CHAPTER
Thirty-nine

Xerxes walked ahead of Haman through the palace halls to the queen’s apartments. One glance at Haman when the man had finally appeared had startled him, but he did not show his surprise. What had caused Haman’s cheeks to pale and his eyes to lose the merry shine he’d grown used to would have to remain a mystery. He would ask him later what troubled him. For now, all he could think of was what Esther wanted from him. She would not have gone to all of this trouble for no reason. And he sensed in his spirit that it was something that caused her great distress.

Had she also had trouble sleeping last night? He should have called for her, but the timing had not been right. Besides, he was glad to have finally honored her father for saving his life. How he could have overlooked that at the time still appalled him. Had Haman’s suggestion been enough? Perhaps he should promote Mordecai to a higher position. He could make one up if he could not find someone who needed replacing.

They stopped at the door to Esther’s banquet room, and he smiled in delight when she herself welcomed them.

“Thank you for coming again, my lord.” She bowed low, then rose with such grace it took his breath. How beautiful she was!

“I would never have refused you.” He took her hand and kissed it, something kings did not do, but he did not care. She was his bride, and right now he wished Haman was at the bottom of the sea so he could be alone with her. But he acknowledged Haman’s presence as Esther’s attendants seated them, and he spoke with him of superficial things as the food Esther had prepared was set before them.

Esther sat opposite them. He watched her, amused with the careful way she ate and concerned with the tense way she held herself. She was normally so relaxed in his presence.

At last they moved to her sitting area, where her attendants poured the wine in goblets of shining gold. He savored the rich tartness on his tongue. Haman held his cup without drinking. Esther’s cup sat on a low table beside her.

Xerxes set his cup down as well and leaned forward, his gaze piercing hers. “Tell me what you want, Queen Esther. What is your request? I will give it to you, even if it is half the kingdom!”

Esther stood, walked away from Haman, and knelt at Xerxes’ feet. She lifted her hands in supplication, her dark eyes earnest as she held his gaze. “If I have found favor with the king,” she said, her words respectful, humble, “and if it pleases the king to grant my request, I ask that my life and the lives of my people will be spared. For my people and I have been sold to those who would kill, slaughter, and annihilate us. If we had merely been sold as slaves, I could remain quiet, for that would be too trivial a matter to warrant disturbing the king.”

Utter silence filled the room. Not even an insect or night fowl twittered or squawked or chirped in the gardens just beyond the open window.

Xerxes stared at her in numb disbelief. “Who would do such a thing?” he demanded. “Who would be so presumptuous as to touch you?” Surely he had not heard her correctly. No one would dare!

But she was speaking again, and her words snapped him out of his wild thinking. “This wicked Haman is our adversary and our enemy,” she said.

Xerxes looked at Haman as if seeing him for the first time. If the man had been pale when he first arrived at the palace, he had gone nearly white with Esther’s statement. Which meant there was guilt there. Somehow he was responsible for this travesty.

No longer able to stand the man’s presence, and needing to think, to understand, he jumped to his feet, rage pulsing through him. He stalked through the doors to the palace garden. How had Haman become Esther’s enemy?

My people and I have been sold to those who would kill, slaughter, and annihilate us. Was this the group of people Haman had come to him about a year ago, complaining that they were a threat to his nation? His wife’s own people?

How had he trusted this man so fully? He should have questioned him, asked for more details. He would never have allowed such a thing if he hadn’t trusted Haman so completely. What a fool he was!

And yet, how dare this man go behind his back and use his own animosity to convince his king to annihilate innocent people? He must get to the bottom of this. He believed Esther with all of his heart, but he must know more, must ask the questions he did not ask at first. Must put a stop to this.

He paced the garden, the rage building. No more thinking. Haman deserved to die for this. And if he could muster a drop of patience, he might ask the man’s excuse before he commanded his execution.

Esther returned to her couch and reclined, her position allowing her not only to watch Haman but to nod to her guards at any hint of fear the man might evoke. She did not relish this moment alone with her enemy, and an exposed enemy was often a more deadly one. But her guards stood near with swords in hand. Haman could see them as easily as she could.

