CHAPTER
Twenty-eight

The following day, Mordecai’s brave words to Esther were tested as Haman passed through the hall at the king’s gate. He walked with head high and did not even glance at the men who groveled at his feet. Mordecai breathed a sigh when Haman’s shadow no longer lingered in the hall and his footsteps receded. The other officials stood, but no one seemed to notice that Mordecai had not risen from his seat nor bowed on the tile floor.

He bent his head to his work, ignoring his fellow servants, hoping to avoid any questions. This decision was going to be harder than he’d expected. If asked, would he be able to honestly admit his Jewish heritage as reason for ignoring the king’s command?

He pushed the question out of his mind as the day’s work consumed him, and finally the time came to leave for home. He slipped down the stairs and headed away from the palace, glancing once behind him to say a silent prayer for Esther. When he had taken to praying that his actions would not affect her in any way, he could not recall. But her status as queen mollified most of his fears. God would protect her. He had placed her there for a reason, though Mordecai often wondered what that reason could possibly be. Still, the king seemed to favor her, so he let himself trust enough to focus on the things he needed to do. And admitting his heritage and his faith mattered more to him now than it ever had.

He turned down a street toward home, grateful for the brilliant splashes of color in the sunset lighting the way. His gaze shifted at the sight of movement. A man appeared from an adjoining street. Mordecai recognized Roshan, who had served as one of the king’s officials for many years. His beard was flecked with gray and his brow bore the lines of age. Had he gotten lost?

“Roshan, this is not your normal route home. Is there something you seek?” Mordecai asked.

“Mordecai, my friend.” Roshan came up alongside him and they continued slowly walking in the direction of Mordecai’s home.

Mordecai was determined to lead him away from his actual house. The men he worked with need not know where he lived. He had few he would call friend in that place, nor did he trust many of them.

“I have come to ask you a question. I did not want to ask it in front of the other officials lest I embarrass you. We have labored together too long to ruin a good friendship.” Roshan’s grip on Mordecai’s shoulder was strong but brief.

Mordecai stopped to face him, sudden apprehension filling him. “What question is so important that it could not wait until morning?” He laughed lightly. “Surely nothing has happened to be so secretive.” No one had seen him. Had they?

“I think it is,” Roshan said, his voice quiet and somber. “I noticed that you did not bow when Haman passed by. You did not even move from your seat. And yet the king himself has commanded us to do so. Why is it that one of the king’s servants, an official, in fact, feels he has no need to obey the king? Has he given you permission to ignore the command because of your relationship to the queen?”

Mordecai’s heart beat faster, and a thin trickle of sweat snaked down his back. So he had not been as unnoticed as he’d thought. “You ask many questions, my friend.”

“Do you deny that you did not bow?” Roshan’s tone accused him.

“I do not deny it.” Mordecai drew a steadying breath.

“Why did you disobey the king’s command?” Roshan stepped back, assessing him. “The gods know we would all like to ignore the command. No one likes Haman.” He lowered his voice as he spoke the man’s name. “No one wants to bow. But we dare not disobey the king, and yet here you are doing just that.”

“I am a Jew,” Mordecai said. “I bow to my God alone.” Never mind that he also bowed to Xerxes as king.

Roshan raised a brow. “And you are allowed to refuse because of this? You are a Jew?”

“Yes.” He had already told the man enough. “Now, if you have nothing more to say to me, I will see you in the morning.” Mordecai turned and walked toward home, listening for footsteps following him. When he came to a turn, he glanced back, but there was no sign of Roshan. Good.

Mordecai entered his house and collapsed onto a couch, his strength spent. He had just done exactly what he had told Esther not to do. Would their Jewishness get them in trouble? Persia was an accepting culture. None of Xerxes’ ancestors had forced conquered peoples to change their beliefs. Surely he had acted rightly.

But as he searched for food to fill his empty belly, he wondered if God had truly directed him or if he had acted out of his own disdain for Haman. If the truth were known, he did not like the man who had managed to get so close to the king. Agagite or not, Haman was not a man he would ever like or trust.

A week had passed since Esther had spoken with Mordecai, and as she walked the gardens, she could not get his concerns out of her mind. But to defy the king—she feared for him. She realized as she bent to smell a rose that she cared not what happened to her nearly as much as she did what happened to him.

