Hadassah Covenant, The (45 page)

“Here,” said the guide, pointing to a large unrolled scroll.

“Thank you, kind sir,” Ari answered, smiling in anticipation. He waited till his escort had left, then pulled out his infrared wand and turned it on before the ancient scroll. New lines and phrases appeared, completely changing the letter’s theme.

As he began to translate the illuminated text, his practiced eye discerned right away that the document was written not only in the proper ancient vocabulary but also in a bold, masculine hand. . . .

My lady, I love you
.

I write these words so that I can say at the end of my life that I expressed the feelings which threaten to burst me apart. Even if I only express them to myself. You see, I am not sure I will ever show you this.

In fact, I am mortified to even imagine these words ever falling under your gaze.

However, I write it for you. I know that this is strange, illogical, and maybe even pathetic.

I know that this message may be dangerous, highly inappropriate,
uncalled for, and perhaps even distressing to you. I know that it comes at perhaps the worst time of your life, therefore raising the prospect of my trying to take undue advantage of a woman in a vulnerable state. Yet I would disagree with that assessment of things. I must be truthful. First to myself and then, if my courage survives, to you.

Should I say it again?
I truly do love you
. Now, give me time, for it will be long—if ever—before I gain enough courage to say such things out loud. But here, in this place, I can.

I believe it’s important that you know I didn’t say these things out of trifling affection. The fact is, I do not love you merely as a friend, a colleague, a confidante, or even a maid of honor. I love you as a ravishing, desire-provoking, sweat-causing, stammer-inducing beautiful woman. A woman of G-d. A creation of the Almighty, who has infinite worth, value, and contribution to offer the living G-d and His people. And has found herself locked away due to circumstances far indeed from her control.

When did it start? My beloved daughter would tell me it was the first moment I saw you, although I must admit I was completely unaware. Or at least consciously. I am not even sure you noticed us that day. It was the day you first came to the harem, along with your fellow candidates. Probably one of the most confusing, bewildering moments of your life. Our mutual friend Hathach the chamberlain stood alongside, and he had already surmised that you were one of us.

I thought I was admiring your poise, your uniqueness from the others. But my daughter—whom I will not mention by name because of events we both know are taking place concerning the empire—is sure she noticed something else.

And then, of course, we met, in the passage of your time in the harem and my frequent trips to both my daughter’s harem chambers and those of Hathach.

From the very first words that left your mouth, I realized you were a perceptive and well-spoken young woman, on whom I could rely for accurate observations of the Jewish community and their feelings toward the palace.

I had long conversations with your chamberlain about how much
you reminded him of my own daughter at the same age, when she herself had entered the harem for her year of preparation.

I never harbored an un-innocent thought toward you. In fact, I pictured you so pure, so refined, that any untoward impulse would simply not have survived with you as its object.

Then, of course, there is the matter of your own night with the King.

And the morning after.

Even as you were being escorted back to the harem, I was being summoned back to the King’s chambers. I had no idea what had taken place.

I walked in and noticed immediately that something was wrong. The King’s expression toward me had changed; the slant of his eyes had narrowed, he suddenly would not meet my gaze, and he wore a perpetual scowl.

“Mordecai, I spent last night with a most remarkable woman. The most beautiful, the most refined, the most intoxicating creature I have ever met. Her name is Leah. From Susa, I believe. Do you happen to know her?”

“Leah,” I repeated, trying desperately to buy myself some time—to decide whether or not I would be candid. “I believe I have. I am, as you know, sir, a close friend of Your Majesty’s chamberlain.”

“Yes, I do remember that, Mordecai,” he answered. “In fact, the knowledge of it has troubled me much over the last few hours.”

“Why is that, sire?”

“Well, as I indicated, last night was one of the most memorable in my whole life. Leah was most sensuous and, better still, intelligent and charming. She left me with memories I shall treasure the rest of my life.”

“I am very glad to hear that, Your Majesty. . . . ” but my voice held a question mark that didn’t fit the statement.

“Yes, thank you—but there was one exception. Right in the middle of the evening, as we exchanged some quite candid and profound disclosures about ourselves and our lives, I began to speak of a most intimate and even secret matter. I spoke to her about . . . well, you know my relations with my brother Darius were rather . . . complicated.”

“Indeed I remember.”

“Yes, and the most amazing thing took place as I spoke with her. I began to think of the night of my father’s murder. And all of the other secondary things that took place.”

“Yes, Your Highness. I do remember—”

“You do, do you? Well, then, perhaps you remember that only you and the former Queen have any knowledge of how exactly my brother died. That I was tricked by my father’s killers into ordering . . .”

His voice grew thick and husky, then faded away.

“Do you know what this amazing girl told me? She leaned forward and whispered into my ear, ‘Don’t feel guilty. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your fault.’

“Now deep in the throes of grief, I did not fully appreciate what she had said for quite a long moment. But then, something about the tone of her voice stirred the deepest part of my brain. And I suddenly realized she was not merely referring to some general survivor’s guilt over my brother’s untimely murder.

