CHAPTER
Nine

Hadassah greeted Mordecai, carrying a small oil lamp. “You are home at last.” She smiled at him as he closed the door behind him.

He kissed her cheek. “Where is Levia?” He looked about the room, a brow lifting.

“She was here waiting with me, but she grew so weary that she sought her pallet. She asked me to wake her when you arrived.” Hadassah searched Mordecai’s face. “Should I wake her?”

Mordecai sank onto a low couch and glanced toward the hall, where his wife slept in a small room. “No. Do not wake her. When I join her, if she wakes, I will tell her anything she asks of me.” He ran a hand over his face. Somehow he looked older than he had that morning.

Hadassah sat across from him and set the lamp on a low table. “Did something happen?” She had come to read his expressions, and she held a bond with him that he did not share with his sons or even his wife. She was the daughter he’d never had.

He nodded, then leaned forward and placed his head in his hands. Hadassah waited until he lifted his gaze to hers. “The king has done a foolish thing.” His words were whispered, barely audible.

“What happened?” she asked again.

Mordecai clasped his hands. “The king and his men drank too much wine tonight. This is not unusual, because the king often drinks much wine. But tonight he broke a tradition of his fathers and ordered Queen Vashti to appear before him in front of all who were there. The tradition of the kings of Persia is that a king’s wives or concubines appear only to the king—and, of course, to their servants—but not to the general male populace. Even upon their marriage, they are covered in veils or hidden behind screens, lest a common man gaze on their beauty.” Mordecai’s chest lifted in a sigh.

Hadassah drew in a startled breath, suddenly fearing for the queen who once was so kind to her. “Did she come?”

Mordecai shook his head. “No. She refused the king’s command. And the king banished her from being queen. Queen Vashti was sent from Susa this very night.”

Hadassah stared at him. “Where did he send her?”

Mordecai shrugged. “No one knows. She was sent with her son from the kingdom. I daresay she left as quickly as the messengers who carried a decree throughout Persia declaring every man ruler in his own home. As if we needed such a thing.” Scorn dripped from Mordecai’s lips.

“Is not every man already ruler in his own home?” Hadassah tilted her head, searching his face.

“Exactly. The king asked the queen to break a tradition, a law even, that would humiliate them both, and she had more sense than he did. If she had obeyed such a foolish command”—he lowered his voice again—“it would have decreased the king’s respect in the eyes of all the people. As it is, this decree will likely do the same.”

Hadassah sat in silence, processing Mordecai’s news. “Who will take her place?” she asked at last.

He made a disgusted sound. “Probably Amestris. No doubt she had something to do with the whole scheme. She is related to Memucan, after all, and Memucan put the idea in the king’s head when he was cheerful with too much wine.”

Hadassah nodded. “Amestris is not a nice person, is she?” The gossips had little good to say about the king’s second wife, mother to his heirs.

“She is not,” Mordecai said, standing. “I’m going to bed. You get some sleep.”

Hadassah nodded and walked to her room. She lay awake long into the night, wondering how things would change with a new, unkind queen.

Vashti huddled with Gazsi in the curtained litter and jolted every time the men carrying them moved. At last they fell into a steady rhythm, and Gazsi slept in her arms. Sleep would be a welcome thought but for the ache in her heart. How could she be banished?

The realization still stung deep within, and she could not bring herself to fully accept it. Surely Xerxes would come to his senses and change his mind on the morrow. But Omid had told her of the decree that ran with her and away from her, carried by messengers throughout the kingdom. Her banishment was permanent and complete. She would never see her husband’s face again.

As the last of her things were packed and readied in carts, the news had come from Omid that she would live in the palace in Persepolis. When Xerxes came to winter there, she would move to a place he would have built for her in the far reaches of the kingdom. She would not return to Susa again.

Persepolis held a large, beautiful palace, perhaps nicer than the one in Susa, but apparently this arrangement was the king’s temporary answer to the dilemma he faced on where to send her. It would take time to secure proper lodging. That he had not suggested she be imprisoned or executed had made the blow easier to bear. Her son would live, and she with him. And it was a kindness that Omid and her maids had been sent to accompany her. A kindness to her, though probably not to them.

Perhaps Xerxes did care for her—though his actions this night made her doubt. His fine talk, his compliments, his favor . . . fleeting things, all of them.

A deep sigh escaped as she shifted Gazsi to a more comfortable position. She closed her eyes. Perhaps if she could just pretend tonight had not happened . . . She would awaken in her bed, or the king would call for her any moment now and she would attend him and rest beside him . . .

