A Reluctant Queen Read online

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The packing for the court’s move to the summer palace of Ecbatana began the day after the wedding. Esther watched in bemused amazement as all of the chamberlains rushed about from dawn to sunset, trying to make certain that nothing would be left behind. The Wardens of the Linen, of the Silverware, of the Furnishings, and of the Wardrobe flitted between the different palace courts like birds on the wing, appropriating items as they went.

  The progress of the move could be charted by the slow filling of the oxcarts that were lined up in the stable yard. When the carts were finally filled, the oxen would be hitched, the men would mount their horses, and the King’s Household would begin its annual trip to the mountains.

  Esther was to travel in her own covered cart accompanied by Hathach and Luara. Three other carts were devoted to her other maids, her furniture, her clothing, and her traveling bath. The king, who was riding, had four carts devoted to his needs. Then there were the carts for his harem women and their servants and eunuchs. These were much fewer than they had been in Darius’ day. To Muran’s disgust, the king had chosen to leave most of the harem in Susa, taking only his two favorites and their children.

  The courtyard was a chaos of men, horses, and oxen on the morning the journey began. First on the road were the thousand men of the Royal Bodyguard and after them came five thousand members of the Royal Kin. Next came the Magi, carrying the sacred fire of the Persian god Ahuramazda in a specially made golden case. Last in the line of horsemen came the king, accompanied by the lords of the court. After the horses came the carts carrying the families and harems of the men who were riding. Then there were the supply carts, needed because it was impossible for such a large host to live off the land. They left the palace later than the king wanted and it was six o’clock before they stopped on the first day. They had made it to the foothills of the mountains.

  “How long is it going to take to get the camp set up and the food cooked?” Luara wanted to know. “By the time we get to bed it will be time to get up again!”

  Esther accepted Hathach’s assistance from the cart and answered, “Tomorrow we will leave earlier so that we cover the king’s goal of twenty miles by four o’clock.” She had this information because Ahasuerus had told her on one of his regular nightly visits to her room.

  “Just so, my lady,” Hathach agreed. “If the king had let them stop earlier, we might be on the road forever instead of ten days.”

  “I for one cannot wait to get there,” Luara declared, stretching her back. “I want to smell some real mountain air.”

  Esther looked at her maid, whose cheeks were flushed and eyes shining. Since her marriage she had managed to have Luara’s status changed from harem concubine to Queen’s Waiting Woman, and the girl’s intelligence and tart tongue were a great comfort to her.

  “Do you love the mountains so much, Luara?” she asked.

  Luara’s blue eyes blazed. “I was born in the mountains, my lady. Once they are in your blood, you cannot get them out.”

  Hathach, who had been born in the mountains as well, agreed. Then he said, “I will have them set up your tent right away, my lady.”

  Esther smiled. “Thank you, Hathach. I will be glad to refresh myself.”

  Darkness had fallen by the time the camp was set up. Esther was sitting down at the table in her fully furnished tent when a page appeared at the doorway and spoke to Hathach. The eunuch nodded, then crossed to Esther. “The king has invited you to take supper in his tent, my lady,” he said.

  Esther’s heart leaped. She put down the piece of bread she had been about to eat and forced herself to say calmly, “Very well, Hathach. When does he expect me?”

  “As soon as you are ready, my lady.”

  Esther looked at the untouched table and laughed. “I believe I am ready now. I am certainly hungry enough.”

  “Let me fix your hair, my lady,” Luara said.

  Esther made an impatient gesture. “You just fixed it an hour ago, Luara. I haven’t mussed it. It is fine.”

  “Where is the queen’s veil?” Hathach asked one of the other serving women.

  Someone came running with it and Luara put it on over Esther’s long, braided hair. “I won’t be able to see in the dark with this covering my face,” she complained.

  Hathach said, “Hold on to my arm and I will lead you, my lady.”

  Esther took his proffered arm and together they walked out into the camp.

  Already it was cooler than it had been in Susa. The tents for the families of the Lords of the Court were set up around Esther’s, and she could hear children’s voices coming from several of them. The world looked indistinct and shadowy through her veil and she held tightly to Hathach’s arm.

  It was not very far to the king’s tent. Esther waited while Hathach spoke to the guard at the door. The guard stepped aside immediately, and she accompanied Hathach into the brightness within.

  Through her veil she could see that the king was sitting at a carved wood dining table, which was completely set with a service of gold. The pungent aroma of spiced pork drifted from one of the food dishes. A man was standing by Ahasuerus’ side, speaking to him in a low voice. The king was smiling, as though something humorous had been said. Two oil lamps provided the light, one hung from a roof support and the other was set on a low table nearby.

  “You may remove your veil, Esther,” Ahasuerus said. “I wish you to meet Haman, my Bowbearer.”

  Esther froze at the name and her heart began to hammer. This was the man whom Mordecai feared so much that he had wanted to place her in the palace to counteract his influence. She lifted her hands slowly and pulled off her veil. “My lord Haman,” she said in a careful voice.

  “My lady.” The Edomite bowed low.

