Star of Persia: Esther's Story

by Jill Eileen Smith

  “He refused them,” she said again. “He would not explain why. Not to us, in any case.” She lowered her gaze as though she felt she had failed Esther.

  “It’s not your fault, Zareen. My father can be stubborn.” An understatement to be sure. She moved again to the window, wishing she had a better view, anger at the situation bubbling within her. What could have possibly happened to cause Mordecai to act this way?

  Fear rushed through her, making her knees weak. Something was seriously wrong. And not knowing was worse than knowing. She whirled about. “Send Hathach to me.”

  Zareen hurried from her presence, the eunuch a short distance behind her. Xerxes had given Hathach to her, and she trusted him. Few men had proved as loyal. At least she hoped he could be trusted, for she had no one else.

  Moments later Hathach appeared in her chambers and bowed. “You asked for me, my queen.”

  “Yes, I did. I need you to go to my father, Mordecai. He sits at the palace gate in sackcloth and ashes. He refused clothing from me in order that we might meet, so I need you to go to him and find out what is going on and why he is in such despair.”

  “I will go now.” He bowed again and disappeared, but her fear did not abate.

  CHAPTER

  Thirty-three

  Mordecai looked toward the palace, his view blocked by the impenetrable gate fortress. Dressed stone encased in a thin layer of hammered gold enfolded the columns, which stood like watching sentinels. Guards decked in battle array stood dwarfed beneath them.

  Mordecai’s tears still wet his beard, and he looked at the burlap covering his frame. Groans rose as he looked at the tablet he held in shaking hands. He was weak from fasting, though he knew he would grow far weaker in days to come, for he would not eat until Esther at least tried to save her people. Surely she would once she heard the truth. Wouldn’t she?

  Her maid had indicated Esther’s distress over his appearance. But he could not don wealthy clothing at a time like this, even to see his daughter. She must see the seriousness of the situation. But how to make her see?

  A loud wail burst from him again as he studied the words before him, all thoughts of Esther gone for a brief moment. Oh Adonai, how can You save Your people from this? If Esther is not willing to help . . . please, Adonai, do not let the influence of her position keep her from remembering her heritage, her people.

  His prayers came silently as he rocked back and forth. He stopped abruptly at the sound of hurried footsteps and looked up to see Esther’s eunuch Hathach approach. He attempted to stand, but Hathach sat near him on the tiled square in front of the gate.

  “My lord Mordecai,” he said in that cultured voice he had. “My mistress, Queen Esther, has sent me to find out exactly what has happened to cause you, her father, such grief. Please tell me so I can relay your message to her.”

  Mordecai assessed the eunuch a moment. He had met Hathach several times. If Esther trusted him, he would have to do the same.

  He handed the copy of the decree to Hathach. “This was posted to the walls of the city gate and in other places throughout Susa. I have been told that it has gone out to every province of the kingdom, written to every official and governor and noble in every language and script of the people. This is surely Haman’s doing, though it bears the king’s seal, so it cannot be revoked even by the king himself. I’m also told that Haman has promised ten thousand pieces of silver to enhance the king’s treasury once the Jews—all Jews, even women and children—are annihilated. This is set to happen a year from now on the thirteenth of Adar.”

  Mordecai drew a breath, his voice hoarse from weeping. He swallowed. “You must go to Esther and explain everything to her. Then you must tell her to go to the king to beg for mercy, to plead for the lives of her people.”

  Hathach held the tablet and silently read the words. He looked at Mordecai, a brow lifted in question. “Her people, my lord? Are you telling me that the queen is a Jew?”

  Mordecai lifted his head, determined to show strength. Perhaps he had been wrong to tell Esther to keep her heritage a secret. Her own maids and eunuchs could turn against her. But he was done hiding. And besides, right or wrong, his decision had been made months ago. He may have erred by refusing to bow to Haman, but he had not erred in determining to side with his people. With his God.

  “You understand my meaning correctly,” he said, holding Hathach’s gaze. “Will you do as I have asked?”

  Hathach could lie to Esther. Both Esther and Mordecai were putting much faith in a man Mordecai did not know well. How did he know that Hathach wouldn’t go to Xerxes and tell him the tale instead of Esther? What if Xerxes truly had sided with Haman in all of this? A knot filled his empty stomach at the thought, but he did not flinch as he waited for Hathach’s answer.

  “I will do as you say, my lord. And may your God be with you.” Hathach stood, tucked the tablet into his robe, and walked through the gates where Mordecai could not follow. Now he would wait to learn Esther’s answer.

  “What did he say?” Esther rose to meet Hathach and motioned him to follow her into her gardens, away from the ears of her maids and other eunuchs. At the look on Hathach’s face, a cold dread filled her.

  Hathach stood while Esther sat on a bench in a secluded part of the garden. He handed the tablet to her. “Mordecai gave me this and asked me to give it to you.”

  She read the words. Stopped. Read them again. She looked up at Hathach, shock rushing through her. “Tell me what he said.”

  “He said that the decree went out to every province in the kingdom, sent to every official, governor, and noble, and spread to all of the people in order to prepare them to kill every Jew on the thirteenth of Adar next year. Even the women and children. That explains the uproar we have heard in Susa.”

