CHAPTER
Eighteen

Esther finally summoned her courage two months later and requested an audience with Hegai. He came to her rooms one morning and sent her maids away, leaving them alone.

“You have questions?” Hegai sat across from her, his gaze probing, as if he could read her very thoughts.

“Yes,” she said, deciding the man had too much to do for her to waste his time in hesitation. “I wish to better understand the king. I have never seen him or met him, and I do not wish to enter his chambers in four months without some knowledge of who he is.”

Hegai’s jaw clenched, and he looked about despite the closed doors and the privacy they shared. “You know what every other virgin knows. I am sure your maids have told you enough.”

She studied him. “Is it wrong of me to ask to know more than the gossips say? I know nothing of his character, of his personality. What does he enjoy? Does he laugh easily? Is he a man of quick temper? What goals does he have for the kingdom?”

Hegai smiled, his shoulders relaxing. “Ah, I see. You ask intelligent questions, but I fear I do not know the answers to any of them. These are things the wife of the king might one day ask, and things perhaps his advisors understand, but I daresay that King Xerxes is a private man. He does not share such things with his servants.”

“And yet, from what I understand, it was his servants who recognized his sorrow over Vashti and suggested this contest. Is that not correct?” Esther twisted the belt at her waist.

“It is correct.” Hegai leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Esther, I like you. I think you hold much potential to please the king.” He lowered his voice. “I can see that you are sincere in your desire to understand the king, so I will tell you what I do know.”

She waited expectantly.

“The king married Vashti when they were both young. He was not yet reigning as king at the time, and she remained his only wife for many years. They had one son, but he was born before Xerxes took the throne. His mother did not like Vashti, from what I understand, so she picked Amestris to be his wife after his coronation. Amestris has borne the king two sons, and her firstborn will be his heir.”

“Vashti’s son went with her into exile,” Esther said, and Hegai nodded.

“Yes. And Amestris wanted to be named queen in her place. She is a rival to watch closely. Be careful who you trust, Esther, even here, because I have seen Amestris enter these quarters though she does not belong here, and she likely has spies among the maids.”

Esther lifted a brow, alarm shooting through her.

Hegai interpreted her look with a raised hand. “You need not fear the women in your service. I handpicked each one, and they are loyal to me alone. But you must still be careful not to speak of personal things or ask questions about the king to the other contestants or other servants. Don’t even speak of them to your maids if others can hear. Even if Amestris means the virgins no harm, others might. There are always people in the king’s house who want to harm him. This is why he speaks very little about his personal thoughts or desires.”

Esther leaned back on the plush couch, processing this new information. Why hadn’t Hegai told her this sooner? Perhaps her own reticence to speak had caused him to feel no need to warn her. Hadn’t she kept her feelings and thoughts close to her heart? Mordecai had warned her to keep her heritage safe, and she had done much more. She had told very little even to her maids.

“This is all new to me, Hegai. I understand from my father that things can go on here that might not bode well for me or the king or others in the palace. But I never thought there might be danger from one of the king’s wives or even the servants. I do not believe I have met Amestris. Is this something I should do? Would it not be wise to know who to watch out for?”

Hegai straightened and once again glanced about the room. “The next time I see her moving through these halls, I will find you and point her out to you. Once you have moved to the king’s harem under Shaashgaz, you will see all of the king’s wives and concubines and undoubtedly the king’s mother from time to time. I have no doubt Amestris stops in to flaunt her privileged place to the other women the king never sees.”

Esther fought the sadness his words evoked. “It seems so strange to know that I will only have one night with him, and that he will likely never call for me again. How do those women live without anything to do?”

Hegai laughed. “Oh, my child. They have plenty to do. They create beautiful tapestries and mosaics that end up in rooms in this palace or the one in Persepolis. They care for their children if they have them. Even though their servants carry out most of their duties, they are allowed to work on whatever projects please them.”

Esther smiled simply because she could think of no other appropriate reaction. “That is good to know.”

Hegai stood, and Esther stood with him. “I have no more information to give you regarding the king himself, but if you will take my advice and learn from me these next four months, I will do all I can to help you learn to please him. Who knows? Perhaps you will win his heart. In the meantime, I will speak with my servants and we will try to discover the answers to at least some of your questions. But leave those things to me. Do not ask anyone but me.”

“I will do whatever you say,” Esther promised, walking with him to the door.