She’d made the right decision, hadn’t she? If she had gone with his eunuchs and allowed Xerxes to display her beauty to his men, what might that have meant once she arrived to an unruly, drunken crowd? Would the king have asked her to remove her royal robe? How much of her beauty did he want her to display?

Once Xerxes sobered, he would regret this entire evening. Of that she had no doubt. She knew him too well. Had been his friend before he wore the crown and his only lover for years. Would he really put Amestris in her place as queen? The woman had given him two sons, so undoubtedly one of them would follow his father to the throne. But would Xerxes care for Amestris as he had for her?

She shook her head, unable to imagine it. The Xerxes she knew would not, could not, love Amestris the way he loved her. He might allow her position to be elevated, but he would not care for her in the same way. He could not. He had told her so more than once, and she’d seen the truth in his eyes.

He had also promised to protect and keep her, and she now saw how well he kept his word. She looked through a slit in the curtain at the moon shining down on her and brushed a tear from her cheek. Persepolis was a long walk for her litter bearers. Far enough from the king that even if he changed his mind, he could not act quickly to undo what he had done.

Amestris sought out Memucan late, long after the king and the rest of the men had dispersed. She was not likely to receive a summons from Xerxes this night, and she was eager to hear all that had happened. If Biztha had returned to tell her, she could have gone to her rooms and let Memucan be. The news of the eunuchs’ execution had come as a blow. She had never expected Xerxes to kill his messengers simply because his wife refused him. But then one never knew where the king’s thoughts and his temper might take him.

She turned a corner in the hall and emerged into the passage that led to the king’s gardens. A shadowy figure approached, and she breathed easier once he spoke.

“I thought you would give me until tomorrow to ask for details,” Memucan said, his words slightly slurred.

“You’re drunk.” She made a disgusted sound. “You should have remained clearheaded. What if things had gone differently?”

“But they did not, now did they?” His sharp tone made her step back. “I had to drink. One does not ignore the food and wine of the king while sitting in the king’s presence.”

“No, of course not.” She lowered her voice, hoping he detected a softening in her tone. “Please, tell me everything.”

“I am sure you already know as much as you need to know. I made your suggestion to the king, he acted on it, and Vashti refused. Now she is on her way out of Susa, and we have no acting queen.”

“He did not name a successor then?” She would have heard if Xerxes had named her, but she needed to hear Memucan tell her just the same.

“No, he did not. He was too busy writing the edict. I doubt he has fully comprehended what he has done or that he will never see Vashti again.” Memucan rubbed a hand over the stubble along his jaw.

“When he is sober, we must convince him that I am the best choice.” She searched his face. He wouldn’t back out on her now, would he?

“I am tired, Amestris. I did what you asked. What happens next is not my decision. If the king asks my opinion, I will suggest you, of course. But after tonight, I believe it will be in my best interest to stay clear of him for some time. He will not be pleased with the man who suggested Vashti appear before him, because without that desire, she would still be here. And like it or not, my dear ‘queen,’ the king loved Vashti. He will not soon get over her.” He rubbed his eyes as if trying to keep them open.

“Where did they send her?” If she knew, she could find a way to be rid of Vashti for good. That would help Xerxes to forget her. And there were always those who were willing to do anything for gold.

“I don’t know.” Memucan eyed her with suspicion. “Why do you care?”

“Surely someone knows.”

“Someone surely does. The king must. Perhaps his closest servants do, but I’m in no mood to ask. And I believe the king did not wish her whereabouts to be known. Even if you ask, I doubt you will find your answer.” He turned and started to walk away.

“Wait!” Amestris moved closer to him but stopped short of clutching his arm.

He whirled about. “What now?”

How dare he growl at her? She was his superior! But she dare not push him. Not when he was still filled with too much wine. He might speak to the wrong person, and her part in this could put her life in jeopardy. She could not risk it.

“Nothing. Thank you. I just wanted to thank you for what you did. When I am queen, I will make sure you are richly rewarded.” She smiled, though she wondered if he could sense her insincerity. She had no certainty that she would ever reign in Vashti’s place. Her son might be Xerxes’ heir, but mothers did not rise with the same favor until their sons ruled.

“I hope you get what you want, Amestris. It is hard to grasp at the wind.” Memucan walked away then, and she stood looking after him for a long time, wondering why he should think her ambitions were as fleeting as the wind.