“She knew it, Mordecai. She knew the truth. The minute I lifted myself up to look upon her with a questioning mien, I saw a flash of dread cross her face, the wilted demeanor of one who realizes she has disclosed something imprudent in an unguarded moment.

“So my question is, how well do you and the former Queen know this most well-informed young woman?”

And do you know, for the first time in all my years as a Master of the Audience, I found my words utterly lacking. I did
not
know how to answer. Never before has my own or my loved ones’ self-interest placed itself at odds with my duty to the King.

Artaxerxes, though, did not seemed surprised at all by my sudden muteness. He looked away and shook his head, continuing his prepared speech.

“Yes, that is what I thought, my dear Mordecai. Trusted and beloved advisor to my father, revered figure to the world’s largest empire, man of unaccusable, unquestionable integrity. And of course, human savior, along with his daughter, of his people . . .”

I worked very hard not to look his way or betray any reaction whatsoever to those words. But his tone now grew cloying and cunningly playful.

“
Jewish
—I was only a child at the time, but I was not misled, was I, Mordecai? Were not, in fact, your Jewish people the intended victims of a most vicious extermination plot in those days? A plot that forced you to risk your life to defy a nobleman and save your race from being wiped off the face of the earth?”

“It was G-d who saved my people, Your Majesty,” I quickly blurted, thankful for something totally truthful I could say.

“You know what I mean,” he said.

I was now trapped, for as you know I would never betray or deny my faith. If I would risk everything by refusing to bow down to a Haman, I surely would not turn my back on my heritage merely to deny the King a point in conversation.

So I answered him, “Yes, Your Majesty. Your memory indeed serves you correctly. I am Jewish. One of the exiles of Israel.”

“And so . . . am I also correct in guessing that the young lady who has so enchanted me had knowledge of things only you know because she is . . . also of your people?”

I allowed a long pause to fall between us while I tried to think of any other way to answer him.

“I learned that quite recently myself, Your Majesty.” My explanation sounded pathetic and contrived—even its sound echoed flatly across the marble of the vast room.

Artaxerxes made a small grimace when I uttered those words, as though despite considering them inevitable, he had nevertheless hoped they would never reach his ears.

“Oh, Mordecai,” he said at last, in an almost plaintive tone of voice, “how I wish my acumen had not proven so correct. For you see, I truly fell in love with young Leah last night. And ever since I awoke this morning, I have been thinking of nothing else than the potential joy of making her my Queen. Until, that is, just when I recalled, out from the fog of last night’s passion and healing, my memory of her statement.”

Immediately I sensed one of those, quite literally, sword’s-edge kind of moments. The kind of moment when silently, invisibly, unknowingly, you find that you have reached a most significant line in the sand, ahead of which lies instant destruction. So I knelt abruptly, grabbed his right hand, and began kissing it fervently.

“Your Majesty, please forgive your humble servant. I never meant to betray your sovereign word in disclosing of this matter to Leah. She, like all your queens-in-waiting, sits in the harem, gazes at the vast splendor of your palace day after day, and nearly goes insane wondering about all that goes on there. I only sought to give her sufficient knowledge to keep her wits about her should she ascend to the throne someday. I swore her to complete secrecy regarding any other disclosure of the information.”

“You know something, Mordecai?” he answered almost flippantly. “I actually believe you.” But his tone grew very serious as he went on. “Despite the fact that your betrayal is certainly punishable by death, not to mention the immediate end to a lifetime’s worth of hard-won trust, I believe that your words are true. Of course, that does not make the choices before me any easier.”

“I am sure you are right, Your Majesty. And that is why I cast myself at your mercy to await your gracious decision. I only ask that you not penalize young Leah for my lapse in judgment. She neither asked for nor repeated the inappropriate knowledge beyond what you heard last night. Leah is, as you so perceptively ascertained, a once-in-a-lifetime young woman of incredible beauty and astonishing personal qualities. She will make anyone the most wonderful wife and life-mate. . . . ”

And, Leah, it was just when those words left my mouth that I knew how deeply and longingly I actually believed them. I would have given my life, had it been possible, for me to win you from him at that precise instant.

“Yes, I believe you again,” he answered, deep in thought. “I most definitely agree, although not out of an abundance of trust in your judgment.” Suddenly he wheeled around to stare at me. “Which is why I must, with the deepest regret, replace you as Master of the Audiences and Prime Minister. You have given my father and me invaluable and much appreciated service, Mordecai. But the time has come when, for this and various other reasons, I must seek a new voice and set of instincts at my side.”

“I understand, Your Majesty,” I said, trying not to betray my disappointment. “I only hope that whatever wisdom or understanding I
may possess may still prove of service to Your Majesty somewhere in the future.”

“Actually, they may,” he answered, nodding. “I need you to perform one last act of extreme difficulty and delicacy for me.”

“Anything, Your Majesty.”

“I want you to go back to the harem and inform young Leah that she has been rejected as a candidate for Queen. She will remain in the harem as a concubine, although I will never seek her bed nor summon her to mine. No public reason will be given for this decision. Ever.”