Hadassah Covenant, The (40 page)

“Saving her people from extermination,” you replied softly, thoughtfully. And that was when I knew you were indeed a remarkable, insightful young woman. And I knew—if I had any uncertainties before—the long missive I had been working on would indeed come into your possession when I had completed it.

“And you know what?” I asked you. “Here I am watching this ornate, overdone palace burn to pieces, once again feeling sorry for myself. Defying G-d to add another episode to my life! When will I learn? My only true concern right now, Leah, is about Mordecai. . . . ”

At some time in the early morning, when you had fallen asleep and some fellow bystanders and I had fallen into a sort of numb stupor, I saw the figure of a good friend approaching, one of the many worthy, G-d-fearing young Jewish men Mordecai had sponsored into positions of influence throughout the palace. Nehemiah had already
risen to royal cupbearer—a position far more exalted and close to the King than its mere title might suggest.

“Mordecai is safe,” he said breathlessly. “Although he is very frightened and his body was badly taxed in his escape. He asked me to come give you news of his condition.”

I embraced him out of sheer gratitude, found a place to recline outdoors, and promptly fell into a deep slumber. I felt safe surrounded by palace guards who, despite my demotion, watched over their former Queen with some respect and loyalty.

Soon afterward I awoke in a pile of cushions, with the glare of morning light beating down. I opened my eyes, coughed at the smoke in the air, stood, and then nearly fell again.

Our old horizon had been transformed. The stone outline that had for years framed my every morning sun was gone, leaving a void of almost palpable emptiness. In place of the palace’s formidable profile lay a jagged, ungainly pile of rubble and a lingering mist of light brown smoke. The once-grand terraces that had framed it now lay cluttered with charred piles and rubbish.

Mordecai stumbled up to me an hour later, through a scattering of onlookers and rescued furnishings. He looked ragged, aged, and devastated. We fell into each other’s arms.

“Oh, my sweetheart,” he said, “it is so dreadful. Not only is it destroyed, but there are . . . dozens, hundreds dead.”

“Artaxerxes?”

“He is well. Amestris and the royal family all survived. Most of the highest ranking got out alive.”

“Where will they all go?”

“There are other palaces, you know. Susa will be rebuilt, but for now there is always Persepolis, Ecbatana, Pâthragâda. The empire will continue, even in a rather precarious state.”

“But there are so many rumors, Poppa,” I said, falling into my familiar habit of speaking to him like a young girl.

“Yes, and the worst one is that a Jew started the fire. That one of us began some sort of religious ceremony with festival candles in the living quarters, and one of them caught a drape aflame.”

“But there are no Jews living in the royal living quarters. At least not since I left . . .”

Mordecai fixed me with the doleful stare that always warns me I’m being a bit dense, ignoring an important conclusion.

“Are you,” I started, unwilling to even phrase the words, “are you saying that the rumor blames
me
?”

“Most Persians aren’t aware that you’ve moved from the palace.”

“Oh, my goodness!” It was inane, but it was the only statement I could think to voice my consternation. I took two steps backward and covered my mouth.

“It seems our own success has now grown to endanger us,” Mordecai continued. “Many noble Persian households now resent the influence we’ve acquired. They consider Jews suspicious foreigners who’ve somehow developed a mysterious hold over their royal family.”

“What am I going to do? What are
we
going to do?”

His eyes closed and he shook his head solemnly.

“I think you need to leave, Hadassah,” he said, his voice low. “Not forever, but for several months—a year perhaps. Just to get you out of the palace.”

“Are you joking with me? I’m not going anywhere!”

“I fear you must.”

“You? How about we? Why wouldn’t you come with me, if the danger is so dire?”

“For several reasons. One of them is another piece of news I haven’t had time to tell you. You see, earlier yesterday, I received a visit from Ezra.”

“A visit from the priest? What difference—?”

“Don’t be impertinent, my dear,” he interrupted. “You know that the priest of Babylon is also the head of the Exile. The Exilarch. Next Shabbat, Ezra will inform the synagogues of Babylon and Susa that he has named a new Exilarch. He has passed the title on to me.”

I forgot all of my palace etiquette and royal decorum as my mouth dropped. “What? Why would he do such a thing?”

“Do you remember when I told you last month that our priest Ezra had made a special petition to the King?”

“Yes. Something about offering to beautify the Temple in Jerusalem.”

“That’s right. Well, two nights ago, the King ruled on Ezra’s offer.
He accepted it! Ezra is leaving with fifteen hundred of our best men as soon as he can gather them.”

“I was certain Artaxerxes would laugh Ezra out of the palace!”

“So was I. But I schemed, shall we say, with Nehemiah to smooth the way politically, as best I could. For instance, there is a prophet out there named Malachi, who persists in openly calling for rebellion against the King. Ezra, on the other hand, opposes him. Ezra believes in the Jewish people faithfully serving wherever we find ourselves. So it serves the King’s interest to give Ezra the upper hand.”