“Good.” He regarded her. “If I were to choose, I think you would make a perfect queen.”

He left her then, her thoughts reeling. Until that moment, she had never considered the possibility that she could actually win the king’s heart and become Persia’s next queen. She was too young. Too inexperienced. Too Jewish. Jewish maidens did not become Persian queens.

But Hegai did not know that. And perhaps her youth and beauty would be enough to entice the king. Still, she sensed she would have to learn more than simple obedience or exotic moves in his bed to win his heart. She would need to actually care for him. And she had no idea how to care for a man she had never met.

Mordecai climbed the steps at the king’s gate and took his place in the room where he recorded cases that were brought to the city officials, who then determined whether they should be brought before the king. The large room ran the width and breadth of the gate, which was more like another building than a normal entrance one would place in front of a courtyard.

Mordecai had worked in this location for more years than he could count, and normally he found the work interesting. No two cases were ever the same, and in the early years Darius, the previous king, would hear many of them himself. While Darius kept a tight rein on his kingdom and secluded himself in his chambers with few courtiers and many guards, he trusted his guards to protect him and seemed to enjoy passing judgment on those needing someone to judge between them.

But Xerxes was not at all like his father, and since his return from Greece he had grown more secluded, almost paranoid. He had gone so far as to issue a decree that no one was to enter his presence uninvited. Few men other than his closest advisors and his guards were allowed to see his face. Should anyone violate his orders, they would be immediately killed, unless the king was in a generous mood and held forth his golden scepter.

Xerxes had worsened in recent days. To approach him meant risking his swift wrath. Mordecai shivered at the memory of a few who had tried to approach the king uninvited and without the proper humility.

Since then, very few cases came before Xerxes as they had in the earlier years of his reign. In the years when Vashti remained his queen.

Would a new queen make a difference in the man?

Mordecai dipped his reed into the ink and listened as the first group approached the city elders. He recorded the important details—their names, the reason for their complaint, and the date. Midmorning, one of the eunuchs would carry the list to an advisor, who would then approach the king.

How many men would be sent away disappointed? How many cases would the elders simply rule upon, deeming them not critical enough for the king’s ears?

“How does your daughter fare today, Mordecai?” Teresh, one of the king’s eunuchs who often relayed information between the officials and the advisors, asked as he approached.

Mordecai looked up and offered the man a slight smile. “She is well. Thank you.” He looked again at his work, in no mood for frivolous talk.

“Good. Good. I hope she does well.” Teresh walked away before Mordecai could respond.

Strange man. Mordecai did not trust any of the Persians or other people groups who worked for the king. The thought made him pause. When had he trusted anyone but himself or his sons? Levia. He used to trust Levia. And Hadassah. Even his sons’ wives were too new to the family to share his thoughts with. And he rarely entered into conversations with the men in the Jewish community except on those occasional Sabbaths when he joined them.

You have no friends, Mordecai. A pitiful thought. As he listened to the complaints and recorded them by rote, he pondered the realization. Levia had been his life. His children his joy. To lose Levia and Hadassah in the same year had been too much. He had closed himself in. Kept himself distant from others when he probably needed their company now more than ever.

He needed to change. Somehow he needed to reach out to his community, spend more time with his family, and stop worrying so much about Hadassah. He could not change what had happened to her, and if she was lonely or being mistreated or threatened in some way, it was beyond his control. He could not even step inside the halls of the king’s harem, and that was not likely to change once she became one of the king’s wives. Though he supposed it was a question worth asking the next time Hegai came out to converse with him.

None of the other mothers or fathers came to the harem courtyard daily like he did. No one else carried his sense of guilt. Or fear. And sometimes no one came to speak to him. Why bother when he was the only one visiting?

He looked heavenward. Perhaps tomorrow, Adonai? The prayer could not hurt, though he had to admit he had not been as attentive to prayer or the Scriptures as he should have been in recent months. Years even. When had he lost his love of his God? When had he cared more for the things of this life than pleasing Adonai?

Had God taken Hadassah because of his failure? Because of his disobedience to the law? Had he made a grave mistake in telling Hadassah to keep her heritage a secret? For a lengthy moment he felt his chest burn with the wondering. What good could it have done to try to keep her safe? Only God could keep her safe in that place of intrigue. In the room alone with the king.

And yet God was the one person he had not bothered asking to do so.