NINE MONTHS PASSED, the remainder of a year that had begun in horror and might end on the same note. As time pushed us into the month of Adar, Mordecai assured me that the Jews in all the provinces were well prepared for any attacks that might come against them, but I couldn’t help being concerned. I had risked my life for my people, and I could not forget about them as the day of reckoning approached.
During the two months we debated how to answer the problem of Haman’s edict, I wondered if an answer would even be necessary. Our family had lived in Susa for years without facing any significant oppression, so perhaps people would simply forget about Haman’s decree and ignore the appointed day.
I voiced this thought to Mordecai, but he laughed and told me I was being too optimistic. “Reports have already begun to reach me,” he said, turning to accept a scroll from one of the servants. “Throughout the provinces, Jews have begun to feel the sting of persecution. People who were once kind and tolerant have become vicious and greedy, coveting the property and possessions of their Jewish neighbors and scheming how best to get them. Evil is like a potent dye, Hadassah—once it is spilt on linen, the stain must be cut out of the fabric. And if the garment must be sacrificed—” he shook his head—“so be it.”
Fortunately, Mordecai’s edict seemed to stop the most brazen episodes of intimidation, though I doubted it quelled the hate-filled hearts of the most greedy. Haman had taught me that some men were inspired by the evil of pride and would not hesitate to do anything necessary to further their selfish intentions.
Harbonah, ever a friend to me and my cousin, reported that members of the imperial army had also expressed their gratitude for our intervention. If Mordecai had not countermanded Haman’s edict, the king’s army would have been required to enforce the law. On the thirteenth day of Adar, they would have been dispersed through the empire, charged with entering every city, village, and synagogue to murder every Jew they could find, even the very young and very old.
After the appointed day passed, I hoped my king and his empire would settle down to peace and safety. I did not think my husband would mount any other military campaigns, for he had lost the zeal for battle. He was still a strong man, but he had aged over the past year.
Some nights when we dined together in his chamber, I looked across the space between us and saw that his eyes were as wide and blank as windows, as though the soul they harbored had long since flown away.
Did he realize how badly he had erred? Did he wake in the night burdened with the realization that he had nearly caused the deaths of millions of innocents?
Perhaps he had, but I would never accuse him, for I had never forgotten Humusi’s advice: “Listen, little Esther, and hear what is on his heart. Hold it securely and do not share it with anyone. And then, if you can find it in your heart to do so, love him for the man he is and the man he could be. Expect greatness of him. And then, perhaps, he will find it in himself.”
Xerxes, son of Darius and king of Persia, was my husband, and ’twas not my duty to rebuke him. I was to respect him, honor him, and obey him. And through it all, to love him.