Esther : Royal Beauty (9781441269294) (12 page)

Why should I leave Susa? I was a child of Persia. I had spent my entire life in the shadow of the king's fortress. My friends lived here. Leaving Susa would mean leaving everything I held dear, and for what? The king was no more likely to choose a Jewish girl than he was to marry his horse.

Why did Mordecai think I would be thrilled to live in a decimated city?

I studied my guardian as he stood and moved to the window. The setting sun gilded his face with yellow light as I drank him in, determined to memorize every detail of his countenance. Tomorrow we would say our farewells for the last time.

As much as I loved Mordecai and appreciated all he had done for me, we were completely different people. He liked Persia and loved Jerusalem; I loved Persia and felt almost nothing for the holy city. Mordecai had spent most of his life in Susa, but his eyes lit with an inner glow when he spoke of the City of David. In the quiet of the night he would sing of Zion, songs that filled the darkness with sorrow and longing: “If I forget you, Jerusalem, may my right hand wither away! May my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth if I fail to remember you, if I fail to count Jerusalem the greatest of all my joys.”

I lit up when thinking about Persia and its colorful people. I dreamed of the royal family, my friend Parysatis, and her renegade brother.

Mordecai had to know how much Persia meant to me . . . just as I knew he thought my affections were misplaced.

Is
that
why he wanted to send me away?

Later that night, as I lay on my pallet and silently wiped tears away, I tried to envision Jerusalem as a holy, shining city.

But visions of King Xerxes's bright and dazzling palace kept intruding.

A
MONTH
AFTER
THE
KING
'
S
CALL
for beautiful young women went out, I began to regret ever suggesting the idea. My master expected me to oversee the gathering of the virgins, which meant I was required to spend far more time in the harem than I wanted to. I had grown up among the royal women and was glad to be rid of them when appointed to serve my master.

Those who castrated me as a youth ensured that I would forever be well-suited for working with females, but I found the king's women catty, boring, and irritating. Too many of them were obsessed with their looks and trivial details, too few truly cared about the king. The royal women also tended to be snappish and jealous, even using eunuchs in their schemes against one another, so I was grateful that Hegai, chamberlain of the palace of the women, would bear much of this latest burden.

Envoys began to arrive a few days after the king's proclamation
was issued, and guards brought the virgins—many of whom had been taken against their will—to Hegai and me for evaluation. If we—two beardless eunuchs with good eyes and not an iota of lust between us—found the women worthy of the king's attention, they were taken to the palace of the virgins, whether they were strictly virgins or not. If they did not win our approval, they were told to make their way back to their fathers or husbands. “Since beauty is a matter of perspective,” I had earlier warned the king, “we must release those who are unacceptable. We don't want every young woman in the empire lazing about in the harem.”

Laughing, my master said he trusted my sense of beauty, and with a clap on my shoulder he went on his way.

Now Hegai and I stood at the southern staircase of the royal fortress, the culmination of a long road that led from the Valley of the Artists. A walled carriage approached, and from within it we could hear shouts and furious pounding on the walls.

“Oh my.” Beside me, Hegai went a shade paler. “Sl-slave traders.”

I shifted and eyed the vehicle. Slave traders hunted humans the way some men trapped wild game, enjoying the thrill of the hunt as much as the bounty paid for a fine catch. We had encountered several slavers in the last few days—men who usually sought runaway slaves or escaped prisoners now made it their business to scour the king's highways for beautiful virgins.

I didn't know how or where these men hunted, and I didn't care much for their specimens. Though great beauty could hide behind a layer of filth, the women from the plains tended to be beefy, bandy-legged, and lacking a full complement of teeth. I had yet to accept a single offering from a slave hunter, but since the king had authorized an empire-wide search, I had no choice but to consider every female presented at the palace.

“Don't worry,” I told Hegai. “If they have brought another load of farmers' daughters, we can simply turn them away.”

The carriage rolled up to the stone platform where we stood, and a grinning guard climbed down from his perch and went around to open the side door. “Bet you've never seen anything like these wenches,” he said, displaying a gap where a front tooth should be.

I stepped forward to acknowledge the delivery. “Where did you find these girls?”

“Road to Babylon,” the guard answered, pulling the bolt free of its hasp. “Some of them Babylonian beauties, at least one an Elamite. All of them fit to be queen.”

