Esther : Royal Beauty (9781441269294) (3 page)

The vast majority of military men at the banquet had no idea they were being fattened like pigs for slaughter. As the sun dipped toward the western horizon, the generals emerged from the meetings and slaves carried trays of food through the crowd, allowing each guest to take whatever he liked. During the meal, servants hovered near with rhytons molded in the shapes of winged lions, many of pure gold. These vessels held the kingdom's finest wine, and slaves stood ready to pour whenever the king raised his glass. No one drank unless the king did, and though some may have quietly grumbled about the king's restraint, I felt grateful for my master's self-control. These were soldiers, after all, so they should be men of discipline.

As the guests ate their fill, slaves lit oil lamps suspended in the trees, and evening crept over the garden. Musicians strummed the lute and lyre while the royal concubines walked throughout the crowd, exuding a feminine loveliness that charmed and fascinated
the men in attendance. Not a man present, however, would have dared to touch one of the king's women.

After a suitable interval, the curtains around the king's private enclosure dropped softly to the floor, creating a wall between my master and his guests. The one thousand Immortals assigned to guard the king shifted their positions in order to escort him to his bedchamber.

Our banquet guests recognized their cue to depart.

My fellow slaves and I stood with hands clasped as they bundled the remnants of their feast and headed toward the stairs, some leaning on each other, others accidentally dropping the food intended to sustain them during their stay in Susa. Even though the king discouraged drunkenness during the banquet, his men were not so temperate when away from the royal presence. As I watched one bleary-eyed captain take a long drink on a bottle he'd hidden in his tunic, I marveled that such an army had been able to crush a revolt.

But they had been sober in battle. I knew I should not resent this feast, their reward for valor and victory.

But I did.

After six full months of feasting and drinking, the soldiers, commanders, generals, and governors gathered their servants, piled their pilfered treasures into carriages and chariots, and followed the king's highways back to their distant homes. While I knew they would never forget this experience, I fervently hoped I would.

Then the king decided to host
another
banquet.

I was not with my master when he made the decision, so the announcement reached me through Memucan, the eldest of the seven vice-regents who advised the king on matters of law and policy. “The people of Susa have been sorely abused by the king's former guests,” Memucan explained in the hushed tone suitable
for speaking to a slave. “So to placate the populace, he will give another banquet to rival the first.”

Tension ratcheted up my nerves. “Surely not for another six months.”

“For seven days,” Memucan replied. “For the next week we will feast as before, but without restriction as to the wine. As a special dispensation to his put-upon people, no servant is to refuse a guest if he asks for more wine, and no one is to compel a guest to drink. Furthermore, all the citizens of Susa are invited, including the women, who will be entertained by the queen in her chambers. The people have borne much for the sake of the king's graciousness; now they will be rewarded for their hospitality, grudging though it may have been.”

Knowing we had to work or face the lash, we slaves set to work again. We replaced faded hangings, polished gold and silver goblets, cleaned silver couches, and refilled silken cushions.

“For all the people of Susa,” one servant remarked as he hauled a pile of soiled pillows away, “except those who serve in the palace. When will the king give a feast for us?”

I caught him by the arm and gave him a stern look. “You feast in the king's palace every day, so hold your tongue lest someone chop it off. Your duty is to obey and remember that you could be outside planting crops.”

“Like that'd be so terrible,” the slave grumbled, shifting his burden to his hip. “Fresh air, the freedom to move about and keep a woman in a hut—that wouldn't be such a bad life. But what would a eunuch know about it?”

I stepped back, repulsed by the derision in his tone. I might have given him a snappish reply, but his words had transported me to a distant place, a vault filled with violent memories I had locked away and sworn never to release.

I knew what he meant because I had once been free. But I had also known starvation and poverty. And I had not always been a eunuch.

M
IRIAM
WAS
FINGERING
THE
DELICATE
FRINGE
on the border of a rug when I spotted Parysatis in her father's booth across the bazaar. My friend waved, then tilted her head in a small gesture that clearly said
get over here.

I glanced at Miriam. While she and Mordecai did not keep to themselves as much as some of our neighbors, I knew they would be disappointed if I spent too much time with a girl who didn't know a forbidden food from an acceptable one. Parysatis was as Persian as the carpet beneath Miriam's hand, and she probably worshipped Ahura Mazda, Mithras, or no god at all. But we didn't talk about gods when we were together, and sometimes a girl needed to talk to another girl. . . .

“I'll be back soon,” I told Miriam, squeezing her elbow. “I'm going to see Parysatis.”

Miriam looked across the road, bewilderment and concern in her eyes. “You're going alone?”

“Parysatis is with her older brother. We'll be perfectly safe.”

