A Reluctant Queen (8 page)

It was Hathach who brought Esther the news about Barsine. “The king has instructed that she be kept in the harem until he has seen the rest of the candidates. The two other girls who have been kept are to be dismissed.”

While this was not the exact news Esther had hoped for, still it was positive. Clearly Ahasuerus had liked Barsine.

Then Hathach surprised her by saying, “I am to bring you to the Mistress of the House. If you will follow me?”

Muran’s apartment was in a far more luxurious part of the harem than Esther’s small room. The Mistress turned as Hathach announced Esther, then gestured to a large cushion placed upon the floor. “Sit, Esther,” Muran said. The Mistress then lowered herself to a wide divan, lifting her legs so she could recline in comfort. Esther was amazed that so massive a woman could perform such a maneuver with what seemed to be relative ease.

“Hathach has told you about Barsine,” Muran said as she settled her robe modestly around her legs.

“Yes. And I must say I am surprised, Mistress. If the king does not want Barsine, then what can he be looking for?” Esther’s long legs were bent under her and the skirt of her orange-blossom robe spilled over the cushion.

A little silence fell as Muran’s glittering dark eyes raked over Esther’s figure. She sat quietly under the scrutiny, her spine straight, her hands folded quietly in her lap.

“Indeed,” Muran finally answered. “That is a question Hegai and I have been discussing.”

The door to the apartment opened and a young girl came in bearing a tea tray filled with sweet, sugary pastries and fruit. She put the tray down upon a low table, poured tea into pretty enameled copper cups, and brought a cup to both Esther and Muran. Next she proffered the tray to Muran, who helped herself to a large, sugar-coated, nut-filled pastry. Esther, not accustomed to the luxury of fruit in winter, chose an orange.

“That will be all, Gazel,” Muran said, and the girl effaced herself quietly from the room. The Mistress bit into her pastry with obvious pleasure, but Esther held her orange. She didn’t think she would be able to choke down anything just now.

When Muran had finished her pastry, she licked the sugar from her fingers delicately. Then she gestured for Esther to bring her the tray of delectables. This time she chose a ripe peach. “We all had hopes for Barsine,” she said as she examined the peach.

“I know. Barsine is so beautiful. And she is a direct descendant of Cyrus. I thought that was important to the king.”

“Apparently, it is not.” Muran bit into the peach and a little juice squirted onto her chin.

“What can he be looking for?” Esther asked again.

Muran put the peach down, wiped her chin, and rested her jeweled hands on her stomach. “I will tell you something, Esther. This supposed competition has little to do with looks. Quite simply, Ahasuerus wants a wife whose loyalty will be to him. Darius made him marry Vashti, whose loyalty was to her father, Mardonius. And everyone knows he hates Ahasuerus, despite his being Ahasuerus’ uncle.”

Esther remembered Abraham saying much the same thing when first they heard of the king’s edict. She said now what she had thought then. “If that is so, would he not be wiser to choose a girl whose family he already knows is loyal?”

“The number of families whose loyalty was pledged to Ahasuerus over Xerxes can be counted on the fingers of one hand,” Muran said.

“But surely that has changed,” Esther protested. “Now that Ahasuerus has been named Great King, the loyalty of the nobles will be to him.”

“Ahasuerus would count that as expedience, not as loyalty,” Muran said.

Esther nodded slowly. “I suppose I can understand that. But he did not reject Barsine, Mistress. He merely wants to see more girls.”

“If he had found Barsine acceptable, he would have taken her immediately. No, Esther, Hegai and I have come to the conclusion that Ahasuerus is looking for a different kind of girl for his wife.”

Esther sat perfectly still, terrified of what might be coming next.

Muran crossed her still, dainty ankles. “To be frank, Esther, Hegai agreed to see you only out of courtesy to the Deputy Treasurer, who made the request for one of his people. Technically, of course, you are an Achaemenid, but your father’s family are lesser nobility, and your mother’s family appear to be merchants.”

“Yes,” Esther agreed to the lie.

