A Reluctant Queen Page 13

  At these words Esther turned her back on him. His voice continued, “But you are not one of his light-minded harem women, Esther. You are a Jew. You belong to a people chosen by God. Do not ever let the pleasurable embraces of a man cause you to forget that.”

  “Hathach!” Esther called loudly.

  The door opened and Hathach came in. “You may escort Mordecai back to his post.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “Think about what I have said,” were Mordecai’s last words as, grim-faced, he followed Hathach out the door.

  After Mordecai had gone, Esther remained for a long while staring into the rippling water of the fountain. The words she had spoken to Mordecai, words that had boiled out of her like fire from a volcano, were words that she had been bottling up for a very long time. Words she had never consciously allowed herself to think.

  But they were true. She was a Lie. She had deceived her husband by not telling him she was a Jew, and now she was entangled in the net of a falsehood she could not escape.

  How could she tell Ahasuerus who she was? He, who worshipped the Truth and hated the Lie, how could she tell him that she, whom he thought to be untouched by any political motives, had married him because of her uncle’s scheme to get his ear?

  Dear Father in Heaven, Esther prayed in despair. I came here because I thought that was what You wanted of me. Send me a sign. Please, I beg of You, tell me what I am to do!

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The south wall of the palace enclave consisted of four towers of brick, sixty feet high, which were connected by a curtain wall. Against the inner face of this wall were the barracks of the Royal Bodyguard.

  Life in the barracks was not luxurious. The men of the guard slept on mattresses that were laid upon dirt floors and their magnificent armor hung from pegs hammered into plain wooden walls. The food was good, though, and the drink plentiful. Their officers lived in the palace or in their own homes in the city, but most of the ordinary guardsmen had little complaint about their lives. It was better than what they had come from.

  This is what one of those ordinary guardsmen, Milis by name, was thinking as he sat in front of his barrack one Monday afternoon polishing his bronze helmet. He had ridden out with the king earlier in the day, but the afternoon looked to be a lazy one. He could hear shouting in the stable yard as a fight broke out and the men around him rushed to watch, but Milis was content to sit in the sun and relax.

  His head snapped up when he saw the Commander of the Royal Bodyguard himself appear between the tall arches that separated the barracks from the palace courtyard. Teresh did not usually visit the barracks. Milis was even more startled when he realized that Teresh was coming directly toward him. He jumped to his feet, his helmet still clutched in his hands. He was almost the only man in the yard at the moment; everyone else had run to see the fight.

  “Milis,” the Commander said. “Just the man I wanted to see.”

  “My lord.” Milis saluted. He was astonished that Teresh even knew his name.

  “Step inside for a moment,” Teresh said.

  Milis’ heart was pounding as he ducked into the shed that was his home. It was a mess. No one had rolled up their mattresses that morning, and bridles and clothing were strewn all over the floor. “I . . . I am sorry for the disorder, my lord,” Milis began.

  Teresh made a gesture of dismissal. “I am not here on an inspection, Milis. Although I suggest that is what you tell your comrades if they ask what I wanted with you.”

  Milis tried not to look as mystified as he felt. “Yes, my lord.”

  “I am here because your immediate lieutenant tells me that you are a good man. Loyal to the Guards. Obedient. Ambitious.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Milis replied, more mystified than ever.

  “I have a job for you,” Teresh said. And proceeded to explain what it was he wanted done.

  Milis did not eat a bite of his dinner Monday afternoon. He drank quite a lot of beer, however, and by Monday night his head was aching. His problem, unfortunately, was still with him.

  On Tuesday morning the king did not ride out, so Milis asked his closest friend in the guard, Artanes, to accompany him on a visit to town. Once the two young men were walking through the dusty back streets of Susa, Milis dragged his friend into a deserted wine shop and huddled with him over a stained wooden table in the corner.

  After the plump proprietor had brought them a jug of wine and two cups, Milis said, “Teresh came to see me yesterday and he gave me a special assignment.”

