Hadassah Covenant, The (4 page)

Chapter Four

P
ERSEPOLIS, THE EIGHTEENTH YEAR OF
K
ING
A
RTAXERXES’ REIGN

Dear Esther,

My dear friend, I am in trouble, and I desperately need your counsel.

I hope that despite your being so far away, and the many months since you left for the Promised Land, that you have not forgotten me, your little Leah of the Susa harem. For my part, I miss you dearly—in fact, hardly an hour goes by that your name and your wonderful instructions to me do not cross my mind. I wanted to write you because I miss you, but also, I must admit, for a more immediate reason.

Esther, my night with the King has come and gone. And I do not think you would have yet learned of its outcome from Mordecai. You see, the most shocking and unexpected thing has happened. In fact, I must admit the truth I have sought to conceal from all others. My heart is broken. I have not stopped weeping for days. I have not slept, I have not eaten. I do not know if I can bear this strain much longer. And while I know your reply will not arrive for a very long time, just knowing that I have reached out to you already has eased my suffering.

You see, when I entered the bedchamber of King Artaxerxes, I held out only faint hope for a favorable outcome and, at the same time, braced myself for the harsh reality of palace politics. I really did not want to be there, and felt as though I was sucked into a whirlpool beyond my control. Truth be told, the King was simply hunting for a bride, and I was easy prey.

I use those words because I was fully prepared to have nothing of lasting significance occur, no extraordinary bond develop, and to be rejected as queen. That is a natural outcome, which I would have understood.

That is most definitely
not
what has taken place.

Esther, knowing that you went through the same exact process with King Artaxerxes’ father, your beloved Xerxes, I followed your advice to the letter, and much happened because I did. I will attempt to take my emotions in my hand and give you this full account of what took place that evening. A description certainly more complete than I have accorded anyone else.

During the final weeks leading up to that day, I found parts of your admonitions easy enough to carry out. Indeed, I felt that my whole year of preparation was a wonderful time of growing, both in body and spirit. For instance, paying special heed to the wisdom in the counsel of the King’s chamberlain was hardly difficult, as he is Jesse, better known around the palace as Hathach, your lifelong friend and my new one as well. As I will describe, I found your advice about focusing on the King’s preferences rather than my own to be a revelation, one which definitely set me apart from the other candidates as markedly as it distinguished you.

And of course dear Mordecai, as you know him even better than I, provided both wise counsel and encouragement during that year. The private meetings I shared with you and Mordecai kept the spirit of my Jewish heritage alive and abated my loneliness. From our first meeting, I had always felt a little awed in his presence, for he is, of course, the second most famous man in the empire, the Prime Minister and the King’s Master of the Audiences, a figure with enormous royal favor and public adulation. Truly, both of your names have been on the lips of my family and community since the day I was born. As I’m sure I’ve told you, tales of your mutual courage during our people’s
near-annihilation flowed throughout my childhood.

Yet from my arrival, I had discovered you to be less intimidating than I would have expected—perhaps because you had so kindly sought me out. I will never forget the long letter and its account of your life that you wrote to me. During that year of preparation following your departure for Jerusalem, I clung to your words like a drowning man to a floating log! I intend to keep it with me forever.

However, it could have been the simple fact that you are also a woman. And that Mordecai seemed to act a bit aloof toward me at first. But for whatever reason, I still found your uncle a bit formidable until he and Jesse began to coach me in earnest. Then, as he was called upon to display his incredible knowledge of the palace and all that lay ahead for me, Mordecai quickly became a warm, witty, and wise counselor. He made me laugh as I seldom have in my life; certainly since being taken to the palace. As Exilarch and leader of the Jews in exile, he knew my family well, especially given its royal lineage, and spoke of them often to me, always raising my spirits in the process. Although I still missed my family terribly and spent many of my nights weeping for all I had lost, I was comforted by a growing sense that a new, improbable family was growing up around me, consisting of no less than the King’s prime minister and chief chamberlain—two of the empire’s most powerful men.

After you left for Jerusalem, this family-of-sorts always seemed to be missing a member, and your name was often spoken in wistful, even sad tones. But even with that absence forever before us, I began to see Mordecai in a whole new light: beyond his incredible power and renown and simply as a sometimes lonely, yet always fascinating and endearing, man. His lightheartedness makes him seem far younger than he is. I cannot imagine how many Jewish girls pursued him in his youth, yet he never married. He would have presented quite a catch, I am sure.

But the disappointment of that year was your absence. I had always expected that when the preparation began, you would stand beside me every step of the way, giving me even more of your wonderful advice.

On the day Jesse appeared at my door in all his palace finery, that smile of anticipation playing upon his lips, I felt calm, prepared, and
within the bounds of divine providence, in spite of your being so far away.

Thanks to you, my friend. To you and the new family you brought into my life.

My approach to the palace was surely less visually enthralling than the one you described in your earlier letter. That is mainly due to the harem’s placement this season here at Persepolis—instead of a long march through each of Susa’s majestic inner courtyards, my new harem room lay deep inside the palace complex, requiring only a short walk across the courtyard to a corridor leading into the palace of Artaxerxes.

Yet I’m sure my emotions soared and dipped just as wildly as yours did. I had never ventured to the other side of the courtyard opposite my room; Jesse had most emphatically announced that the opposite doors sheltered the palaces of the King himself and were to be given a wide, fearful berth. Once my fellow harem-dwellers and I saw the gleaming lances and sword-edges of the Immortals guarding His Majesty, we had no trouble heeding the warnings.

