Esther : Royal Beauty (9781441269294) (11 page)

I
DON
'
T
KNOW
WHAT
THE
KING
EXPECTED
TO
FIND
on our arrival at Susa—memories of a happier time, perhaps? But as the royal household settled into one of the grandest palaces in all creation, my master's spirits did not improve. He maintained the appearance of normality—hunting, riding, watching athletic contests on the training field—but I felt as though his heart had left us. After sunset, when most of the royal household settled down to sleep, he would rise and wander in the royal gardens, his head down and his hands locked behind his back.

After about a week, I had an epiphany: my master had roused himself enough to make the journey back to Susa, but apparently he had not found what he sought in this gilded palace. Susa held no memories of war or Artaynta, so the influence here could not be negative. What pleasant memories had he expected to find?

I could come up with only one answer: the companionship of a
loving wife. He and Vashti had been happy here, rejoicing in their close relationship and the birth of three sons. The former queen might be prideful, scheming, and cruel, but she had been a friend to my master. They had conversed as equals, and though she shared his body with hundreds of concubines, Vashti never had to share his heart. No one—not even Artaynta—had met the king as an equal in nobility, courage, and cunning.

So . . . the king needed another companion. Someone with Vashti's virtues but none of her vices. Someone who could approach the king on equal footing, but who would not wield royal authority with malice.

Though I knew how my master might heal his heartache, what right had I to make a suggestion? I was a slave, a blank wall, a pair of hands and feet. My duty was to be silent and respectful, helpful but not obvious. But still . . .

I knew my master could be made whole again. He only needed a push in the right direction. But if I were to supply the push, I needed the perfect opportunity, an occasion in which my master would be willing to see and hear me.

One afternoon my listless king lifted his head and addressed the air, ignoring the dozen or so servants in the room. “I cannot find happiness here,” he said simply. “And I can't help thinking of the day I banished Vashti from my presence. Though I can't forget the awful things she has done, perhaps she is not entirely to blame. I am not free of guilt regarding her actions, and I regret—”

I stepped forward before the king could finish his confession. “My lord the king, a thousand pardons for my impertinence.” I lowered my forehead to the floor and waited for his response.

In the stretching silence I heard the breathless shock of the other servants. They had stopped moving, and I could feel the pressure of their eyes on the back of my skull.

“Rise, eunuch,” the king said, his voice free of rancor. “You have something to tell me?”

I closed my eyes and exhaled in relief, then pushed myself to an upright position. “Thank you, my good master. I have watched your struggles, and you should not suffer one day more. You know the solution, my king, the answer that will not force you to violate the unbreakable law of the Medes and the Persians.”

The empty air between us vibrated, the silence filling with tension.

My king turned his head into the hard light of the sun, and I saw that all traces of youth had fled from his face. “I know the answer?”

“You do.” I flushed beneath his intense scrutiny. “You need a queen worthy of you. Let a search be made for young, beautiful women. The king should appoint officials in all the provinces of the empire to gather all the attractive women to the house for the harem, in Susa the capital. They should be put under the care of Hegai, the king's officer in charge of the harem, and he should give them the cosmetics or whatever they require. Then the girl who seems best to the king should become queen instead of Vashti.”

The king's eyes narrowed, and for an instant I feared I would not be forgiven for speaking. My idea was unconventional, maybe even crazy, but something had to be done.

But an empire-wide search? The vice-regents would despise the idea, because it would deprive their daughters of an opportunity to marry a king. For generations, Persian rulers had chosen wives from the daughters of one of seven noble families—after a bloody revolt, the resolution had been established by the nobles themselves. Requiring that the king choose a wife from among their households served to establish the legitimacy of the kingship—and guaranteed that they would remain close to the seat of power.

But my master had already met that requirement, for Vashti had been the daughter of Otanes, one of the leading Persian nobles.
So why shouldn't my king search for a new wife from among the commoners of his empire? This one would not be so prideful that she would disdain and disobey her husband and king.

The king inclined his head, a slow smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “Let it be so,” he said, his voice resonating with a vigor I had not heard in months. “Let the edict be published, and let the search begin.”

I
HEARD
THE
NEWS
AT
THE
WELL
, the center of our little Jewish neighborhood. The woman who had greeted us with the story seemed to think the decree an elaborate joke, but when one of the king's courtiers rode by with a sealed scroll beneath his arm, we wondered if the report might be true.

Did the king really want to marry an ordinary girl?

After Babar left Susa for parts unknown, Parysatis and I had renewed our friendship. Though a shadow would cross her face at any thought or mention of her brother, she had finally reached a place where she could be happy again. Like me, she'd been thrilled to see the city come back to life with the king's return. The streets once again streamed with soldiers and courtiers, and Parysatis and I kept craning our necks for some glimpse of a royal litter.

