The soldiers led me up the hill and through the Palace’s front portico. I thought of the euphoria with which I had entered only days before, seemingly safe in my pathetic disguise with my protector Mordecai by my side. The Palace had then seemed the most awesome and wondrous place I had ever imagined. Now, knowing what had happened to Jesse, the place loomed as a fate worse than death. A chamber of horrors and of unknown, unspeakable outcomes.
The soldiers turned left just inside the portico and walked me beside the lovely reflecting pools I had once admired. We turned away from the great buildings I had visited for the banquet, that cataclysmic event that seemed to be changing everything, and walked for some distance toward a tree-shrouded enclosure of graceful, low-slung structures.
Upon reaching the compound’s front doorstep, the soldiers paused. A heavy wooden door swung open and a well-clad, richly muscled man appeared.
“Already?” he said. “The voluntary ones have not even started to come in.”
The King’s agent laughed derisively. “We’ve heard rumors for years that the most beautiful girl in the Empire lived right under our noses, in the Hebrew quarter,” he replied. “And look at her. How could you see that and not see a Candidate for Queen?”
“I understand,” said the man in the door in a low voice. “All right, you can go now. I’ll take her from here.”
The hands that had gripped my arms for what seemed like forever now released me in less than a heartbeat. I almost fell to the ground, so accustomed I already had become to their painful grasp.
But now I felt other hands bear me up—softer, gentler. I looked up into the eyes of the man from the door. He was older, probably in his fifth decade, and though his face bore the distant expression of a world-weary citizen, I saw also a warmth, almost indiscernible in its source, radiating from him. His skin and expression seemed oddly feminine. And then it struck me. Is he a . . . ? And then thoughts of Jesse and fears for him flooded my mind. I let out a small whimper and swayed a bit.
“Here, little one,” the man said, steadying me with a firm grip. “It’s all right. I know the whole thing is very frightening. But I promise you’ll be fine.”
He guided me inside to a dark and cool interior room, an antechamber of sorts, lined with thick velvet pillows. “Believe me,” he continued, “the method was not of my choosing. But this kind of edict puts everyone on edge, especially soldiers. Everyone is so anxious to advance. Here, you’re so shaken up, let’s take you straight to your room. What is your name, my dear?”
“Ha—“ I started, intending to give my full name, but I then realized that its Jewishness might give me away. So instead I stammered, grasping for a name. The first thought that occupied the vacuum in my mind came with overwhelming emotions. “Star,” I said weakly, recalling the beloved necklace given to me as a child. “My name is Star.”
“That is a lovely name,” he said in a soothing tone. “Star, my name is Hegai. I am His Majesty’s royal eunuch. The King’s Chamberlain, I am also called. And don’t you worry, little one. I will make sure you are pampered beyond your imagination.”
Through a thick gauze of shock, I remember thinking that what he described sounded inviting. But I was incapable of response. All I knew was that I was being led down a marble hallway, then turned into a high-ceilinged bedroom floored with real stone and lit by a large window open to the courtyard.
“Here. Now you rest,” the man invited.
I lay down on a bed, a low platform softened with layers of sheep’s wool, pulled a thin blanket of surprisingly soft material over myself and quietly cried myself to sleep. I dozed fitfully as bizarre scenarios careened over each other in my mind. The fact that I was sleeping on the Palace grounds seemed like but one of my delirium’s fantastic inventions. I awoke a few times to the sound of movement in the hallway outside; twice I heard girls whimpering followed by the voice of our host, comforting them as he had me.
I awoke, opened my eyes and almost rolled from my bed in combined shock and confusion. For nearly all of my life, I had slept and awakened in the very same bed in the very same room. Now, blinking open to the sight of a strange wall, a strange ceiling, a strange light, I bolted upward while my breath shuddered in gasps.
Slowly, my panic subsided and the realization of where I was began to seep into my consciousness. I recalled traumatic snatches of my capture: the world reeling around me, the soldiers’ hands reaching for me, Mordecai’s pleading voice, the looming shape of the Palace gates as they swayed into sight.
The room was filled with that half-light that is difficult to distinguish between evening and morning. I stood on the tips of my toes and craned my neck to see over the edge of the high window. The landscape before me shone in the sunlight. I had slept a few hours. The back of a flowering cherry tree partly obscured my view of the marble terrace, the pool at its far edge, and the hulking shapes of the Palace’s great halls crowding the horizon. I could sneak out came my first thought, until I pondered further and realized that every gate in the forbidding outer wall was under heavy guard. I ruefully considered how I had always thought of the Palace guard as keeping intruders out—not keeping terrified occupants in.
Am I a prisoner? came the lingering question. I didn’t exactly feel like one; the room certainly did not seem like a cell. And yet I definitely was here against my will. Maybe the next hour or two would tell.
I turned back to the room, aware that sleep was over for now. Walking to the entrance, I tried the handle of the door and pushed it open silently. The hallway was spacious and cool with that airiness unique to stone spaces. I tiptoed out to an open-air courtyard filled with small trees and an enclosed smaller pool. The place’s stillness and elegant beauty at this hour took my breath away. The golden light was kissing the walls’ pale olive and the water’s cool blue depths with all the richness of a painting. I had never seen such a serene and beautiful sight. Circling the pool, I came to a large open room filled with couches and tables. Empty, overturned wine goblets and rhytons were strewn across the furniture and floor. I turned away and returned to my room.
And then I remembered Mordecai’s final words. Meet me at the East Gate! And I knew what I had to do next.