You might assume the amorous king of a vast empire could indulge in a lengthy and extravagant wedding celebration, maybe even for several weeks. Yet despite his great love for me, such was not the case with Xerxes of Persia and his new bride. We had our nights together, but days were spent maddeningly in feverish preparations for war. I bit my tongue and focused on making those evenings together all that they could be. But the lack of time together during daylight hours began to frustrate me immediately.
I did take the occasion to rescind the Queen’s tax, a widely resented levy that forced citizens to pay for the extravagances of the Queen’s lifestyle. Memucan hailed the move as a stroke of genius, as it instantly made me the most popular Queen in Persian history. Favor seemed to follow me in those days.
However, despite my seemingly charmed life, it took a near-eternity to see Mordecai again. Once more, the handmaidens came to my rescue. Most of them had seen me slip out nearly every day of my preparatory year, and when they had asked me, I had told them the truth. After all, it was no great embarrassment that my father worked on the Palace grounds and met me in secret. So Roshana slipped away to the King’s Gate, found Mordecai and delivered my instructions. Another of my girls went out to each of the four watchtowers and delivered the Queen’s order, beneath my seal, that one Mordecai the scribe be accorded full access privileges into any royal space he wished to enter.
The next evening, while Xerxes attended a war meeting with his generals, I followed two of the girls through a back door in my quarters, walked through a dizzying series of back corridors and came out of the royal residence through a servants’ entrance.
I barely had time to make out a figure in the shadows before he was there, embracing me. The handmaidens, already highly nervous from having led me out without protection, stiffened and nearly screamed in fright.
“This is he,” I quickly called to them. “He’s my father!”
They shrank back, and I continued to sway in his arms. Yes, my tears made a return appearance, as did his. He kept up a muttered monologue as we kept bending together, neither one willing to break free. “My dear, my little one,” he repeated. “Can you believe it? Can you? You are Queen!” I felt like I was holding a ghost, for the first part of my life now seemed like some faraway dream, an ethereal reverie that had taken place in someone else’s lifetime.
I was still unwilling to let him go, so I began to whisper through my sobs into his ear, “I need you, Poppa. I need you more than ever! I need your counsel, your wisdom. I need you! I miss you!”
Finally he pulled back, his eyes bright with a remembered question. “Have you told them, Hadassah? Have you told even the King of your—secret?”
I hurriedly waved my companions farther away and leaned into his face. “No, I haven’t! But if you continue to call me Hadassah and ask about my secret in front of my servants, it will not matter!”
He winced at his thoughtlessness and frowned. “I am sorry, dear Esther. I forgot about them and your new name.”
“I told Hegai only because he realized that I had invented a name. And even then, I swore him to silence. Yet I do not see why I should not reveal it now. I am married to the most powerful man in the world, if you can believe it. Surely I am now safe from those who killed our families, am I not?”
“No,” he hissed in agitation, “you are not! In fact, in some ways you are more in danger than ever. You must never, ever tell.”
“Have you seen the number of guard towers you just walked through?” I exclaimed. “Do you know how carefully I had to plan just to have you admitted through all of them without endangering your head? Have you seen the thousands, yes thousands, of guards who guard my husband’s every move? And now mine?”
I believe my angst was tinged with some desire to have Mordecai appreciate the height of my ascension. I regretted my petulance immediately when I suddenly remembered that fleeting glimpse of the twisted cross on the back of that sentry guarding Xerxes and me from the coronation crowd—not a handful of steps away from me.
I quickly dismissed the idea of telling Mordecai, knowing it would only heighten his worries. And at that moment I did not want to argue with him about his perennial anxieties. I just wanted to be with him, to somehow bridge the gap between my dizzying new existence and my placid, solitary life of old.
“Look, Poppa,” I continued. “Don’t you want to come into the Palace? I can have you named to any post you wish. I can gain you access anywhere you want.”
“I am sure you can, my dear. But someone would learn our secret. Let me just continue in my current work and keep the safe life I know.”
“But don’t you understand? You can live at the height of luxury. You’re the father of the Queen! Can’t my victory have any impact on you? Come, please! Don’t deprive me of my chance to make this a good fortune for all of us!”