I couldn't help feeling grateful that she hadn't believed Babar's ridiculous stories about the king. After all, one only had to look
at the king—prosperous and adored—to know that Babar had been lying. The royal household of Persia deserved to be praised and lauded.

Yet in those days I didn't find as much joy in girlish gossip about royalty and the nobility. I had become too well acquainted with reality, and I found it difficult to escape into fantasy when a new and more somber life would be mine within a few weeks.

I hurried to the bazaar where I knew I'd find Parysatis working in her father's silk shop. I wasn't surprised to learn that she'd already heard the rumor.

“Can you imagine?” Parysatis sighed, wrapping her arms around the basket she carried. “To live in the palace! To eat whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted it. To have servants and beautiful gowns and drink from golden goblets, none of them ever like the one before it—”

“You'd have to marry the king,” I pointed out. “And isn't he old?”

“He's not so old,” she argued. “I've seen him riding across the plain, and he looked quite handsome on his horse. He rode straight and tall, not hunched over.”

“Would you really like to be queen?” I stared at her, unable to believe what I was hearing. “I know he was out of his mind, but perhaps Babar had a point. Even Mordecai says that court can be a treacherous place.”

“Listen to you.” Her brows drew downward. “A year ago you were dreaming about our handsome king yourself. You defended his honor in front of Babar.”

I blew out a breath, conceding her point. “A lot has changed in the past year.”

“And have you changed so much? I still adore Mushka, but if the king needs a new queen, why shouldn't it be me?”

Her question hung on the air, silently accenting the rift that had developed between us. Parysatis was still the spoiled daughter of a
rich merchant who would marry her off to the highest bidder, but I was no longer a carefree girl. I had lost Miriam and surrendered my youthful dreams of travel and adventure. Now when I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a bowl or brass, I saw the tired mother I would become.

I offered Parysatis a weary smile. “I shouldn't waste my time thinking about foolish things. I will be married soon.”

“You shouldn't talk like you're an old woman.” Parysatis brushed off my comment and exhaled a happy sigh. “Living in the palace would be wonderful. If you were chosen for the harem, everyone would know you were one of the most beautiful girls in the entire world—”

“Hush, will you?” An older woman stepped out from behind a bolt of silk and glared at us. “Have you no sense? No one would know you were beautiful, because no one would know you at all. You'd be swallowed up by the seraglio and forgotten by your friends. If you're thinking such a life is a dream come true, think again.”

She tucked the end of a length of silk around the bolt. “I've seen beautiful women arrive in caravans from the east, destined for a life in the harem. They will have nothing to call their own, nothing. Yes, they live in a palace, but with hundreds of women to choose from, do you think the king would even remember your name? Living in a pretty palace might appeal to you now, but you'd think differently if you'd ever done it. Now get back to your home and get a veil to cover your face. If you're smart, you'll think twice about showing yourself in public until all this foolishness is over.”

I glanced around, searching for a way to escape. This woman might be speaking nonsense, but something in her eyes made me wonder if she'd lived the life she was describing.

Still, why should I worry about the king's proclamation? No one
was going to search for royal concubines in my neighborhood, and I was about as likely to live in the palace as to grow another head.

Obedient Jewish girls simply did not have to worry about such things.

I had planned to prepare a simple meal for Mordecai, Binyamin, and his father, when I found Mordecai pacing back and forth in our courtyard, his hands locked behind his back.

The tight lines of his face relaxed when he saw me. “Come in at once,” he said, hurrying to undo the latch of the gate.

When I was safely within our walls, he turned me to face him. “I wish I could keep you safe,” he said, his voice low and tense, “but the king's edict will affect everyone in the empire.”

“Not me.” Surprised by his concern, I sank to the garden bench and folded my arms. “I am not the kind of girl they will be searching for.”

Mordecai put on the look of a man who has just been knocked down by a charging goat. “Hadassah, have you not seen yourself? You are a beautiful woman.”

“Cousin, I am not.”

“You are. And I'd be foolish to think no one has noticed you. Someone will turn you in; they will come for you within the week.”

I resisted the urge to imitate Miriam and shake my finger at him. “I think you're wrong, but the answer is simple. I am betrothed, so why not go ahead with the wedding? The king would not be interested in a married woman.”

Mordecai cast me a sharp look. “Do you think the king cares if a maid is married or not? The edict calls for beautiful young women, Hadassah, not beautiful
unmarried
girls
. And what of Binyamin? It would be far more painful for him to take you as his bride and
then have you stolen away. What if you were with child when the king's men took you? No, you cannot be married until the king's latest folly has run its course.”