“Hegai was surprised by you,” the Mistress went on. “He accepted you, but you must realize that you are different from the other girls who are candidates. If he had been looking for a woman for Xerxes, Hegai would never have taken you. But Ahasuerus is different. Both Hegai and I feel that there is a possibility that you will please him.”

No! No! No!
Esther thought in horror.

Muran went relentlessly on, “We want to take you in hand and make a special effort to prepare you. You have great potential, my dear, and we are prepared to invest our time in you.”

Esther hesitated, then spoke in a rush. “I will be honest with you also, Mistress. I agreed to present myself to please my family, but I did not expect to be accepted by Hegai. I truly do not feel that I am qualified for such a high calling.”

With a great heaving of flesh, Muran arose from her divan. She beckoned Esther to come to her, then she turned the girl around so that she faced the large bronze mirror that hung on one of the room’s walls. The Mistress ran her finger up and down Esther’s cheekbone. “There is a sweetness in your face that is pleasing, Esther. And you have the most beautiful eyes of any of the candidates. Most importantly, you are an outsider. You have no political connections, no family who will be begging for favors, no grudges or feuds to settle. Hegai and I agree that Ahasuerus might think you will suit him very well.”

Terror, tasting like bile, rose in Esther’s throat. She had managed to survive in the harem with some equanimity because she had truly believed that her uncle had misinterpreted his dream, that she had no chance at all of being chosen by the king. Now, listening to Muran, the real possibility that she might indeed be asked to take up this burden struck her like an arrow to the heart.

How could she do this?

She said in a low voice, “I am afraid I will disappoint you.”

“Nonsense,” Muran replied briskly. “I will have you moved to a much larger chamber, and Hegai and I will begin training you intensively. I promise, by the time you meet the king, you will be ready.”

Esther had been totally unprepared for such an offer. She had become used to considering herself the least likely of the candidates and now, to have Muran tell her this—she was more than frightened. She was terrified.

Could Uncle Mordecai possibly be right? Could I have been the savior he saw in his dream?

She still didn’t believe it could be true. She was a woman, and she had seen with crystal clarity how little women counted in the Persian world. But . . . she was here in the harem and there was no way she could reject Muran’s offer. That would be suspicious and she had to be careful not to involve Mordecai.

She drew in a long breath and said with as much composure as she could muster, “Thank you, Mistress. You are very kind.”

Muran reached out to enfold Esther to her massive bosom. “There is nothing to fear, Esther. Hegai and I will always be there for you, to advise and to help.”

She pressed her face into the rolls of fat between Muran’s neck and shoulder and felt the Mistress patting her back. She shut her eyes.

What Muran says, what Muran wants to do . . . I’m here in the harem already. I suppose I have to agree to it. Besides, it is probably the only way to know if Uncle Mordecai was right. If the king chooses me, then I will know that I must follow the wishes of the Lord. But if he rejects me, then Uncle Mordecai will understand that he was wrong and then he will look for someone else to be our savior
.

Her eyes still tightly closed, her face still buried in Muran’s shoulder, Esther said, “All right, Mistress. I will do as you say.”

C
HAPTER
S
EVEN

H
aman stood beside Ahasuerus on the large open-air platform that was situated at the southwestern corner of the palace. The king was riding out with a group of courtiers this morning. As usual, the men wore Median dress to ride in—jacket, trousers, and boots—and on their heads the cidaris, the high, flat-topped felt cap that denoted Persian nobility. They were all standing there because the king’s brother, Xerxes, was late.

It was a day that promised spring would soon arrive; the air was warm and a light breeze blew. The members of the Royal Kin, who were to accompany the king on his ride, stood at a respectful distance from Ahasuerus and Haman. They continued to wait for Xerxes.

Haman was worried, as he always was whenever the king was in the company of these men, most of whom were his enemies. His eyes went from face to face. All of them had at one time pledged their allegiance to Xerxes. Haman did not trust them, and he knew the king did not trust them either.

