THE ROYAL PALACE, SUSA—THREE DAYS LATER
A mere dozen cubits away from the royal bedchamber, the Great Hall stood abandoned, its floors finally swept clean and scrubbed free of the stains and spills that the prolonged revelry had left behind. Even the Inner Court behind it stood empty, save for one lone sentry.
In the King’s private chambers languished the reason why. The sovereign of all Persia lay prone upon his giant bed, where he had remained for three days without going any farther than his nearby bathroom. Just outside the room’s walls stood a phalanx of servants, courtiers and advisers at vigil, wringing their hands and whispering anxious phrases of bewilderment and frustration, some even daring to advise.
At the end of the third afternoon, Master of the Audiences Memucan slowly pushed open the door and entered. The floor between him and the sleeping platform was strewn with golden food trays, broken dishes and scattered food. Memucan stepped gingerly around them and approached the bed.
“Your Majesty—”
“You, of all people, have some nerve coming in here,” interrupted Xerxes. “You’re the one responsible for all this.”
“Responsible for what, your Majesty?”
“For my banishing the Queen, what do you think? And, of course, for what came next.”
“Your Majesty, may I remind you that I did not recommend for anyone to harm the Queen,” he said quickly, “merely banish her from her position.”
Xerxes rose in his bed now, his hair tousled and his beard twisted in three directions. “And what does one do with a banished queen, you idiot? Let her go out and become a symbol of martyrdom? An icon for the very rebellious female spirit that earned her dismissal in the first place? No! I had no choice but to order her dispatched! It’s what any king would do in the circumstance!”
“Yet now your Majesty seems quite dismayed at having done just that,” he dared say.
“Being a king is hard, dirty business. You of all people should know that. Sometimes it calls for actions that turn the stomach. I did not invent the rules, you know.”
“No, sir. You did not. But may I point out that the rules also require your Majesty to appear at court, fit and powerful, for all to gaze upon and blanch in fear and respect. Your dismay over Vashti seems to have impaired that capacity.”
Xerxes now stepped from the bed, jumped down the small step to the bedroom’s enormous floor and fairly leaped upon Memucan.
“You watch your tongue, do you hear? I’m still King, and with a snap of my fingers I can still have you ‘harmed,’ as you so delicately put it!”
Memucan gently pried the King’s fingers loose from around his neck and shrank back toward the entrance.
“What can I do to enhance the King’s state of happiness?” he finally asked.
The answer came low, almost guttural in its tone. “Nothing!”
“I could find His Majesty a new queen,” Memucan finally offered. “A new Vashti, only more beautiful and far wiser. First we would assemble a new batch of eunuchs, then the finest young virgins from across the land. When Hegai is through cleaning them up and making them presentable, I could bring them one by one to your bedchamber.”
It took some time for the smile to become visible upon Xerxes’ face, but soon he was beaming. And nodding his agreement to the idea most forcefully. This would take the attention away from the whole sorry incident and get his people speculating on who the next Queen of Persia would be.
STREETS OF SUSA—TWO DAYS LATER
The army patrol was upon the boys before they even had a chance to bolt. Even had they been given the opportunity, the knot of Jewish youth would have probably stood their ground, for quite often soldiers turned out to be their childhood friends and the patrols rarely more than a passing spectacle.
But this time, the orderly stomp of formation gave way to the wild clatter of booted steps upon the cobblestones. The soldiers sprinted up to Rachel’s grandson Jesse and his three companions and quickly encircled them with a bristling ring of spearpoints. The blunt end of an unseen spear beside Jesse swiftly knocked him behind the neck, hard, and sent him to the ground like a heavy sack of grain. Five pairs of rough hands reached down and seized him. Jesse shouted loudly and waved his arms like someone possessed of a wild spirit.
He saw only whirling sky and thickly muscled arms and then the sides of an army chariot. The point of a spear, quivering in his face, made the outcome quite clear should he attempt an escape.
His ensuing minutes were a jumble of terror and pain, along with a host of wild, tumbling questions: What have I done wrong? Were we breaking some law? Where are they taking me? Followed by the most mind-numbing, blood-curdling question of all: Are these my last moments on earth?
After an eternity of this torment, he opened his eyes to the towering sight of stone walls on his right. Then came a sharp turn and a high wooden door tilting outward. A gate. He took in a breath, and the realization washed over his senses like a bath of icewater across his limbs.
The Royal Palace.
He was pulled from the chariot floor, and thick hands took his hands and feet. He was indoors now, being pulled through one long hallway, then down stairs. Then darkness. He fell hard.