FOLLOWING IN THE TRADITION OF HIS FATHER and other kings before him, when balmy spring surrendered to summer the king and his household packed their belongings and moved to the palace at Ecbatana. Usually I made the trip with a light heart, much preferring the northern palace’s weather and locale, but that year I left reluctantly. I had developed a real affection and sense of responsibility for Mordecai’s young ward, and I hated to leave her behind.
At least I would not leave her alone—Mordecai spoke to the girl every day but on his Sabbath, and Hegai would remain behind to oversee the palace of the virgins.
My place was with my master.
Though I had a thousand details to oversee as we prepared for the journey, I did not worry about my friend Mordecai. Since he had found a way to communicate with Hadassah, I knew he would be available to provide counsel should she become depressed or discouraged.
But why should she be discouraged? No virgin in the harem was more pampered than Esther. As Hegai’s favorite, she enjoyed the best of everything. As Mordecai’s ward, she would never be alone. Her unseen guardian would always be available to comfort, counsel, educate, and correct—in the unlikely event that she needed correction.
As the royal party began the trek over the mountains, I set my concerns about the harem aside and began to concentrate on my king. The idea of crowning a new queen had brightened his mood while we remained in Susa, but we left the virgins behind. With no hope for a consort’s comfort and companionship in the near future, the king’s dark mood returned.
Not even our arrival at Ecbatana cheered him. The summer palace was situated by a river and located on an elevated plateau, where the air was cool and thin. The impressive Zagros Mountains overlooked the city, with Mount Alvand towering over us with its snowcapped heights. An otherworldly sense of calm dominated the settlement, despite the capital’s torrid and bloody history.
The summer palace held deep personal significance for my master. His father, the great Darius, had overcome a rival here, executing the traitor Phraortes atop the city wall in full view of the public. Darius preserved his legacy with that act, and I knew my master could not gaze upon the city wall without remembering that he would have no empire if not for his father’s valor. The older people in Ecbatana remembered as well, and expected to see the same power and authority in Darius’s son.
I could only hope that my king would accept the memory as a challenge. With the memory of his failure in Greece still fresh in his thoughts, my master did not need another taunting reminder of his father’s success.
The palace at Ecbatana was a marvel, equally as beautiful as the compound at Susa. Seven concentric walls enclosed the king’s house and gleamed in the slanting sunlight, its high battlements plated with gold and silver. The river ran deep and fast at the west side, providing life and security to those who dwelled inside the walls. Deep within the secure fortress lay the royal treasury, and deeper still lay the king’s residence.
I hoped the change of scenery would do my master good, but after our arrival he retired to his rooms and went straight to bed. He stayed abed for days, waking only to relieve himself and eat a bit of fruit or meat. His dark mood deepened with every passing day, and more than once I found myself wishing that he had allowed Vashti to accompany her children. Though she was never again to sit beside him as queen, I could have arranged a chance meeting in a hallway or antechamber. . . .
In truth, no woman had ever delighted my king like Vashti. With a tongue as sharp as a serpent’s tooth, she had a gift for cutting to the heart of a matter. Her beautiful eyes saw through the facades of smiling sycophants, and her ears caught rumors long before they surfaced to do damage. Though her obstinacy had resulted in her downfall, I think the king would have enjoyed being with someone who saw him not as a king, but as a man in need of a soul mate.
I hesitate to write of these things because I am a slave. I have no right to exhibit even a sliver of pride, but I am sure there were occasions when the king considered me a friend. Not because I had done anything to be worthy of his notice, but because I was a stable fixture in his life. I had seen him at his best and at his worst. I had seen him hearty and ill, cheerful and disagreeable, in love and lonely.
Lonely is the word that best describes my king that summer. My royal master longed for someone in whom he could confide, yet no confidant could be found in Ecbatana—or at least none that was worthy of a king. Even his nephew Mushka, who had always delighted him, left my disgruntled master murmuring about the extreme foolishness of restless young men.
After realizing that our beautiful surroundings had done nothing to improve my master’s mood or his health, one evening I gathered my courage and suggested we return to Susa early, before autumn advanced. “The plain is so lovely in the cooler months,” I said, pretending to talk to myself as I removed his royal cloak and prepared him for bed. “The king has always enjoyed looking across the plain at the river.”
The king grunted an inadvertent reply, then lifted his head and looked around his chamber. Recognizing his thoughtful mood, I stepped away, content to let him explore whatever thoughts lay on his mind. He settled onto his bed, punched his pillow, then rested his head on one arm and stared out the balcony of his chamber.
“Eunuch, look at this,” he finally said, lifting one arm to indicate the elaborate columns around his bed. “The finest artisans in all the world wrought this chamber for my father, but what pleasure can a weary man find in it? A life without joy is no life at all.”
I pressed my lips together and waited. I would have remained silent, but then he turned and met my gaze. “I did wrong to set Vashti aside,” he said, his voice flat and matter-of-fact. “And now I must take a new queen, but I do not think I will find Vashti’s equal. She was more royal than anyone I know.”
I drew a deep breath, not sure how to answer. I did not want to criticize the former queen, for she was still the mother of the crown prince, but neither did I want to criticize the king’s decision.
“I am sure your majesty will do the right thing,” I finally said, offering a safe and cowardly answer. “My king has great wisdom.”
“Your king has wise counselors.” My master turned back toward the balcony and peered into the darkness. “My father often said I should be more decisive, that I lived too much in my thoughts. But I never know how to choose the right thing, so my counselors give me wisdom . . . or at least the appearance of sagacity.”
I bowed my head and said nothing, for my master was speaking as if to an intimate. What I heard could never be repeated outside the king’s bedchamber and was probably best forgotten.
“Tomorrow we shall make immediate plans to return to Susa,” my master said, abruptly punching his pillow again. “Have my generals plot a swift track over the mountains. I would like to be home before the snow makes travel impossible.”
I pressed my hands together, bowed, and backed out of the room, turning only when I had stepped between the guards in the outer hall.
I had been successful. We would return to Susa immediately, and that fair city and its warmer climate should do much to ease the king’s melancholy. He could ride out on a hunt or watch the soldiers train on the open plain. He could take his sons riding by the river.
And if the city failed to lift the dark cloud around him, my master might call for an evening’s entertainment and I would recommend Hegai and his palace of the virgins. Scores of beautiful young women waited there, and any of them would make a better queen than the selfish, scheming Vashti.
I had a good feeling about one girl in particular.