Esther : Royal Beauty (9781441269294) (20 page)

I
WAS
STILL
ABED
THE
NEXT
MORNING
when Hatakh pounded on my door. “I bring an urgent message,” he told me when one of my maids let him in. “A man outside says he has important news for you.”

I frowned, unable to imagine what the eunuch meant. “A man? I cannot have a man in my bedchamber—”

“The man says he walks outside the harem walls every day.”

I closed my eyes as realization washed over me. I had abandoned Mordecai for far too long, and now he had urgent news. Was he ill? Had something happened to Binyamin or one of our other friends?

“Tell him—” I hesitated. Did I dare grant Mordecai an audience? If I ran to his arms and treated him like a father, anyone in the vicinity would know we were related. So if I saw him, I would have to pretend he was a stranger.

I sat up and smoothed my hair. “Tell him I will grant him an audience later today, after I have dressed and breakfasted.”

Hatakh bowed and left to deliver his message.

As soon as the door closed behind him, I threw back the covers and gestured to my maids. “Quickly,” I told them, not caring if they saw my haste and concern. “Dress me in royal attire. I do not want to keep this gentleman waiting.”

Hulta raised a brow at this, but none of the other maids said anything as they hurried to prepare me for receiving guests. After the dressing ritual and a quick meal of bread and honey, all I could keep down, I entered the audience chamber and took a seat on the golden throne, a smaller version of my husband's. My maids sat in chairs to my right, ready to be of service, and a company of eunuch guards stood at my left. Hatakh stood behind me, where he could discreetly whisper the name or position of any petitioner who requested an audience with the queen.

At my signal, Hatakh nodded to the guards at the door, who opened it and allowed my petitioners to enter the chamber.

An elderly woman, the mother of a young girl, approached to ask that her daughter be presented to the crown prince at court. I smiled and pretended to listen to her long-winded request, nodding at what I hoped were the appropriate places. But while I smiled and nodded, my eyes roved over the waiting visitors, then focused on the dear figure who sat behind the bench the old woman had vacated.

Mordecai.

A sharp pang of nostalgia assailed me as I studied his weathered face. Passion had shoved thoughts of my cousin from my mind of late, but I had never stopped needing him. I ought to ask him about Vashti and how I should react to her challenges. I ought to ask about Binyamin and his father. I ought to ask what I could do to help the king's children. Pearls of wisdom continually dropped from Mordecai's lips, so he would be able to give me good advice.

If he could forgive me for neglecting him. I had conjured up dozens of reasons for not visiting the harem garden, but chief among
them were my embarrassment and shame at my riotous feelings for my very handsome, very pagan husband. I loved my husband the king, I carried his child, and I knew Mordecai could not approve of either.

But at least he had come to see me. Perhaps he had invented a reason to come; maybe he only wanted to assure himself that I was alive and well. He would not reproach me in such a public place, nor would he reveal our kinship. Since he had taken great pains to preserve my reputation and my safety, I had to wonder what had lured him out of his office and into the queen's palace.

As the elderly mother droned on about her daughter's beauty and virtues, I clutched the armrest of my chair and tried to focus. Pregnancy had made me light-headed and queasy, and I dreaded the hot months ahead. I had heard women complain about the distress of carrying a child during the sweltering summer, and I wasn't looking forward to sweating through a hard labor. . . .

“My queen?”

My pulse stuttered at Hatakh's question. “Yes?”

“I have assured the lady that we will do all we can.” Hatakh's eyes narrowed as he studied my face. “Are you well enough to hear a request from the next petitioner?”

“I am.” I forced a smile and pinned it in place as I turned my gaze upon Mordecai.

“Grace and peace to you, my queen.” My cousin stood, then prostrated himself on the floor. I looked away, biting back the protest that rose to my lips.

“Rise,” I said, my voice strangled. “And please tell us what brings you here today.”

Mordecai stood, his eyes meeting mine. “I have news of a situation of some delicacy. If I may approach, I would speak to you privately with your servant, the valiant Hatakh.”

I turned to Hatakh, realizing Mordecai had said exactly the right
thing. No man would have been allowed to approach the queen alone, but by inviting Hatakh to join him, Mordecai had shown respect to the king and to my chief eunuch.

I nodded. “You may approach.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw movement among my maids as they jostled for better positions to observe the stranger who had appeared in my audience chamber. Hatakh and Mordecai approached simultaneously, until each stood close enough for me to touch them.

“Cousin.” I smiled, freely, into his eyes. “I have so longed to talk to you.”

“Are you well, child?”

“I am. I'm sorry I haven't attempted to contact you—”

“I know you have been . . . preoccupied. You are no longer a girl, and I respect your new position.”

