Upon returning to my room that very first night after the emotional reunion with Mordecai, I began to feel an actual physical ache in my chest, the pain of a heart breaking. One fact made itself immediately clear to me—that the heart in question was not my own. I searched my feelings to try and place the strange emotion. No, the heart I could feel breaking was not Mordecai’s, either.
Then I heard the voice of old Jacob again as he spoke in our home, as clearly as if he had stood there with me in the room.
“I felt like a child so overcome with joy at His return that all I could do was leap as high into His presence as I could.”
And then I realized what I was feeling. It was the same presence Mordecai and I had both experienced so vividly upon Jacob’s departure.
The presence of G-d himself.
The grief of a great Father’s heart, as deep and warm as that of ten thousand earthly fathers and more, all at once poured itself into mine. And a question poured in along with it. It came not as a voice but an unspoken lament. . . .
Why could you not weep for my presence, and rejoice at finding it, the way you weep for Mordecai’s? Like a child rejoining its parent?
The power of this question struck me so forcefully that I felt my knees buckle under me. My eyes, which had dried only a few minutes before since my parting with Mordecai, started to pour tears uncontrollably. Long buried, like my own tears for my parents, my tears for G-d shredded from me like old skin. I could hardly catch my breath; the grief was so fresh that it actually ripped the air from my lungs. I bent over my bed and tried to mask the sobs, not wishing to be mistaken for some homesick girl.
What was this sudden strange attraction for G-d, the same G-d I had avoided, even rejected? Why did I now feel a pull that had eluded me for so long?
Stop. Stop, I pleaded. The broken heart felt as if it was beating wildly inside my own chest. I could feel its power, its agelessness. Yet because it was divine, its sorrow was so much deeper—it coursed through my body like the throb of a bowstring across a violin.
But it was more than emotion—it was a person. The sensation of His nearness and His love for me brought back, for the first time in years, the tangible feel of my mother’s love. Sensations returned full force. The proximity of her cheek. The warmth and softness of her breast against my face. The distinctive smell of her. The velvet cooing of her voice.
I wept for them both, my mother and my Creator. So intense was the grief that it left my chest feeling hollowed into some inner crater—sapping my last ounce of strength yet leaving me to weep on.
But if you’re real, I found myself crying silently to Him, then why? Why did you let these bad things happen to me? Why all the death and loss?
This time the answer came to me.
When those horrible things took place, my heart broke with you. I wept for you as strongly as you weep now.
In the depths of my being, I gradually came to the realization that I had forgiven Him. I understood. The breach of those last few years was gone. But not my tears—I now wept because I knew for certain I had caused the sadness I had felt. My rejection and resentment had broken G-d’s heart as badly as all the tragedies that had ever scarred my life. I resolved there and then to try and atone for the pain I had caused Him with every minute left to me on earth. I was a Jew in spirit now, not just by lineage.
And from that fateful morning on, I found that I could feel His presence more in that pagan, foreign environment than I ever had in the familiar confines of Mordecai’s home. It truly seemed He was flanking my steps, a silent yet wise companion, His Spirit whispering into my innermost being words of instruction and exhortation.
G-d spoke to me about my challenges ahead. The first words of wisdom that came to me had to do with my upcoming night with the King.
It is not about you. It is about the King. Focus on him.
And I resolved, in the months ahead, to do just that.
It must have been a jarring sight for those accustomed to crossing the Palace grounds every day: a crowd of nearly one hundred beautiful young women moving across the terrace, chattering and calling to one another like an oversize flock of geese.
Hegai wore a grim expression and seemed not to notice the clamor behind him as he led us toward a cluster of Palace outbuildings. The loud procession traced its path beneath the shadows of the Inner Court, circled its massive bulk, then left it behind and after nearly half a mile of seemingly aimless wandering, came to a broad, low-slung building ringed by soldiers. We stopped before a pair of solid-brass doors crossed by half a dozen bars and locks. Two soldiers at sentry stepped forward and demanded Hegai’s orders, which he promptly held out for their perusal. One of them read the tablet carefully, then nodded approval to his companion. The men turned back and spent several minutes sliding aside the bars and twisting the locks. Then they leaned into the doors and slowly pushed them open.
At once, the group fell silent.
The open doorway revealed a vast hall shrouded in near darkness—its shadow seeming to yawn heavenward and engulf us with the suddenness of a storm cloud passing over the sun. One guard lit a torch and gave it to Hegai, who carried it into the gloom. And then, like a spark thrown into a gas pit, the room filled with light.
It took us only a second to see the reason. As far as the torch’s glow could reach blazed a glory of reflected gold. I almost put my hands over my eyes—so brightly gleamed the room before me. I squinted, allowed my eyes to focus and still could not find a single object on which to comfortably settle my gaze. The radiance was too stunning to absorb.
The nearest objects to present themselves clearly were glittering tiaras in a row. Behind them stretched a near-forest of hanging strands of necklaces, jewels and trinkets. A commotion immediately began when three girls converged upon the display, clawing at the baubles and one another in a cacophony of shrieks and insults.