Hegai shot me a sharp look, then pursed his lips and turned his attention to the carriage. I sighed and tried not to appear too stern as the guard pulled the first girl from the confines of the conveyance. She was a barefoot Bedouin, her hair a wild tangle about her face. The second girl was a wasp-thin creature who appeared to be from one of the local tribes. The third girl outweighed Hegai, and the fourth could have easily beaten me in a wrestling match. The fifth, however, possessed a comely form, and her face—

I blinked as the features of the fifth captive came into focus. This was no farm girl, no Bedouin, and no warrior woman. Unless my eyes deceived me, the pale virgin who trembled on the pavement was Mordecai's daughter, Hadassah. Like the others, her face was streaked with dirt and her hands were bound. But unlike the others, her beauty shone through the grime on her face like a lantern in the night.

I felt Hegai stiffen beside me. “Wh-wh-what's this?” he stuttered, his voice thick. “A diamond amid the d-d-dreck.”

“Quiet,” I whispered, then shot him a look that said I'd explain later.

Thrusting my hands behind my back, I walked to the first woman and asked her name. She told me and I promptly forgot it, but I repeated the experience with the second, third, and fourth girls until I stood before my friend's ward.

Our eyes caught and held. For a moment I feared she didn't remember me, but then a flicker of recognition lit her eyes. “Fear not,” I murmured, pitching my voice to reach her ear and no one else's. Then, raising my voice for all to hear, I asked her name.

She lifted her brown eyes and cast me a brief look of helpless appeal. “My name is Esther.”

The name was Persian, not Jewish, and it meant
star
.

“Have you a father or mother in Susa?” I asked carefully.

“Neither.” Steadily, she held my gaze. “I am an orphan.”

I lifted a brow. She must have had a good reason for concealing her link to Mordecai, so I decided to guard her secret. Later I would ask if she wanted me to send word to her cousin.

I turned, bringing my hand to my chin as if I were considering the merits of all the women before me, but my mind whirled with thoughts of the accountant. Should I hide this girl and return her to her guardian? If I did, she would still be at risk, and would probably end up here yet again. And if the slaver spoke truly about finding these girls on the road to Babylon, Mordecai had already tried to send her away. . . .

I stepped back and surveyed the line of women one final time, then turned to the slave trader. “Thank you for bringing these women to the king. I have decided to return all of them to you—all but the last. That one we'll keep.”

The man protested, extolling his fine taste in females, but I cut him off by placing three pieces of silver on his palm. “I trust this will cover your expenses. Thank you for your effort on the king's behalf.”

While the guard tugged at the rope linking the remaining captives, I pulled a knife from my belt and cut Mordecai's daughter free. I then gestured to Hegai, who stepped forward, curiosity shining in his eyes. “Hegai, I entrust Esther into your hands. Take good care of her, will you? I have a particular interest in her welfare.”

While Hegai's forehead knit in puzzlement, I cut the cord that bound Hadassah's wrists and promised I would try to find her later. I wanted to know how she had come to be caught in a slave trader's dragnet, and how she had been separated from Mordecai. But because she had not volunteered any information, I would not ask these questions in public.

W
ITHOUT
SPEAKING
, I followed the short, bald man in the white tunic, keeping my eyes low even as my heart twisted. Once, during what now seemed like a foolish childhood, I had yearned to walk the polished halls of the king's palace and dreamed of exploring its winding passageways. Now I found myself stumbling along one of those hallways, and all I wanted to do was weep.

The day before I had packed my bridal chest and placed it in the courtyard, then knelt at Mordecai's feet while he placed his hands on my head. “May Adonai watch between me and you when we are apart from each other,” he said, reciting the blessing Laban had said to Jacob as the two men parted company. “Go in peace, my daughter.”

A short time later, Kidon and Binyamin approached our house, leading three horses, a donkey, and a mule. The donkey carried water and other provisions for our journey, so Binyamin strapped
my wedding chest to the mule. Then he helped me mount a pretty little mare that reminded me of Parysatis's horse.

I smiled through tears and managed a little wave as we urged our mounts forward. Mordecai stood at our gate, clasping the edges of his robe, his face stiffly arranged in a proud smile.

But as we rode away, I could almost hear the clean, snapping sound of breaking hearts—mine and Mordecai's. With Miriam in the grave and me on my way to Jerusalem, Mordecai would now be alone. No longer a young man, he would have only his work, a few friends, and his God to fill his days.

I should have been a happy bride, but sadness pooled in my heart as we approached the gates of Susa, a heavy grief that not even my groom's eager smile could lighten.

Because safety lay in numbers, we were supposed to join a larger caravan at the Tigris River. But scarcely had we left Susa when our small party was surrounded by sword-wielding ruffians on swift, long-legged horses. Binyamin and his father tried to reason with the men, protesting that we carried few valuables, but the rogues did not seem interested in treasure. As two of them wordlessly threatened Kidon and Binyamin with spears, a third man urged his horse toward me, his sword flashing in the dim light of dusk.