  “You?” Artanes was surprised. “Why you?”

  “Because he thinks I am loyal to him.”

  “So, what is this assignment then?”

  “He wants me to kill the king.”

  “What?”

  “Quiet,” Milis hissed, and looked around the empty shop.

  “What are you talking about?” Artanes whispered.

  “He wants me to hold a pillow over his face when I am on guard duty. He wants it done Friday, on the day of the Mithra Festival, when the king and all the lords of the court get drunk on the gods’ potent brew. He wants me to pick a companion so there will be two of us to overpower him.”

  Artanes shook his head, as if trying to clear it. “It’s a joke. You’re trying to trick me.”

  Milis’ bony face was grim. His deep-set eyes burned. “It is no joke, Artanes. This is not something I would joke about.”

  “No,” Artanes said in a subdued voice. “I suppose you wouldn’t.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “We?”

  “You are not going to refuse to help me?”

  “I will not help you kill the king!”

  “Shhh.” Milis gave a quick, hunted look toward the proprietor, who was setting out more cups on his serving table. He lowered his voice till Artanes had to lean across the table to hear him. “Of course I am not going to kill the king.”

  “Did he say why he wanted Ahasuerus dead?”

  “He said that Ahasuerus was refusing to go to war against the Greeks. That Persia was humiliated in the eyes of the world. That if Xerxes were king he would avenge the defeat of Marathon.”

  “If Ahasuerus had commanded at Marathon we would not have lost,” Artanes said.

  Deep lines creased Milis’ narrow forehead. “I don’t think Teresh knows that I transferred to the Guard from the Immortals. Or that I was in Egypt with Ahasuerus. He got my name from the lieutenant, who recommended me because I was loyal and obedient.” He swirled his untouched wine and some of it sloshed over the rim of the cup. “And ambitious. He promised me a lieutenancy, Artanes. A nice bribe for an ambitious man.”

  The two guardsmen drank some of the warm red wine.

  “You realize that if we don’t do the job, the Commander will find someone who will,” Artanes said.

  Milis rubbed his forehead as if it still ached from last night’s beer. “I like Ahasuerus. He came among us during the Egyptian campaign. He even spoke to me once.”

  “We must warn him,” Artanes said.

  “How? What chance do you and I have to approach the Great King?”

  “Sometimes we are assigned to ride out with him.”

  “Yes, and do you want to push right up to him, with Teresh looking on, and blurt out our news?”

  Artanes scowled. “No. I suppose not.”

  Milis swatted at a fly that was buzzing around the puddle of wine he had spilled on the table. “If we don’t have access to the king we must talk to someone who has.”

  “And who is that?” Artanes inquired.

  “I think Smerdis is our best choice. He is the Grand Vizier. He will be able to warn Ahasuerus.”

  “And how are we to get to Smerdis?”

  “He meets with the palace administrative staff on Thursdays in the Household Court. We can see him then.”

  “Another glass of wine?” the shopkeeper called from the serving table.

  “No, thank you.” Milis stood up and Artanes fo
llowed slowly.

  “I wish we weren’t involved in this. I have a bad feeling about what is going to happen.”

  “I will go to see Smerdis on my own, if that is what you want.” Milis’ bony face was resolute.

  “No, I will go with you.” Artanes squared his shoulders. “I like Ahasuerus too,” he said.

  Now that Esther was back in Susa, she suddenly found herself popular with members of the Royal Kin. At first, when the requests for an appointment with her began to come in, Esther acquiesced out of politeness. But she soon realized what was happening. Ahasuerus’ numerous relatives thought she might exercise some power with him, and they were trying to influence her to get something out of the king that they wanted.

  Esther was disgusted when she realized this and told Hathach to deny any more appointments. They were like parasites, this swarm of smiling relatives who lived off the largess of the king and did nothing to earn it.

