Game of Queens (42 page)

“My predecessor's,” Esther finished, her voice flat. “Yes, I understand that is most important.”

Vashti reached out and grasped Esther's hand. “Truly, Hegai and Hatach know best what will suit you—”

“—and please the king?” Esther's eyes glittered; I saw she was on the verge of tears. I caught Hatach's eye and subtly indicated first Esther and then the waiting perfumes. Hatach promptly moved over to the table and beckoned to Esther.

“Come, my lady Esther—come see if any of my efforts are pleasing to you.” Hatach seemed to study the vials, then picked up one shaped like a teardrop. “Will you not at least take one breath of the perfume?” He managed to sound both coaxing and mournful. Esther closed her eyes for a moment; when she opened them again, she smiled and, still holding Vashti's hand, walked over to Hatach.

“Of course I will, Hatach.” Esther's voice was steady, her face calm. “Now, show me your fragrant magic.”

She has control over herself. She is kind and she is clever in both deed and word. We have chosen well, Vashti and I.
I watched as Esther and Vashti awaited Hatach's revelations.

Clearly delighted with his audience, Hatach lifted the stopper from the iridescent teardrop-shaped vial. “O Star of Women, this perfume is like you—”

“High-smelling?” Esther interrupted, and Vashti put a hand up to her mouth, pressing back laughter.

Frowning, Hatach began again. “O most beautiful of women—”

“O most flattering of eunuchs, I am no such thing.”

“You
are
!” Hatach stamped his foot to emphasize his words. “Of course you are. Who is a better judge of that, you or I?”

I thought it time to intervene before Hatach persuaded himself to throw a tantrum. “Or I?” I said, and they all looked at me: Hatach sulky, Esther amused, and Vashti falsely solemn. “Hatach, don't let the women tease you. And you, Esther, remember you were chosen as the most beautiful woman in Shushan.”

“You see?” Hatach told Esther. “Why deny what is plain to all our eyes?”

“Very well, I will not deny that I was chosen as the most beautiful woman in Shushan—” Esther slanted a glance at me and added, “—or at least as beautiful as rubies. But Hatach, you cannot say I am the most beautiful of
all
women, for you have not seen all the women in the world.”

“But Esther, of course he can say that. In fact, he just did.” Pleased with this devastating logic, Vashti linked her arm in mine. I saw Esther prepare to respond, so I firmly steered the conversation back to the original point at issue.

“The perfume?” I said.

Hatach held out the vial to Esther. She took it and held it under her nose—and promptly handed it back.

“If I am like that perfume, my hopes of becoming queen are doomed,” Esther said, adding, when Vashti raised her eyebrows in silent question, “Too much musk.”

“Of course you are right, that one
is
quite hopeless,” Hatach promptly agreed. “Try this instead.”

Again Esther refused to try the perfume on her skin once she inhaled its aroma. “Too sweet. You of all people, Hatach, should know that I am not sweet.”

“You are,” Hatach said firmly. “You are sweet as spring honey. And truly, that scent is far too simple to suit you.” Hatach studied the vials and at last selected one of pale green glass. “This one. This one is perfect. The most wise and beauteous Queen of Sheba herself might have worn such a fragrance.”

“I know that one, and I think you're right.” I remembered Vashti trying that perfume. A subtle mixture of sandalwood and spikenard, cedar and clove and frankincense, it had proved far too lush to suit Vashti at all. No, my darling Vashti remained faithful to the scent I myself had crafted for her; even now the warm bite of amber drifted in the air about her.

Pleased by my agreement, Hatach cradled the green glass vial in his hand. “Yes, this one might have been compounded for you alone. Like you, it is complex, sophisticated, elegant.”

“Oh, no,” said Esther, glancing down demurely. “I'm only a simple country girl.”

“Esther,” said Vashti, “I don't know how you can utter such an outrageous untruth without bursting out laughing! Do you, Hegai?”

Ignoring both girls, I nodded to Hatach, who told Esther to stand still. Outwardly meek, Esther obeyed; Hatach stroked the perfume over her throat and wrists. “Now wait,” he told her. “Let the perfume decide.”

