Holiday Magick (8 page)

A crowd slowly formed upon our arrival, their faces wide-eyed and lost. They already knew what we would say, but they needed to hear us say it. Three small boys with dirty faces and torn tunics ran with bare feet and wrapped themselves around Brucha's legs. A much taller boy, a sleeping baby strapped to his back, trailed after them, half-heartedly scolding his brothers to leave their mother alone.

Brucha spoke first. “The entire camp. All of them. Every tent, every family.”

A few wails rose from the crowd.

My grandmother, Mordechai, stepped forward, her voice full of hope, her face squeezed with despair. “Any survivors? Any at all?”

Brucha shook her head and rubbed her belly.

Mordechai dropped to her knees and shoved her hands into the sand. She threw her head back and released cries of anguish to the heavens.

Several from our camp spat between their dust-coated fingers to ward off the evil eye. Someone started a mourner's prayer, and soon everyone took up the chant of the Kadish, our voices flat in the still desert air.

Since all of us had had relatives in the destroyed camp, we sat
shiva
in mourning together, as a community, for seven whole days. The menfolk put together small meals of whatever dried herbs and fruits we already had, but did no hunting or cooking over fires, and we killed none of our animals, in keeping with HaShem's laws of mourning. We tore our clothes, screamed our anguish to HaShem, and wept into each other's bosoms.

Three nights later, I lay unsleeping in our family tent, listening to the whistle of the wind outside and wondering why HaShem had allowed Haman to torment us for so many years. What kind of god would allow a monster like Haman to live so unnaturally long, all the while plaguing us with flies and fleas and endless sand? The dry night air ate away at my skin and I itched all over. I hated the desert.

As an Esther, I felt it my duty to protect my people from tragedy such as this. But how? Haman had eluded us for centuries, and I was but one girl. If HaShem truly intended me to save my people somehow, He had yet to present me with an opportunity to do so. I could not see any signs, could not sense His will pointing me in the right direction.

Whispers outside caught my attention. I gave up tossing and turning and lay very still, ears perked to the conversation.

“What makes you think she is so different than any of the others we've had?” Tova sounded angry.

“Because she
is
different,” my mother responded.

“Tova is right.” I barely made out Brucha's soft voice. “What makes Hadassah any different than the other Esthers this tribe has seen over the years?”

Tova's voice rose above a whisper. “The camp that just burned had an Esther. We all followed her here. Look what good that did! We are now all that remains of our kind. Even among Jews, we are special. No other original Tribes remain in Eire.”

“Keep your voice down, Tova!” Mother hissed. “Do you want to wake the entire camp?”

“Mother,” Brucha said. “Even if Hadassah
could
help us, would we really send her into danger? King Ahasuerus is not exactly our ally, and with Haman by his side he may be inspired to come after us, this time with an army.”

“All the more reason for us to try.” In my mind's eye, I could see the firm set of Mother's mouth, her eyes sparkling with determination. “Haman now has a king's ear. If he can destroy an entire camp by himself, what could he do with the might of Persia at his fingertips?”

“With every one of us he kills, Haman grows more powerful.” A new voice. My grandmother, Mordechai. “He steals his power from our lives. Our souls are his food. Very soon he will be unstoppable.”

Someone blew out a breath, then Tova said, “And what do you think Hadassah can do, exactly? ‘Oh, please King Ahasuerus, tell Haman to stop picking on my people the Jews, scapegoats of the world?'”

My mother pleaded. “If we don't at least try—”

“There is no ‘we' here, Mother,” Tova interrupted. “I am not going, you are not going, Brucha certainly is not going. Just Hadassah. You would sacrifice your own daughter?”

“To finally stop Haman? Sacrifice one for the good of the many? Yes.”

My grandmother said quietly, “Hadassah is the only Esther left in our tribe. If she can't do it, we are all doomed.”

I couldn't stand it anymore. Even with Brucha and Tova standing up for me, I would not lie here and let someone else decide my fate. “I can hear you,” I said.

Silence. Then, “You might as well come out here, Hadassah,” Tova said.

Outside, a gentle breeze cooled my itchy skin and pasted my damp hair to my neck. The cooking fires of our camp had all burned out, but a half-moon gave us enough light to see each other's outlines. Something tiny and full of legs skittered across my feet. I kicked it away.

Tova and Mother spoke at the same time.

“Hadassah, you don't have to—”

“Hadassah, your people need—”

I raised a hand to silence them.

“It comes to this.” I closed my eyes. “I will do my duty. I don't know yet what exactly I can do, or how I can help. I will go to Ahasuerus's court and hope HaShem will guide me. But—” I opened my eyes and looked at them each in turn. “This camp is all that is left of our little tribe. If I go, I must know that you all are ready to fight for your lives should I…not succeed.”

Tova grimaced and closed her eyes. Brucha rubbed my back and her swollen belly.

“However,” I continued. “I cannot simply walk into the palace. We need a reason for me to be there. And a reason why I will need to stay there until either Haman is dead or I have failed.”

I curled my toes into the sand, allowing the cold grittiness to spread over my bare feet. Once upon a time my tribe had lived on grass, under trees. Our land was lush and green. We wore shoes. We bathed. Now we were desert nomads, no better than our patriarchal brothers.

