CHAPTER
Nineteen

Esther walked the halls of the king’s harem, Shirin at her side. “Where are we going?” Esther asked once they had passed the quarters of the other virgins. She had taken Hegai’s words to heart and rarely spoke of anything other than simple things in the company of the other women.

“To the king’s library.” Shirin shrugged as if the reason for this visit should be obvious. “Hegai said you wished to know more of the king’s exploits. One of the king’s scribes is going to read to you from a scroll. Whatever you wish to learn is yours to choose.”

“Thank you.” Esther hid her surprise at Hegai’s quick answer to her request. Word had come to her the week after their talk that Xerxes had gone to Persepolis to oversee building projects there. Besides completing the palace of his father, Darius, he was building a Gate of All Nations. Would he also seek out Vashti there? Rumors floated throughout the harem that the king had secretly sent her there, but would he go against the law of the Medes and Persians and allow her into his presence? There would be no need for this contest if he accepted Vashti back into his life.

She shook the thought aside as they entered a small room filled with scrolls from the ornate ceiling to the mosaic floor. A scribe sat at a wide desk, and chairs were positioned in various places along the walls. All thoughts of Vashti vanished at the sight of so many scrolls containing annals of the kings of Persia. How had Hegai managed to gain her entrance here?

“Mistress Esther, is it?” The scribe rose and welcomed her into the room. Shirin followed but remained behind her.

“Yes, my lord.” She bowed, and the scribe chuckled.

“You have no need to bow to servants, mistress. Only the king is to be so revered, or those he assigns the highest ranking in his kingdom. His wives and concubines are not to trouble themselves with mere servants like myself.” He bowed to her instead, and she smiled, masking her discomfort.

“Now,” he said, taking his seat again after directing her to choose a seat along one of the walls, “tell me what it is you would like to learn of the king.”

“Read to me of his conquests in battle. Of his victories.” She wasn’t all that interested in war but sensed that the more she knew of the way of kings, the better. And kingdoms and war seemed to go hand in hand.

The scribe raised a brow, his expression one of surprise. “No other wife of the king has ever asked such a thing.” He went to the wall and pulled a scroll from the stack. “Are you sure you would not rather read of his history, his childhood, his family? Women are more often concerned with these things.”

She lifted her chin to better gaze into his eyes. “I would like to learn all, but if we have time for only one visit, I would like to learn what the king enjoys best. Would that not be his victories in war?”

The scribe studied her a moment. “Xerxes is a king who has gone to war because war is expected. He warred with Greece because his father, Darius, had the desire but died before he could carry out his wishes. He has put down rebellions in Babylon and Egypt, but he does not go to war by choice, mistress. Even now he is building in Persepolis. He is a king of peace more than war.”

Esther folded her hands in her lap, her mind whirling with this new information. “Then I would like to hear whatever you think is best for me to understand the king.”

The scribe touched his bare chin and turned to look over the scrolls. He pulled a different one from its slot and unrolled it on the desk.

As he read to her, Esther listened, trying to memorize the names of Xerxes’ family, his building projects, and his decrees, one of which caused a sinking feeling in her middle. Apparently at some point in his past, he stopped trusting his closest advisors, and no one was allowed into his presence without permission, on pain of death. Perhaps her future husband—was she to consider him that?—trusted no one but himself.

She pondered the thought as she returned to her rooms with Shirin. “Yet he has many advisors,” she said aloud before she could stop herself.

“Yes, mistress, the king always seeks advice, sometimes even from his servants.” Shirin spoke softly as they approached the rooms of the virgins on their way to her apartments.

“I see.” Esther picked up her pace, suddenly needing to escape these halls and rest in the cool of her rooms.

Of course he trusted people. Probably more often than he wanted to. If he did not, he would not ask advice and she would not be in this predicament. Unless perhaps the king had no confidence in his own judgments.

She stopped short at the threshold and looked at Shirin but kept her thoughts to herself. As Shirin left her to the care of Parisa and Rosana, she wondered if the king was a man ruled by fear of failure. Perhaps he trusted those closest to him because he could not trust himself.

Xerxes rode his horse through the streets of Persepolis, surrounded by guards, with Haman and two of his nobles, Carshena and Shethar, at his side. He stopped at the Gate of All Nations and examined the four stone columns rising toward the sky, then moved to each of the three doorways. Workmen heaved a cart carrying a massive bull toward the western entrance, the second of the pair that would guard the door. The gate was impressive, but not nearly as impressive as the Apadana, the great audience halls with numerous columns that rose to the height of nearly twelve men.

He reined in his steed and cantered toward the south entrance that led to the construction on the great hall. He motioned for Haman to draw up beside him. A guard moved to allow the man closer access.

“Make a note that I want this hall finished before I choose my new queen. Give them six months. If I have not found a queen by then, at least the hall will be ready.” He looked over the unfinished work with pride of ownership, but he chafed at realizing how much there was left to do.

“My lord, if you are willing to hire more workmen, I am certain that we can have this project finished in time. One column alone can take months to move into place.” Haman spoke candidly, yet his voice carried his typically humble tone. He rested a hand on his horse’s neck and glanced at Xerxes.

Xerxes watched the men, their bare backs dripping with sweat as they worked. They had many columns to set in place, the floor to lay down, and the roof to put on, not to mention the many inner touches, the golden interlays, the tapestries, the throne, and the benches for people to wait for an audience with him.

But he wanted to bring his new bride here. The hall in Susa would suffice, as it matched this one in magnificence, but somehow he thought bringing her here would wipe out his memories of Vashti. He should never have sent Vashti to Persepolis. Even now, he debated the idea of having his servants seek her out and move her to another town. The temptation to avoid a city he loved was too great, the temptation to find her too strong.

Curse Memucan and his ideas! He should never have put Vashti in that position or listened to his foolish advisor. Why could he not make a simple decision without allowing others to insert their opinions?

Haman spoke, interrupting his internal tirade. “Shall I order more men to work on this project, my lord? Or would you halt work on the Gate of All Nations to finish this first?”

Xerxes regarded the man, wondering whether he should listen to yet another advisor’s advice. Realistically, he would not finish with the virgins for another year unless he found one he wanted sooner rather than later. He had already wasted six months on his concubines while he waited for the virgins, none of whom were the least bit interesting. None of them were like Vashti. Or her opposite, which might be better.

“Hire more men. Tell them to increase the pace, but not at the expense of the work. The work comes first. They must make this excellent, a place to make their king proud to live in and nations awed to visit.” He turned and rode in the opposite direction, up a hill toward the palace there. “We will return to Susa tomorrow,” he said to Haman. “Make sure everything is ready.”

He rode forward with his guards, leaving his advisors behind. The visit here had been worthwhile, but he could not shake the restlessness that called him back to Susa. Why he imagined that city a better place than this, he could not say. Susa held all of the memories of his failures. But it also held the hope of a brighter future. One he was anxious to begin.