Apparently the soldier in question was familiar with the influence and autonomy that Jews enjoyed in Susa, for he nodded, shrugged and returned to his post, harassing Mordecai no longer. He did not even stir the next day when Mordecai repeated his defiance, or the day after, or the day after that when my poppa’s back remained unbent and it seemed the passing Haman would burst a blood vessel from apoplexy.
On the fourth day, the scribe who had overheard Mordecai’s startling admission was mysteriously called in for a day’s work with the King’s Master of the Audiences. Once alone with the man, Haman wasted no time in inquiring why his neighbor was showing such disrespect. He asked the question almost mournfully, as though he felt nothing more than a vague disquiet at this strange scribe’s behavior.
At first, the scribe resisted. After all, he was not eager to bring about his old colleague’s demise. They had become good friends over the years. But sensing his prey’s reluctance, Haman resorted to threats. “Perhaps we did not see correctly. Perhaps it was you, sitting so close to this man, who refused to show me the proper respect.”
The colleague sighed, then began to speak. He restated his conversation with Mordecai and told Haman the surprising disclosure that his old friend was actually a Jew, though Mordecai attempted to keep this a secret.
Haman smiled and inhaled, deep and long. He leaned back on his couch and sighed.
Finally, one of the Susa Jews—in person.
Perfect.
He knew better than to mar his first week in his new position with the indiscriminate killing of a Palace scribe, so he merely reached out and clenched his fist in the air. There would be time enough—soon.
Mordecai’s friend left the encounter shaken to the core of his being.
On the terrace of his palatial villa, Haman nodded to one of his men for the plot to begin. His henchman had ushered in a soothsayer, who pulled two handfuls of small clay cubes from a bag, separated them on the tabletop with deft stabbing motions and dropped the respective piles into two thin-necked urns. He looked at Haman and nodded. The casting of the pur, the lots, was set to begin.
He shook the first urn, tossed a half-dozen cubes down upon the wood and looked up at Haman. He had his first result.
“The pur show the month of Adar.”
He picked up the second urn and repeated the process.
“The thirteenth day.”
Haman was at first a little disappointed that it would be several months away; then he decided it would give time for his plan to reach every province and time to prepare every detail.
Finally Haman smiled. “Just so! The thirteenth of Adar is the beginning of the Persians’ feast of the goddess Anahita. There’ll be drinking and revelry . . . topped off with a little slaughter and plunder, courtesy of the King.”
It must have taken enormous effort for Haman to appear hurt, incensed and concerned before Xerxes later that afternoon. Inwardly, he no doubt felt buoyed by a sense of relentless destiny, of staggering opportunity. Finally his time had come. Not just as a man, as an official of the Empire, but in a role that stretched back centuries—as a son of Amalek, a descendant of Agag.
Finally he had both the influence and the pretext with which to exterminate the Jews. He could have wept with humble gratitude, wishing his father could have been there to see him—and more importantly, there to see the stacks of Hebrew corpses that would soon line ditches and alleyways the world over. He breathed deeply to hold in his emotions, remembering all the generations of Amalekites who had lived and died in exile because of the Israelites and their hateful G-d. He would soon avenge them. When Xerxes remembered the meeting later, he concluded that Haman would have been nearly overwhelmed with the potential for revenge.
But Haman obviously swallowed all these feelings in favor of a mask of simmering rage and victimhood as he approached Xerxes’ side that day. Never one to ignore a courtier’s emotions, the King looked up from a parchment he was reading and asked, “What is the matter, my new Master of the Audiences?”
“Sir, I am naught but your servant; you know it no less than I.”
“Oh, not so sour, Haman. It is but a jest. Now tell me what troubles you before I grow angry.”
“Your Majesty, I have just encountered one of the gravest threats to your reign and to this Empire that you will ever imagine.”
All the mirth drained instantly from Xerxes’ face. A threat to his reign was always something to be heeded. His gaze now bore into Haman’s face with an almost visible force.
Haman took a deep breath, as though he were too deliberate a man to launch into such a painful subject without enormous reluctance. “I am speaking of the Jewish people. I’ve become aware that during your absence, they have been fomenting a massive coordinated conspiracy against your Majesty’s rule. In the last few hours alone, your Majesty, evidence has come to light that Hebrew killers were responsible for the murder of Memucan. I have sworn witnesses in my custody right now—two experienced Palace guards who detained three men leaving the area of Memucan’s quarters quite late on the night in question. Both men independently swear that the trespassers were clearly Jewish in ethnic origin.”
“Did they arrest the intruders?”
“Sadly they did not, your Majesty, and for that oversight they will be punished. But please remember, sir, that they had no idea what had just taken place inside Memucan’s quarters. Besides—the Jews had Palace passes, maybe forged or even stolen—which allowed them access, even if the hour seemed suspicious.”
