I DON’T KNOW WHAT THE KING EXPECTED TO FIND on our arrival at Susa—memories of a happier time, perhaps? But as the royal household settled into one of the grandest palaces in all creation, my master’s spirits did not improve. He maintained the appearance of normality—hunting, riding, watching athletic contests on the training field—but I felt as though his heart had left us. After sunset, when most of the royal household settled down to sleep, he would rise and wander in the royal gardens, his head down and his hands locked behind his back.
After about a week, I had an epiphany: my master had roused himself enough to make the journey back to Susa, but apparently he had not found what he sought in this gilded palace. Susa held no memories of war or Artaynta, so the influence here could not be negative. What pleasant memories had he expected to find?
I could come up with only one answer: the companionship of a loving wife. He and Vashti had been happy here, rejoicing in their close relationship and the birth of three sons. The former queen might be prideful, scheming, and cruel, but she had been a friend to my master. They had conversed as equals, and though she shared his body with hundreds of concubines, Vashti never had to share his heart. No one—not even Artaynta—had met the king as an equal in nobility, courage, and cunning.
So . . . the king needed another companion. Someone with Vashti’s virtues but none of her vices. Someone who could approach the king on equal footing, but who would not wield royal authority with malice.
Though I knew how my master might heal his heartache, what right had I to make a suggestion? I was a slave, a blank wall, a pair of hands and feet. My duty was to be silent and respectful, helpful but not obvious. But still . . .
I knew my master could be made whole again. He only needed a push in the right direction. But if I were to supply the push, I needed the perfect opportunity, an occasion in which my master would be willing to see and hear me.
One afternoon my listless king lifted his head and addressed the air, ignoring the dozen or so servants in the room. “I cannot find happiness here,” he said simply. “And I can’t help thinking of the day I banished Vashti from my presence. Though I can’t forget the awful things she has done, perhaps she is not entirely to blame. I am not free of guilt regarding her actions, and I regret—”
I stepped forward before the king could finish his confession. “My lord the king, a thousand pardons for my impertinence.” I lowered my forehead to the floor and waited for his response.
In the stretching silence I heard the breathless shock of the other servants. They had stopped moving, and I could feel the pressure of their eyes on the back of my skull.
“Rise, eunuch,” the king said, his voice free of rancor. “You have something to tell me?”
I closed my eyes and exhaled in relief, then pushed myself to an upright position. “Thank you, my good master. I have watched your struggles, and you should not suffer one day more. You know the solution, my king, the answer that will not force you to violate the unbreakable law of the Medes and the Persians.”
The empty air between us vibrated, the silence filling with tension.
My king turned his head into the hard light of the sun, and I saw that all traces of youth had fled from his face. “I know the answer?”
“You do.” I flushed beneath his intense scrutiny. “You need a queen worthy of you. Let a search be made for young, beautiful women. The king should appoint officials in all the provinces of the empire to gather all the attractive women to the house for the harem, in Susa the capital. They should be put under the care of Hegai, the king’s officer in charge of the harem, and he should give them the cosmetics or whatever they require. Then the girl who seems best to the king should become queen instead of Vashti.”
The king’s eyes narrowed, and for an instant I feared I would not be forgiven for speaking. My idea was unconventional, maybe even crazy, but something had to be done.
But an empire-wide search? The vice-regents would despise the idea, because it would deprive their daughters of an opportunity to marry a king. For generations, Persian rulers had chosen wives from the daughters of one of seven noble families—after a bloody revolt, the resolution had been established by the nobles themselves. Requiring that the king choose a wife from among their households served to establish the legitimacy of the kingship—and guaranteed that they would remain close to the seat of power.
But my master had already met that requirement, for Vashti had been the daughter of Otanes, one of the leading Persian nobles. So why shouldn’t my king search for a new wife from among the commoners of his empire? This one would not be so prideful that she would disdain and disobey her husband and king.
The king inclined his head, a slow smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “Let it be so,” he said, his voice resonating with a vigor I had not heard in months. “Let the edict be published, and let the search begin.”