She understood his distrust of Haman, for she shared it. But to defy an order of the king could have dire consequences. What if her cousins were also punished? Hadn’t she heard the tales? Wasn’t her father aware of what Xerxes had done to others who had gone against him in the past? Was it enough that Mordecai had saved the king from Bigthan and Teresh years ago? The king seemed to have forgotten Mordecai’s efforts, for nothing had ever been done to reward him.

Mordecai should be sitting in Haman’s seat for what he did. But she could not have suggested such a thing or tell Xerxes her thoughts on the matter. For some reason he had taken a liking to Haman, though most everyone else she met feared or hated the man. Her husband seemed oblivious to his counselor’s wily ways.

She left the gardens to begin the day, as dawn would soon awaken the household. Somehow her time alone before day’s break brought her a sense of peace she could not get during the day or even at night. There was something refreshing about being the first to greet the dawn.

It was the day itself that troubled her, and her fears mounted with each new dawn. Mordecai needed to rethink his position. Perhaps keep his silence and make an exception for Haman until they could find a way to replace him. Surely in time God Himself would take the man out if his bloodline were truly cursed.

But she could not think of a way to convince her father to do anything different. If life had taught her anything, it was that men would do what men would do, and it was not easy for a woman to influence them otherwise.

Mordecai heard footsteps before he looked up to see Haman and his retinue march past the area where he worked. Again, every official at the king’s gate bowed low, lining the hallway. Haman did not look down as he passed, nor did he glance in Mordecai’s direction.

Mordecai sighed as the footsteps receded. Did the man just enjoy marching about the palace so men would be forced to bow at his feet? Pompous fool! Amalekite. Agagite. The connection caused the anger to rise within him, heating his face. Why had Haman’s descendants been allowed to live? Why had King David not been able to rid the land of them?

Worse, why was Adonai allowing this man to hold such a high position near his Esther? Just knowing she had contact with Haman and his wife made Mordecai’s skin crawl. Surely something could be done to keep her from interacting with them. But what?

“I see another day, another week of days, has come and gone and still you do not show respect to Haman or bow as he passes by.” Roshan stood near the table where Mordecai held a stylus between two fingers, poised to record the goings-on in this room. Yet he had not written a single letter since that arrogant “lord” had disrupted his day yet again.

More men joined Roshan, surrounding the table. “Why are you disobeying the king’s command?” one asked. Others repeated the question.

“I am a Jew,” Mordecai said, glancing at Roshan. “I do not bow to anyone but my God. Now unless you have something good to tell me, go.” He shooed them away with a wave of his hand.

They reluctantly dispersed, but the next day and the next and the day after that, they returned to surround him and ask him the same question over and over again.

“I am not going to bow,” he shouted at the end of the week. “Stop asking me!” He wiped his brow, quickly set aside his tools, and left his table, brushing past the stunned men as he left the king’s gate. He could not deal with this any more today. They would give him no peace until he bowed, and now that he had taken his stand, how could he go back on his word?

“I won’t bow.” He spoke to himself to reinforce his decision, which seemed to waver with each passing day. He could not let his guard down, and he could not give in to the affront of his colleagues.

As he slipped into his cool, dark house, he fell to his knees and prayed. Fear crept up his spine, and he questioned his sanity in admitting his heritage and defying the king. Pray God Haman never found out.

Haman entered the king’s antechamber, waiting for an audience with Xerxes. Despite his position as most powerful official in the empire below the king, he was still forced to wait to be allowed into the king’s presence. Xerxes had become nearly paranoid in recent years, ever since two of his guards attempted to assassinate him. No one could come into his presence without permission, and if they came unannounced, they risked death. Haman only needed to be announced and had not yet been refused, but he took the precaution of not presuming. Zeresh had warned him to take things slowly, to build trust, to win the king’s approval whether it took months or years, and he could see now how well her advice had paid off.

At last a servant announced his presence and the king called him into the audience chamber.

“What do you have for me today, Haman?” Xerxes leaned back on his gilded throne, hands clasped beneath his chin. The golden scepter sat leaning against his chair, and guards stood watch in pairs on either side of the throne.

Haman bowed low as he approached the king. He stood, walked a few paces, bowed again, and repeated the process until he came within the boundaries set to keep people at a distance from His Majesty. “I came to see if you would like me to travel to Persepolis to check on your building projects. I could be back within a few days and give you a full report.” He bowed again after he spoke, then stood straight, though he kept his eyes averted from the royal gaze.