Hatakh observed our exchange with a speculative gaze, his eyes flitting to Mordecai's face, then mine, then back to Mordecai's. Harbonah might not have told him of the relationship between me and my visitor, but he was no fool.

“I am glad you have come.” I smiled again, and might have reached for his hand if Hatakh had not been watching so closely. “What brings you to my chamber?”

“Before I speak, I have to know—how trustworthy is the eunuch who attends you here?” Mordecai glanced pointedly at Hatakh, who glared with indignation at the question.

My mouth quirked with a smile. “I assure you, cousin, Hatakh is quite trustworthy. He is in my service every hour of the day.”

“You would trust him with your life?”

“I would. I do.”

Mordecai breathed deeply, then gave the eunuch an apologetic glance. “Very well. In truth, if I had not been able to see you I would have sent a written message.” He hesitated and stepped even closer,
his eyes glittering with purpose. “I have urgent news. It concerns—” he lowered his voice—“the life of your husband and king.”

The audience hall seemed to shift before my eyes. I reached for the chair's armrest and felt the slickness of sweat beneath my palm. “Surely you are mistaken.” Despite my conviction, my voice trembled. “The king is most safe; he is surrounded by guards at all times. His devoted Immortals stand watch outside the door even while he sleeps—”

My voice broke as I thought of the young prince who had gone missing from his bedchamber. I had not heard anything from Harbonah, so I did not know if the child had been found.

“Two of those Immortals are not so devoted,” Mordecai went on, unaware of my troubling thoughts. “This morning I was at the King's Gate and paused to rest in the shade. Hidden there, I overheard two of the king's bodyguards plotting to assassinate their master in his bedchamber. I waited until they stepped out of the passageway where they plotted so I could identify them.”

“Who?” My whisper scratched against my throat. “Did you know them?”

“I didn't, but another guard told me their names: Bigtan and Teresh. They are in charge of the entry to the king's private chambers.”

A chill slithered up my backbone. I didn't know the name of every guard in the king's palace, but I knew their faces. I could scarcely believe that any of them would conspire to harm my beloved—

But had some of them conspired to abduct the little prince? And were the two plots connected?

I closed my eyes. Harbonah might not have told the king about the missing child, so I could not speak of the matter without risking the eunuch's life. No one wanted to upset the king if a problem could be solved without confronting the royal temper, so Harbonah and the other eunuchs were probably still searching for the boy.

Could the boy have overheard the two plotting guards as Mordecai had? I considered the question, then shook my head. The possibility was too terrible to think about.

“Why?” The question slipped from my lips. “Why would anyone want to harm the king?”

Mordecai glanced at Hatakh for a moment, then looked back at me. “Those two were devoted to Masistes, the king's brother. It is an old story, but many believe revenge is a dish best served cold.”

My mind whirled at my cousin's brief response. “But that makes no sense; the king's brother is dead. He died months ago, or so I've been told—”

“Don't you understand, Hadassah?” Mordecai's eyes snapped with urgency. “You must get word to the king. Go to him immediately, speak directly to him and say nothing to anyone else. If you relay this message to any guard in league with these two, you will endanger your own life.”

In the anguished rasp of Mordecai's voice I heard the reason he had hurried to protect a king he did not particularly admire. He knew that I might be in the king's bedchamber when an attack came, so I might be at risk as well . . .

Along with my unborn child.

“Why don't
you
go to the king?” I lifted my head and gripped my chair even more tightly. “You work at the King's Gate; you could probably get an audience with him. I can't go to him without being summoned, and if I wait until evening I might be too late.”

“I might not get an audience at all.” Mordecai relaxed as his voice settled back into his reasonable and patient tone. “You will not be refused. I have heard how the king adores you.”

The king adored me. For that, I could only be grateful.

I released my grip on my chair, then stared at the reddened flesh of my palm and fingers. I could go to the king because he loved me. I could trust that love . . . couldn't I?

I could. I had been in the king's bed last night, and would be again tonight. Because he loved me.

“I will go,” I whispered hoarsely. “I will go at once and will give him your message. And cousin?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you. I know you didn't have to do this.”

I gazed at him, drinking in the sight of his precious face, and then I heard his soft benediction: “May Adonai bless you and keep you, daughter. Now go.”

T
HOUGH
I
KNEW
I
WAS
FLYING
IN
THE
FACE
of Persian law and royal protocol, I dismissed the other waiting petitioners and asked Hatakh to accompany me as I went to the king. With a queasy stomach and trembling limbs, I approached the throne room without being summoned, an offense worthy of death. But I flew to my husband on wings of love and duty, fueled by an urgency that could not be denied. I knew I would be safe, for my husband would see the desperate look of love on my face and know my intentions were honorable. Though the Immortals would eye my approach with suspicion, though they might draw their swords as I crept toward the king, my royal husband would hold out his scepter and pardon me.