“Stop!” Hegai yelled at the top of his lungs—the first time I had ever heard him raise his voice. “This is one of the kingdom’s most important rooms, and you will treat it as such!”
Chastened, the three girls turned around with their arms slack at their sides.
“This is the bounty room,” Hegai continued, his tone stern, “where the Crown stores the plunder of three dozen countries until it is needed for royal use. What you see before you includes the fortune of Babylon, gold from the pharaohs, the wealth of Phoenicia and countries you’ve never even heard of. Today, they all lay at your disposal. What you choose to wear, subject only to the dictates of good taste and beauty, will be yours for the keeping. All you can wear out of this chamber is yours.”
Then the previous roar of female delight erupted again, and I watched the group break up into countless shrieking, grabbing figures. Several more torches were brought in to illuminate the room’s endless reaches as the girls burrowed their way through the rows of piled-up gold jewelry, their voices echoing shrilly across the metal stacks.
I was the last girl to reach the rows. Not only did the girls’ behavior disgust me, but I felt at a loss the moment my gaze fell upon the stolen riches of so many conquered nations—no doubt including my own. I walked through the aisles and let my eyes drift across the staggering array of wealth; unlike the others, I felt empty and aimless. From the sounds of gaiety around me, the candidates were finding plenty of trinkets and jewelry, but I saw only gaudy relics. How in the world did they know what to choose? How did they have the least idea what would appeal to Xerxes?
I heard steps behind me and turned to Hegai, who was standing close with a concerned look. “Is everything all right, Star?” he asked.
“Oh certainly, Hegai. I’m just a little overwhelmed, is all.”
“I’m watching you, and awe is not what I see in your eyes. Please. Tell me. You haven’t selected a single thing. If you do not hurry, all the best pieces will be gone. Despite the amount of spoils here, only a finite number are actually wearable by a young woman.”
I took a deep breath and decided to tell him the truth. “Hegai, my problem is this—I can pick out a hundred objects that might have some appeal to me, but what does the King like? What does he prefer? I won’t feel capable of truly pleasing him on that night until I know more about him.”
Hegai did not answer. He simply stood there unmoving, the faintest hint of a smile upon his lips, his head shaking slightly. I was becoming concerned, thinking I had violated some unknown protocol. Why does he not reply, I asked myself frantically. Finally I spoke up.
“Master Hegai, did I offend you in some way?”
At my words he shook his head more vigorously and began to laugh. “No, no, Star. Far from it. You see, this is the first time a girl, or anyone in the harem for that matter, has ever asked me that simple question. Can you believe it?”
“No. It seems like the first question one would ask.”
“Indeed it does, my dear. However, this place does not lend itself to focusing on others, as I’m sure you have noticed by now.”
“Well, will you teach me? Or at least give me some idea? I really want to know.”
“Yes, Star. I will teach you. And I’ll do more than that. You’ve just solidified your position as my favored candidate. Prepare to move out of your present quarters. I am giving you the double suite and seven handmaidens to serve you, as befits the leading candidate. Your conduct will serve as an example for the other girls, and I will repeatedly exhort them to follow your lead. I’m sure you are equal to the task, are you not, Star?”
Now came my turn to stand and dumbly nod my head yes. I had anticipated being answered with a few sentences of instruction, nothing more. A rumor had circulated at lunch that one of the girls could be chosen as a favorite over time. I had not given it further thought.
But Hegai was not finished. He abruptly grasped my hand and pulled me back into the stacks of jewelry. “I know just the piece for you, dear Star.” For a moment, hearing his voice like that, I flashed back to Rachel sifting through her bag of disguises for my first stolen trip out of the house. My eyes misted over at the thought—until Hegai’s own rummaging brought me back to the present. He stood up with a triumphant look. “Aha!” He reached over and placed a small metal object on my palm.
“Don’t look at it until we leave,” he said with a conspirator’s smile.
And I did not. I kept my fingers tightly wrapped around the piece until the treasure hunt had ended and I had filed out of the building with the other girls. Nearly a dozen of my peers, seemingly every inch of their bare skin encircled by bracelets and hung with jewels, turned to me with perplexed looks. “Why, Star, you didn’t get anything!” one of them nearly yelled at me. “Are you stupid?”
I only smiled, and then, when we had left the building’s shadow, I allowed my clenched hand to open.
I gasped.
My hand had seemed to report a familiar shape, but I had not dared to believe it. Yet there it was—a Shield of David, six-pointed star, with a precious stone shining from its center.
It was a near replica of the one given me by my father—my one link to the past—which I had been compelled to tearfully leave behind on the morning of my departure for the Palace.
I could almost feel G-d standing just behind me, a smile playing upon His face as He rejoiced at the chance to allow me this unexpected gift. As I had so often recently, I wept silently, grateful for the rich sensation of His presence. Quietly, I averted my face from the others and whispered a humble prayer of thanks.