Amestris sat alone in her rooms and kept even the shutters drawn. News of Bigthan and Teresh’s plot and subsequent execution had spread quickly throughout the palace, even the city, and she had not slept for fear that Xerxes’ investigation would somehow come back to her.
But as the weeks slowly passed and she risked being seen outside of her rooms with no consequences, her confidence grew. Apparently neither man had incriminated her or mentioned their conversation, for no one approached or even questioned her. Not even the king had called for her to ask why she had desired to have them remain as his personal guards. Was the man so completely foolish? Too bad they had not been able to carry out their plans. She could even now be ruling as Darius’s guardian. People would bow to her instead of Esther or Xerxes. Even Haman had gained more popularity with the king of late than she had.
Was it time for her to make a new ally? How much could Haman be trusted, and did she dare make him her acquaintance—even friend? He had a wife and many sons, she’d heard, so at the very least she could befriend his wife.
Stop and think, Amestris. It’s much too soon to continue plotting and scheming again. Let it rest.
But no matter how often she tried to talk herself out of letting things remain as they were, she could not stop hating her husband and his new queen. Atossa had promised her that Xerxes would love her more than Vashti.
Nothing had gone the way it was supposed to. None of her dreams, her schemes, her plans had done her one bit of good. But she could not stop trying. She had to ensure that her sons remained Xerxes’ only heirs. Perhaps she could begin a rumor to get him to stop asking for Esther, to keep her from bearing his child.
But even that thought seemed impossible. How was she supposed to convince her husband that not seeing Esther was a good thing—especially since it was Esther’s father who had saved his life?
You are pathetic, Amestris.
She wished she didn’t believe that.
CHAPTER
Twenty-six
Amestris woke early several weeks later, irritable and determined. Bigthan and Teresh were dead. Vashti banished. Esther queen. And all of it was her mother-in-law’s fault. If Atossa had not promised Amestris that Xerxes would raise her to the highest level in his harem to be queen over all of his women, even Vashti, she would never have married the man.
She stomped through her suite and banged on the door of her sleeping maids’ room. “Get up, you lazy slaves.” She imagined Atossa telling her to keep her voice down—she would wake the household. But she didn’t care.
Two bleary-eyed young maidens appeared, blinking at her in the barest light of dawn.
“Get dressed,” Amestris barked. “And ready my sons. We are going to see their grandmother.” She would have left the boys behind, but she fully intended to remind Atossa that she deserved more than she had ever been given. Her sons deserved better. “Help me dress,” she added as she moved to her dressing room.
What she would say to her mother-in-law remained to be seen, but she simply must do something. Sitting here in these rooms, watching the days drift by, hearing the rumors, knowing her husband favored nearly every person over her, made her want to scream at the heavens. But screaming would only bring her the wrong kind of attention. Screaming was meant for dying men like Bigthan and Teresh.
She shuddered at the memory and searched her many gowns for one that appealed to her. One of her maids helped her to put it on, and another had begun to adorn her hair when a knock sounded at her outer door.
She looked at her eunuch standing guard nearby. “Who would be up so early?” And why come to her here?
Another eunuch answered the knock, and Amestris met one of Atossa’s servants just inside the door. She did not invite the man inside, though by the look on his face, she wondered if sitting would be the wiser choice.
“What news do you bring? Has Atossa sent you? Has something happened to the king?” How fortuitous that would be! But she set her mouth in a grim line lest she reveal her thoughts and searched the man’s troubled face.
“I’m afraid the queen mother has taken ill. She is feverish and calling for you,” the man said.
Amestris felt as though someone had struck her. Atossa ill? “I will come at once.” She looked at her maids. “Keep the boys here.” She dare not risk exposing them to illness.
She followed the servant, her guards at her sides, her mind churning. Obviously her complaints would have to wait until Atossa recovered. But how had she grown ill so quickly? Hadn’t she seemed the picture of health at last evening’s meal? Had someone poisoned her food? A shiver worked through Amestris. One could never be too careful.
But there would be no reason for someone to kill the king’s mother. She must have encountered an illness some other way.
The hall took several turns before Amestris stood at the great doors leading to the queen mother’s chambers. She entered without knocking as the guard stood outside.
“Take me to her.” Amestris kept her voice low at the somber mood in the room.
A servant stopped her at the threshold. “She is gravely ill, my queen. Perhaps it is wise not to get too close to her.”
Amestris nodded, then slowly moved past the servant. She approached the end of the bed. Atossa’s breathing was shallow, her face drenched in sweat.
“Someone put a cool cloth on her forehead.” Amestris glared at one of the servants, who hurried to do her bidding. Did these people know nothing about caring for the sick?
She waited a moment for them to make Atossa more comfortable, then forced herself to take a good look at her mother-in-law. Her pallor held a grayish cast, and her breathing did not come with ease.
“Atossa?” Amestris spoke softly, but the woman’s eyes were closed, and she made no attempt to respond. “Atossa?” She spoke louder this time. Still no response. She looked to the nearest servant. “I was told she asked for me.”