“This is most distressing,” Xerxes whispered.
“Most regretfully, your Majesty, that is far from all. Jewish insolence against your authority has become an open practice, even within the Palace itself. Today I passed a Palace scribe, a Jew who tells everyone who will listen that he bows only before his god. He was resisting obeisance to me at the time, but he could have just as easily been speaking of your Majesty or any authority outside of his cult. He openly flaunts his refusal to stand at my passage, despite your Majesty’s clear instructions.”
“Is this man in custody?”
“No, sir. I did not want to tip off the conspirators that we are aware of them. But think of it, your Majesty. Open rebellion, starting within the walls of your very own palace!”
“What a betrayal,” Xerxes said, shaking his head. “I’ve known and worked with Jews all my life. My own grandfather allowed many of them to return to Israel and rebuild their temple!”
“Exactly! And how do they repay the Crown’s generosity? With plots and treachery! You see, sir, it is nearly impossible to know just what these people believe without firsthand knowledge. And as a former inhabitant of this area of Mesopotamia, I am intimately aware of their twisted beliefs. They recognize no authority but their own bloodthirsty god. They will work insidiously to undermine any leadership aside from their bizarre priests. They are a rotten plague in the kingdom, relentlessly eating away at its strength, eroding everything you love and that loves you.”
“I have simply never heard this before,” Xerxes insisted.
“As I said, your Majesty, they specialize in covering their shrewd designs. It is one of their greatest strengths—their ability to completely mask their evil.”
“Haman, all my life I have known them as a weakened people. They were brought to Babylon as slaves. They have little organized leadership. They barely have control of their own capital city. Jerusalem, I believe it is called. They don’t immediately strike one as a potent threat.”
“Yet wherever they’re allowed to breed and settle, they grow stronger. And whenever they reach sufficient numbers, they always seize the reins of power. No treachery is too low, too revolting.”
“How did you become such an expert?” the King asked.
Haman paused, and his eyes seemed to fill with tears. “Your Majesty, could I tell you the story of how they exterminated all but a handful of my people?”
Startled, the King said, “Of course. Tell me all of it.”
“Well, my ancestors, the Amalekites, tried to make peace with the Jews for centuries. When they first emerged from Egypt, their own women and children starving and emaciated, we offered them food and shelter. They repaid us by stealing our crops and burning three of our villages. Then they settled in our prime farming areas and simply began to take our lands by force. Still, we sought to coexist in harmony. But once their population grew large enough, they chose a king and began to make war against us in earnest. They systematically slaughtered men, women, children, even our livestock, by the thousands. They killed all but a tiny remnant of helpless Amalekites, my own people, my heritage, deliberately trying to wipe us from the face of the earth. And they robed it all in religious excuses. It’s a matter of historical record, your Majesty. I encourage you to have your scholars research it themselves in the royal library.”
The King shook his head, consumed by dark thoughts. At long last, he looked up. “So what do you propose I do? Eradicate them? They are not only numerous in Susa but all across the Empire. They are well-respected merchants and—”
“I know, sir. That is part of their plan. To fit into the Persian population and disperse evenly across your districts, waiting for the signal to strike. But they are so relentless, so unceasing in their vile efforts, that the only way to save your kingdom is to make an example of them. Kill them all.”
“All? You must be joking. Our citizens would never understand.”
“Leave even a remnant, and it will redouble its struggle to destroy you.” Haman allowed a thoughtful pause to settle over the exchange. Then he pounced. “And, my King, I have something else to make your decision easier.” He took another of his ponderous breaths. “As it is no secret that my people have an ancient stake in seeing these vermin wiped from this earth, I will pay into the treasury ten thousand talents of silver upon the issuance of a royal edict authorizing their liquidation.”
“That is a most generous offer, my friend,” Xerxes replied thoughtfully. “And yet, such a rash action. I just returned from a disappointing war. I have hardly the goodwill or the pretext to deploy my troops across the realm to kill a civilian population.”
“You are king, sir. You do not need a pretext, especially where national security is in the balance. The Hebrew threat is its own justification. And yet—do not send your troops. There is a simmering jealousy toward Jews among your loyal citizens. Simply give them the authorization to kill all the Jews in their midst and take their possessions for themselves. Many Jews are quite prosperous, you know. And remember that my contribution alone will restore health to the royal treasury.”
Haman smiled his best compliant grin at those words, for he was already planning in secret for his henchmen to plunder the wealthiest Jews upon the chosen day—amply reimbursing him for the outlay of blood money he had just offered the King.