  She was also feeling the heat of Susa, and on one particular afternoon she decided to spend an hour or so in the Rose Court, which was the coolest place in the palace. There were two pages in front of the Rose Court’s closed door when she arrived with Hathach. Esther smiled at the little boys and said, “I did not realize the king was in the garden.”

  The boys smiled back. All of Ahasuerus’ pages loved Esther. “He is with Lord Sargon, my lady.”

  Sargon was one of the king’s many brothers who had tried to visit Esther. She hesitated, heard a loud voice that was not Ahasuerus’ coming from the courtyard, and decided to take a nap instead. When they had returned to her room, Hathach said, “Will you be needing me, my lady?”

  “Not for a while, I’m going to sleep. Do you want to go to the stables?”

  “I thought I would exercise Shirez.”

  “Go right ahead, Hathach. Luara is here if I need anything.”

  As soon as the door had closed behind Hathach, Luara said in an amused voice, “Ever since he got those scars in the lion hunt he has been like a different person.”

  “I know.” Esther walked slowly toward the bed. “He also got blood poisoning and almost died. But apparently that doesn’t matter.” She sat down on the edge of the bed. “Men.”

  The white silk drapes were partially drawn across the open windows to keep out the sun, and the air in the bedroom was warm and still. Luara said in a strained voice, “You know, Hathach is a man, my lady. They didn’t cut him completely when they did it.”

  Esther became instantly attentive. “I don’t think I understand what you mean.”

  Luara came to kneel in front of her. “I mean they didn’t take everything.” The girl was looking anxiously into Esther’s eyes. “He cannot father children, but he is still . . . capable, my lady.”

  “Capable,” Esther repeated. Then, suddenly, she comprehended what Luara was saying. “Do you mean he can still . . .”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “Have you . . .”

  Luara held her gaze bravely. “Once, my lady. Yes.”

  Esther had never dreamed of this possibility. She blinked, trying to take it in.

  Luara’s blue eyes were anxious. “Are you angry with us?”

  At that, Esther’s heart swelled with compassion. She held out her hands and took Luara’s into a strong grip. “Of course I am not angry. How could you think I would begrudge either of you whatever happiness you might find in this prisoner’s life you lead?”

  “It is not a prisoner’s life,” Luara said, tears trickling down her face. “Not since you took us to serve you. One never feels like a prisoner if one can be with the people one loves.”

  Unbidden, Esther’s eyes moved toward the corridor and the king’s door that stood opposite hers. “That is true.”

  “My lady.” Luara, still on her knees before Esther, turned her hand so it was she who was holding the queen’s in her own sturdy fingers. “He has not been to the harem. He only went in Ecbatana to see the children, and he has not been since you returned to Susa. I asked a few of the girls who would know, and that is what they told me. They say Mardene and Ilis are furious.”

  It was as if the sun had come out after a long and dreadful spell of grayness and fog. He hadn’t gone to the harem. He had been faithful to her. She smiled radiantly. “Thank you, Luara. Thank you for telling me.”

  “Let me make you comfortable, my lady. You look tired; you should rest.” She bent down to remove Esther’s shoes.

  “Yes, I am tired. I don’t know what is the matter with me lately. The heat never used to affect me this way.”

  Luara held back the silk sheet so that Esther could get into bed. She said gently, “Perhaps it is not just the heat, my lady.”

  Esther’s eyes met the wise blue eyes of her maid. “What do you think it is?”

  “I think you may be with child.”

  After Luara had left her, Esther lay on her back and contemplated the many colored jewels tucked into the lattice work of the canopy. Luara’s words had not been a surprise. Esther’s bleeding was four weeks overdue, and she was never late.

  I should be so happy, she thought. My first child. I should be bursting to share the news with my husband, who I know will be very pleased to hear it. She put her arm over her eyes, blocking out the sight of the jewels.

  If I were married to Abraham, it would be so different. We would both be excited; all our families would be excited. We would have a baby, like every other couple has a baby, and we would make a family of our own. It would have been so simple.