The woman nodded. “She did, my queen. She speaks on and off, but it seems as though she is dreaming when she does so. She spoke your name. We thought that meant she wanted to see you.”
“She can hardly see me if she doesn’t open her eyes.” Amestris’s patience felt stretched thin, and her skin grew clammy in the heated room. No windows were open and the lights were dim. The place carried the scent of coming death.
Impossible! Atossa could not have grown ill so quickly. Xerxes would surely punish his mother’s entire staff if she died suddenly.
Amestris glanced again at Atossa’s prone body. You can’t die. We have too much to do yet.
But she could not say the words, or anything else that she would not want servants to overhear. She needed fresh air and to leave this oppressive place.
“Has anyone told the king?” Xerxes should be here, not her. Atossa must have spoken her name in a fit of delirium. It was her son she needed.
“Messengers are on their way to him now. We did not wish to wake him too soon,” one eunuch said.
Incompetent servants, all of them! “He would want to be awakened if his mother is dying, you fools.” Amestris strode from the bedchamber with one last glance at Atossa. She would walk toward Xerxes’ rooms. Let him think that she cared that he be informed about his mother’s health—that Atossa’s servants did little to help her. Perhaps she would gain some favor in his eyes during this dreadful hour of need.
Xerxes heard the servant’s words but struggled to process their meaning. “My mother is ill?”
“Yes, my lord. She grew suddenly ill in the night. She is feverish and says things in her sleep, but she will not awaken. We thought you should know.”
Esther touched his arm, reminding him of her presence. “I’m sorry to hear this, my lord. Shall I call for your manservant to dress you to visit her right away?”
He nodded simply because he suspected she could tell that he felt wooden and suddenly lost as to what to do.
Esther slid from the bed and wrapped her robe about her, then directed his servants to dr
ess him and give him nourishment and a quick cup of cold goat’s milk. Then she kissed his cheek, and he hurried to his mother’s rooms.
How could this have happened? His mother was young and should live many more years. His heart picked up its pace as he moved with the sudden urge to see her. He stopped short as he met Amestris in the hall close to his mother’s rooms.
“My lord.” She bowed low. “I see you have heard. I thought to come to you myself, as the servants seemed not to know which way to turn.”
He stared at her. How was it that she knew about his mother before he did? But he shoved that thought aside. If only he had thought to bring Esther with him. He would brush right past this woman, who grew more dislikable with each passing day, and avoid her oily charm.
“There is no need, Amestris. My mother’s servants have already told me what I need to know. You may leave us now.” He did move past her then, triumph in his heart at the shocked look on her face. But as he entered his mother’s rooms, saw the dark interior, smelled the odor of impending death—or had she already passed—he felt lost again, like a young boy abandoned.
He hurried to her chambers, where a servant told him what he already knew. He stepped closer and knelt at her side. “Maman?” He spoke close to her ear, but she only stirred. She did not wake. “Maman, come back to me.”
She did not seem to hear him, and her breathing grew labored.
He took her hand. Though she appeared feverish, her fingers were cold to his touch. He wrapped both hands around her frail one and laid his head on the bed. How long he stayed with her, he could not tell, for the room was too dark to see the sun moving across the sky. But his knees began to cramp, and as he shifted to stand, the sound of death caught in her throat. She gave a hoarse gurgle, until at last she breathed no more.
Xerxes stood over her, tears filling his eyes. There was so much he would have said. So much more he wanted to hear her say.
He turned abruptly. He could not bear this grief. Not here. Not now. Oh Maman! He glanced back at her still form. She had been guiding and controlling him most of his life. But she had loved him, and he knew at some deep level that no one else in his kingdom cared for him like she had.
CHAPTER
Twenty-seven
Four Years Later
Esther leaned on one elbow and studied Xerxes as he slept. His body twitched now and then, as though his dreams were troubled. Her brow furrowed as concern weighted her heart. How she longed to touch his forehead, to wipe the cares of the world from his mind, but she dared not wake him.
The predawn gray hues of early morn filtered in patches along the mosaic-tiled floor of the room, just visible beneath the curtain of the bed coverings. She had missed this time with him. But in the past four years, he had not called for her as often as he used to. Amestris had managed to steal him away from her, and his wandering eyes had caused him to call on some of the other women of the harem.
She saw him perhaps twice a month, and it never seemed like enough. Did he love her?
He shifted position, his arm brushing hers, startling him awake. He blinked several times, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
Dawn’s pink light now peeked through the curtain, and Esther smiled down at him. “You are awake.”
He made a grumbling noise in his throat, cleared it, then looked at her. “I suppose I am. And what a beautiful sight to awaken to, my love.” He shifted to face her, his dark hair showing signs of gray. He touched her cheek. “The gods surely blessed me the day they sent me you.”
Her cheeks heated at the compliment. Xerxes was not one to say such things often, and with his inattention of late, she had wondered. How hard it was to be wed to a king! Why had her life come to this? But she smiled again and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, my lord.”
They rose and settled to break their fast, Esther’s mind whirling with thoughts she could not say. Would he call for her again soon? Why did he suddenly find it so important to spend time with Amestris?