Xerxes fell into a long, meditative pause. Having been in his post only a short time, Haman was not supposed to know about the treasury’s plight. Yet the King overlooked the unauthorized knowledge as just another fact of Palace life and considered the plan with a slow nodding of his head. The last thing he needed now was a rebellion at home after such a costly and embarrassing defeat abroad. Yes, he thought with a clench of his jaw, he must appear strong now. Or others would arise to exploit his weakness—others who were already watching for the least sign of encouragement.
“That is a most helpful idea, my friend,” he said at last. “You have clearly given this a great deal of thought. This Jewish scribe, by the way—he must have truly stirred your ire.”
“Clearly he did, sir. Every person at the King’s Gate, hundreds of your Majesty’s most faithful subjects, bowed to me in respect. Not respect for me, mind you, but by extension for the Crown and for your Majesty. This man’s rigid back made him stand out like a torch at midnight. Every eye turned from the King’s chief servant—me—and was drawn to this seditious display. It was a powerful gesture of rebellion against you and your stated authority, your Majesty. And it may have been a public sign of what has been brewing in private.”
Xerxes’ face went grim and tense. “That will not do, Haman. You are right. I saw your quick eye on the battlefield, my friend. You saw enemies coming before others did. I value that talent most highly.” The King reached one hand over the other and yanked off his jeweled royal ring. He held it out to Haman. “Here. Use my signet ring to make this into law. The Jews are yours to do your bidding. But remember, my friend”—and at this, Xerxes grabbed Haman’s wrist and fixed him with a piercing gaze—“once that signet ring stamps the wax, it is done. The law decrees that it cannot be changed. So do it right the first time.”
My husband recounted to me this whole conversation in vivid detail when later he discovered how he had been manipulated. I don’t mind telling you he was both extremely angry and mortified to have been deceived by someone he trusted. But I am getting ahead of my story.
As occurred whenever an urgent proclamation was to be dispersed across the kingdom, the Master of the Audiences summoned every Palace scribe into his presence for dictation. Mordecai, as an experienced member, usually was situated in the very front row. But seeing who was in charge of the meeting, he chose a seat farther back.
Without greeting or preliminaries of any sort, Haman began to elaborate on their assignment.
“On the thirteenth day of the month of Adar, all citizens of Persia are exhorted by His Majesty King Xerxes to destroy, to kill, to annihilate every person of Jewish blood, whether man, woman or child. On top of that, the populace is fully authorized to plunder these dead traitors’ possessions. Signed into royal law on this day.”
Now, you must understand—Mordecai was already most agitated at being in such close proximity to the man who had murdered his family. He was using every ounce of self-restraint and natural common sense to keep his mouth shut. But when he heard these words, his lungs nearly emptied of air. The vessels of his brain seemed to void themselves of blood. He fought to keep himself upright. While his head swam, he managed to still its motion by thinking of his family and allowed the rage to keep him conscious.
“Does this edict actually come from the King? Does it bear his royal signet?” asked a brave scribe.
Maybe, just maybe, this evil man is acting without approval, thought Mordecai.
“No,” Haman said flippantly. And for just a moment, Mordecai’s heart again soared with sudden hope.
Then Haman held up his hand with a faint smile, allowing the King’s ring to glitter in the light. He slammed the jewel and its seal down upon the questioner’s parchment, indenting the royal seal across the document.
“Now it does.” He stared straight at Mordecai for a long moment.
That next dawn, the King’s Gate shook with a sound like an onrushing tornado, rousing me from my sleep. A moment later, the cause of the awesome sound materialized: it was the thundering hooves of 127 of the Empire’s fleetest mounts, each one bearing a royal courier and storming through the portal in a cyclone of dust and noise. I watched from a small Palace balcony, awakened by the noise but as yet unaware that each rider carried, in a leather pouch upon his back, sealed with the King’s signet, a copy of the edict authorizing the extermination of my people. As I learned later, much too late, each horse and messenger would scatter to each of Persia’s 127 provinces in twenty-three nations, delivering their tidings of death to each of the provincial governors in person.
Haman had wasted no time.
I also did not know that Mordecai, who had personally prepared twelve copies in the last twenty-four hours, himself stood at the King’s Gate during that evil moment and watched the dark shape of the convoy recede from sight while he swayed from sheer grief in the retreating daylight. He reached up to his brow, wiped it clean of a sweat that bore no relation to the weather and fought to keep his balance.
Mordecai had been so proud of being a royal scribe. All over Susa, Jews accorded him great respect, despite his lack of involvement in their community, because of his work and the status it afforded him.
Now he wanted to vomit, thinking of what he had just helped to expedite. And even worse, he could not let himself even consider the thought that his refusal to bow to Haman had been the spark that launched this evil attack on his people.