Xerxes needed this time, for his hot anger would surely explode if he did not think this through. And how could she expect him to just trust her word? He might love her, but he had trusted Haman for years. Why should he trust her now?

She longed to look toward the gardens in hopes of glimpsing him, of assessing his reaction, of guessing what he might do. Would he order Haman’s execution? But she dared not look lest she lose sight of her enemy.

“My queen,” Haman spoke, startling her. He leaned forward on his couch, no longer reclining but sitting as if ready to jump up toward her. She tensed. “Please, my queen. I did not know any of this. I did not realize . . . I was simply trying to handle an unfortunate situation . . .”

“You mean you wanted to get back at my father by destroying our people.” She glared at him, and he seemed to fight to keep his balance.

He fell to his knees and drew closer. “No, my queen. I did not think of you . . . that he was . . . I did not realize he was your father, and I admit I was wrong to let my anger grow so strong. But please, have mercy on me.” He glanced toward the gardens, then moved closer and fell at the foot of her couch, his arm brushing her gown. “Please, my queen. The king is going to demand my life if you do not speak up and spare me. I will do anything you ask. I can give you riches. I will undo what the edict has done. I will give your father greater honor than I have today.”

Esther shifted, uncomfortable with his nearness, but just as she was about to nod to one of her guards, the king burst through the doors, his face red, his hands clenched, and a scowl drawing deep lines upon his brow. “Will he even assault the queen right here in the palace, before my very eyes?”

Esther leaned further into the couch as Haman fell backward. The king’s attendants who had accompanied him stepped forward, lifted Haman to his feet, and covered his face with a black cloth.

One of the king’s eunuchs faced the king. “Haman has set up a sharpened pole that stands seventy-five feet tall in his own courtyard. He intended to use it to impale Mordecai, the man who saved the king from assassination.”

Xerxes stared at Haman’s covered face for a short breath. He stepped closer, took Haman’s ring finger, and removed his signet ring. “Impale him on it!”

The guards carried Haman out, limp and weeping, and did as the king commanded.

Xerxes looked to where Esther had been sitting and noticed her place empty. He glanced about and found her pacing the very stones in the palace gardens where he had been.

He approached slowly. She stopped. “I didn’t know,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I should have been more observant of his actions.”

“You had no reason not to trust him. He had done his best to prove himself to you.” She knelt at his feet, causing him to feel uncomfortable.

He took her hand and pulled her up.

“I should have told you my heritage from the start. I am sorry.”

He kissed her and held her close. “You have done nothing wrong. It is I who trusted an evil man. He will not hurt you ever again.” He patted her back, the fear of almost losing her rising within him, making him nauseous. He held himself still until the feeling passed. “I am giving Haman’s property to you,” he said, deciding at once that he had to do something to make it up to her. “All that he had is now yours.” He turned the signet ring over and over on his finger, then released Esther and took her hand in his.

“There is something I should tell you. That is, I should remind you, for you already know it.” She sat on the bench he indicated and he sat beside her.

“Tell me.” He cupped her face in his hand. “I will still give you anything you ask.”

“It is not a request.” She searched his face. “You know that Mordecai is my adopted father, but he is really my cousin. He is Jewish, as am I.”

“Mordecai saved my life.” Xerxes traced a line along her face. “Just today I had Haman honor him through the city streets. I read again about the way he discovered the plot to kill me.”

“Yes. I remember.”

“I should have honored him sooner, but with my mother’s death . . . ” He let the words linger, wishing again he had been better to her. How is it he seemed to fail every woman he loved? He shifted in his seat. “Let us go inside and call for your father. It is time he is properly rewarded.” They stood and walked slowly into her rooms again. “We will meet with him in my chambers, and then you will stay. I want your chambers moved to better quarters. I cannot abide the thought of Haman having set foot in these rooms. I will place you nearest to me. You need never fear approaching me again.”

She turned and faced him, touching his face, smiling into his eyes. “You honor me more than I deserve.”

“I honor you far less than I should. Now come. There is still much to be done.”