“My favor must be earned,” he replied, “just as yours was.” He touched me lightly on the top of both arms. “You can make the most of this good fortune by being a beloved Queen—by extending your influence. As for us, I have spoken with Jesse. Now that you’ve been chosen, he has been rewarded for helping catch Misgath by being named to Memucan’s private staff. He can run errands out to the Gate and carry messages between us.”
“And is that it? After growing up in your house, calling you my father for as long as I can remember—I never see you again? We never speak again except through messages from a courier?”
“No. No,” he quickly assured me. “We can arrange meetings like this again. But they cannot be too frequent or word will get out. This night was dangerous enough.”
I looked down, unwilling to face him. “All right. But I never thought it would end up this way. I thought I was fighting for both of us. I never . . .” My voice trailed off into a stifled sob.
“You are fighting for us, my dear. You are. But G-d has a different way than we’d anticipated. A different path, that’s all. Trust Him.”
“I’m trying my best, Poppa. I really am.”
G-d did not take long in showing both of us that Mordecai had urged me onto the right path. Less than a month later, in his normal position as a scribe at the King’s Gate, he sat praying for me, as he usually did throughout the day. Evidently the two royal guards standing above him thought he was napping, for they launched into a conversation that soon caused Mordecai to stop praying—but keep his eyes very much closed.
“You’re going to have to do it,” said the first, in a low, raspy voice. “Xerxes is getting ready to leave for war tomorrow, and he decided at the last moment to bring our commander with him. So I have to know. Are you ready to take him?”
“I’m ready to take him into the next life with me,” said the other, a younger-sounding man. “I hate him. I hate these people and all their grand pretensions. I’m ready to help take over and to cut a few necks.”
“Are you truly ready to die in the process? It may take some time for the boss to take over the Palace after you do it.”
“I am ready to die, my captain. If only I have the chance to spit in that fool’s eye before I give his severed head a good swift kick.”
“Good. Tonight, at the stroke of seven, just after his dinner with the new Queen.”
“I’ll have my blade sharpened.”
Although the men must have separated and left within moments, Mordecai did not know that—and he was too frightened to open his eyes for a look around. So for several long moments he sat as still as a stone, listening to the sounds around him for any signs of their continued presence. Finally he pretended to let his head fall sideways, and he parted his eyelashes ever so slightly. They had indeed gone.
In case they were watching him from the crowd, he feigned nonchalance when he stood and yawned. Nevertheless he made his way through the Gate and swiftly onto the Palace grounds.
I received word only a few moments later. A guard entered the room where I was receiving a welcome massage from one of my handmaidens and slipped another of the attendants a tiny note. She brought it to me. It read, “Mordecai of Susa wishes an audience with your Highness at your earliest convenience, in the Outer Court.”
I immediately bolted upright, stunning the messenger in the process, pulled on the nearest robe at hand and made haste for the Outer Court. I knew Mordecai would never have initiated a midday meeting unless it was an emergency of the highest order.
When I found him, Mordecai’s skin was the color of an overcast sky—white with a strong tinge of gray. I wanted to sit him down and feed him a good soup as badly as to hear what had brought him there. Unfortunately, Mordecai gave me no such choice. He immediately grabbed my forearms and began to pull me toward him. He spoke quickly, then caught sight of the two guards purposefully approaching him.
“Hada—your Highness, these guards must leave us,” he whispered.
“Nonsense,” I replied. “They are part of my personal retinue. They are trustworthy upon pain of death.”
Mordecai’s face tightened and he whispered, “I mean it, your Highness. Absolutely no one else can hear my message for you. No one is safe.”
Mistakenly assuming that his only objection centered on the tired old ethnic secrecy issue, I began to argue. These guards did not care whether I was Jewish, Persian or a citizen of the moon. They were reliable. Besides, I was Queen of Persia, regardless of anyone’s prejudice.
But Mordecai held his ground. Speaking through gritted teeth, he muttered, “When I am finished you will see the necessity for my demands, your Highness.”
So finally, with a heavy sigh, I dismissed the guards to just inside the door. They hesitated, wishing instead to form an outdoor perimeter for my protection, but finally relented.
Mordecai was only halfway through his account when I started to feel like the ultimate fool. Without taking my eyes off of Mordecai, I called out loudly for my senior guard. “Artechim, get me Memucan.”
“Your Highness?”
“Get me Memucan. Now. As fast as you can run.”