Esther (23 page)

“Perhaps. But that is one of many risks you will have to take. All the other girls seemed conquered even before he took them—all but Vashti. Be bold and meek in turns. Be a puzzle he wishes to solve. Do not adorn yourself with jewelry. This will get his attention. Tell him jewels are not what you want—you want nothing except to be queen—
his
queen. Look him in the eye when you tell him this. Speak with the confidence of a woman whose neck could support the weight of a crown.”

There was so much to remember. I thought about Hegai's many instructions as I was being escorted to the king's chambers and decided I was going to take a risk much more dangerous than removing my scarf. I was going to do what no other girl would dare to do: deny the king.

Esther was taken to King [Xerxes] . . . in the seventh year of his reign.

—Book of Esther 2:16

Immortals stood on either side of the doors to the king's bedchamber. One leaned against the wall, half asleep. The other stood rigidly in the glow of an oil lamp a couple of cubits over his shoulder. I looked at the hollows of his eyes, his strong nose, the wide bones of his cheeks, his hard jaw . . .
Erez.
My heart rose into my throat.

Bigthan was escorting me to the king's chambers, urging me forward. “Thank you,” I told him, waving my hand to dismiss him. He started to protest that he needed to see me safely inside, but I interrupted, “You will regret this disobedience when I am queen.” I spoke loudly enough that he would hear me through my veil even though I was not looking at him. I could not take my eyes off Erez, who stood only a few cubits in front of me. Soon I heard Bigthan's footsteps retreating down the hall.

Erez slowly turned his head toward me. When our eyes met I reached into my robe and pulled the Faravahar out. His pulse became visible in his neck.

He moved his gaze over my robe and head scarf. “I am glad to see you have the favor of someone important,” he said quietly. “Hopefully someone who will keep you safe, not just expensively clothed. Your head scarf is the richest I have seen.”

“I had one I liked better,” I said, my veil rustling against my lips. I was thinking of the one he had given me after Parsha ripped mine in half. “It was burned along with everything else worn to the palace.”

“Yes, I saw the smoke rising from the courtyard. I am sorry.”

I had never been able to look him in the eye comfortably unless I was speaking sharply to him, and I had never been able to be near him without feeling like I was restless inside my skin. My words to him had always been confused little attacks and retreats. But I no longer wanted to retreat, even though my heart beat too fast in my chest, and my lungs were full of air that would not allow me to breathe it.
I wish it was your bed I was going to
.

“I do not desire what awaits me behind those doors,” I said.

His eyes hardened and he drew himself up taller. “Do not bring the king's wrath upon yourself. I do not want to stand guard while you are with him, but that does not matter, it is my duty. It would not be called duty if it were what I wanted. It is time for you to go and do yours.”

Though I knew he had spoken out of concern for me, his words stung. I took my eyes from his face and turned toward the doors I had to walk through.

His voice was gentler, but no less fervent, as he said, “I hope that the next time I see you I have to bow.”

Without looking at it, he hit the king's door with the back of his fist.

I put the Faravahar back inside my robe and walked as I had done on the march.
Do not think, do not feel. Just keep moving forward.
Still, I could not drive away the thought that as hard as it was to see Erez on my way in to the king, it would be harder to see him on my way out.

I took a deep breath as I reached the doors.
I will do as I must to leave these chambers a queen.
From inside, the door opened.

The room before me was huge. My quarters, and even Hegai's, were mouse holes in comparison. It was lit by only a few oil lamps along the walls. By their light I could see that the room was full of women. Statues, like those in my own chamber. They wore only colorful veils and bracelets and necklaces of gold. Surely the Greeks would be furious to see their statues in Eastern garb.

In the center of the room was a huge bed. It was veiled more splendidly than any woman, stone or flesh. Scarves of purple, blue, red, green, and yellow hung down from a thick golden frame. Did the king await me there?