  “I heard no uproar.” Suddenly she hated the seclusion of these walls that kept her prisoner from the goings-on of everything around her.

  “The servants can hear things from their quarters better than you can, my queen. Susa is in confusion, and Mordecai has asked me to tell you that you must go to the king, plead for mercy, and beg for the lives of your people.”

  She glanced beyond him. “He told you I am a Jew.”

  “Yes, my queen.” His voice held kindness. “Your secret remains with me. If you do not wish the others to know, you are safe here, no matter what happens in the rest of the land.”

  His loyalty warmed her, but how could she hide in her palace prison while her people, her own father and cousins, were slaughtered outside? Surely God would judge her for such a thing. But she couldn’t just approach Xerxes.

  She rose and strode the decorative walkway, leaving Hathach to wait for her. How could this have happened? How could Xerxes have trusted Haman with his signet ring? Although the king’s ring was clearly stamped above the decree, the evil behind the plot was surely not her husband’s. Did he even know what Haman had done? He trusted that man far too easily. And Mordecai had indicated that Haman was behind this. Of course he was. She would still investigate, but she knew it in the depths of her being. Haman hated the Jews. And he hated her father. Mordecai’s refusal to bow to Haman . . . was that what had sparked this impossibly horrible crime against her entire race?

  She turned slowly about and walked back toward Hathach, her mind whirling, her fear rising. She wished she had the power to help, but how could she? She couldn’t just go to the king without a summons.

  “Have you made a decision, my queen?” Hathach bowed slightly, concern etched along his dark brow.

  “You must return to Mordecai and give him this message. Tell him that all of the king’s officials and even the people in the provinces know that anyone who appears before the king in his inner court without being invited is doomed to die unless the king holds out his gold scepter. And the king has not called for me to come to him for thirty days.” To admit that she had not been in her husband’s presence for a month—and this was not the first time—caused the ache to return to
her heart. She missed the early years of their marriage when he had spent every possible moment with her. When she felt that he might even love her. Now they were living separate lives, like distant ships on the sea. Rarely did those ships draw close enough to touch, let alone speak. Had he truly grown tired of her?

  “I will give him your message, my queen.” Hathach bowed and left.

  She stood in the gardens alone except for guards at the very edges of the doors. They could not hear her words, but they watched her. And she was not in the mood to be watched.

  She walked back into her rooms, sank onto her favorite couch, and waited.

  Mordecai observed people coming and going from the palace, some giving him curious looks or shaking their heads in disgust. Let them look. He didn’t care what they thought of him. They could not act against him for a year, and perhaps there would be deliverance before that time.

  He slowly rose to his feet and walked to the center of the square, where a large fountain stood. He cupped his hands and drank, slaking his thirst. As he turned to reclaim his spot, he saw Hathach walking toward him. He followed the man away from the crowd that milled about.

  “I gave your message to the queen.” Hathach cleared his throat and relayed Esther’s words to Mordecai.

  Mordecai examined the man a moment, then lifted his gaze toward the clouds scudding across the heavens. Was she refusing to help then? Or was she afraid she would be killed trying? The irony settled over him. She would be killed in a year if not now, but if she did not try, who was left to save their people?

  Adonai?

  But the heavens were silent. Still, he could not believe that the enemy of God’s people would get away with destroying them. God had always promised a deliverer. He had promised it since the garden when Adam sinned. He had always saved a remnant of His people, even when they sinned against Him so grievously. Surely He would do so again. With or without Esther.

  He looked into Hathach’s eyes. What if Esther was the person God had placed where she was for this moment? “Tell my daughter this: ‘Don’t think for a moment that because you’re in the palace you will escape when all other Jews are killed. If you keep quiet at a time like this, deliverance and relief for the Jews will arise from some other place, but you and your relatives will die. Who knows if perhaps you were made queen for just such a time as this?’”

  Hathach rubbed his chin, as though to speak to his queen in such a way might cost him his head, but he slowly nodded and his expression changed to one of admiration. “You are a wise man, Mordecai. Your words hold great wisdom. I will relay your message to my queen.”

  C

  HAPTER

  Thirty-four

  Esther sprang to her feet the moment the door opened and Hathach stepped across the threshold. She returned to the garden and he followed her.

  “Tell me what he said.” She did not sit this time but stood with him in a different secluded area far from the guards.

  He paused. “You may not like what he said.”

  “I often don’t like what he tells me. Speak.” Her heart pounded, and she fought the impatience of not knowing.

  Hathach told Esther what Mordecai had said, and she felt the blood drain from her face. She looked about for a place to sit, but they were far from benches. Hathach took her arm and led her to one, where she sat hard, feeling as though Mordecai’s words had knocked the breath from her. He was right, of course. How could she have ever thought it possible that she had become queen on her own? Surely God had put her here for a reason. Hadn’t she always known it? And now the reason could not be more obvious or the need more great.

  The thought of approaching Xerxes unannounced and uninvited sent a ripple of fear rushing through her.

  “I do not want to die,” she whispered, not looking at Hathach. She was young. Had never even borne a child.

