CHAPTER
Five

Hadassah followed Levia to the home of her oldest son, Taneli. Darkness blanketed the streets, but lamps cast light from the shadows onto the paved stones between Mordecai’s home and Taneli’s.

“I should have brought more pastries,” Levia said, fretting in her usual way. “What if Niria invited more women from among our family? Her mother is near. She would have invited her mother.”

“I’m sure we have plenty of food, Ima.” Hadassah hefted a basket filled with the delicate pastries, shifting it to her other hand. Levia carried one as well. They had spent the day baking, and Hadassah was anxious to rest with her cousins’ wives and enjoy the laughter of family and the antics of the children. Someday Hadassah hoped to have many sons and daughters.

“It is good to come to visit with family again,” Hadassah said as they crossed the threshold to Taneli’s home. The warm atmosphere that greeted her put her completely at ease.

“Yes,” Levia said. “I will enjoy it more though when Mordecai is home to join us. A few more days. This feast, this keeping ourselves to the shadows or indoors, has worn me out.” Levia tsked her tongue as Hadassah put her basket on a low table in the food preparation area. Her cousins’ wives busily arranged fruit and nutmeats and cheeses and olives on silver trays and set them on low tables in the sitting room. Children ran in circles, squealing and chasing each other throughout the house. Hadassah ran after two-year-old Isha, chasing the giggling toddler down a hall toward the sleeping room.

“I’ve caught you!” Hadassah scooped the child into her arms and held her close, rewarded with warm hugs.

“’Dassah! Play with us?” Isha squirmed to be set down, took Hadassah’s hand, and tugged her toward a corner where a pile of carved wooden animals sat. Obviously Taneli’s work, though some of them had been Hadassah’s as a child.

“Of course.” Hadassah sat on the floor opposite Isha and joined in as several other children plopped beside her. She told them the story of Noah and the big ship he built and then filled with every kind of animal.

“Even lions?” one of the boys asked. “And camels?”

Hadassah smiled. “Even lions and camels and horses and apes and lizards of every kind and more birds than you can imagine.”

The children laughed and turned a small table upside down to make a pretend ship. Hadassah listened to their animal noises and the conversations as they took turns being Noah. At last she stood, brushed off her tunic, and moved back to the sitting area to join the women.

“Taneli claims the king grows drunker by the day,” Niria said. “It cannot be good to have the ruler of such a vast kingdom no longer in control of his thinking.” She flitted about the room, serving Levia and her sisters-in-law along with several other Hebrew women who had joined them.

“I’ve heard the same thing,” a neighbor said. “Some say he is always this way.”

“Mordecai thinks he is worse than he was when the governors and satraps were here a week ago.” Levia jumped up to rearrange the tray of sweets.

“I don’t suppose he could have remained drunk for six months while planning a war.” This from her cousin Sakeri’s wife, Keran.

“Unlikely. But it is a concern to have the whole city in such an uproar that an invading force of women could conquer us!” Levia’s comment came in hushed tones.

“Only if the women were us,” Keran said. “I doubt the guards at the gates are allowed to leave their posts. The king may be merry with wine, but not all of his advisors will be as besotted as he is.”

Hadassah listened, her mind whirling. How she loved times with these women, listening to their combined wisdom. She paused a moment and thanked God again for not leaving her an orphan. She had Mordecai and his family, and she couldn’t imagine loving anyone more.

But what must her cousins and Mordecai be facing as they ate and drank with the king and the rest of Susa’s men? She tried to imagine what the palace looked like on the inside and what Mordecai was forced to deal with each day.

“Nevertheless, Mordecai is still concerned.” Levia picked up a spindle, and Hadassah smiled. Her ima could never sit idle.

“Let us talk of more pleasant things,” Niria said, offering the tray of sweets to the woman next to her. “The feasting will soon end and we will all forget this week. What could possibly happen during a drunken feast other than foolish men asleep in odd places and women alone waiting for them to come home?” She laughed lightly. “Now tell me, how shall we divide the preparation of food for Passover? Assuming we are going to celebrate it next month?”

The conversation drifted to life’s simpler things, and Hadassah half listened to the women and half listened to the children playing in the back room. The women were right, of course. The king often put on lavish feasts. If nothing else, King Xerxes was known for his drunken carousing and his obsession with war and women.

A sudden compassion for the queen filled her. How hard it must be for the woman to have her only rightful position crowded with more wives and plenty of foreign women. Hadassah shuddered at the thought.

She hoped Mordecai would someday give her to Gad in marriage, though even Jola did not know this was her secret longing. He belonged to their tribe of Benjamin. He would grow up to make a good husband. And he was her friend. At least he was during those few times she was allowed to mingle with the boys in their circle. Perhaps one day he would be much more.

