Star of Persia: Esther's Story

by Jill Eileen Smith

  She stood again as the servant left, and Xerxes led her to the door. “I will let you get ready for tonight. I don’t know exactly what women do to handle these things, but I am certain you will do an excellent job.” He took her hand and squeezed. “Thank you, Esther.”

  She nodded. How to respond to all of this? “I will do my best,” she said as she left his chambers and allowed the guards to escort her to her rooms. She had a banquet to plan, and she needed to pray if she hoped to have an attitude that would please the king. Haman was not a man she cared to impress, but the king would notice if she was not as gracious to him as she was to even the lowliest servant.

  Why couldn’t she trust her husband’s choice? Other than her father’s concerns, what had the man done to deserve her suspicion? He had never displeased the king and seemed to always be ready to do whatever the king asked. Perhaps it was his overt readiness to please that troubled her most. He was like a man who charmed snakes, though Xerxes was no snake. In any case, she would watch him and his wife, and she would do her best to keep her distance from them both.

  “I will not bow to that man,” Mordecai told Esther the following week after the king’s abrupt announcement. She walked with him in her gardens, and she had sent even the guards away for privacy, though they had orders from the king to hover near. Xerxes had always been obsessed with her protection as well as his own.

  “But the king commanded that all of the king’s officials must do so. How can you ignore the king’s command?” She led him to a gilded bench and sat beside him. “You will get in trouble with the king!” She lowered her voice, leaning toward him.

  “The king is my son-in-law. He is not going to harm your father.” Mordecai stroked his beard and held her gaze. “But I want you to know my reasons, my daughter, because my decision could affect you.”

  Her eyes widened. “Tell me.”

  He glanced about them, then leaned closer to her ear, his voice a mere whisper. “I am no longer willing to hide my Jewish identity. I believe Adonai is displeased with my silence, though I do not regret telling you to keep your heritage a secret. Now that you are queen, I no longer see the need.”

  She stared at him. “You have kept yourself even from meeting with our people for fear of the king’s reprisals.” She struggled to comprehend why he should suddenly change his thinking. Her husband and now her father were becoming most confusing.

  “I know I have. And I regret that I was not more involved with them, nor had you more involved. Your life might have turned out much differently.” He cupped her cheek. “But besides no longer wanting to displease Adonai, I cannot, as a good Jewish man, bow to an Agagite. Haman is descended from our ancient enemies the Amalekites, whom God said to destroy.” He glanced around again, for his words came close to treasonous.

  “But we didn’t.” She had heard the stories of her people often from him. Mordecai was a Benjamite, of the same tribe as King Saul, the man God had commanded to destroy Amalek. “You cannot blame yourself for what King Saul failed to do. Even King David failed to completely wipe them out, though he surely tried.”

  Mordecai rubbed a hand along the back of his neck.

  Esther stared at him, the truth hitting her. “An Agagite? You are sure he is descended from Amalek?”

  Mordecai nodded. “King Agag was killed by Samuel, not Saul, but if some of his descendants had not escaped, then David would have had no Amalekites left to destroy. And yet he found groups of them during his exile from Saul. What does that tell you, my girl?”

  She shifted uncomfortably on the bench, longing to stand but not wanting to draw attention to them from anyone who might be watching from the windows. This was why she did not trust Haman. His heritage was that of an enemy of her people. How could she not have figured this out on her own? Xerxes had told her that Haman was an Agagite. But the connection to King Agag of long ago had slipped her mind.

  “Somehow Saul allowed more than Agag to be spared,” she said. “Or his men were not diligent to carry out the command and some were allowed to escape. Either way, Haman and his family and who knows how many more still exist today.” What on earth were they supposed to do about it? “But shouldn’t that make you more wary of him, Abba? Shouldn’t you bow so you don’t invoke his anger?” Powerful men tended to have powerful tempers.

  “I’ve thought of that,” he said, meeting her gaze. “But how can I go against the law of my God? He decreed in ages past that He would wipe Amalek from the face of the earth, and yet His people failed to do as He commanded. How can I bow to a man God has cursed? Let God deal with him and do to him all that He has promised. But I will not honor a man God has cursed.”

  Esther shook her head and fought the temptation to rub her temples. She lifted her chin instead. “I cannot tell you what you should do, Abba. But I fear that man’s anger. He has my husband completely seduced into thinking he is good, and I have never trusted him even though I did not know why. And now you would ask me to fear for you? What would I do if Haman has you thrown into prison for disobeying the king’s command? Even I cannot be certain you would be spared simply because you are my father.”

  Mordecai took her hand. She half expected him to push her hair behind her ear as he had done when she was small, but she wore a veil and was too well dressed for him to touch more than her hands or cheeks.

  “Do not fear for me, Esther. I did not come to this decision lightly. You need not worry. No one knows of your heritage, and even if I make mine known, Haman will not make the connection. He is too caught up in his own pride for that, plus he would never consider accusing the king’s favorite wife of wrongdoing. But you must let me do what I believe God would have me do. And if that means disobeying an order the king ought never to have given, one that goes against the will of our God, then I cannot abide it. I will not do it.”