Xerxes did not answer immediately, and Haman risked a glance to see that he stroked his chin as though in contemplation. “Yes,” he said at last. “I believe I can trust you to check on the projects for me this time. Next time we will go together.”

Haman lowered his gaze. “Thank you, my lord king. I will not disappoint you.”

Xerxes dismissed him without a word. Haman walked backward from the royal presence until he reached the antechamber, then he gathered his own retinue of guards and began his daily walks through the palace and the king’s properties. If he must still grovel before the king, at least he could see others grovel before him. Perhaps if he played his hand well, one day he would wear the crown, but for now he would bide his time and do all he must to keep the king’s respect. Slowly, Zeresh had said. Yes, slowly. In time things would go even more in his favor.

As he turned aside toward the king’s gate, he stopped. A delegation of officials walked toward him, quickly bowed, then asked to speak with him.

“Tell me quickly. What do you wish?” He did not want his subordinates to think their need for his advice made him glad. Let them think he had better things to do.

“We have a question, my lord,” one said, bowing again. He straightened and twisted the belt at his waist.

Nervous type. Haman hated nervous men. “Out with it then.”

“Yes, my lord. It seems that there is a man who works at the king’s gate, one Mordecai, who refuses to bow when you pass by. He says he does not bow to anyone but his god. He says he is a Jew. Is this something that you, my lord, have allowed because of his beliefs, or is he defying the king’s decree without approval?” The man bowed low once again.

Haman stared at the group, heat rising from the bottom of his feet up through his spine, but he clamped back his anger. “Take me to this Mordecai.” He had heard the name, probably even met him once or twice, but none of the king’s officials had made much of an impression on him. The king had so many men working throughout the palace that even he with his brilliant mind had trouble keeping track of them all.

The group turned and led him down a passage to where Mordecai sat at a table, head bent over papyrus, working like a scribe. He stopped in front of the man and waited. The other officials fell to their knees and touched their foreheads to the stone tiles.

Mordecai did not lift his head or even seem to notice Haman’s presence. Could the man not hear the footsteps or feel the crowd near him? But despite several minutes of Haman standing there, Mordecai refused to look up.

At last Haman whirled about and marched out of the king’s gate, heart racing, rage pulsing through his veins. The Jew had ignored him completely! How dare he! He marched faster, his promise to the king in the back of his mind. He had a trip to plan, and he should not allow himself to overreact because of a mere Jew.

As he entered his house later that night and complained profusely to Zeresh, he realized that one Jew was not enough to pour out his hatred on. Mordecai’s actions deserved the full wrath of every Agagite or Amalekite who had ever walked the earth.

“What are you going to do then?” Zeresh asked as she placed a platter of fresh fruit and vegetables and her tasty stew before him. “Seeing Mordecai alone hang for this crime will not satisfy you, my husband. You know this. His people are a threat to our entire family.”

Haman chewed a piece of flatbread, meeting Zeresh’s wise look. Their sons lived nearby with their families, the start to rebuilding a lost dynasty of Agag. But if he allowed Mordecai to continue to disrespect him, the result would be similar to what Memucan had foretold if Vashti had been allowed to defy her husband. Just as all of the women of Persia would have refused to obey their husbands, so all of the Jews would refuse to bow and perhaps even rise up to harm him.

Mordecai surely knew of the ancient feud between them. It was why he didn’t look up, acknowledge Haman’s position, or bow before his authority. He knew Haman was an Agagite.

“You are right as always, dear wife. We must find a way to destroy all of the Jews throughout the entire kingdom of Xerxes. There is no other way to ensure our safety.” He took a long swig of wine. “It is the only way.”

“But you must be sure you pick the right day for such an endeavor, and you must get the king to allow you to do so.” Zeresh poured him more wine from a sweating wineskin. “How do you plan to do that?”

Haman dipped more bread into the stew. He had no idea. “I will think about it as I travel to Persepolis. I will have time on the journey, and when I report back to the king, I can give him what I have found and perhaps turn his heart to my request at the same time.”

It was possible. Of course it was. Satisfied that the gods were on his side and that he would come up with a solution on this fortuitously timed trip, he continued his meal a happier man.