Game of Queens (27 page)

As I stood there, my attendant waving a peacock-feather fan beside me to keep the dust and flies away, assistants led a slave out from the merchant's courtyard and pushed him toward the steps up to the platform. He resisted, a movement that caught my eye. I turned to look—

—and for a heartbeat thought I looked upon Vashti playing the maddest of mad jests. Moonlight hair streaming down—

Then the slave turned, and I breathed again. Of course it was not Vashti.

But I could not rip my gaze from the boy. He was perhaps fifteen, and from the slant of his eyes and the sunburnt amber of his skin, I judged him to be of one of the horse tribes from the north. His long soft hair, his supple young body, entranced me. Had Vashti been born a boy, she would look like this.…

“Will it please my noble, gracious lord to see more of the boy? Would you hear him sing, or see him dance?” The slave merchant had noted my interest, scented a rich sale.

I ignored the unctuous queries. “How much?” I asked, and the slave dealer shook his head.

“A thousand apologies, noble lord, but I have promised a dozen men that he will be shown on the auction block. A eunuch of such high quality, a pearl of such perfection, such rarity, will bring—”

That, of course, is why he is being pushed onto the sale platform even as the dealer speaks.
I suspected the boy had become too difficult to handle; a rebellious slave is a liability to a slave merchant. I interrupted the dealer's recitation of the boy's virtues by raising my hand.

“Do not waste my time. You know who I am, and whom I serve. I want that boy. Now tell me how much.” I should have pretended only a mild interest, begun the bargaining by pointing out the boy's faults. I knew I acted as foolishly as Vashti, but I did not care. I cared only that when I went back to the palace, that boy came with me.

The merchant hesitated, clearly trying to decide just how much he could overcharge me. At last he said, “Two hundred darics.”

An outrageous amount for an untrained, unruly boy, and both the slave merchant and I knew it. But I found myself saying, “Very well. Two hundred darics.” It was, after all, the price that Daniel had once paid to free me from a cruel fate.

The merchant stared, but managed to say, “Did Your Excellency agree?”

“Yes,” I said, “My Excellency did. Is the bargain sealed?”

The slave merchant agreed so swiftly he nearly choked on the words. And that is how I came to return to the palace with a very beautiful and very sullen young eunuch following me.

*   *   *

I sent my new acquisition off to bathe and eat before I talked with him. So it was not until the sun had set that the boy was brought to my bedchamber. His skin glowed with sweet oil, his hair flowed like mountain snow down his back, and his expression radiated defiance. I remembered when I had been that young, and that terrified.…

I shoved undesired memories away. “So,” I said, “what is your name?”

He stared at his feet, and mumbled something that might have been anything from his name to a curse.

“Look at me,” I said calmly, “and try again. Now, what is your name?”

He lifted his head and stared at me. And in his eyes I saw, not Vashti, but myself—a highborn boy whose future had been destroyed by one stroke of the gelding knife.

“Bagoas,” he said. “My name is Bagoas.”

Of course it is. You should learn to lie more convincingly, child.
I smiled at him and held my hand out to him. “I was Bagoas once. Well, be Bagoas if it pleases you. But if it does not—someday you will have your own name. One
you
choose.”

He ignored this. He looked from me over to my broad bed; clearly reluctant, he walked over to the bed, sat on it in the most graceless fashion possible, and stared at me, waiting. Drawn by the lamplight dancing over his hair, I went to him and sat beside him. When I put my arm around him, he turned rigid as stone.

“I do not wish anyone unwilling in my bed,” I said, and moved my arm, letting him go if he wished. When he did not move, I said, “There are other beds. Find an empty one and go to sleep. You've had a long, hard day and need rest.”

“Yes, my lord Hegai.” He slid off my bed and bowed, then ran to the door and disappeared through it before I could change my mind.

I lay back against the pillows and stared at the stars painted on the ceiling.
Tell me, Immaculate One, what am I to do with the boy now?
I could give him to Vashti; she always delighted in gifts.
Ah, well—I will think about it tomorrow.
Now I should take my own advice, and go to sleep.