I threw my arms around him. “Oh, Mordecai. You have received such an honor! You’ll bring such prestige and power to the office. It is a great day for our people.”

“Well, not in the eyes of the rabbis. They will say I cannot lead our people because I am not of the line of David.”

“But you are the Prime Minister of the Empire!”

“Not for long, if the sentiment against our people does not subside.” Mordecai grabbed my hands in a show of sincerity. “Now, my dear, you know why I cannot leave with you.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Poppa. I didn’t escape when Haman tried to kill us all, and I won’t now. It would be running away exactly when my people need me most!”

He smiled.

“Not if the place you run away to is Jerusalem.”

Chapter Forty-four

So twenty years after I first talked of a runaway pilgrimage with my beloved Jesse, my dream of returning to the land of my people was actually coming true! The thought of seeing Jerusalem blended a chill of reality with quivers of warm delight.

And yet I found the prospect bittersweet. I would be leaving behind so many people I greatly loved! Including, of course, my new friend—you, Leah. I was so glad I was able to leave the document with you—it would be some link, however tenuous, between us during the long time apart.

As you know, we said our tearful good-byes right outside the palace gates. I remember your arms around my neck, and wondering if either of us would ever let go. Then, weeping like a child, I glanced back from my horse to see you waving there, alongside Jesse in the shadow of the very gryphon statue where he and I had shared that first kiss!

It felt as though I was leaving my entire life behind. If Mordecai had not been beside me for that first leg of the trip, I am not sure I would have been able to follow through.

Mordecai escorted me as far as Babylon, outside which the travelers
actually planned to assemble. So for the first time since he had rushed me out of the city of my birth as a traumatized youngster, painful wounds from my family’s terrible attack and murder still under poultices, we now returned to our home city.

I harbored a few details that my battered memory had not banished from my mind, but when we passed under the Ishtar Gate, I looked up and felt a shudder of vague recognition wrack my body. I reached over in the seat of the carriage, which Mordecai had arranged for the trip, and grasped him tightly, overcome by a sudden paralyzing terror. I begged him not to take me into the area where our house had stood, and of course he emphatically agreed. Even as we left the gate behind and proceeded through the city’s main thoroughfare, my mind’s eye continued to hurl flashes of horror back into my consciousness. I clung to Poppa until we were safely past Babylon’s far wall.

And yet now, with the fear behind me, I find a curious solace in the experience. In a way, despite the unpleasant emotions it unearthed, returning to my birthplace was the perfect way to begin this expedition. It was almost as though the impending voyage was a rebirth of sorts, a new beginning and renewal of my life.

G-d’s hand seemed strong on our undertaking from that very first day we crested the banks of the Ahava Canal, on Babylon’s far side, and gazed down on the sprawling crowd of people, vehicles, and animals gathered for the trip. I am not sure what I had expected, but the sight of such a large throng caught my breath. The whole enterprise had seemed like a half-baked affair to me until then.

When we approached the leader’s circle, we found a caravan already in some disarray. As we drove up, Ezra, a lean, red-bearded man likely in his late thirties, came running over alongside our carriage.

“Master Mordecai!” he exclaimed, using the title when Poppa had been a palace scribe years before. Then, catching sight of me, he bowed respectfully. “Your Highness, welcome to our humble caravan.”

We climbed out of the carriage, and Ezra stepped in close to Mordecai.

“We have encountered our first challenge, even within sight of Babylon, I fear,” Ezra admitted. “We were close to embarking when I
conducted a count of our people and discovered that there were no Levites at all among us.”

This also surprised Mordecai. “Do you not intend to offer sacrifices in the Temple when you arrive?”

“Exactly, Master. This is why I have sent eleven of our men to Iddo in an attempt to correct this imbalance. Until they return, I must beg your indulgence. We will not be going anywhere until they return.”

Mordecai fixed him with an appraising look. “And I am glad to hear it, my friend. I will remain here with Hadassah until you do.”

Emotionally as taut as a bowstring in face of our departure, I was not as accepting when I heard that we would have to wait, camping here among smelly pack animals and turgid canal waters, with no knowledge of when we would leave.

But I did not have long to wait. On our very first morning, after a surprisingly restful night’s sleep (for the trip from Susa had exhausted me), I awoke to Mordecai poking me in the ribs, as he had so frequently done to roust me from bed during my indolent teenage years.

“Come here! Look!” he said, pointing behind him, to the outside.

I scrambled out and followed the gazes of countless fellow bleary-eyed risers. There on the bank came a crowd of men. More than two hundred fifty, if I recall the count. All of them were either Levites or Temple servants—exactly the number David had once established as necessary to assist in the Temple worship.

Convinced that we would leave then, I promptly broke down our tent for an impending departure.

I definitely did not yet know Ezra. Soon his voice could be heard shouting over the noises of hurried preparations, asking everyone to gather before him once more. Mordecai and I walked back to the encampment’s center.