“I’ve invited Haman to bring his wife to a banquet tonight,” he said, interrupting her musings. “Zeresh and Amestris have become friends, and I thought it would be good for you to meet her as well. Haman is going to go far in service to the kingdom, and I think it wise for my favorite wife to know his family.” He cupped her chin and held it, searching her gaze.
“Haman, my lord?” Esther returned his scrutiny, struggling to understand. Years ago it had been Mordecai’s information that had saved the king’s life. “Has Haman done something to please you? I would be honored to hear it.” She hoped he sensed honesty in her tone and not the concern that nagged her whenever Haman came up in conversations with Mordecai. The man’s obvious desire for power troubled her. How far would he take such desire? Might he also consider an assassination plot against the king?
Xerxes released his grip and tilted his head. “You truly want to know? These things are political. They will surely bore you, my love.”
“Not at all, my husband. Anything that interests you holds interest for me as well. I do not know Haman well enough to understand his position in the kingdom.” She offered him a slice of goat cheese and took one for herself, settling back to listen.
Xerxes chuckled, swallowed the cheese, and took a swig of water from a sweating goblet. “All right, my dear wife. I will tell you why I am soon going to promote Haman to the highest position in the land. Though you must promise me not to tell his wife or even your servants. Everyone will know when the time is right.”
Esther nodded. “I will not speak a word of it.”
Xerxes seemed satisfied with her comment and proceeded to tell her all of the ways that Haman had helped him during the war, given advice on the building projects, and transformed the palace to wipe out all memory of Vashti, though Esther wondered if anything could wipe her husband’s first love from his mind.
“He has done much for you,” she said when he had finished. Yet none of what he said seemed to warrant such a high position—second only to the king. Surely there was a better reason, but Xerxes did not seem to have one. Perhaps Haman just made him feel as though he had found someone he could trust, leaving him free to do whatever he pleased. Was that the true source of the king’s desire to have a man at his right hand?
“Does something trouble you, my love?” Xerxes asked, taking her hand. “Your brow is furrowed as though you find my choice displeasing.”
“Oh no, my lord,” she quickly said, forcing her tense shoulders to relax. “I suppose I am simply nervous about meeting Haman’s wife, considering how much the man has meant to you and your kingdom. I hope I do not displease her.”
Xerxes leaned back in the chair and smiled. “She will find you enthralling, just as everyone in the palace does. You have nothing to fear, my love. Though she is probably old enough to be your mother.” He laughed, and she joined him. Amestris was much older than she was as well, and the truth was, Xerxes was not much different in age from Mordecai. But wives of kings had no choice when it came to age.
“I am told they have many children.” She deftly changed the subject as she fingered the food on her plate. In four years she had yet to produce a child. Was that why he did not call for her as often as he once did? Amestris had since given him a third son and one daughter.
“Yes! The man has ten sons!” Xerxes slapped his knee. “Can you imagine? The woman is barely done bearing one child and she has another.”
Esther nodded. “I am happy for them. I wish you had as many.” Her words came out in a whisper.
He stilled for a moment, then touched her shoulder. “Esther, look at me.”
She did so.
“Vashti had only one son. Amestris has given me three. Some of my concubines and other wives have given me plenty of children. You need not worry about this. You are young. When the time is right, you will give me a handsome son to bear my name. Who knows but that he might even inherit my kingdom?” He took her hand and squeezed her cold fingers.
She intertwined thei
r hands. “Thank you, my husband. I will be content to wait.” She forced a smile lest he sense her lingering concern. “This banquet tonight. Will Haman’s entire family be there?” From what she had heard, Zeresh would be trouble enough, but ten sons? With a father like Haman, whom she did not trust for reasons she could not explain, what must they be like?
Xerxes turned for a moment to look toward the window. “I had thought only to invite his wife to a small banquet of my closest wives and noblemen. But you have given me a wonderful idea!”
“I have?” Worry snaked up her spine at the unnatural gleam that suddenly appeared in his gaze.
“Of course, I should wait. He isn’t expecting it now and I don’t have the proper arrangements made, but what better time to announce his promotion over all of the other nobles than when his family is in attendance and the other nobles are there to witness the event? I shall make sure their wives are also included.” He kissed her cheek, then stood. “And you, my dear, will be in charge of the women as my first queen once was. Amestris will chide me for it, but you are the one who made me think of it, so you shall have the honor of overseeing the women at the banquet. It is time they learned to listen to my queen.” He pulled her to her feet and kissed her again. “This will be a good day!”
She walked with him to the sitting room, where he explained to her all that would be required of her, then he called his servants to send out the invitations to his nobles and their wives. “And include Mordecai for Esther’s sake. He is not a noble, but he is her father and as such should be honored.”
Esther sat listening, too stunned to know how to respond. Her heart thudded. The man she did not trust was to be promoted tonight because her husband had mentioned that he wanted her to meet the man’s wife? Xerxes’ thinking was so twisted that she could make no sense of it. If only he would wait, perhaps someone could talk sense into him. But he wasn’t likely to listen to anyone other than Haman, from the way things sounded.
Star of Persia: Esther's Story Page 17