Esther smiled at him. “I will, and I promise to say nothing witty about it.”

“Good. It is utterly unnecessary for a woman to be witty
all the time
.” Hatach regarded her sternly; obedient, Esther waited until Hatach nodded. Then she lifted her hand, breathed in the fragrance, and smiled. “Sandalwood,” she said, “and … cedar?”

Hatach nodded, and I smiled, too. “Yes, and spikenard, frankincense, and clove—and other essences as well.”

“And,” said Hatach, “they all combine to create the scent of Esther.”

He had done well, and was so pleased with himself and his charge, that I decided to let him have the final word on the subject. Everyone with eyes can see the result of their labors, but palace eunuchs themselves get little enough praise for all their hard work.

ESTHER

Time flowed, a slow yet steady river. Each day the same rituals, each night the same quiet determination and despair.

I remember that time as if it were all one endless day and night. Only a few hours spring into bright focus, when I look back upon my waiting time.

One was the moment I realized that Hegai loved Vashti. Not as a brother loves a younger sister, or a eunuch cherishes a valued concubine in his charge—but as a man loves a woman.

I saw how his eyes followed Vashti, how when he touched her, his fingertips lingered on her skin or her hair.…

And I saw that Vashti accepted Hegai and his eternal perfect care of her without question, and without noticing his deep and abiding love. Oh, she was never unkind, and she clearly held him in great affection. But mere fondness was not what Hegai longed for from her. Fondness, I knew, was not what he dreamed of in the dark.

Another was the day I saw how clever Vashti really was—how fine her mind would have been, had she ever been encouraged to use it. I already knew that Vashti was determined that she—and Hegai—would set the rules and control all that was done in this bizarre quest for a new Queen of Queens. She begrudged all attempts by Queen Mother Amestris to advise her to favor one candidate over another.

So Vashti set out to ensure that the very mention of the contest wearied the Queen Mother. The nobly-born ladies Tandis and Barsine had been given Vashti's twin handmaids Ajashea and Bolour as their servants. And the four girls, quick and clever as mongooses, were given the task of carrying messages to the Queen Mother. Lengthy messages requiring an equally lengthy answer. Frivolous queries—should Vashti give all the candidates new names? Should she require they all dress alike when they went to the king?

Messages a dozen times a day, until Amestris at last told her servants not to admit Vashti's couriers.

The morning they were turned away at the Queen Mother's gate, Tandis and Ajashea dashed back giggling so hard Hegai reproved them for unseemly behavior, while Vashti and I laughed. In that laughing moment, I saw that Vashti had skillfully created a brace of spies—the four girls were all nearly the same age, and most people could not tell whether two girls running to do Vashti's bidding were Tandis and Ajashea or Barsine and Bolour. By now, no one questioned the four girls' right to be anywhere in the women's palaces.

But the memory that shines brightest was the golden afternoon I roamed alone through the Queen's Palace, and came upon a living reminder of long-vanished glory.

*   *   *

I walked slowly through the bars of light and shadow until I came to a gate. The gate seemed ancient, the planks that formed it worn smooth, as if it were older than the palace itself. Gold traced images upon the time-darkened wood; djinn dancing in flames. For a moment I hesitated, then put my hand to the latch.
It will be locked,
I told myself, but when I lifted the bar, it rose lightly, easily, and the gate swung open when I pushed upon its polished and gilded wood.

I stepped through the gate into a small garden. Walls covered in tiles blue as the sky above me rose high, twice as high as my head. The small rich roses of Damascus spilled over marble pots, perfumed the warm air.

The garden was very quiet, and at first I thought I was alone within it. Then I saw the old man.

At first I could not imagine what man would dare enter here, into a private garden within the walls of the women's world. Then he looked at me, and as I gazed into his serene blue eyes I knew who he must be.

Daniel, called the Dream-Master. Daniel, who had given peace to madness-ravaged Nebuchadnezzar. Daniel, who had vainly warned worthless Belshazzar. Only so great and so old a man would be permitted to wander where he pleased in the Queen's Palace.

“Dream-Master,” I said, and bowed before him.