He urged the king, “Please be careful, my lord. Anything might happen when you are away from the palace and the people who care for you.”

Ahasuerus gave the friend who had come with him from Babylon an amused look. “It is certainly true that Xerxes does not like me, but I hardly think he will try to murder me in front of the entire Royal Bodyguard, Haman.”

Haman did not trust the Royal Bodyguard either, or at least its commander, who was a leftover from Darius’ reign. But he held his tongue, and Ahasuerus’ amusement increased. He said gently, “I am very well able to take care of myself, but I appreciate your concern.”

“This court is filled with vipers, my lord.” Haman lowered his voice to a whispery hiss. “There is danger everywhere.”

“I realize that, Haman,” Ahasuerus said a little impatiently. “But I have my loyal supporters too—like you, my friend.”

For a brief moment the king laid his hand on Haman’s arm and Haman’s heart leaped with joy. He longed to be able to join the riding party and for a brief moment entertained a wild picture of warding off an army of Xerxes’ followers to save Ahasuerus from assassination. But Haman was not an Achaemenid and did not ride well enough to join the band of Persian aristocrats.

Ahasuerus looked up at the clear sky and sighed. “Unfortunately, my ride today will be cut short. I have promised Hegai I will meet with another of the girls who wish to be queen. According to Hegai, the number is decreasing, for which I thank the gods. At least I have one decent possibility in case no one else is more acceptable.” He frowned. “I did not realize how much of my time this search would take.”

Haman, too, looked at the sky, gauging the hour. Xerxes was soon going to be unpardonably late. “Then why don’t you take the one you approved and get it over with, my lord?”

“Perhaps that is what I will do. These interviews are not only time consuming, they are extremely tedious.”

Haman noticed the men around them turning toward the large door that opened into the Court of the Royal Kin. Xerxes had finally arrived. He strode out onto the platform, a tall, assured young man with a handsome, dark, disdainful face, very different from his elder brother.

“Forgive me for being late, my lord,” Xerxes said as he came to a halt in front of the king.

Ahasuerus made no move to extend the hand of kinship to him. There was a moment of uneasy silence, and Haman saw disbelief replace arrogance on Xerxes’ face as he realized that his brother was actually going to make him perform the prostration. The silence stretched on, then Xerxes scowled and reluctantly began to go down on one knee. Just before he had committed himself fully to the prostration, Ahasuerus stretched out his hand and brought him forward instead for the kiss of kinship upon the cheek.

“Forgive me for being late,” Xerxes repeated. “I’m afraid I lost count of the time.”

Haman’s lip curled with disbelief. Xerxes had deliberately delayed his entry to annoy Ahasuerus as well as to make a statement of his own importance to the rest of the Royal Kin.

Ahasuerus’ face was unreadable. “Now that you are here, I will have the horses brought around.”

While they waited, Haman stood on one side of the king and Xerxes stood on the other. The hatred between Haman and Xerxes was open and hot, but today Haman was quiet, listening to the brothers talk about the only topic they seemed to have in common: horses.

“Are you riding Soleil today?” Xerxes asked.

“Of course,” Ahasuerus replied. “He needs exercise.”

“Hmm.” Xerxes snorted through his high-bridged nose. Haman knew it was a sore point with Xerxes that no one in Susa had been able to ride the magnificent Nisean stallion until Ahasuerus had done so. And he had done it with seeming ease. The feat had brought him respect from the members of the Royal Kin, but resentment as well. They didn’t like it that the outsider from Babylon could do what they could not.

Haman listened in silence as the brothers spoke. Ahasuerus’ plan was to try to win over Xerxes, and Haman thought that such an attempt was a mistake. The king would be wiser to banish Xerxes from court, along with his mentor, Mardonius, who had spent years trying to make Xerxes his adoring disciple. Mardonius, who had been Darius’ right hand and the father of Vashti, was even more dangerous than Xerxes because Mardonius had no scruples at all. Haman did not doubt that if Mardonius could find a way to have Ahasuerus assassinated, he would take it.