  She searched his face for a lengthy moment, memorizing each line, fearing she might never see him again. “I will not fight you on this, Abba. You must do what you believe is right. I only hope you will not hate me if I cannot agree with you. And if I am required to bow to the man, I cannot disobey my husband.”

  “You must do what you must do,” he said, bending close to kiss her cheek. “Now I must go before your guards come back, fearing I have somehow harmed you.” He smiled, but she could not return it.

  She wished she had never heard of Haman the Agagite. He hadn’t done anything to her or her family, but the history was there. The curse of God rested on him. And she could not argue with God.

  CHAPTER

  Twenty-eight

  The following day, Mordecai’s brave words to Esther were tested as Haman passed through the hall at the king’s gate. He walked with head high and did not even glance at the men who groveled at his feet. Mordecai breathed a sigh when Haman’s shadow no longer lingered in the hall and his footsteps receded. The other officials stood, but no one seemed to notice that Mordecai had not risen from his seat nor bowed on the tile floor.

  He bent his head to his work, ignoring his fellow servants, hoping to avoid any questions. This decision was going to be harder than he’d expected. If asked, would he be able to honestly admit his Jewish heritage as reason for ignoring the king’s command?

  He pushed the question out of his mind as the day’s work consumed him, and finally the time came to leave for home. He slipped down the stairs and headed away from the palace, glancing once behind him to say a silent prayer for Esther. When he had taken to praying that his actions would not affect her in any way, he could not recall. But her status as queen mollified most of his fears. God would protect her. He had placed her there for a reason, though Mordecai often wondered what that reason could possibly be. Still, the king seemed to favor her, so he let himself trust enough to focus on the things he needed to do. And admitting his heritage and his faith mattered more to him now than it ever had.

  He turned down a street toward home, grateful for the brilliant splashes of color in the sunset lighting the way. Hi
s gaze shifted at the sight of movement. A man appeared from an adjoining street. Mordecai recognized Roshan, who had served as one of the king’s officials for many years. His beard was flecked with gray and his brow bore the lines of age. Had he gotten lost?

  “Roshan, this is not your normal route home. Is there something you seek?” Mordecai asked.

  “Mordecai, my friend.” Roshan came up alongside him and they continued slowly walking in the direction of Mordecai’s home.

  Mordecai was determined to lead him away from his actual house. The men he worked with need not know where he lived. He had few he would call friend in that place, nor did he trust many of them.

  “I have come to ask you a question. I did not want to ask it in front of the other officials lest I embarrass you. We have labored together too long to ruin a good friendship.” Roshan’s grip on Mordecai’s shoulder was strong but brief.

  Mordecai stopped to face him, sudden apprehension filling him. “What question is so important that it could not wait until morning?” He laughed lightly. “Surely nothing has happened to be so secretive.” No one had seen him. Had they?

  “I think it is,” Roshan said, his voice quiet and somber. “I noticed that you did not bow when Haman passed by. You did not even move from your seat. And yet the king himself has commanded us to do so. Why is it that one of the king’s servants, an official, in fact, feels he has no need to obey the king? Has he given you permission to ignore the command because of your relationship to the queen?”

  Mordecai’s heart beat faster, and a thin trickle of sweat snaked down his back. So he had not been as unnoticed as he’d thought. “You ask many questions, my friend.”

  “Do you deny that you did not bow?” Roshan’s tone accused him.

  “I do not deny it.” Mordecai drew a steadying breath.

  “Why did you disobey the king’s command?” Roshan stepped back, assessing him. “The gods know we would all like to ignore the command. No one likes Haman.” He lowered his voice as he spoke the man’s name. “No one wants to bow. But we dare not disobey the king, and yet here you are doing just that.”

  “I am a Jew,” Mordecai said. “I bow to my God alone.” Never mind that he also bowed to Xerxes as king.

  Roshan raised a brow. “And you are allowed to refuse because of this? You are a Jew?”

  “Yes.” He had already told the man enough. “Now, if you have nothing more to say to me, I will see you in the morning.” Mordecai turned and walked toward home, listening for footsteps following him. When he came to a turn, he glanced back, but there was no sign of Roshan. Good.

  Mordecai entered his house and collapsed onto a couch, his strength spent. He had just done exactly what he had told Esther not to do. Would their Jewishness get them in trouble? Persia was an accepting culture. None of Xerxes’ ancestors had forced conquered peoples to change their beliefs. Surely he had acted rightly.

  But as he searched for food to fill his empty belly, he wondered if God had truly directed him or if he had acted out of his own disdain for Haman. If the truth were known, he did not like the man who had managed to get so close to the king. Agagite or not, Haman was not a man he would ever like or trust.

  A week had passed since Esther had spoken with Mordecai, and as she walked the gardens, she could not get his concerns out of her mind. But to defy the king—she feared for him. She realized as she bent to smell a rose that she cared not what happened to her nearly as much as she did what happened to him.

  She understood his distrust of Haman, for she shared it. But to defy an order of the king could have dire consequences. What if her cousins were also punished? Hadn’t she heard the tales? Wasn’t her father aware of what Xerxes had done to others who had gone against him in the past? Was it enough that Mordecai had saved the king from Bigthan and Teresh years ago? The king seemed to have forgotten Mordecai’s efforts, for nothing had ever been done to reward him.

