CHAPTER
Thirty-three

Mordecai looked toward the palace, his view blocked by the impenetrable gate fortress. Dressed stone encased in a thin layer of hammered gold enfolded the columns, which stood like watching sentinels. Guards decked in battle array stood dwarfed beneath them.

Mordecai’s tears still wet his beard, and he looked at the burlap covering his frame. Groans rose as he looked at the tablet he held in shaking hands. He was weak from fasting, though he knew he would grow far weaker in days to come, for he would not eat until Esther at least tried to save her people. Surely she would once she heard the truth. Wouldn’t she?

Her maid had indicated Esther’s distress over his appearance. But he could not don wealthy clothing at a time like this, even to see his daughter. She must see the seriousness of the situation. But how to make her see?

A loud wail burst from him again as he studied the words before him, all thoughts of Esther gone for a brief moment. Oh Adonai, how can You save Your people from this? If Esther is not willing to help . . . please, Adonai, do not let the influence of her position keep her from remembering her heritage, her people.

His prayers came silently as he rocked back and forth. He stopped abruptly at the sound of hurried footsteps and looked up to see Esther’s eunuch Hathach approach. He attempted to stand, but Hathach sat near him on the tiled square in front of the gate.

“My lord Mordecai,” he said in that cultured voice he had. “My mistress, Queen Esther, has sent me to find out exactly what has happened to cause you, her father, such grief. Please tell me so I can relay your message to her.”

Mordecai assessed the eunuch a moment. He had met Hathach several times. If Esther trusted him, he would have to do the same.

He handed the copy of the decree to Hathach. “This was posted to the walls of the city gate and in other places throughout Susa. I have been told that it has gone out to every province of the kingdom, written to every official and governor and noble in every language and script of the people. This is surely Haman’s doing, though it bears the king’s seal, so it cannot be revoked even by the king himself. I’m also told that Haman has promised ten thousand pieces of silver to enhance the king’s treasury once the Jews—all Jews, even women and children—are annihilated. This is set to happen a year from now on the thirteenth of Adar.”

Mordecai drew a breath, his voice hoarse from weeping. He swallowed. “You must go to Esther and explain everything to her. Then you must tell her to go to the king to beg for mercy, to plead for the lives of her people.”

Hathach held the tablet and silently read the words. He looked at Mordecai, a brow lifted in question. “Her people, my lord? Are you telling me that the queen is a Jew?”

Mordecai lifted his head, determined to show strength. Perhaps he had been wrong to tell Esther to keep her heritage a secret. Her own maids and eunuchs could turn against her. But he was done hiding. And besides, right or wrong, his decision had been made months ago. He may have erred by refusing to bow to Haman, but he had not erred in determining to side with his people. With his God.

“You understand my meaning correctly,” he said, holding Hathach’s gaze. “Will you do as I have asked?”

Hathach could lie to Esther. Both Esther and Mordecai were putting much faith in a man Mordecai did not know well. How did he know that Hathach wouldn’t go to Xerxes and tell him the tale instead of Esther? What if Xerxes truly had sided with Haman in all of this? A knot filled his empty stomach at the thought, but he did not flinch as he waited for Hathach’s answer.

“I will do as you say, my lord. And may your God be with you.” Hathach stood, tucked the tablet into his robe, and walked through the gates where Mordecai could not follow. Now he would wait to learn Esther’s answer.

“What did he say?” Esther rose to meet Hathach and motioned him to follow her into her gardens, away from the ears of her maids and other eunuchs. At the look on Hathach’s face, a cold dread filled her.

Hathach stood while Esther sat on a bench in a secluded part of the garden. He handed the tablet to her. “Mordecai gave me this and asked me to give it to you.”

She read the words. Stopped. Read them again. She looked up at Hathach, shock rushing through her. “Tell me what he said.”

“He said that the decree went out to every province in the kingdom, sent to every official, governor, and noble, and spread to all of the people in order to prepare them to kill every Jew on the thirteenth of Adar next year. Even the women and children. That explains the uproar we have heard in Susa.”

