The grand room and its hundreds of hushed occupants seemed to swirl around a central figure. There, at the very core of my vision, stood Xerxes upon a dais much like the one I had seen at the banquet. He was watching me intently, and his smile seemed only for me. Even much of the entourage behind him was the same as the previous event—the Seven Princes, the man who had rushed out at the banquet’s end, and then someone I did not recognize. An older woman scowling in my direction. The mother of the King, I instantly presumed.
I stepped up my pace along the narrowing path through hundreds of new spectators. With every successive step I took, Xerxes stepped another toward me, so that by the time I had covered half the distance to the platform, he was standing at its base with his hand held out.
He looked magnificent. A gold breastplate covered his torso and was etched with layer upon layer of fine engravings. A silk cape flowed behind him. Again—you will not be surprised—gold shone from his every extremity.
And then I was there, within just two arms’ length of him. Everything else fell away—the presence of the thousands around us, the splendor of our surroundings, the grandness of the occasion. All that existed were his eyes, which bore into mine with a fire that seemed to warm every inch of my body. Despite my wish to maintain a regal expression, I could not help but shyly smile again at the sight of him.
I tried to kneel, but he took my hand and raised me up at once. He spoke in a low, intimate voice, as though all the others did not exist.
“Welcome, Star of Susa.”
I could not hold back my smile. My delight seemed about to burst my heart. “My greetings to you, your Majesty King Xerxes.”
Then my own joy seemed to superimpose itself onto his face, for his lips widened into a smile that seemed almost unkingly, nearly too joyous for the formal atmosphere.
He turned aside and held out his hand to the crowd. A stooped, white-bearded man stood, his back bent seemingly from the weight of an object he held in both hands. The old man—a priest of some sort, I presumed—strained to extend the object into Xerxes’ grip.
I recognized what it was, as anyone would. But my mind refused to acknowledge its meaning, however unmistakable. Back and forth I vacillated between the import of this object and my mind’s more fearful scenarios. Now the evidence of my own eyes was overwhelming.
Encrusted with more gems and diamonds than I had ever seen on something so compact, its circular shape was, of course, solid gold. It was actually hard to look at for a variety of reasons—first, because of all its gleam, even there in the shadows. Second, because of its breathtaking extravagance.
And third, the most momentous—the implied meaning of a crown.
Xerxes turned to me with the diadem held before him. He glanced down at its jeweled tips, then at me.
“Star of Susa, I choose you to be my consort, my wife, my queen.”
A deafening cheer filled the room, and both of our smiles stretched even wider.
I felt a barrier give way within me—all the anxiety and pressure and grief of the last year drained away, while a flood of pure gratitude poured down from somewhere above me and filled my heart to bursting. I lowered my eyes and shut them against the tears already welling inside.
It is over. It is over, and G-d has truly been with me, guiding my ways. He has blessed my efforts.
“I call you Esther, ‘E-star,’ the beautiful Star, the Queen of Persia,” Xerxes continued, “mistress of all the land that lies between the Nile and the Indus and all who reside therein. Let all who live beneath my rule hold you dear in their hearts as their beloved sovereign. Let every Persian revere you as the embodiment of all that is lovely and tender. Star, I today name you Esther. Receive your crown.”
Upon hearing my new name, I once again felt that a gift had just been delivered straight from G-d. Esther means star. He had thought this through, remembered my name and given me a most fitting new name. The simple thoughtfulness of it, from someone like Xerxes, suddenly made me want to weep.
I knelt then and bent my head toward him. The crown was settled upon my head more heavily than I had dreamed. I thanked G-d for all the training I had received, suddenly aware that unless I wore it with unusual care and grace, it would surely fall with a mortifying thud. And then it occurred to me that the need for caution was symbolic as well as physical. The heaviest burden I would ever shoulder had just been laid upon me.
But I stood, more carefully than I ever had before, and took his hand in mine. He suddenly held both hands high above us. I caught the edge of the crown, afraid it would slip, as he stepped forward to face the crowd and shouted, “Persians, your queen!”