  Mordecai should be sitting in Haman’s seat for what he did. But she could not have suggested such a thing or tell Xerxes her thoughts on the matter. For some reason he had taken a liking to Haman, though most everyone else she met feared or hated the man. Her husband seemed oblivious to his counselor’s wily ways.

  She left the gardens to begin the day, as dawn would soon awaken the household. Somehow her time alone before day’s break brought her a sense of peace she could not get during the day or even at night. There was something refreshing about being the first to greet the dawn.

  It was the day itself that troubled her, and her fears mounted with each new dawn. Mordecai needed to rethink his position. Perhaps keep his silence and make an exception for Haman until they could find a way to replace him. Surely in time God Himself would take the man out if his bloodline were truly cursed.

  But she could not think of a way to convince her father to do anything different. If life had taught her anything, it was that men would do what men would do, and it was not easy for a woman to influence them otherwise.

  Mordecai heard footsteps before he looked up to see Haman and his retinue march past the area where he worked. Again, every official at the king’s gate bowed low, lining the hallway. Haman did not look down as he passed, nor did he glance in Mordecai’s direction.

  Mordecai sighed as the footsteps receded. Did the man just enjoy marching about the palace so men would be forced to bow at his feet? Pompous fool! Amalekite. Agagite. The connection caused the anger to rise within him, heating his face. Why had Haman’s descendants been allowed to live? Why had King David not been able to rid the land of them?

  Worse, why was Adonai allowing this man to hold such a high position near his Esther? Just knowing she had contact with Haman and his wife made Mordecai’s skin crawl. Surely something could be done to keep her from interacting with them. But what?

  “I see another day, another week of days, has come and gone and still you do not show respect to Haman or bow as he passes by.” Roshan stood near the table where Mordecai held a stylus between two fingers, poised to record the goings-on in this room. Yet he had not written a single letter since that arrogant “lord” had disrupted his day yet again.

  More men joined Roshan, surrounding the table. “Why are you disobeying the king’s command?” one asked. Others repeated the question.

  “I am a Jew,” Mordecai said, glancing at Roshan. “I do not bow to anyone but my God. Now unless you have something good to tell me, go.” He shooed them away with a wave of his hand.

  They reluctantly dispersed, but the next day and the next and the day after that, they returned to surround him and ask him the same question over and over again.

  “I am not going to bow,” he shouted at the end of the week. “Stop asking me!” He wiped his brow, quickly set aside his tools, and left his table, brushing past the stunned men as he left the king’s gate. He could not deal with this any more today. They would give him no peace until he bowed, and now that he had taken his stand, how could he go back on his word?

  “I won’t bow.” He spoke to himself to reinforce his decision, which seemed to waver with each passing day. He could not let his guard down, and he could not give in to the affront of his colleagues.

  As he slipped into his cool, dark house, he fell to his knees and prayed. Fear crept up his spine, and he questioned his sanity in admitting his heritage and defying the king. Pray God Haman never found out.

  Haman entered the king’s antechamber, waiting for an audience with Xerxes. Despite his position as most powerful official in the empire below the king, he was still forced to wait to be allowed into the king’s presence. Xerxes had become nearly paranoid in recent years, ever since two of his guards attempted to assassinate him. No one could come into his presence without permission, and if they came unannounced, they risked death. Haman only needed to be announced and had not yet been refused, but he took the precaution of not presuming. Zeresh had warned him to take things slowly, to build trust, to win the king’s approval whether it took months or years, a
nd he could see now how well her advice had paid off.

  At last a servant announced his presence and the king called him into the audience chamber.

  “What do you have for me today, Haman?” Xerxes leaned back on his gilded throne, hands clasped beneath his chin. The golden scepter sat leaning against his chair, and guards stood watch in pairs on either side of the throne.

  Haman bowed low as he approached the king. He stood, walked a few paces, bowed again, and repeated the process until he came within the boundaries set to keep people at a distance from His Majesty. “I came to see if you would like me to travel to Persepolis to check on your building projects. I could be back within a few days and give you a full report.” He bowed again after he spoke, then stood straight, though he kept his eyes averted from the royal gaze.

  Xerxes did not answer immediately, and Haman risked a glance to see that he stroked his chin as though in contemplation. “Yes,” he said at last. “I believe I can trust you to check on the projects for me this time. Next time we will go together.”

  Haman lowered his gaze. “Thank you, my lord king. I will not disappoint you.”

  Xerxes dismissed him without a word. Haman walked backward from the royal presence until he reached the antechamber, then he gathered his own retinue of guards and began his daily walks through the palace and the king’s properties. If he must still grovel before the king, at least he could see others grovel before him. Perhaps if he played his hand well, one day he would wear the crown, but for now he would bide his time and do all he must to keep the king’s respect. Slowly, Zeresh had said. Yes, slowly. In time things would go even more in his favor.

  As he turned aside toward the king’s gate, he stopped. A delegation of officials walked toward him, quickly bowed, then asked to speak with him.