  He had figured in Mordecai’s talk as some kind of monster, so she was surprised by his relative youth and handsomeness. She watched as he turned back to Ahasuerus and said, “I will leave you now, my lord.”

  “Yes, seek out your own family and have your supper,” Ahasuerus replied.

  Esther was shocked when the Edomite did not prostrate himself, but instead bent and kissed the king on the cheek. Only members of the Royal Kin were allowed to do that. The king must hold Haman in extremely high regard to allow him this privilege.

  After Haman left, Esther walked toward the table where the king still sat. “I have heard Haman’s name before.” She hoped she sounded merely curious. “He is a Babylonian?”

  “He lived in Babylon but his family is from Palestine,” Ahasuerus replied. “Sit down, Esther, and tell me how you survived the day’s journey. I am sorry it was so long.”

  “It was a long day,” she admitted, taking the chair that was being held for her by a page. “It is so hot and airless inside that cart.”

  Ahasuerus indicated a platter of seasoned pork and one of the pages hastened to serve it to him. “It will get better now that we are in the mountains. At night, in fact, you may even feel cold.”

  The page looked questioningly at her and she nodded that she, too, would have the pork. Over the last months she had become so accustomed to eating unclean food that she rarely thought about it anymore. “Cold in June? Surely that is impossible.”

  “Not at all,” he replied. He finished chewing his pork, swallowed, and looked at her from under half-lowered lids. “Don’t worry, though. I will keep you warm.”

  Esther knew that look, that tone of voice. Her body reacted to him instantly, and the reaction frightened her. She had never dreamed she would feel this kind of attraction for Ahasuerus. Living in the strict world of her Jewish culture, she hadn’t even known this kind of attraction existed.

  Ahasuerus, of course, knew all about it. He knew exactly what to do to make her desire him. He had probably made love to hundreds of women. What they did together, which seemed so wondrous to Esther, was something he did with many other women. He had brought his two favorite concubines, Ilis and Mardene, with him on this trip to Ecbat
ana. He had children with them. She could not, must not, mistake his skill for something more than what it was. She must not make the mistake of falling in love with him.

  She made no reply to his suggestive comment, but glanced with embarrassment at the little boys who stood behind the king’s chair, waiting to serve them. Then she looked at Ahasuerus, whose face was perfectly serene. As Esther watched his slim, strong hand use his knife to spear a chunk of pork, she realized that he had spoken as if they were alone because, to his mind, they were alone. Ahasuerus had lived in his high station for so long that he truly did not notice the human presence of those who served him.

  Esther, however, was all too conscious of the listening boys, and she sought to introduce a less personal topic. “Will there be horse racing in Ecbatana? I understand there is a race track.”

  Ahasuerus smiled. “There’s a splendid race track in Ecbatana. The best in all Persia, I would say. The footing is superb and it’s wide enough for ten horses to go abreast.”

  Esther speared a piece of pork for herself. “Isn’t it difficult for horses to run in the thin mountain air?”

  “Not for our Niseans,” he replied proudly. “Nisean horses are mountain-bred, Esther. The Royal Stud is located not far from Ecbatana. Mountain-bred horses have bigger hearts and lungs than horses that are bred in the plain.”

  Happy to have found a topic of conversation that so engaged him, Esther asked, “Was there a race track in Babylon, my lord?”

  “No.” He had finished the pork on his plate and now he pointed to a dish of stewed apricots. As the page put some on a new plate, Ahasuerus said, “The two things I missed most while I was in Babylon were the mountains and the horse racing.”

  She smiled at him. “Will you ride in some races yourself this summer?”

  Most of the pleasure left his face. “I don’t know.”

  Esther put down her knife. “But why not, my lord? Is it not an appropriate thing for the king to do?”

  “It’s not that.” He shrugged with seeming unconcern. “Try some of these apricots.” He gestured to the page to serve some fruit to Esther.

  But she was not willing to let the subject drop. “My grandfather told me you used to win all the races when you were a boy.”

  He stabbed at an apricot. “I rode in a few races last summer, but I had the distinct feeling that no one was trying to beat me.” He gave her a rueful look. “It took all the fun out of it.”

  Esther regarded him thoughtfully. “Your opponents did not think it would be politic to beat the Great King?”

  “Exactly.” His tone was dry.

  “Then you must convince them that you want a real race.”

  “I tried that.” He pushed the plate of apricots away. “They all assured me that they were trying to win, but I didn’t believe them. So I gave it up.”

  Silence fell. Ahasuerus took a long swallow of his wine. Esther ate an apricot and thought. “What if you offered a special prize to the winner?”

  “I tried that.” He made an impatient gesture. “Really, Esther, there is no need to concern yourself because I am not going to race my horses!”

  For some reason, she was concerned. It didn’t seem fair to her that he should have to give up his favorite sport. “What kind of prize did you offer? Gold?”

  He leaned back in his chair and said, “Yes.”

  She shook her head. “A money prize wouldn’t work. You need to offer a prize that will show you honor the man who can best you.”

  He rested his hands on the arms of his chair. “Like what?”

  “Well . . . what if you let the winner take a victory lap around the racetrack in your state chariot? Drawn by your own horses?”