Amestris allowed a servant to refill her golden chalice with wine, though she did little more than sip. She glanced about the large banquet hall, listening to the incessant noise of female voices thrumming like high-pitched bees. Annoying beasts, these cloying women. But necessary annoyances nonetheless. None of them came close to what she might call a friend, though Memucan’s wife at least attempted to make polite conversation. His second wife, after the death of his first. Amestris had never quite become accustomed to her as either “aunt” or “friend.” She was simply a relative—one among many.

She was looking about for a place to set her chalice when a maid took it from her. She stood and moved about the room, searching until her gaze landed on Vashti. The woman sat on a gilded chair, a single circlet of gold about her head. Xerxes would not be pleased to see his queen hosting a feast he had commanded without wearing her proper royal jewels and crown. If Amestris were queen, she would most certainly let every woman in this place know it. Dressing the part would be nonnegotiable.

Vashti was a foreign peasant and had no place in the king’s household, let alone the place of his queen.

Never mind that he loves her.

Bah! She almost spoke the word aloud. Xerxes did not know the meaning of love. He favored Vashti’s beauty, nothing more. But if the reflecting pools were any indication, Vashti was the most beautiful woman in the harem. Probably in the entire kingdom.

So what are you going to do about it? She hated when her thoughts rambled in her head as though they were a different person. If she had known what to do about Vashti, wouldn’t she have done it years ago? Even Memucan could think of no way to use Vashti’s beauty against her.

Amestris turned, disgusted with herself. Tomorrow the last day of the feast would commence, and she had yet to figure out a single way to discredit her rival. Vashti did not drink wine and moved about the room with grace, treating every woman in attendance as though she was her favorite friend.

Few women look with such kindness on you.

That did not matter. What mattered was wearing the crown. The true queen’s crown. She turned again and stared at the golden circlet. Why did Vashti not wear the heavy headdress filled with jewels so that the women would have no doubt as to her superior status as queen? Why put herself on par with some of the lowest nobles in the room?

A headache began along her temples, and Amestris could no longer bear the mixed scents of perfumes and sweat, which they could not avoid despite the many slaves wielding fans. She nodded to her servants to follow her and headed toward the door. She would sleep, and then she would attempt to think again. Though she doubted either one would do her any good.

Vashti sank onto her couch and pulled Gazsi into her arms. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered into his ear.

He rewarded her with a tight hug and a kiss on her cheek. “Me too, Maman. Will you be away again tomorrow?”

Vashti kissed the top of her son’s head and held him at arm’s length. “One more day, my son.” A sigh escaped. How weary she had grown of the continual conversations that held no significance but to play to the egos of the noblewomen. And the constant need to praise Atossa and even Amestris when she showed her face. Strange that Vashti had seen so little of her these past six days. She had surely been in attendance, but she did not seat herself with the concubines or other wives of Xerxes.

Not that she blamed the woman. Amestris wanted to be singled out as special. To hold first place in Xerxes’ life and heart. To take Vashti’s place. She’d always known it. The looks from Atossa, the whispered words among the servants, and the scowls from Amestris were reason enough to know Vashti was not their first choice as queen. Only Xerxes thought so. And she trusted that he would not forget their long bond, the one that had carried them through years of childlessness and into the coronation and royal apartments as man and wife.

He wouldn’t forget. No matter how drunk he allowed himself to become, he had never done anything to make her fear his wrath. Many others had died under his command, and for this reason men and women all feared coming into his presence without an invitation. His temper could be dreadful. His actions swift.

But he had always treated her with kindness. Gentleness even. Only once had she seen his temper up close, but it was aimed at his mother, not at her. And even then, his mother knew how to cool his ire with a few well-placed words.

“Did I frighten you?” he had said to her once his mother left the room and they were alone in his chambers. “I know I have a quick rage that bursts forth without thought sometimes.” He stroked her cheek, then cupped it with his palm. “But never fear, my love. I will never allow myself to grow angry with you. You could never disappoint me.”

She nodded and allowed him to kiss her, then applied her womanly charms to appease him and soften his unyielding posture until he was relaxed and at ease with her again. Their love that night had produced Gazsi, and she reminded him often that it was his kindness that had brought about his first son. Surely he would always be kind to her.

She smiled at Gazsi now as he slipped from her hold to play again with his games. If only he had been blessed to have a brother to enjoy these moments with him. Perhaps once this final feast ended, before Xerxes went off to war . . . But she did not ponder long on the thought. She’d had six years to conceive another child and had yet to do so. Amestris had blessed Xerxes with two sons, and he had more by his concubines. When she did spend time alone with him, she felt no quickening in her womb.

She stood and gave instructions for Gazsi to move to his own room and ready himself for bed. She would spend more time with him once the feast had passed. For now, she had one more day to plan—a fact she faced as Omid entered the room. One more day to entertain too many women. Then she would sleep for a week.