Mine was perhaps a cooler day, especially as we are in the mountains of northern Persia instead of Susa of the southern deserts. In fact, the palace walls towered so high around me that they blocked direct sunlight. All I could see, framed between the stone rooftops, was a patch of deep blue afternoon sky. I remember drawing a breath as my foot struck its first step of courtyard marble and feeling a rush of excitement flood my veins. It truly did feel as though I was being ushered to the core of all that is splendid and opulent on this earth.

And, Esther, how beautiful I felt—my feet shod in gold-threaded sandals, my hair woven with rare purple lilies, my gown of iridescent red silk, my face intricately painted with Egyptian hues, my body seeming to travel within its own fragrant cloud of myrrh and incense. I’m sure I floated across that courtyard and in through the King’s massive gold-leafed doors, although the truth is, I hardly remember the walk at all.

What a relief it was to be met at the door by none other than Mordecai, rather than some unfamiliar and perhaps unsympathetic Master of Audiences. And an additional solace to realize that King Artaxerxes is an altogether different man than his father, Xerxes,
when you first met him. The son is young, less world-weary, and, forgive me, appears to be more like a sympathetic figure than the Xerxes of old. I expected him to be a good man simply because I know the woman who largely raised him.

I’ll never forget the creak of those huge doors opening and that eternal walk across the marble floor to his bedchamber. He stared at me the whole time with an appraising smile upon his face. I worked very hard to meet that gaze and experience the joy of presenting him with the most precious gift I could give—that of myself.

I stood him before him, and his smile was so broad and infectious I simply stood in its warmth for a long moment.

“You’re very beautiful . . . Leah, I believe your name is,” he said. And then, almost catching himself, he added, “I do not say this to every woman who enters my chamber. In fact, I may have never uttered this before.”

I did not know whether or not to believe him. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” I said with a small bow. “You are quite . . . thrilling to behold yourself.”

This reply seemed to please him, for he smiled wider, even chuckled a bit. “Oh, really? Am I? Now, would you have said this if I had been a sixty-year-old hunchback, as some of my ancestors who shall remain nameless?”

I thought for a moment. “Your Majesty, I hope I would have found some diplomatic way to frame an honest reply.”

His eyebrows rose at that. “Ah. Wisdom and intelligence mixed with
beauty
. Leah may prove a formidable candidate for queen,” he added, as if addressing an unseen throng.

“I do not believe in attempting anything halfway.”

“So, determined as well. It is a rare quality in one so young.”

“I am twenty years old, Your Majesty. But I am old enough to know that His Majesty would not be served by a spineless and silent queen.”

“Oh, you are, are you?” he said with a raised eyebrow and a chuckle. “And what harem gossips have passed on these insights to you?”

I felt my face grow warm and looked down to search for an appropriate reply. “I know there are older women in the harem,” I replied at
last. “But I have received wise counsel since I arrived there, and I have listened closely.”

“Have you become a favorite of my chamberlain, Hathach?”

“I count him as a friend, Your Majesty. As I do Her Highness, Queen Esther.”

“You mean Queen-Regent
Hadassah
?” he queried with a knowing nod. “Surely you know of her retaking her childhood name.”

“Yes, I do. I also know that she is an astute observer of the ways between kings and queens.”

“Or kings and queen-
candidates
? You have not won yet, you know, Leah.”

“No, but I place myself at your service,” I said with another small bow.

He took a deep, portentous breath and met my gaze with a glint of awe in his look. He took two bold steps and embraced me.

Having never been with a man before, I was quite shocked at the sensations that swept over me. A flood tide of emotions I had held in check for years came rushing forth and simply overwhelmed my senses.

One part of me was thrilled to be plunging headlong into the tumbling well of passion that can grow between a man and a woman.

Another part of me felt guilt, having repressed these feelings for so long. I know that as Mordecai had taught me, I was not to accept any pangs of guilt. I really had no choice. Refusing this fate would have meant immediate death for me and my family alike. Just as I was taken forcefully into the palace, so was I taken to the King’s bed. My mind understands that if I had no choice, I should feel no shame. Yet my heart struggled with mixed emotions over the pleasurable sensations now overwhelming my body.

Esther, it was almost as if I were a spectator, observing all that happened, attempting to pass judgment over right and wrong.

Thankfully, I need not elaborate for you what happened next, except to say that it was as wonderful, as frightening, and as pleasurable as you had led me to believe. And since I have heard of alternate outcomes from older concubines, I am very grateful for this fact: thanks to your advice, I must have pleased him, although I have nothing against which to compare that belief.

Several times during that night, Artaxerxes gave me looks of astonishment and even wonder. At one time during my upbringing I might have believed that behavior of this sort was a sign of wantonness or low character, but thanks to you and Mordecai, I was able to dismiss such perspectives in my current situation.

When our passion was expended, I thought I had slain him, or at least wounded him in some dreadful way. But after lying motionless for a terrifying moment, he opened his eyes, smiled at me, and raised himself to lean against the pillows. Upon seeing the fright on my face, he caressed my cheek and proceeded to reassure me that his stillness was actually due to a state of ecstasy, not of injury. In fact, rather than causing his demise, I had created delight.

That moment of brief repose was one item of sexual knowledge you failed to impart to me, my friend.

And then he and I gazed into each other’s eyes for a very long time, longer than I can estimate, as a veil of incredible ease, warmth, and conversation seemed to float down upon us. He genuinely seemed as intrigued about my life as he was about my body. I opened my heart to him, although, because of Mordecai’s warnings, I remained coy about my Jewish heritage.