s father a year ago, back when she and Gad were friendly at feasts and she thought he cared for her. Obviously he cared for Jola more.

  “Are you not going to say something, my child? I have failed you, but we could make this right. Just give me a name of someone to ask. I fear I have not kept up with all of the young men of marriageable age as Levia would have done. But we must find someone swiftly lest the king’s men see you and take you against your will.”

  Hadassah looked at her hands still clasped in Mordecai’s. She pulled them free and stood, pacing again. She turned at last. “I should get the food. We must eat before the stew burns.” Though it was too early for the evening meal, she hurried to the cooking area and returned with the bread and lentil stew. She retrieved clay cups and plates and a jug of goat’s milk and placed it all before Mordecai.

  He blessed the food and they ate in silence. Hadassah’s mind whirled. What was she supposed to say to him? There were no eligible men among their people whom she found acceptable. Gad had been the only one she’d cared for. Her mind blanked as to whom she might mention to Mordecai.

  “I do not know, Abba,” she said at last. “I only know that most young men my age are already betrothed or wed. There may be a few younger. We don’t meet together often, so I have not met many of them. I admit I have spent most of my time with Levia, my cousins’ wives, and Jola.”

  Mordecai looked stricken. “I must go to meet with the men of our people and ask them myself then. If they have virgin daughters, there is no doubt they will be seeking young men as well. Perhaps we can all come together and secretly wed all of you to whatever men are available, preferably to a man who is not already married, for I do not wish to see you in the role of a secondary wife. I must go out tonight and see to this before it is too late.” He took a swig from his cup and stood.

  Hadassah stared at him. “But . . .”

  Mordecai shook his head. “No. This is the right thing to do. Do not try to dissuade me, Daughter. I must see that you are safe.”

  “If the king’s men discover the hasty timing of my marriage, will that not bode poorly for you?” She had heard the king could be ruthless, and she did not want to discover that anger aimed against one she loved. The only one she truly had left.

  “They will not find out. And once you are wed, you are no longer a virgin, so they will not want you. Do not worry about me.” He donned his sandals and hurried out into the night.

  Hadassah stared after him, worry niggling her insides. She cleared away the food, lit a lamp, and sat with her spinning, silently praying. Adonai, I do not know what is best right now. But I want to marry a man who will love me. Like I thought Gad might be capable of doing. I want what Levia and Mordecai had. If I do not ask too much, please guide Mordecai in his choosing. And please keep the king’s men from finding me before he can do what he seeks to do.

  She worked long into the night, watching the door, her fear mounting. If he had good news, he would have returned quickly. If something had happened to him, what would she do?

  Mordecai left the last house in the Jewish quarter, his shoulders sagging. Defeat settled over him, and he wondered if his feet would keep moving toward home. What was he going to tell Hadassah? That all of the young men her age had made commitments to others? That the only choices were to be second wife to an older man or to wait for a child to reach adulthood?

  He shouldn’t be surprised at the responses. Their community in Susa was small, and her beauty was actually a deterrent to some fathers. Too many were aware of the king’s roving desires, and even if she was married, a beautiful woman could be taken and her husband killed. Had not their ancestors Abraham and Isaac feared the same thing? So they had lied to the kings of their day and told them that their wives were really their sisters.

  Hadassah’s beauty would work against her with her own people. Should he look to the pagan people of Susa among whom they lived? A weighted feeling settled within him, and he stopped outside of his door, dreading the reaction he would get once he opened it.

  Light flickered behind the closed shutters, barely visible but enough to tell him that Hadassah had waited up for him. He needed to do something to better block the light. If the guards came at night, he would not want to appear as tho
ugh they were awake. Not that sleep would stop them. But if they didn’t see Hadassah, they wouldn’t know of her beauty, and he could keep her hidden and safe until he could find a way to take her out of Persia.

  Yes. That idea, which had floated in his thoughts since he read the edict, now bloomed and pushed out every other possibility. He could not keep her safe here. He could not see her married, so he must take her away. They could seek help from some of the men and go by cover of night. Or perhaps they could join a caravan and disguise themselves until they were safely out of Susa.

  Safe. The word played over and over in his mind. If she landed in the king’s harem, Mordecai could not protect her there. He would lose all control over her future. And she could end up alone and barren with no life but to entertain herself with whatever the king’s concubines did to fill their time.

  One night with the king would ruin her.

  He stood still, staring at his front door, letting that thought sink deep into his being. She would take some convincing to leave, of course. But he would make his case, and she would obey as she always did. He shook himself. It was Levia who had always needed convincing, not Hadassah. Hadassah simply did what he asked of her. She would see reason and help him to plan. She would stay secluded until they could enact their escape.

  He drew in a deep breath and strengthened his resolve, then opened the door and met Hadassah’s relieved look. “You are back at last.”

  “Yes.” He quickly closed the door, removed his sandals, and sat opposite her.

  “Tell me.” She laid the spindle aside. “Things did not go well, did they?”

  He shook his head. “No, they did not. Every eligible young man is already betrothed. You could become second wife to an older man or wait for a child to reach manhood. Our community is too small. There may be some Jews in other areas of the kingdom, but here we have no one.”

  “Perhaps we should travel to some of those other areas then.” She leaned forward. “You could find an excuse to go on an errand for the king—perhaps he would allow you to be one of those who seeks virgins for his harem—and I could go veiled as your wife. When we visit Hebrew communities we could make inquiries. Surely there is someone who would want me.”