  But nothing was simple any more. If her child was a son, he would be the next Great King of Persia. The web that entwined her would grow even denser; the prospect of escape more impossible.

  If Ahasuerus found out that his son’s mother was a Jew and not a Persian aristocrat, what would he do? Would he put her away as he had Vashti? Separate her forever from her child?

  That could not happen. She could not allow that to happen. She could never, ever, under any circumstances, do anything that might take her child away from her.

  She knew how a bird must feel when it is caught in a cage. No matter which way she flew, she was trapped. There was no way out.

  Where was her Father in Heaven now? Was He watching? Did He really have some plan for her? If He did, she couldn’t see it. All she could see ahead of herself was lies and heartbreak.

  The room was warm and the bed was comfortable and finally she dozed off. Her last thought before she slept was: But I never loved Abraham the way I love Ahasuerus.

  When she opened her eyes again, the king was approaching her bed.

  “Are you feeling all right, Esther? Your girl told me you were napping. You never nap.”

  “I am fine, my lord.” She pushed herself up, lifting her hair off her hot neck. “I was just tired. I have not yet become accustomed to the heat.”

  “You liked it in Ecbatana, didn’t you?”

  “I loved it.”

  He sat on the edge of the bed. “I love it there too. There are fewer people and fewer . . . complications.” He sighed. “But one can’t turn one’s back on the world forever. Unfortunately.”

  He looked a little tired too, she thought. “I was going to sit in the Rose Court earlier but you were before me.”

  He said grimly, “One of my father’s too-many sons has been getting into trouble again, and I had to deal with it. As usual.”

  There had been a note of deep disgust in his voice when he said the words “too-many sons.” She perfectly understood his feelings. “How many brothers do you actually have, my lord?”

  Ahasuerus sighed with exasperation. “My father had twelve sons with his wives and thirty sons with his concubines. All of these . . . ‘princes’ have royal blood in their veins and feel they are entitled to a position of power in the empire. They cannot all be made satraps and governors, however. There must be some places kept for other, capable Persian nobles. So those who remain in Susa spend their time bickering and spending money and in general creating more trou
ble than they are worth.”

  Esther did a quick calculation in her head. “That is forty-two sons!”

  “Forty too many,” Ahasuerus said bitterly.

  Esther said tentatively, “A few of them have come to see me. They wanted me to influence you.”

  He stared at her, his gray eyes suddenly cold. “You never told me that.”

  His voice had a distinct chill. Esther said quickly, “Once I realized what was happening, I had Hathach deny any more appointments. The Royal Kin are none of my business.”

  He held her gaze for a moment more, then his eyes softened and he smiled. “Good girl.” He let out a long, frustrated sigh. “Cyrus had only one wife, and he was on campaign too much to have the time to father a pack of royal drones on his concubines. I wish my father had followed his excellent example.”

  Esther’s words tumbled out before she could stop them. “Is that why you had only two concubines for all those years?”

  He did not seem offended by the question. “Yes. The fewer illegitimate children the king has, the better it is for the country.”

  He glanced at the window as if judging the time of day by the light and then he kicked off his soft leather shoes, stood, and began to take off his robe.

  Esther said, “It’s hot. I was going to have a bath before &7 dinner.”

  “You will have time,” he replied imperturbably.

  Esther watched him, watched the hard male body that emerged from beneath the Great King’s finery: the strong shoulders, the flat stomach and narrow hips, the long, muscled horseman’s legs. She loved him so much; but right now she was feeling cross and a little hostile.

  He slipped under the sheet beside her and she stiffened.

  He felt it. “Is something the matter?”

  She said, “I think you already have too many illegitimate children, Ahasuerus. I don’t think you should have any more.”

  He sat up. He looked down at her. He had taken off his gold fillet with his clothes and his unconfined hair spilled forward over his forehead. He pushed it back. Their eyes met and held.