The scene played out just as I had imagined it. As I touched the tip of the golden rod, I fell to my knees before the throne and reached out to catch and hold his feet. “My king,” I whispered,
strengthening my voice, “I have received urgent news from a man who is honest and trustworthy. His message concerns your life, and love has compelled me to breach every prohibition and hurry to you.”

I did not expect the king's reaction. Surrounded by his vice-regents, he laughed aloud and bent to help me to my feet. As his lips neared my ear, however, he lowered his voice to a pitch only I could hear. “What's this? Has someone made a threat?”

I wound my arm around his neck as if overwhelmed by the power of his presence—a gesture far more honest than the king realized. Leaning close, I spoke directly into his ear: “The two Immortals who guard the door of your bedchamber—Bigtan and Teresh. They plan to kill you while you sleep.”

The king's hand closed on my wrist. “Your informant is certain of this? I know those two; they have been with me for years.”

“Mordecai, an accountant at the King's Gate, heard them plotting, and he does not lie. He said they were devout friends of Masistes.”

My husband lifted his head to look into my eyes. “You trust this Mordecai?”

“I would stake my life on the man's word.”

The king kissed me on the forehead, the way a father kisses a dear daughter. He then looked around, caught Hatakh's gaze, and motioned for the eunuch to come forward. “The queen is not well; escort her back to her chambers immediately. And then have the guards Bigtan and Teresh meet the captain of my Immortals on the training field. A certain matter needs immediate investigation.”

Hatakh nodded and extended his hand to support me. I accepted it gratefully.

As I walked out of the throne room, part of me yearned to linger and make certain my husband the king would be safe. But I was a woman, and I had done all I could do.

But it was enough for now. By working together, Mordecai and I had warned the king. I would leave the missing prince to Harbonah.

W
HEN
I
HEARD
OF
THE
GUARDS
'
PLOT
against the king, I almost hoped Bigtan and Teresh would confess to abducting the young prince. But they admitted their conspiracy and treason without mentioning the boy, and I realized I had been guilty of reckless hope.

Two more days passed with no sign of Pharnaces. The highest-ranking officers of the king's Immortals searched the entire palace for signs of the young prince; then they interviewed the other children, the concubines, and the eunuchs who guarded the harem.

Finally their captain approached the king and shared the tragic news—the prince Pharnaces had disappeared without a trace.

My master's fury thundered as I had known it would, but the mystery left him with no one to blame. He did not want to admit the child might be dead, so how could he execute someone for murder? He could hardly kill the captain of his guard, though I
am certain the idea crossed his mind, nor could he condemn the child's mother.

“Mark my words,” my frustrated king finally proclaimed before a crowd in the great hall. “When the prince Pharnaces again appears before his father, Xerxes the king, he shall declare the name of the person or persons who caused his disappearance, and those persons will be impaled on the mount at Susa. By the favor of Ahura Mazda, I will find the villain and have no mercy upon him.”

That night, one of the king's bodyguards pulled me from sleep with a sharp jab from the blunt end of his spear. “Biztha summons you,” the guard whispered. “He tells you to hurry.”

My first thought, as always, was for the king, who snored loudly in his bed. Though he scarcely knew his missing son, the boy's loss had plunged him into melancholy and reminded him of the queen's delicate condition, so he slept alone. After making sure the king would rest unmolested during my absence, I followed the guard out of the royal bedchamber and went in search of Biztha.

I found him in the subterranean areas far below the rooms that housed the royal family, the guards, and the cooking areas. Only the lowliest slaves and eunuchs slept here, but when I found Biztha, he was not in his bed. Instead he was bent over a straw mattress where another man lay, a eunuch I recognized from the harem.

Blood streaked the man's round face; red tracks ran from the man's eyes, nose, and mouth. The arm he clutched was purple and so swollen that I feared the skin would tear.

“Jangi,” Biztha said, informing me of the man's name. “He has a story to tell, and you should hear it now, before he dies.”

The wretched man rolled onto his side, shuddered, and vomited his last meal in a slurry of blood. When he had finished, he rolled back onto his mattress, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. In truth, I thought I had come too late.

“Go on.” Biztha jostled the man's shoulder. “The king's chamberlain is here. Tell him what you told me.”

I sat cross-legged on the floor and leaned closer. “I will listen.”

The man drew a gasping breath, then shook his head. “I cannot see you. How do I know it's you and not . . . her?”

I clasped his uninjured arm and leaned close enough to whisper in his ear. “It is I, Harbonah. Tell me what happened.”

With great effort, the man swallowed. “She has killed me. She sent me to fetch a ball . . . for the crown prince . . . but when I put my hand in the box . . . an adder instead. She did it so the truth would die . . . with me.”