  Silence. It went on for so long that Esther was afraid her suggestion had offended him. She opened her mouth to apologize, but before she could get the words out he began to smile. “They will kill themselves to win such an honor,” he said with satisfaction.

  “So long as they don’t kill you trying to do it,” she retorted.

  His teeth were very white in the lamplight. “Soleil and I will be too far out in front of them for them to do anything.”

  She loved it when he looked happy. “I must confess I don’t quite understand, my lord. If you know you can win, why are you so upset when you do?”

  He picked up his knife and gestured for another serving of apricots. “It’s no fun winning unless you know the others are trying to beat you.” He threw her a quick look. “Surely you can see that?”

  She shook her head. “I think it must be a male characteristic, my lord. A woman’s world isn’t about winning and losing.”

  “What is it about, then?”

  She thought for a moment, then answered, “Surviving, I suppose.”

  She picked up her knife and they ate for a while in silence. Finally he put his knife down and said, “I do not like to think that you see your life as simply a matter of survival. You are my wife. My queen. What is it you want that you cannot have?”

  She answered quickly, before she could change her mind. “Freedom.”

  His eyebrows drew together. “I do not understand you.”

  She, too, put down her knife and regarded him gravely. “I was not brought up in a family that keeps its women in harems, my lord.”

  “Ah.” He gestured for the page to give him some of the sweet. “The freedom of Babylonian women came as quite a surprise to me when first I went there.”

  Esther thought of all the elaborate precautions taken to secure the isolation of Persian women. “I can imagine that it did, my lord.”

  “Did you know that Babylonian women are allowed to maintain control of their own dowries?” he asked in amazement.

  “Yes, my lord, I did know that.”

  His amazement increased. “They even have women scribes!”

  Esther said, “I can read. I was taught when I was young.”

  He did not look impressed. It was not considered either necessary or desirable for a Persian noble to learn to read; that was what they had scribes for. So he said with a mixture of amusement and condescension, “Were you indeed?”

  Esther, who was enormously proud of her reading skill, did not appreciate either the amusement or the condescension. She gestured for the page to refill her cup with the clear water from the Choaspes River that had traveled in one of the ox carts from Susa. She sipped the water in silence.

  “I did not mean to insult you,” Ahasuerus said, still with that infuriating intonation in his voice.

  “I am glad your offense sprang from ignorance and not intent,” Esther said coldly.

  Catastrophic silence. Esther stared at her cup. I should apologize, she thought. He is the Great King. No one talks to him like that.

  But he had belittled her ability to read, something she could do and he could not. He might have some kind of magical power over her, but she could read and he could not, and the apology would not come.

  “Clear the table,” Ahasuerus said to the oldest page.

  Husband and wife sat in silence while the little boys piled the platters of food onto trays. “Tell the guard at the door that I do not wish to be disturbed,” Ahasuerus said.

  “Yes, my lord.” The pages prostrated themselves, lifted their trays, and fled.

  During all this time Esther had sat staring at her hands and growing more and more afraid. As the last page left the room she dared to look up. “I am sorry.”

  His face was serious, not angry. He said, “I do not want you to feel like a prisoner who must simply survive.”

  The oil lamp that hung from the support at the top of the tent swung a little, as if the tension in the room had made it tremble. “Sometimes I forget who you are,” she whispered, “and I say things I should not say.”

  “Esther.” There was a note of devastating tenderness in his voice when he said her name. “The only thing you must remember when we are alone together is that I am your husband.”

  She looked at him uncertainl
y.

  He held out his arms and said softly, “Come here.”

  Esther lay awake in the big bed, her body pressed into the soft mattress by the weight of his arm. She stared up at the slightly swaying lamp. Outside she could hear the deep voices of men as the guard at the tent door changed. Somewhere a baby was crying. She turned her head slightly and looked at Ahasuerus.

  He was sleeping on his stomach, his face toward her, one arm flung over his head, the other one across her waist. His light brown hair was spilled across the pillow and his long lashes lay against his flawless cheekbone.

  The tent still smelled faintly from the spiced pork.

  Esther looked back up at the lamp. When she was growing up she had once heard an adult mention something called the temptation of the flesh. This must be what she had meant, the way his slightest touch vibrated throughout her entire body, making her want to become part of his very being.

  But the attraction she felt wasn’t merely physical. She enjoyed being with him. She liked him. She had liked him when first they met, and she liked him more every time they were together. He was always courteous and witty and interesting, but there was a sense of carefully harnessed power in the man. She reminded herself never to forget what had happened to Vashti.

  Her mind went to the task Mordecai had given her. How could her uncle ever have thought that she could influence the king in any political matter? Here in this bed, with Ahasuerus’ bare arm across her waist, it seemed mad to her that her uncle could have conceived such an idea. The business of the Persian court was not the business of women, and that was that.

  Yet Mordecai believed that it was the will of God that had made her Persia’s queen. In the deepest part of her own soul, Esther wondered if her uncle was indeed right. There was no other way she could find to account for the incredible events that had befallen her. She sent up the words that had become her most constant prayer: Father in Heaven, now that I am here, what do You want me to do?