Emboldened by some foolish sense of protectiveness, Binyamin kicked his mount, but his guard caught the mare's bridle and slashed Binyamin with a sword. When my betrothed fell from his saddle, Kidon cried out and dismounted, collapsing at Binyamin's side as though he would be happy to die with his son. I watched in silent horror, not speaking even when the third man snatched the reins from my hands. I gripped the saddle, about to slip off and run for my life, but when one of the men stood over Binyamin, lifted his spear, and looked pointedly at me, I thought I knew what they wanted—a woman to hold for ransom. “Don't!” I cried. “I'll go with you, but don't hurt these men. Please—I won't cause any trouble.”

The rogue with the spear looked at the man next to me, then glanced back at Binyamin, who was bleeding profusely from a slice on his arm. Satisfied that he wouldn't die from his wound, I released my grip on my saddle and slumped in a posture of submission. Laughing, the man moved his horse next to mine, wrapped an arm about my waist, and pulled me from my mare. Though everything in me wanted to kick and scream, I couldn't fight as long as Binyamin and Kidon were at risk.

So I did nothing as my captor drew me onto his saddle and pulled my hands around his chest. With my cheek pressed against his back, he bound my wrists together and spurred his horse. We rode off at a gallop, followed by his two companions.

I turned my head, wanting to be sure the men had left Binyamin and his father alive. I saw them struggle to their feet as their horses, donkey, and the mule stood nearby. Would they continue on to Jerusalem or return to Susa? I had no idea, but I bitterly regretted the pain my presence had caused them.

I closed my eyes as guilt smothered me with its hot hand. Neither Binyamin nor his father had wanted to leave Susa; they had done so on my account. And what had been the result? Disaster. These men would probably contact them later and demand a fee neither Binyamin nor his father could afford. When Binyamin did not pay, these men would doubtless sell me into slavery, or, if I proved troublesome, kill me outright.

Tears seeped from beneath my eyelids as I imagined Mordecai's reaction to this terrible news. He would feel even guiltier than I felt, because the journey to Jerusalem had been his idea.

We rode through the sunset and into the night, and then my captors met a group of other ruffians behind a ridge. A carriage waited there, and from behind its wooden walls I heard other female cries. My captor cut me free and pulled me from his horse, then shoved me into the conveyance. The other girls regarded me sul
lenly, and when they did speak, I learned that they had been held in the sweltering wagon without food or water for hours.

What sort of kidnappers were these? The girls with me did not look like they came from wealthy families or even city dwellers. So perhaps I was mistaken about my captors' intentions. . . .

I peered through slits in the wooden walls. The men outside wore the turbans and scarves of desert nomads, a people I did not know. Their language was foreign to my ears, not Persian, Akkadian, or Hebrew.

But why were they capturing young girls? I knew Persia had a thriving slave trade, but Persian slaves were nearly always the people of conquered kingdoms. And who would dare conduct such a criminal raid so close to one of the king's capital cities? Once released, a captive would only have to go to the King's Gate and explain what had happened. She would set the king's justice upon those who had interfered with safe passage on the king's highway.

Unless . . . these men were gathering women for the king.

Cold, clear reality swept over me in a terrible wave, one so powerful that it stole my breath. These men weren't gathering servants for the slave market. Mordecai was right—the king's dragnet had become more aggressive and far-reaching than I had ever imagined it could.

Swallowing hard, I slid down the wall and stared at the shadowy forms across from me. I didn't know where or how they were picked up, but at least I realized why we had been thrust together. Mordecai had understood the danger better than I had, but I don't think he ever imagined that a young woman could be plucked from the Royal Road.

The next morning, when the driver turned the horses toward the east, I watched the sunrise through slits in the wooden walls and surmised that we were heading back to the city of my birth. Once there, I would do my best to contact Mordecai.

Overcome by sorrow and guilt, I lowered my head into my hands and wept.

“Welcome to the royal fortress at Susa.” Harbonah, the tall, beardless eunuch I had met years before, stood on a marble dais and regarded the gathering of girls with wide, impassive eyes. He had not changed much since the day I met him in the bazaar, and I wondered what, if anything, he remembered about me. One thing was certain—he did remember my connection with Mordecai. I'd seen recognition in his eyes when he singled me out from the other women in the slave trader's carriage, and that look was enough to calm the trembling that rose from my core.