I bit my tongue, knowing it would be useless to hurry him along. The man was dying. Since he had not been able to control the events of his life, the least I could do was let him control his death.

Biztha was not as patient. “Tell him who sent you.”

“Vashti.” The man shuddered again, and when I pressed my hand to his forehead, I realized that he burned with fever.

“She commanded me . . . to help her,” the man continued. “I took young Pharnaces from his bed . . . put him in a cart . . . and told him we were playing a game. Then I took the cart from the harem . . . without anyone seeing.”

I pressed my lips together, frustrated beyond the point of endurance. “Where did you take the boy?”

“Vashti . . . wanted a sacrifice for Ahura Mazda so . . . the new queen . . . would lose . . . her baby. She wanted . . . a nobleman's son, but what child could be more noble than . . . the son of a king?”

I glanced at Biztha. For the past few weeks Vashti had been a near continual presence in the harem; everyone had seen her. If she had only arranged the prince's abduction, perhaps there was still time to save his life.

“Tell us where you have hidden him,” Biztha commanded. As the man spewed blood and foam from his lips, Biztha looked at
me. “Before I sent for you, I knew only that Vashti had forced him to take the boy. I don't know what she did with him.”

Terrified that the eunuch would die before finishing his confession, I grabbed the front of his robe and shook him. “Speak, man! Where is the boy now?”

Jangi's breathing grew still as his head lolled to the side. My heart rose to my throat as I considered the real possibility that I had killed him. Then he gasped another breath. “The tomb,” he said, and the exhalation that escaped his lips was his last.

I released his robe, then scrambled backward, shaken by the man's death and the news I'd learned. Vashti was the queen of cunning, so I did not doubt that she had used this slave and killed him to ensure his silence. She must have had him take the prince away from the royal mount because she could not leave the palace without attracting attention.

“Did he say what I thought he said?” Biztha caught my gaze. “A tomb? Which tomb?”

I shook my head. My master's burial chamber was under construction in a cliff north of Persepolis, where his father had been buried. The distance was too great; Pharnaces could not possibly be there. As for other tombs—many noble families had tombs in rocky areas near the river. The boy could have been taken to any of them and placed inside. If he had been provided with ventilation, food, and water, he could still be alive, but if not, he was almost certainly dead.

Knowing Vashti as I did, Jangi's story made complete sense. The former queen had no tolerance for competition, and she had seen Esther in the sort of free-flowing gown favored by expectant women. Vashti had guessed at the truth and taken action to ensure that Esther's offspring would never usurp her own sons' positions.

And she'd been willing to sacrifice another woman's child to accomplish her goal.

I leaned against the uneven wall and propped my hands on my bent knees. Biztha looked at me, weariness evident in the lines on his face. “So what do we do now?”

What, indeed? Two eunuchs could not accuse one of the king's women of murder. With our only witness dead, providing information to the guards might only implicate us in the crime. If a search was conducted and the boy found, Vashti could always say that Biztha and I had concocted the plot, stolen the boy, and planned to demand our freedom and a ransom. After all, I was the king's chamberlain and in a position of some authority. Likewise, as one of the king's trusted attendants, Biztha could have easily snatched the boy while pretending to be on royal business.

If faced with that scenario and his shrewd former queen, I could not be certain that my master wouldn't believe her. . . .

Before I laid the bare truth before Biztha, one question demanded an answer.

“Do you believe it will happen?” I asked.

“What?”

“Do you believe Ahura Mazda will honor Vashti's sacrifice? That he will destroy the present queen's child?”

Biztha scowled. “Ahura Mazda honors men who are pure in heart.” He lowered his voice, lest the shadows around us harbor a pair of listening ears. “Vashti's heart is not pure.” He waited, then cocked his head at me. “Don't tell me you think Ahura Mazda will hear her.”

I shrugged. “I have no doubt that
some
god rules this earth . . . but though my king honors Ahura Mazda with ceremonies, he does not seek the god's favor in his life. If Ahura Mazda honors sacrifices, I've seen no proof of it. And if a god does not answer the king of an empire, then who can hope to appeal to him?”

Biztha turned to stare at the body of the eunuch, then shook his head. “So we have no hope of justice. Will you tell Queen Esther about this?”

I hesitated, remembering the queen's earnest request that I tell her when the boy had been found. He hadn't exactly been found . . . and probably never would be.

I rose, slowly, and eased my tired bones back into an erect position. “We can do nothing to change the outcome of this misadventure, and the queen should not be at risk. So we should do what we have always done—remain silent and serve our master. Tomorrow will almost certainly be a better day.”

I had no idea that an even greater evil awaited us.