“Hadassah, I don't think—”

I didn't wait to hear the rest. Miriam was as soft as a feather bed, and I had always been able to work around her gentle protestations. And we
would
be safe, for Babar, Parysatis's handsome brother, had proved himself worthy of a name that meant
tiger
. At eighteen, he seemed to prowl through the marketplace, his muscles gleaming as he glanced left and right for anyone who might dare challenge his skill with a sword and spear.

Babar barely glanced at me as I hurried over and slipped my arm through Parysatis's, but I felt the touch of his gaze like a current on my skin. “I got away,” I told Parysatis. “It's so good to see you.”

“And you.” Parysatis leaned into me as a sister might, then glanced across the road at Miriam. “I don't understand why she's so protective. You're thirteen, practically a grown woman.”

“She's old-fashioned.”

“And so much older than you. How did you end up with your cousins, anyway?”

I shrugged and ran my fingertips over a bolt of blue silk. “My grandfather, Shimei, had two sons, Jair and Abihail. Jair had a son, Mordecai, and many years later he sired Abihail. The younger son was my father.”

“Did you ever know him?” When I shook my head, Parysatis's eyes softened. “I can't imagine not knowing my father. Every day he comes home and asks what I would like him to bring me from the bazaar. But if Mordecai does this for you—”

Again I shrugged, implying that Mordecai asked me the same daily question, when in truth he rarely asked if I wanted anything. When not working on the king's accounts, Mordecai spent his time studying Torah or in prayer. Our home was comfortable, not elaborate, and if my cousin had extra money, he was more likely to give it to the poor than to buy some frippery for the house.

Parysatis's father, however, lived for art, beauty, and music. The aromatic perfume of myrrh filled my head every time I visited their luxurious home, and I could have spent hours examining the vases, statues, carvings, and artworks without seeing everything. Every wall, floor, fountain, and furnishing in the silk merchant's dwelling had been designed to delight the senses, and I drank them in until I felt drunk on beauty. I loved hearing the silk merchant talk about the foreign lands where so many of his exquisite pieces originated. I would have given anything to be able to visit those exotic locations.

But even as I reveled in the stimulating aromas, the amazing sights, and the musical splash of the fountains, I could almost see Miriam shaking her head in mournful reproach. “You are too charmed by the world, Hadassah,” she would say. “This place is not our home. Do not let yourself be blinded by trinkets.”

But what was wrong with having nice things? Parysatis had everything a young girl could want—lovely garments, a maidservant, fine jewelry, and the most exquisitely wrought sandals. Her family kept horses at a stable near the river, and she could take a guest out riding whenever she wanted. Though Mordecai would probably say that my friend had been spoiled, Parysatis had never been anything but kind to me. She never criticized, never made me feel guilty for enjoying myself, and never asked why my guardians were so dour.

Not even now.

“I saw him earlier today.” She pinched my arm in an overflow of excitement. “He was at the stable where my father keeps our horses.”

“Who?” I asked, though I knew perfectly well whom she meant.

“Mushka.” She breathed the name. “And he looked so handsome on his stallion! My father says he is destined to grow up to be a very important man. I only wish I could know that I am destined to become his wife.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Parysatis was in love with the king's seventeen-year-old nephew. The young man
was
handsome,
but Mordecai said Mushka spent far too much time in the pursuit of pleasure. If the boy really wanted to learn how to help his royal uncle, he should take a post in the military or the treasury and not spend his time splashing silver around at the bazaar.

I, on the other hand, felt my heart turn over whenever Parysatis's brother entered the room. I tried to pretend he meant nothing to me, but Babar was the most beautiful youth I'd ever seen.

“So.” Parysatis ran her palm over a lovely selection of silk, then held it up to her cheek and grinned at me. “Have you heard the amazing news?”

I hesitated, not wanting to appear completely ignorant. “The news about silk?”

She tipped her head back and released a charming, musical laugh. “The royal banquet, you silly. The feast for
us
.”

My heart did a double beat. “Us?” The word came out in a squeak. “As in you and me?”

“As in you and me and your family and my family and all the citizens of Susa. My father learned the details last night. Apparently the king intends to reward us for our patience with his soldiers. He is giving a banquet to honor every citizen of Susa, from the noblest family to the most common. Father says our banquet will be every bit as grand and glorious as the feast for the king's army. And Mushka is certain to be present!”