“I heard no uproar.” Suddenly she hated the seclusion of these walls that kept her prisoner from the goings-on of everything around her.

“The servants can hear things from their quarters better than you can, my queen. Susa is in confusion, and Mordecai has asked me to tell you that you must go to the king, plead for mercy, and beg for the lives of your people.”

She glanced beyond him. “He told you I am a Jew.”

“Yes, my queen.” His voice held kindness. “Your secret remains with me. If you do not wish the others to know, you are safe here, no matter what happens in the rest of the land.”

His loyalty warmed her, but how could she hide in her palace prison while her people, her own father and cousins, were slaughtered outside? Surely God would judge her for such a thing. But she couldn’t just approach Xerxes.

She rose and strode the decorative walkway, leaving Hathach to wait for her. How could this have happened? How could Xerxes have trusted Haman with his signet ring? Although the king’s ring was clearly stamped above the decree, the evil behind the plot was surely not her husband’s. Did he even know what Haman had done? He trusted that man far too easily. And Mordecai had indicated that Haman was behind this. Of course he was. She would still investigate, but she knew it in the depths of her being. Haman hated the Jews. And he hated her father. Mordecai’s refusal to bow to Haman . . . was that what had sparked this impossibly horrible crime against her entire race?

She turned slowly about and walked back toward Hathach, her mind whirling, her fear rising. She wished she had the power to help, but how could she? She couldn’t just go to the king without a summons.

“Have you made a decision, my queen?” Hathach bowed slightly, concern etched along his dark brow.

“You must return to Mordecai and give him this message. Tell him that all of the king’s officials and even the people in the provinces know that anyone who appears before the king in his inner court without being invited is doomed to die unless the king holds out his gold scepter. And the king has not called for me to come to him for thirty days.” To admit that she had not been in her husband’s presence for a month—and this was not the first time—caused the ache to return to her heart. She missed the early years of their marriage when he had spent every possible moment with her. When she felt that he might even love her. Now they were living separate lives, like distant ships on the sea. Rarely did those ships draw close enough to touch, let alone speak. Had he truly grown tired of her?

“I will give him your message, my queen.” Hathach bowed and left.

She stood in the gardens alone except for guards at the very edges of the doors. They could not hear her words, but they watched her. And she was not in the mood to be watched.

She walked back into her rooms, sank onto her favorite couch, and waited.

Mordecai observed people coming and going from the palace, some giving him curious looks or shaking their heads in disgust. Let them look. He didn’t care what they thought of him. They could not act against him for a year, and perhaps there would be deliverance before that time.

He slowly rose to his feet and walked to the center of the square, where a large fountain stood. He cupped his hands and drank, slaking his thirst. As he turned to reclaim his spot, he saw Hathach walking toward him. He followed the man away from the crowd that milled about.

“I gave your message to the queen.” Hathach cleared his throat and relayed Esther’s words to Mordecai.

Mordecai examined the man a moment, then lifted his gaze toward the clouds scudding across the heavens. Was she refusing to help then? Or was she afraid she would be killed trying? The irony settled over him. She would be killed in a year if not now, but if she did not try, who was left to save their people?

Adonai?

But the heavens were silent. Still, he could not believe that the enemy of God’s people would get away with destroying them. God had always promised a deliverer. He had promised it since the garden when Adam sinned. He had always saved a remnant of His people, even when they sinned against Him so grievously. Surely He would do so again. With or without Esther.

He looked into Hathach’s eyes. What if Esther was the person God had placed where she was for this moment? “Tell my daughter this: ‘Don’t think for a moment that because you’re in the palace you will escape when all other Jews are killed. If you keep quiet at a time like this, deliverance and relief for the Jews will arise from some other place, but you and your relatives will die. Who knows if perhaps you were made queen for just such a time as this?’”

Hathach rubbed his chin, as though to speak to his queen in such a way might cost him his head, but he slowly nodded and his expression changed to one of admiration. “You are a wise man, Mordecai. Your words hold great wisdom. I will relay your message to my queen.”