Sleep eluded me for many hours, and when at last I did sleep, I suffered such bad dreams I wished only to wake. It was a relief to rise and begin the day—at least until I remembered I now owned a beautiful young eunuch who called himself Bagoas.

*   *   *

The next night was far worse, for Bagoas came to my bed. Unsummoned, and clearly determined to repay my kindness to him in a fashion he believed acceptable to me.

So. Bagoas slid into my bed, and I ran my fingers through his long pale hair. Bagoas cupped my face in his hands; through that touch, I felt him tremble. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to mine.

He tried. Skin against hot skin. We both tried. Flesh pressed against flesh. But in the end, we both failed. His touch failed to rouse any emotion in me but revulsion and I wished with all my heart that I had never seen him.
Sheer folly. Callous and revolting. How could I be such a fool?

Then I noticed that the boy trembled and his eyes shone with tears. He must fear his lack of passion had angered me.

“Don't cry. It doesn't matter.”

“I'm sorry,” he said. “Let me try again. I can—I know how to give you pleasure, I do. I was taught, well taught. Please, my noble lord—”

Well taught—yes, by pain and fear and force.
Not every pretty young eunuch had such a tender, gentle teacher as I had. Not for the first time, I blessed Lord Orodes's name. I put my arm around the boy. “Hush, Bagoas. It is not your fault that neither of us likes to bed with men.”

He stared at me with tear-filled eyes. “What does it matter what I like? I shall never have it.”

“Never is a very long time, Bagoas.”

“At the end of
never,
I will still be a eunuch,” he said bitterly. “What woman will ever want me? What woman will want half a man?”

“You will be surprised to learn how many women would rather welcome a eunuch to her bed than a whole man. Come to that, you will be surprised to learn how many women would rather share her bed with her cat or her dog. I even knew a woman who would rather sleep with snakes than with her husband.” I had my reward; Bagoas laughed.

“I, too, would rather sleep with serpents than with any man I have yet seen.” His muscles relaxed, and he tried to suppress a yawn. The small flames of lamplight sent ripples of shadow over his moon-bright hair, his sun-amber skin.

“Trust me,” I said, “women will fling themselves begging at your feet, if that is what you wish.”

He looked skeptical, but said only, “Surely it is as you say, lord.”

“Surely a boy with your face and your wit can carve his future to his liking. And there is more to life than rolling about in a bed with a woman, or man, or whatever it is that you favor.” I stroked his pale hair, so like Vashti's.
But he is not what you desire. He is not Vashti.

I forced away the image of Vashti on her wedding night.
The thinnest of silks over her skin, skin that gleamed like pearls in the flickering torchlight. Her hair unbound, falling down past her hips, sliding over her thighs with each step she took. Her eyes uncertain at the door to the king's bedchamber, as I opened it and guided her over the threshold into the waiting darkness …

“My lord Hegai? Do you wish me to leave or to stay?”

The image of Vashti's uncertain eyes vanished. “Oh, you may stay. There is room enough. And there is something I wish to ask of you. No, two things.”

He stared down and drew in a deep breath. Clearly he believed I was about to ask he perform some unknown but repulsive act. “Of course, my lord. Whatever you desire. I am yours.” He managed to speak with only the faintest tremor of fear and anger. Definitely he had great promise.

“The first is that you tell me your name.”

After a long silence, he told me, but his name sounded so strange to my ears I could not easily repeat it. Well, many of us came into the palace with one name and remained here with another. After a moment, he offered something freely. “It means wolf.”

I smiled. “Then you may keep your name, but it will be said in Persian. You are Varkha now.”

He regarded me warily. “Varkha means wolf?”

“Yes, Varkha means wolf.”

He considered for a moment, then nodded. “Then I am Varkha now. What is the second thing you wish to ask of me, my lord?”

“That you do not cut your hair.”

Since among his own people, as he told me later, when we were friends, neither men nor women ever cut their hair, Varkha gladly accepted this condition.

“Good,” I said. “Now go to sleep, young wolf, and soon I will introduce you to a woman who is very fond of wolves.”