This man knew Mordecai, so to him, at least, I would not be an anonymous, throwaway female. At least one man in the palace knew that I was precious to someone. Trusting in that hope, I found the strength to calm my pounding heart, lift my head, and dry my tears.

Harbonah stood in the center of a rectangular area furnished with several couches and large cushions for the floor, many of which were occupied by young women about my age. Trays of fruit and goblets of wine had been stationed around the room, and silent slaves stood against the walls, feathered fans in their hands. Moving their fans up and down in a steady rhythm, they kept the flies and the heat at bay. Beyond this space, in an open courtyard, other girls lounged on cushions and laughed, apparently at ease. They must have been among the first women to arrive. I doubted we would be the last.

Frightened and intimidated by our luxurious surroundings, we newcomers remained silent, but occasionally I glimpsed a timid smile pass from one stranger to another. Most of us appeared overwhelmed, and I wondered what sort of situations my companions
had come from. Had they surrendered willingly to the king's invitation? Or had they been snatched, as I had, by furious force?

“I am Harbonah,” the eunuch continued, “and I have the privilege of serving as your king's chamberlain. This—” he gestured to a shorter man dressed in a similar white tunic—“is Hegai, and he is in charge of the palace of the virgins. His primary duty is to make sure you are fully prepared for your night with the king—and that means he is required to see that you are at your most beautiful, most charming, and most eager to please our royal master. I can tell from looking at you—” his eyes narrowed in a critical squint—“that his job will not be an easy one. You have come from all over the empire, and some of you still have sand between your toes. But never fear, ladies, over the next twelve months Hegai will transform you into the kind of woman the king appreciates.”

We girls looked at each other when he paused, each of us wondering what her neighbor would look like after a full year of a eunuch's specialized training. The girl closest to me had skin as black as a midnight sky, with wide, dark eyes, a graceful frame, and a long, slender neck. She was lovely in a way I could never be, and I wondered if she would be our next queen. I thought her the most fascinating person in the room, but who could say what sort of woman the king favored?

Only the eunuchs. They were the key to success in this place, the key to escape.

“You will live here,” Harbonah went on, “and you are not to step out of this area for any reason until you are called to the king's chamber. You are now his property, so you are not to flaunt your beauty in front of other men unless commanded to do so. Other men may be allowed to view the king's treasures, but some royal possessions are reserved for the king alone. You are among those other possessions.”

My heart constricted at being called a “possession.” The children
of Israel had been slaves in Egypt and Babylon, and Mordecai would not want to know that I had stumbled into slavery, as well. He had taught me to be an independent thinker, restraining my thoughts only where the Law of Moses demanded that I rein them in. I had been encouraged to read, to study the Law, poetry, and the history of our people. I knew Adonai created man first and woman after, and I also knew our people were never to sell one another into slavery. . . .

Yet here I was, the
possession
of a Persian king. Oh, Mordecai! How could Adonai allow this, a situation that would undoubtedly break the heart of one of his most devout and dutiful servants?

“As part of the royal harem,” Harbonah continued, “you should know who the other women are in case you happen to encounter one of them. The highest-ranking woman in the palace now is the king's mother, Atossa. If you should see her, you should prostrate yourself immediately and remain silent unless she addresses you directly. She is to be obeyed without question and shown due deference. She reigns in any chamber she enters and is subject only to the king.”

Harbonah arched a brow and looked around the room as if expecting one of us to argue the point, but no one said a word.

“The second-highest rank would be that of queen, but that position has been vacant for several years. One of you may well become queen, and if the gods smile on you in this way, you will be subject only to the king. Do I make myself clear?”

Again he looked around the room, but no one had the courage to utter a peep. I shifted my gaze to Hegai, the shorter man who would be in charge of our house. Why wasn't he delivering this speech?

“The king has other women,” Harbonah went on, “but they are concubines kept for his pleasure. Many were gifts from visiting nobles. After your night with the king, you will find yourself living among them in a section of the harem ruled by Shaashgaz. You will be able to live a long and happy life as a concubine, and as the
king prospers, so shall you. Beg your gods to bless the king, for he is your protector and lord. He may call for you from time to time; you may even bear a son or daughter for him. If it is a male child, do your best to raise the prince to follow truth and integrity, and he may become a man of power and influence in the empire. The king gives important positions to family members who please him and prove themselves capable.”

Harbonah peered at us again. “You will each be given a set of rooms, your home for the next year or so. You will also be given handmaids to serve you. You need worry about nothing. Have you any questions for me before Hegai assigns your living quarters?”

I glanced around, for a question had occurred to me, yet no one else seemed inclined to ask anything. After a prolonged moment, I lifted my hand.