“Oh, dear,” Daniel said. “Not another one.” And as I stared at him, puzzled, he smiled. Dreams did not cloud his eyes; they were bright as the sun-gilded sky far above us. “You are as bad as the Beautiful One, O Star of Shushan. Neither of you satisfied with mere rank and riches.”

“You know who I am.”

“Of course. And not”—he lifted a minatory hand—“
not
because I can read dreams. Everyone in the palace knows precisely who the girls who battle for a crown are. There is no privacy in a palace; remember that.”

“I will. May I ask—”

“Oh, sit. You are so full of life it tires me to watch you trying to stand still. Yes, you may ask.”

I sat at his feet; it seemed only proper. “Can you see my future, Dream-Master?”

“Yes. Your future here will be harder for you than for the others.”

“Why should it be? I am as beautiful as they, and more learned.”

“Because,” Daniel said, “you are a Jew.”

And then, as I stared, he added, “Don't bother to deny it, Star of the Palace. I know because your stiff-necked cousin came to me so I could tell him what he could have told himself. Did he tell you that?”

“Yes,” I said.

Daniel shook his head ruefully. “Remember that I, too, am a Jew. Once my pride was to keep all our laws, even in the court of the King of this world's Kings. That didn't last long.”

I did not catch at this bait. I let the silence between us grow heavy, as if truth fell to the ground between us, unspoken.

Daniel smiled. “Yes, you are clever, my lady Esther. Stay that way; it is the only safe path for those trapped as we are. And remember, while you have friends within these gilded walls, they weave their own futures as they do yours.”

Now it was I who smiled. “Queens have no friends,” I quoted.

“No, I suppose they don't. But remember that your foe's foe may aid you for a time.”

“
May
—or may not.” Daniel's foreign wife stood in the doorway to the blue-tiled house; she regarded me critically.

“Come again if you wish, or if Samamat or I can help you.” Daniel hesitated, glanced at his wife. “If you dwell in a palace, it is good to have friends.”

“It is good to have friends you can trust,” Samamat amended.

“Yes, it is.” I rose and bowed to them both. “Thank you. I will remember your words.”

*   *   *

“You go to listen to the Dream-Master?” Vashti smiled, and slid her arm through mine. “Is he not wonderful? He is always so clever, and knows so many stories—yes, let us go to Daniel's garden.”

As easily as that, she claimed my privilege as her own. I was not sure I liked having Vashti come with me to listen to Daniel, but I could think of no good reason to say
no
to her.

*   *   *

Vashti more than repaid me for my loss of solitude with Daniel Dream-Master, for she took me to gaze upon the king. One afternoon, she came and grasped my hand and drew me through the labyrinth of the palace until we reached a window covered by an ivory screen carved in intricate latticework. “Look, Esther!” Vashti sounded greatly pleased with herself; I stepped forward, cautiously.

I looked through the ivory lattice and for the first time looked upon the face of the King of Kings. Slow fire kindled in my blood. I had not expected that; never thought I would desire him. When I saw him riding through Shushan beside a laughing Queen Vashti, I had not seen his face—but I had remembered ever since how he had sat easily upon his restless horse.

Did I desire him now because he was pleasing to look upon? For Ahasuerus truly was what all kings were called: handsome. He was tall and well-formed, broad-shouldered and lithe. His hair curled night-dark over his shoulders; his skin gleamed rich as amber. The King of Kings plainly spent many hours in the sunlight, and he shone with health and moved with supple vigor. His strides as he paced before Prince Haman were long, each sweep of his legs kicking his heavy gold-embroidered robes aside.

Now I know why I am here. He is the man destined for me before our mothers were born.

Below us, Ahasuerus reached the end of the balcony, turned back so that the sunlight fell upon his face. His eyes were the rich brown of good fertile earth.…

“Well, now you have seen the King of Kings,” Vashti said to me, and I drew in a deep breath, willing my blood to calmness.

“Yes,” I said, “I have seen him.”

“Now that you have seen him, do you think you would like to be Queen of Queens?” she asked.

“I do not know if I would like to be queen,” I said, speaking each word slowly and with care, as I did with any language new to my tongue, “but I do know that I would like to be the king's wife.”