VASHTI

When at last I returned to Shushan and my own palace, I was so delighted to see Hegai waiting for me I flung myself into his arms. I meant to tell him about Ecbatana, and the mountains, and the journey, and a dozen other unimportant things—anything other than my marriage month—but instead I burst into tears. Hegai announced that the journey had wearied me and carried me to the Queen's Bath.

The familiar, soothing routine of the baths banished tension I had not known I suffered. Hegai asked no questions, and refused to allow any of my servants to trouble me with questions either. They tended me in obedient silence; I nearly fell asleep as Hegai combed my hair.

When at last he set the sandalwood comb aside, I stood and stretched. “Oh, Hegai, I did miss you!”

“Did you, my queen?”

I turned and put my arms around him. “Of course I did—” I stopped; surely I should have been so enthralled by my husband I cared for nothing else. I stared at Hegai's chest as if fascinated by the cinnabar amulet he wore.

Hegai kissed my forehead, his lips cool against my hot skin. “Gifts from the King of Kings await you. Come.”

Hegai told me all the gossip that had flowed through the palace while I had been gone, and showed me the gifts Ahasuerus had ensured would be waiting for me. There was a chess set, its pieces made of ivory and ebony, and its board of silver and copper. I picked up a cup-and-ball carved from cedar and adorned with silver stars. I tossed the ball upward and caught it on my first try. I set the cup-and-ball aside; I could play with it later. There were many more games and half a dozen new riding outfits of silk-soft leather. But the gifts that pleased me most were the new pets Ahasuerus had bestowed upon me.

There was a little deer with a collar of scarlet leather hung with golden bells, a long-tailed parrot that could say a dozen words, and a pair of silver fox kits so tame they came prancing up to me as if they were puppies. The gift that delighted me most was a half-grown cheetah, an elegant, regal creature that deigned to sniff my fingers and let me stroke its head. The cheetah wore a wide collar of gold set with emeralds.

There were also silver collars adorned with amber for Vayu and Atar, so I knew Ahasuerus truly wished to please me, for he never did grow to like my wolves.

And to care for these creatures, Ahasuerus had given me two new slaves: a pair of girls with the ebony skin of Nubia and the elegant cheekbones and almond eyes of Egypt. Hegai told me their names were Ajashea and Bolour—

“And we love animals more than anything! We can care for all of your pets, royal lady.” Ajashea barely remembered to bow, and her enthusiasm made me laugh.

“Well, I am very glad to have you. Are you sisters?” They looked enough alike to be that close.

Both girls shook their heads, the crystal beads braided in their dark hair flashing. “We're cousins,” Bolour said. “My mother is her mother's sister, and her father is my father's brother.”

Such close-knit unions indeed made them almost sisters. I thought I might dress them alike; they would look charming—or I could dress them as opposites … Hegai touched my arm, and I stopped daydreaming and told the two girls I had many pets for them to care for, and then let them run along to play in the garden. The foxes dashed after them, yipping, while the deer followed more slowly, the bells on its collar chiming. The cheetah watched the deer wistfully, but, well trained, did not bound after it. The parrot remained on its perch; I held out my hand and it stepped delicately onto my wrist.

“It was very kind of the king to send me such gifts.” I slanted a glance at Hegai, but his face revealed nothing.

“Very kind,” Hegai agreed.

“The king loves me dearly,” I said.

“Yes,” said Hegai, “he loves you dearly.” His voice was soft and low, and his eyes did not meet mine. He reached out and gently stroked the parrot's head.

I longed to fling myself into Hegai's arms again, and ask him why Ahasuerus did not want the most beautiful woman in all the empire. Why he did not want
me.
But when at last Hegai looked at me again, I saw a resigned despair in his eyes. And I realized there was nothing I needed to tell him.

But if Hegai never asked about my marriage month, I knew the Queen Mother would not be so restrained. I created a tale for her rich with fulsome praises of my husband and endless recitations of my delight in his gifts. Later, I found other ways to mislead her. For Ahasuerus had a harem full of lovely women whom I had dutifully chosen for him to enjoy. Now that we had returned to Shushan, Ahasuerus called for them most nights, and not for me. Oddly, now that we were truly married, I saw Ahasuerus less than I had before.