Stunned speechless, I shifted my gaze to the wide bowl of sky overhead. I had dreamed of visiting the palace ever since meeting the queen, but in my daydreams I was a grown woman and I climbed the steps to the palace with a wealthy and well-bred husband at my side. My dream self wore a long silk gown with dozens of delicate pleats, and my hair was laced with gold cords and pinned up in a riot of curls. My beautiful jewelry gleamed in the sun—gifts from my husband, who bore a striking resemblance to Babar—including a richly decorated necklace, a carved gold bracelet, and a pair
of shimmering earrings. In that imagined moment, I felt I could finally be called
beautiful.
 . . .

But if Parysatis was telling the truth, I would be visiting the palace soon. I wouldn't be nearly as striking as I'd hoped to be, but I would happily trade my daydream for this incredible reality.

“Are you sure your father's information can be trusted?” I pinched the plump flesh of her upper arm. “Because if you're teasing—”

She pulled away from me, laughing. “I'm not teasing, I promise. So ask your cousin Mordecai for a new gown because you're going to need one. Something regal, something silk and—” she winked—“something expensive. With all of Susa present, you'll want to stand out.”

I snorted softly. In the company of so many wealthy and noblewomen, a simple Jewish girl was far more likely to fade into the background.

Parysatis had spoken the truth. The next day a royal herald stood at the top of the great staircase and announced the banquet for the citizens of Susa, while mounted couriers carried the proclamation to distant points of the city. Women buzzed with the news as they filled their jars at the well, and patrons crowded the silk merchants' shops from the time they opened for trading until the time they blew out their lamps.

Miriam, however, insisted she did not want a new dress, and I didn't need one.

I couldn't have been more horrified if she'd said she planned to attend the royal banquet in sackcloth.

“But Miriam! Every woman in the city will be wearing her best on each of the seven days. You need several new dresses and so do I.”

She shook her head. “We shall wear what we have and be happy.
Women should be modest, Hadassah, and not overly concerned with outward beauty. Sarah was beautiful, yes, but her beauty was rooted in her kind and gentle spirit.”

“But—” I wanted to argue that I was young, I wasn't yet married, and surely we should want to look our best for a king we respected. But for each of my points, Miriam would have an effective counterpoint. She would say the young should be protected, I would be betrothed soon enough, and I should live to please Adonai and not a pagan king.

I knew exactly what she'd say and didn't particularly want to hear any of her reasons.

So I decided to carry my request to Mordecai. Though the man had a will of iron, if I approached him with a note of pleading in my voice and a pitiable expression on my face, Mordecai's iron could be softened. I always felt a little guilty after manipulating him so obviously, but he was intelligent enough to see through my wiles. And as long as he was willing to grant me a favor . . .

Knowing that Mordecai would soon appear, I waited outside our courtyard as the sun began to set behind the royal fortress. His bushy brow rose when he saw me standing outside the gate.

“Hadassah.” A note of rebuke underlined his voice. “A young woman should not stand idly in the street.”

“I was waiting for you.” I smiled and let him lead me into the courtyard. “I'm sure you've heard about the upcoming banquet.”

“I have.” He closed the gate behind us and turned, the suggestion of a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “And I'm sure you'll agree that the three of us should stay home.”

I gaped at him, momentarily bewildered by the absurd idea that he might not want to attend. “But—but it's a gift! To thank us for housing those soldiers.”

“I hardly think that allowing three men to sleep in our courtyard deserves such generosity.”

“But to refuse the invitation would be an insult to the king, would it not?”

His eyes sank into nets of wrinkles as his smile deepened. “Are you worried the king might be offended by the absence of an aging accountant and a thirteen-year-old girl? But that is not why you waited for me. Along with my assurance that we will attend the banquet, what do you need?”

I drew a deep breath, utterly relieved. “Parysatis says she's wearing a new dress every night, and her father has commissioned special jewelry in honor of the occasion. I wouldn't ask for so much, but a new gown would be nice. I want this banquet to be something I will never forget. Soon I will be married and then I will become a mother and have many little ones. Considering that I will spend my days chasing children and keeping house, this banquet might be the high point of my life.”

His heavy brows furrowed. “You think your life will amount to so little?”

I sighed, not understanding why he couldn't see the obvious. What other fate could possibly await a girl like me?

“Never usurp the right of the Almighty to plan your future,” he said, his dark eyes intent on my face. “HaShem is always at work, even when you can't see Him.”

I wanted to cry out in frustration, but a display of temper would never influence Mordecai to act in my favor. My cousin remained silent, his eyes probing mine as if he would discover the motivation for my request. Then he gave me a small smile. “I happen to know a man whose wife is a skilled dressmaker. Tomorrow I will ask if she has time to make another gown before the banquet.”

I clapped in victory. “Thank you, cousin! Thank you!”

He looked at me in patient amusement, then shook his head and went inside the house, leaving me to dance in the courtyard alone.