I turned to see the soldier or eunuch who had opened the door. A man taller than the tallest man I had ever seen, and as broad as two regular men, stared down at me.
Xerxes
. He wore a robe of purple silk and his hands were weighted with gold rings. His beard was made up of thick dark curls that shone with oil. He almost completely blocked the light of the oil lamp behind him. My anxiety grew as I looked at him. It seemed hard to believe that this man worried for his safety.

His eyes widened as he gazed at me, reminding me that Ruti had instructed me to open my own eyes as wide as possible. Ruti had not needed to. I was certain my eyes—which were all he could see of me—were as wide as his.

“Welcome,” Xerxes said. His voice sounded as though it came up through a long echoing chamber to reach his throat.

I dropped to my knees. “Your Majesty.”

“Hegai told me of the great beauty he would bring me tonight. Do not deprive me. Stand. I am not done gazing upon you.”

My knees trembled as I stood. With only his gaze and a slight movement of his head he directed me to a lamp upon the wall.

He closed the door and turned back to me. He did not hold food of any kind or a goblet, but as he came within a hand's width of me I smelled spice and wine. Though it was late and the room was not warm, he was sweating. And it seemed to me there was another smell too, one I did not like, and so I did not breathe deeply: the smell of death, the blood of all those he'd had killed.

I had to act quickly, before he tried to take me without fully seeing my face. As I raised my hands the gold chain fastening the plate over my palm trembled against my flesh. Before I could take off my veil and head scarf myself, Xerxes saw what I meant to do and reached out a hand so massive that I could see nothing else for an instant. I felt a whoosh of air against my lips.

He drew in his breath and let my veil and head scarf float from his hand to the marble tile. His mouth opened but no sound came out. The smell of spices grew stronger.

I did something forbidden and looked him in the eye. “I hope you are pleased. I have been preparing for this night a long time, Your Majesty.”

He considered me for a moment, a moment in which I tried to show no fear. Instead of scolding me for my boldness, he said, “Your eyes look wiser than they should. Tell me something of yourself. Which province are you from?”

Ruti had told me not to mention Babylon, because of the last rebellion Xerxes had put down there, the one in which my parents had been killed. I dropped my eyes so he could not see any sadness in them as I answered, “Shushan, Your Highness.”

“Little Shushan, look up again so I can see your eyes.”

I tilted my head up, though not enough for him, it seemed. His rings clinked together as he put his hand beneath my chin and jerked it upward. My flesh was caught between two of the rings. I tried not to wince or show any emotion, but still, heat spread through my chest, all the way to my face.

He took his hand away. “My horse's nostrils do not flare half so wide as yours.”

“Would you have a horse with no spirit, Majesty?”

I could not tell from his smile whether he was angry or amused. “Since taking the throne that is the only kind of girl I have had. It is how they are sent to me.” His tone softened. “What is it that angers you, little Shushan?”

“I am upset I was not able to bring you any gift, my king.”

“What gift would you have brought me?” he asked quickly.

He does not want to give me any time to conjure something up. But I do not need any.
Almost as quickly as the question was asked, I found an answer, one I thought Hegai would like: “A scroll of the finest papyrus, my king. Your subjects could fill it with praises to you. When you conquer a new land the defeated ruler could be made to sign it. When you ride through your loyal provinces your servants could gather and press the flowers thrown at you within. I would have written your name in it in the finest ink.”

“You know how to write?”

Perhaps I could have used more time after all. It was too late to lie. “Yes, Your Highness.”

He touched my cheek. His was not the flesh of an idle noble but that of a soldier. Despite the roughness of his skin, this time his touch was gentle. “You are smarter than most girls. Which means you are also more dangerous. And yet your voice soothes me, unlike those of my advisers, which will not often leave my ears. Not even to let me sleep. It has been a long time since I have slept deeply.”

