CHAPTER
Thirteen

Xerxes rode through the streets of Susa to the shouts and fanfare he might have expected had he been a conquering king. No doubt his servants had ordered the display of affection and support, but despite the shouts of “Long live the king!” and “To the king of kings, may he live forever!” he could not muster a smile or even a wave of greeting.

He stood tall in the saddle and maneuvered his mount through the palace gates, relieved when the crowds were at last behind him. He rode to the stables and dismounted, handed the reins to a servant, and hurried to the cooler interior of his rooms. Guards flanked him, servants saluted him, but he ignored them all.

He stopped at the door to his private chambers, recalling the last days he had spent here. Four years and the place looked no different, yet it seemed utterly foreign. Empty. Lifeless. This was the place he had shared with Vashti more often than any other wife, and he could not bear the thought of entering.

“I want new quarters arranged for me this very night.” His command brought sharp gasps from a few of his servants. He turned about and glared at them. “Do you find my command too taxing?”

“No, my lord. That is . . . where would you like us to move your things?” one servant sputtered.

“I do not want these things. I want new things. A new bed, chairs, tables, everything! I never want to see these chambers again. Do you understand?” He felt heat crawl up his neck and wondered if he was being foolish. He had imagined crawling into his bed and remaining there for days. But now, after looking upon the furniture where Vashti had sat, the bed where they had shared their love, the table where they had shared many meals . . . he couldn’t bear it. What had he done to deserve such incompetent advisors?

“I am sure the king’s servants can find new rooms with new furnishings in short order,” a voice said from the end of the hall. The man moved closer and bowed before the king. “Your Majesty. As I was your humble servant throughout the campaign, if you will allow me, I will make sure your eunuchs have you settled in the finest rooms in the palace before nightfall. If Your Majesty likes, might I suggest a brief respite in the gardens where the cooking staff has prepared refreshments for my lord. You will have complete privacy should you so desire it.” He bowed again.

“Haman,” Xerxes said. “I thought you only a military man. But I see you are a man of many abilities.”

“It pleases me to serve you, my lord. I have no other desire than to serve my king.”

“And I am pleased to accept your service. If you can deliver on your promise before nightfall, I will promote you to one of my advisors.” Xerxes studied the man’s reaction, pleased to see nothing but a humble nod.

“I will do better than my best, my lord.” He bowed again, then commanded the servants to follow him while Xerxes’ guards walked with him to his private gardens. Haman’s sudden appearance was not surprising, as the man had been around nearly every turn during the Greek campaign, always meeting a need before the king expressed it.

He will go far in my service if he can keep his promises. Xerxes tucked the man’s name into the back of his mind and felt the slightest hope he’d had since entering Susa. A new advisor would be a welcome change.

A week later, Xerxes woke in his new chambers, at last beginning to get used to the difference. The bed and other furnishings were new, the view from the window was better than his old one, and the tapestries and adornments were still simple yet somehow more elegant, as Vashti would have said.

But despite the change, despite the feeling that he had returned to a new life, his heart still ached in a place no one could reach. He missed Vashti. Even deposing Memucan, which he had done against Amestris’s adamant pleas, had not taken away that loss.

And his best efforts could not shake the feeling that struck him afresh each morning. Defeated, he thought briefly of sending for one of his concubines but quickly dismissed the thought.

A servant approached as he rose and offered him his day robe. He slipped his arms through it and tied the belt, then walked to the window, where a table stood laden with food to break his fast.

He had no appetite for food, but he sat and picked at the bread and cheese. When he had finished the last sip of pomegranate juice, another servant approached to clear the food away.

“Tell me,” Xerxes said to the man, “how do the servants see me? What are they speaking about when they know I cannot hear?”

The man set the utensils down, his expression wary. “I do not pay attention to gossips, my lord. I do not think I can answer the question to the king’s satisfaction.”

“But you could tell me what you think of me.” Why he pressed the young man—too young, barely into his manhood—he couldn’t say, but somehow Xerxes needed a distraction. Surely someone could tell him what was wrong with him!

“I think, my lord,” the man said, unable to hold the king’s gaze, “that my lord king is unhappy. That since the queen’s departure, he misses the queen and isn’t sure what he should do.”

“Observant of you.” Xerxes studied the man for a lengthy breath. “Do you have a solution for your king?”

The servant cleared his throat, but his gaze did not waver from studying something he found interesting near his feet. “Perhaps . . . let beautiful young virgins be sought out for the king. And let the king appoint officers in all the provinces of his kingdom to gather the virgins to the harem in Susa the citadel, under custody of Hegai. Let their cosmetics be given them. And let the young woman who pleases the king be queen instead of Vashti.”

Xerxes stared at the servant, then let his gaze rest on the other young men who circled the room, waiting to jump at his smallest command or whim of desire. Had they discussed this among themselves? Surely one servant did not come up with this plan alone.

“This is a good plan,” he said at last, looking from one servant to the next. “And since you probably all had a hand in coming up with this idea, I will allow you to speak to Haman and my other advisors to set this into motion immediately.”

The first servant smiled and bowed. “It will be as you say, my lord.”

Xerxes dismissed him along with the rest. Only his guards remained outside the door. But the silence, for once, did not oppress him. Suddenly he had a new goal. A new mission. To find a young virgin to replace Vashti. A queen of greater beauty and finer worth than his first love. An impossible task, but he would enjoy the process of seeking her.

Mordecai saw the edict nailed to the post at the king’s gate and read it with increasing alarm.

All beautiful virgins of marriageable age are to report to the palace in Susa, to Hegai, the eunuch in charge of the king’s harem. The virgin who pleases the king will become queen in Vashti’s place.

All virgins? He hurried down the steps and half ran, half walked the entire length of the journey home. Hadassah! What had he done? He should have found a husband for her. Especially once Gad’s father had betrothed him to Jola. He should have sought out every Jew in Susa until he found a suitable mate for his girl.

Was there still time? If he hid her from the king’s men, who would surely search the city to make sure every virgin was accounted for, could he betroth her to someone before she was found?

His side hurt as he ran, so he slowed his pace and dragged in air. Would the king honor a Jewish betrothal? He could not rush a wedding. Could he? What man would wish to wed so soon? Everyone would talk and assume the worst of Hadassah.

But what would they think of her if she ended up in the harem of the king? He placed a hand to his forehead and muttered frustrated words. Why had he waited so long? He could not blame Levia’s death on this, for Levia had begged him to begin the search a year ago. Foolish Mordecai. This is your doing—your punishment for keeping her too long. Levia wouldn’t have condemned him quite as harshly as his own thoughts did, but she would have worried and nagged him. She might have kept him from waiting until it was too late!

He turned a corner and saw the lights coming from the surrounding houses. Hadassah would have the evening meal ready and would greet him with joy. And he would greet her with the worst news of her life.

What should he do? He glanced heavenward, but no inspiration came from the place where Adonai dwelt. If he had been a faithful Jew, he would have taken his family to Jerusalem with the rest and worked to rebuild the temple. But no. He had stayed in Susa to serve a pagan king.

And now he would lose his last treasure to that king, to be lost among thousands of women who would never again see their families. All because he had waited too long. All because the king was a selfish pagan.

He did not allow himself to dwell on that overmuch. He must work instead to find a way out, perhaps take Hadassah even now out of Persia.

His thoughts churned. He should tell her. But he wasn’t sure he dared.