I leaned against the courtyard wall, amazed that Mordecai would give the royal edict serious consideration. “The king can't possibly hope to gather all the beautiful young women in the empire. No one will even notice me, and if they do, they'll not want me. I am too—”

I was about to say
Jewish
, meaning that I was too modest and old-fashioned to excite the attention of a Persian nobleman, but Mordecai interrupted. “Hadassah, listen to me. Every man in Susa will look at you and think of the king's edict. They will dream of a handsome reward for bringing you to the palace. So you shall remain indoors until the king has found his next queen.”

I leaned forward, flustered by his stubbornness. “I can't stay indoors. I have work to do, water to fetch, and a goat to milk—”

“If you must go outside, you will wear a veil. Cover your face. Do not wear a belt around your tunic, lest they see your slender form. Disguise yourself from head to toe.”

I gave him an exaggerated frown, but Mordecai was not in the mood for joking.

“I don't understand why you're so concerned,” I began again. “When King David's servants announced a search for a beautiful maiden to warm his bed, every father in the kingdom hoped his daughter would win the privilege. How is this proclamation any different from that one?”

Mordecai blinked hard, as if astounded by my ignorance. “When David Hamelech's servants sought a virgin for him, everyone understood that only one maiden would be chosen—and those who were not chosen would suffer no abuse. Those fathers would have their daughters returned, pure and unspoiled. But this king intends to take every girl to his bed before choosing a queen, and no par
ent, not even parents of Egyptians and Assyrians and Babylonians will be pleased to have their daughters used and discarded in such a fashion.”

“Cousin—”

“And—” he stepped toward me and grabbed my hands—“if they do take you, Hadassah, you must be careful. You must never reveal who your people are.”

I stared at him, baffled. “What do you mean?”

“If you do not speak of your people, perhaps the king will think you are ashamed of your common roots. That you are not fit to be a queen.”

“I'm
not
fit to be a queen.”

“You are, child. Your roots are as royal as Xerxes's, for you are a descendant of Saul, the first king of Israel. But do not speak of this; let everyone believe that yours was a humble birth.” He hesitated, but I saw thought working in his eyes. “If you do not divulge your heritage, every group may assume you are one of theirs. They will all claim you and love you.”

And he used to rebuke
me
for living in a fantasy world?

Weary of the conversation, I blew out a deep breath. “I don't believe you have any reason to warn me of such things.”

“You must not tell them you are Jewish. You must not use your true name, lest they guess your ancestry.”

“Why?” I grabbed his hand and held it, insisting on an answer. “Why must I pretend to be other than who I am?”

Mordecai turned his face to mine as his eyes softened with seriousness. “We do not know what this king thinks of the Jews, and we dare not assume he thinks well of our people. So promise me, Hadassah—do not speak your Hebrew name to anyone in the palace, and do not tell anyone you are a child of Abraham.”

I looked at him—so earnest, frightened, and loving—and I squeezed his hand. “I am touched by your concern, cousin, but you
need not worry on my account. I am safe in your care, as I have been since my mother died. Do not worry about me. All will be well.”

Mordecai nodded, then tugged at his beard. “I trust Adonai to make it so, but still . . .” He shook his head and released my hand, then went inside the house.

Within two weeks, the men in my life had settled the details of my marriage. Binyamin's father met Mordecai at the King's Gate, and over a table at the bazaar they worked out the details of my wedding and the marriage feast. Our ceremony would not be traditional, for neither the wedding nor the feast would take place in Susa. Mordecai, the closest person in the world to me, would not even be present.

He shared the details when he returned home. “Everything has been arranged,” he said, his eyes weary as he gazed at me over the small lamp burning in the center of our table. “Marriage may not save you from the king's edict, but it will get you out of Susa. Though copies of the king's proclamation have been distributed throughout the empire, I don't believe the king's agents will look for potential queens in the rubble of Jerusalem. You and Binyamin will go there. You will be married in the temple and start a family in the land Adonai promised to Israel.”

I blinked back sudden tears. “You are sending me away?”

The thin line of his mouth clamped tight as he tugged on his beard. “The time comes when a woman shall leave her father and mother—” his voice broke, but he cleared his throat and continued—“and be joined to her husband. Tomorrow, as soon as Binyamin and Kidon have finished packing, you will journey to Jerusalem with your betrothed.”

“Without you?”

I felt the weight of his gaze, as dark and soft as the river at dawn. “I will give you my blessing before you go.”

I sat back as dozens of emotions stirred in my breast. I had no choice but to obey, but I didn't want to leave the only home I'd ever known, and I didn't want to travel to Jerusalem. From what I'd heard, the city was little more than a collection of ruins with a perfunctory temple. Jerusalem had never been home to me, and I did not share Mordecai's love for the place.