His hand trailed down my face. I hoped that he was going to let it fall away from me. Instead, his fingertips lightly brushed my neck. My flesh started to hum all the way down to the soles of my feet. It was not altogether unpleasant. In fact it was not at all unpleasant. “But I will not mind going without sleep tonight,” he said.

I felt my cheeks flush. Ruti and the other servants touched me every morning in the baths, but this touch was different. This touch was not an end to itself. It was only a beginning. Despite myself, I tilted my head, better exposing my neck to his hand.

Xerxes' fingers stiffened, his nails pressing against my skin. Then he exhaled very slowly, and I understood that the rigidness in his fingers was restraint. But his restraint was fleeting. He moved his hand lower and squeezed me through my robe.

I had to do as I had planned. I could not give in to him, not yet. Lying with the king had not yet made any of the girls queen. I stumbled backward.

He frowned as though he had hit upon some gristle in a piece of meat he was eating, but quickly regained his composure. “Are you still saddened about the book you could not bring me?” he mocked.

“I do not want to be known by a stranger, even one who is a king.”

He dropped his hand back to his side. “So you wish to be a kitchen servant?”

I meant to be bold and confident like Vashti, and to speak always to some purpose, as Hegai had taught me. But I could not keep the pain and anger from my voice as I replied, “Until a year ago, I had always thought I would have a husband to love me.”

“And you might still.”

Before I could think of a reply he indicated a table near his bed on which sat a large silver pitcher and two golden goblets. “Come. Pour us some wine.”

“Very good, my king.” I hurried to pour the wine, deeply inhaling the sweet smell. The king's words filled me with hope.
And you might still.

“Do not be cautious, I am thirsty. Fill our goblets so that it is hard to carry them without spilling. I must make use of the servants who clean my chambers each morning or they will grow bored.” I filled the goblets so high that wine sloshed over the brim of one of them.

I did not hear him moving around, but the light in the room suddenly grew brighter. He no longer blocked the oil lamp near the door. I held my breath as I turned around.

He was reclining upon some cushions, watching me. Hegai had told me if the king was not truly interested in me he would take me immediately and send me away, to the concubines' harem. Since his night with Nabat, he often wanted only guards around him while he slept. I walked toward the cushions, not knowing whether I was about to be yanked down to the floor or merely looked at some more while the king quenched his thirst for wine.

I tried to hand him a goblet, but he said, “Set it down.”

Did he want his hands free so he could reach for me? Have me and forget me? I extended my arm to set the goblet close to him—close enough that the sight and smell of it might be more enticing to him than my flesh.

He still had not asked my name. “Recline with me upon these cushions and tell me something more of yourself,” he said.

Ruti had told me that the king would not care much about me, so I had not made up anything about myself to tell him.

I sat just out of reach. “I was born fifteen years ago in Shushan.”

“Tell me something I do not already know.”

“My king, I was born in Shushan and lived there my whole life. I am quite ordinary, my life does not compare to yours. I would be honored to hear of your great valor and many victories.”

“If I found my own voice soothing I would talk myself to sleep each evening and also during the day, when my advisers somehow seem to have more opinions between them than bodies.” He took a drink and I quickly took the opportunity to do the same. “What is your father's trade?”

I could not reveal that my true father was killed when Xerxes put down the last revolt of Babylon, and neither could I tell him that Mordecai, his own accountant, was the closest thing he had left me to a father. But for some reason I did tell him my father was an accountant, quickly adding, “for a number of merchants. There is little else to tell, Your Majesty.”

“Or little else you wish to tell me.” His eyes traveled over my body. “In which case we are done talking.”

He was lying upon his side, facing me, and now he leaned closer. I pushed backward upon my cushion, out of his reach. “My king, if you take me before I know you it will be as though I was taken merely by a king. But if you tell me something of yourself, and then have me, I will say I was taken by the great king Xerxes.”

A glint came into his eyes, and again I was uncertain whether he was angry or amused.

I continued, “I will find a way to get the blank scroll I wished to give you, and—”