And with a loud rustle of fabric and shuffling of feet, the entire assembly fell into a vast communal kneel. Sound died away and left me beside him staring at a sea of varicolored backs, with only the echo of their motion to fill our ears.
Xerxes waved them up again with a magnanimous sweep of his hand, and the crowd began to stand again.
“I declare a national holiday! Let there be joy and feasting throughout the kingdom—for I, your king, declare it!” The crowd cheered.
I turned to face Xerxes. Once again, he and I were the only persons in the room. The illusion was just as quickly dispelled, for all at once he held up both of his magnificent arms and shouted, “Let the celebration begin!” Another cheer erupted, and then a wondrous series of seemingly well-planned movements swept into action around me. The crowd parted as if on cue around a column of servants carrying tables of steaming food. Another line moved quickly into their midst with great golden vats of wine. Yet a third danced in, playing lyres and harps and flutes, filling the room with melodies and songs that sent a thrill quivering through my core.
In less than a few moments of furious motion, the solemn assembly had been transformed into a lively banquet hall.
And now I was walking up the steps where once I had stood at the bottom and quaked, holding the hand of—was it true?—my husband. The phrase whirled through my whole being with its intensity and joy.
We reached the top of the steps, and he looked at me for a long moment, leaned over and kissed me for the second time. His lips felt strong and smooth. Again the hall rang out with thousands of hurrahs. He turned toward my left ear and whispered, “I am sorry for such a surprise, my dear. In order to protect your life, I had to keep my decision secret. There are some at court for whom your selection is not welcome news. But come, my dear. Let us quit this place and speak no more of such things. There will be banquets and briefings aplenty for the next few days.”
And so, while the celebrants ate and drank and danced, Xerxes and I and the assembled courtiers slipped away through a back entrance. The largest litter I had yet seen carried us across the courtyards and through the royal gates into the King’s chambers.
And yes, even now I do not tire of telling you about the size and beauty of all that surrounded us, or the splendor of the Palace, or the grandiosity of the moment. At the risk of being overbearing, can I just tell you that everywhere I looked, my eye was assaulted with the magnitude of it all, that once again my capacity for awe was pummeled at every turn by the sheer weight of extravagance around me?
Anyway, none of it truly mattered to me. More than ever before, the world consisted of me and the King. The closer we came to his bedchamber, the smaller the world became—until it had shrunk down to little more than the space between our lips. The moment our litter nudged the landing of the Palace entrance, the King was on his feet. He turned to me and swept me up into his arms. Xerxes nearly sprinted through the short hallway into his bedchamber, calling good-humored condemnations of death along the way to any functionary who dared intrude.
I was still held closely in his arms when we entered the room. He used his back to push the giant door shut. Then, as soon as the great clang of its closing stopped echoing, he looked at me with deep longing and, yes, love. His next kiss was both intimate and powerful. I was shaken to the core of my being. Next, he laid me on the bed, and I can tell you no more.
As a candidate yourself, if you do not know the rudiments of physical love, I will not spoil your surprise—or your shock, as the case may be. Your preparations will inform you on that matter easily and thoroughly enough. But more than likely, you already know more than I did—as today’s generation is so much more aware than mine.
Suffice it to say that our mutual hunger raged unchecked—at no time did I even think of demurring or becoming submissive, for my desire for him was genuine. I had fallen in love with him. I had seen past his outer facade at some hour of that previous night’s unconsummated love, and now I had reached his heart. I knew the cause for my previous despondency. It wasn’t about winning a contest. I simply loved the King.
Given the ceremony that had just ended and his bold and public declaration of love for me, the intimacy was far more than simply physical.
In fact, what followed that time of glorious passion was not more lovemaking but another long night of soul-baring conversation. To my amazement, Xerxes even sought my naïve advice on kingdom affairs during those precious moments, and he remarked on my insight when my suggestions found his favor.
It was then that I began to feel like a queen—the wife of a King.