Brucha shrugged one shoulder. “Many Esthers have been seers. You could offer to interpret Ahasuerus's dreams. Like our ancestor Joseph did for Pharaoh.”

Tova snorted. “And look how well that turned out for the rest of us!”

Brucha snapped her gaze to our middle sister. “Do you have a better idea?”

“I do, actually.” Tova glared at Brucha. “If Hadassah is too close to the king she will be under constant scrutiny. Better she go to court seeking a position among Queen Vashti's ladies.”

My mother shook her head. “She needs to be close to the king so she can be close to Haman. Then she might be able to change our fate, to turn his heart from our destruction.”

A weight settled in my chest and forced the air out of my mouth. I swallowed, but my mouth was dry. “I am afraid.”

Mordechai grabbed my wrist and pulled me into an embrace against her large, soft bosom. “Remember,” she said. “The Esther cannot kill Haman by her own hand. She must convince someone else to do it, and she cannot reveal her true identity. Those Esthers before you, who have gone against Haman directly, have been caught.” She swallowed and looked away. “All of them suffered terrible deaths.”

Tova put her hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “This will be difficult, but I know you can do it, Hadassah. I know you can. You are clever and quick. Find a place among Vashti's ladies. HaShem will tell you what to do next.”

“And I will go with you,” Mordechai murmured into my hair. “You will not be alone.” She pushed me to arm's length and studied my face. “We shall go to the palace together. I will present you as my orphaned granddaughter and offer you as a lady to the queen. As for myself, I will take a place in the kitchens. No one will refuse me that. Palace kitchens are always overworked and understaffed.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice to speak.

“Now,” my mother said. “Let's all get some sleep. We'll see Mordechai and Hadassah off at first light.”

I followed Tova and Mother into our tent. We all lay down, but I never heard the distinctive snoring that meant they slept. I stayed awake all night, listening to my family not sleep alongside me.

The closer we got to King Ahasuerus's palace, the more crowded the roads became. Traders and travelers from all over the world joined us on the path to the great palace of the King of Persia. They wore costumes I had never seen before, in every color imaginable, even blue! Blue, a color so rarely found in nature, and so difficult to make into dyes for clothing.

Some rode camels or donkeys, some led sheep or goats, others drove carts pulled by teams of white horses. Men and women, children and old folks, rode, walked, and carried each other around us, their bodies brown and dusty from the desert, their backs bent from the belongings they carried, but their eyes bright and happy with hope as they neared the big city.

Mordechai encouraged me to try out my magic. She told me I'd need to learn how to do a glamour to disguise myself so Haman would not recognize me. Every night when we stopped to make camp, I willed my face to change shape, but could not do it. Still, we pressed on.

“You are the only Esther left,” she counseled. “You must tap into your magic and use it to help our people.”

“I do not need you to pressure me.” Though I concentrated with all my being, I could not change my looks.

“If Haman recognizes you, that is it for us. And for our people.”

We kept moving toward the great city, and I kept practicing. Before we knew it, we had arrived. The great palace of Persia towered over the tents and smaller buildings of the city around it. Minarets pointed high into the sky with slatted windows spiraling around them. Guards in the king's colors paced the roof, bows and arrows pulled into position, ready to shoot at a moment's notice.

A crowd gathered at two enormous wooden doors more than twice my height. Six guards stood between the closed doors and the crowd, which I now saw was made up almost entirely of young women.

Mordechai and I stopped and looked at each other. “What's this, then?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I'm sure I don't know.”

A girl who could not have been older than fifteen elbowed her way between us. Mordechai grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. “Girl, what's going on here?”

She pulled herself from Mordechai's grip. Her features were far too big for her tiny face and her brown hair looked like it hadn't been washed in weeks. “Don't you know, grandma? Queen Vashti has displeased our king. He's had her banished, and now all the women in the kingdom who are of age seek to be the new queen.”

My eyes opened wide as I took in the site of all these would-be queens shoving past each other to get inside. The girl looked me up and down. Her big lips sneered and she sucked her horse-like teeth. “You'll never catch the king's eye looking like such a ragamuffin. Better for me, then.” She turned on her heel and elbowed her way into the crowd, messy brown hair flopping behind her.

Mordechai pressed her hand against my back and tried to steer me away. “Well, that's that, then. We will find a place to stay nearby, and once the king weds, we will present you to the new queen. Hopefully not that poor wretch.”

“But Grandmother, don't you see? HaShem has given us a perfect opportunity, served up on a golden platter!”

“Hadassah, no—”

“Who better to convince the king to kill his own advisor than the woman on the throne beside him?” I smiled. “I can make myself more beautiful than all of these women. The king will surely choose me, and as his queen I will have his full, undivided attention.”

“Your glamour has not worked yet, and besides, a fickle man such as Ahasuerus surely does not respect the words of a woman if he can cast aside his first queen so easily.”

“We do not know the whole story. Perhaps Vashti deserves her banishment. Perhaps she sought to harm him, or consorted with demons.” I haughtily raised my chin. “Anyway, I fear no man.”

“You will fear him very much if he finds out who you really are and why you are there.”

“Then I happily give my life for my people.”

Mordechai sighed and looked off into the distance. “If Haman recognizes you as one of our tribe…”

I touched her arm. “Then we have little time to lose in helping me work a glamour, don't we?”