CHAPTER
Three

Hadassah bent over the plants in the garden, picking weeds from between rows of cucumber, leek, radish, and melon. The plot of ground was small compared to those in the yards of the homes she had seen on walks to the marketplace. But Mordecai seemed to prefer the small, obscure house to one that might afford them more space and allow them to hire a few servants. Of course, she did not know whether Mordecai could pay for anything better, and Hadassah did not mind the close quarters, except for those times when her neighbors fought or babies cried in the night.

She rubbed the dirt from her hands and leaned back on her heels. The sun beat down on her covered head and a bead of sweat trickled down her back. Levia would have called her inside to rest at this time of day, but she had gone several blocks away to help her son’s wife with one of the children. Hadassah enjoyed the time to herself, though she took care to stay near the house as Mordecai had asked.

The revelry of the past months had risen to such great noise that Hadassah was glad for the instruction to stay as far from the palace as possible. Nearly six months had passed, and Mordecai had assured her that the governors and satraps would soon go home, if palace informants were correct. “But,” he told her, “it is said that the king plans another feast immediately following this one.”

“What?” Levia was spinning wool but allowed the spindle to come to a stop as Mordecai explained.

“Apparently the king wants all of Susa to celebrate with him. His plans for war against Greece have gone very well, and all of the people in the citadel are invited to celebrate.” He paused. Rubbed a hand over his beard. “I am expected to attend as well.”

Levia looked at him while Hadassah continued to wind dyed wool into a ball. “For how long?” Levia asked.

“They say it will last a week. The invitation was to all the people, but they meant the men. You and Hadassah must stay far from the palace, even if I do not come home for a week.” Mordecai seemed troubled, but he said no more even when Levia pressed him with questions.

No doubt Mordecai had remained silent for her sake. Levia would talk privately to him when they were behind the curtain of their chamber. Hadassah often heard muffled conversations, though she rarely understood the words. They were protecting her. Always protecting her.

She straightened, then stood and moved into the cooler house. Water filled a skin they had drawn from the well that morning, and she took a long drink. A knock on the door startled her. Who would come visiting in the middle of the day? Had something happened to Levia or Mordecai or one of their grandchildren?

She crept to the door and peered through the window beside it. Jola! She hurried to let her friend inside.

“What are you doing here?” Hadassah motioned Jola to sit and offered her a drink from the skin she had just used.

“Is that any way to greet your best friend? I came to see you, of course.” Jola plopped down on one of the cushions in the house’s main room. “Ima was resting, so I snuck out.” She grinned.

Hadassah smiled. Jola’s mother would not be upset with her once she knew where her daughter had gone. But Jola would cause her no small amount of worry in the meantime. “You will be confined to your house for days.”

Jola chuckled. “It is worth it to get away for a few minutes. Aren’t you weary of everyone hovering? And all because the king decided to have a six-month-long party. Why should we be worried about being seen? They all act like someone is going to snatch us up and take us away.”

Hadassah sat beside her friend and wiped her brow. “Abba seems to have good reason for concern. The city has been overrun with hundreds of extra men. I don’t think he trusts any of them.”

“I suppose they will stop worrying once we marry.” Jola’s face took on a dreamy expression. “Do you ever wonder who they will pick for you? I’ve had my eye on some of the boys who come to the meetings. I think it will be fun to help Ima choose.”

Hadassah laughed as her friend dramatically fluttered a hand over her heart. “We are too young to wed yet,” she said, wondering who fascinated Jola so much. Mordecai stayed away from the meetings most of the time. Though he did his best to follow the laws of the Hebrew God, he avoided mingling often with their people. “I wonder if they are afraid.” The words were out before she realized she had spoken.

“Of course they are afraid. They want to keep us pure until the marriage bed. In this pagan land, we are in more danger than we would be if we had gone back to Israel with the exiles.” Jola looked thoughtful. “Do you ever wish we’d gone back?”

“I meant I wonder if they are afraid of being together as Jews. Why does my abba keep us from most of the meetings yet observe the Jewish law at home? Are Jews truly in danger here? If we were, surely our families would have gone back with the other exiles.” Hadassah picked up a piece of straw that had come loose from a basket and chewed on the end.

Jola gave her a strange look, then shrugged. “I don’t know. Ima thinks so, but we’ve lived here for more than seventy years and the Persians have never treated any people in a treacherous way. They don’t even make us give up our God for theirs. I don’t know what your abba fears, unless he knows something we don’t. Then again, maybe he doesn’t like the rabbi.”

Hadassah laughed, but inside she knew it was more than that. She could feel something beyond their simple conclusions, but she had no idea why she sensed Mordecai had reasons for secrecy toward his fellow Jews that he would not tell his family.

“So answer my question now.” Jola stood to explore the cooking room for dates or nuts, something she loved.

Hadassah followed her. “Which one? Do I wonder who they will pick for me to marry, or do I wish we had returned to Jerusalem?”

“Both.” Jola laughed. “I’ll tell you if you’ll tell me.”

Hadassah gave her friend a sociable scowl. “I’m curious about Jerusalem. I wonder if my parents would have gone back if they’d lived. And I’d like to see the city. But Ima tells me the walls are not done. I don’t think she likes it when I talk about wanting to go back.”

“She loves you. She fears losing you even in marriage, if my guess is right.” Jola bit off the end of a fresh date. “Now answer the other question.”

Hadassah leaned against a wooden table where they chopped food. “I will have to accept whoever Abba picks for me. Perhaps Ima will let me help pick the man. When I’m old enough. And twelve isn’t old enough yet.”

“Thirteen is.” Her friend gave her a smirk. Jola was a year her senior and had just turned thirteen.

“Fifteen is better. Ima insists that is the earliest she will consider someone for me.”

Jola finished the date and gave a dramatic sigh. “I will have baskets of dates at my wedding, and my beloved and I will feast on them throughout the night.”

“I see I have lost you to your dream world again. I suppose you will marry a prince as well?” Hadassah gently pushed Jola back toward the sitting room. “Though now it is your turn to answer your questions.”

“A prince? Nay. A king!” Jola laughed and Hadassah joined her. Of course, neither of them would wed a prince or a king, for there was no king left in Israel. “There are a few young men who come to the meetings. I haven’t decided which one I like best yet.” Jola crossed her arms. “And I would only return to Jerusalem if I could go with the man I pick. If Ima gives me to someone awful, I am not leaving Susa!” She waved her hand in a flourish. “I will be forever exiled in this pagan city.”

Hadassah pondered Jola’s words, knowing that most of what she said she did not mean. Both of them would marry men from among their people and do as they were told, even if that meant leaving Susa. Women did not go against the customs of their men, and men did not go against the customs of the Jews, whether Mordecai wanted to mingle with their people or not.