  “Of course not, my queen. And you do not have to do as Mordecai requests. Your secret is yours, and I have promised to protect you.”

  “But what of the women and children who have been dealt the certainty of death by Haman’s decree? They deserve life as much as I do.” She looked at him, but he merely nodded. What could he say? He was loyal to her alone, not to the thousands of Jewish people who had one year left to live.

  “My life is not my own,” she said after a lengthy pause. “I am a Jew, and the God of my people has given me this opportunity.” She could risk her life and save her people or die trying. But her life would not last long on this earth if she did nothing.

  She straightened and smoothed imaginary wrinkles from her royal robe. “Return to Mordecai and tell him this: ‘Go and gather together all the Jews of Susa and fast for me. Do not eat or drink for three days, night or day. My maids and I will do the same. And then, though it is against the law, I will go in to see the king. If I must die, I must die.’” She ignored the dismay on Hathach’s face, released a long-held breath, and stood.

  Hathach walked beside her into her chambers, then left to do her bidding.

  Mordecai stood when he glimpsed Hathach emerge through the arch of the palace gate. He met him and walked with him to a secluded area outside of the square.

  “What did she say?” He had no patience to wait for the eunuch to speak. His heart had pounded since the moment he had declared what Esther must do. And he had questioned whether she would listen in the many moments since.

  “She said to tell you to gather all of the Jews in Susa to fast from food and drink for three days, night and day. She and her maids will do the same. Then she will go to the king.” He paused, his brow furrowed. “She added, ‘If I must die, I must die.’”

  Mordecai felt the tension seep from his shoulders, but as he studied Hathach’s expression, he frowned. “You do not approve of her decision.”

  “It is not my place to approve or disapprove of what the queen decides to do.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I did promise to keep her secret and to protect her should she decide to remain silent. I cannot tell you that I find this choice to be a wise one.”

  Mordecai scratched at the burlap above his shoulder. “You have every right to feel as you do, and I thank you for your willingness to protect my daughter. But she is doing her part to protect far more people than simply herself. Tell her I will do as she has asked.”

  Hathach simply nodded, and Mordecai turned to walk back toward the area where most of the Jews lived. He understood Hathach’s devotion and felt gratitude toward the man. But this was far bigger than Esther’s safety. If they did nothing to save their people, God would surely judge them. God had given Esther a great gift and position that no one else could claim.

  So he would do as she asked. He would fast, and he would pray. Oh how very much he would pray.

  Esther ordered her guards to find her a copy of the scroll of Isaiah, something Mordecai had memorized and taught to her but that had not been in the forefront of her mind in years. She needed its comfort now, if such a copy could be found without giving away more than she intended. She also ordered the guards to keep everyone from entering her rooms for three days. Only her maids remained with her. Not even Hathach joined them.

  “I am going to ask you to do something for me,” she said as the girls gathered around her, sitting on the floor at her feet. “What I am about to tell you will not leave this room until I am able to tell the king. So for the next three days, you will remain with me. The guards have orders to keep anyone from coming in or going out.”

  Parisa tilted her head, her expression curious. Zareen’s brow furrowed in obvious concern. The others had expressions ranging from wide-eyed fear to anxiety. But none spoke as they waited for her to explain.

  “How many of you are aware of the decree that Haman sent out in the king’s name to destroy the Jews throughout the kingdom?” She searched each face.

  “The servants can talk of nothing else, my queen,” Parisa said. “The news has thrown Susa into utter despair.”

  “And what is the general feeling
among the servants? Do they side with the decree?” Fear of the response niggled at the back of her mind, but she shoved the feeling away. She must be strong, whether her maids agreed with her or not.

  “Most everyone in the palace does not like the man, my queen,” Mahin said. “The truth is, most people think he is arrogant and no one trusts him. But they fear him. He has great power.” Her words ended in a mere whisper.

  Esther nodded. “Then you will understand when I tell you that I, too, fear him. And I fear what will happen when I attempt to approach the king in three days without an invitation.”

  Gasps came from each young woman.

  “No, my lady, you can’t!”

  “You risk your life!”

  “Why would you do such a thing?”

  She raised a hand to silence them. “Because I must do something to save my people.” She let her comment hang in the silence.

  “You are a Jew,” Parisa said at last. “You are also in danger.”

  “Whether I am in danger or not, I do not know. No one knows of my heritage. Only Hathach and you. But soon I will tell the king, because if I do not speak for those who cannot speak for themselves, who will? I cannot remain silent when the lives of women and children and all of our men could be lost in less than a year.”

  “But if the king does not receive you . . .” Mahin did not finish the sentence.

  “Then he will never know,” Zareen said. “And your people will be lost.”

  “It is a risk I must take.” Esther looked beyond them. “This is why I am asking all of you to fast with me for three days. Do not eat or drink, night or day. Then I will go to the king.”

  “Anything, my queen,” Parisa said, leaning closer to Esther’s feet. “We will do whatever you ask.”

  Murmurs of agreement followed Parisa’s remark, and Esther breathed a prayer of thanks for their loyalty. She did not ask her maids to pray to the God they did not know. Although she had not asked her father to pray either, she knew he and the other Jews would do nothing less.