Game of Queens (44 page)

Vashti regarded me placidly; she seemed half-dreaming, as if she had been eating lotus. Hegai's face was a mask of paint, he a player. “Have you no faith, Esther?”

“Shall I squander my faith upon your games?” I kept my voice low, my tone cheerful. The watching, waiting girls must not know my thoughts or feelings.

“The date was well-chosen. All the stars smiled upon it. Come to me later.” Vashti's words slid through the air between us, softer than dawn breeze.

“And trust us, O doubting one.” Hegai waved his hand, dismissing me, and I bowed and backed away.

*   *   *

As she had commanded, I later went to see Vashti. She received me in her garden, beside a fountain that poured water into a star-shaped pool. An old trick; watersong foiled eavesdroppers. Hegai, too, sat there. They both smiled at me.

“Clearly you both are well-pleased with your cunning plan,” I said. “Now will you reveal it to me? I have only to carry out the scheme, after all.” I reined my voice hard; refused to let bitterness enter my tone. Vashti was not like Mordecai, stiff-lipped and silent; she would chatter everything to me if I asked it. Well, now I asked.

Vashti rose and hugged me hard. “Don't worry, Esther. We thought long and hard on this—well, Hegai thought long and hard, and—”

“Vashti,” I said, “stop speaking of yourself as if you're a fool. You are quite capable of thinking long and hard.”

Color flamed over her cheeks; this faint praise delighted her. “Very well, Hegai and I. Oh, I know you thought to be the first girl the king would see, and that was my first thought as well. But Esther, it would not answer.”

She was right, and I saw that once I stopped thinking only of those forty nights when the king would look upon other girls, and not upon me.

“The palace is a place of beauty and of riches,” Hegai said, “and also of plots. You are not the only girl who has those who wish to see you queen. Had you drawn the token numbered one, I doubt even I could have kept you safe. You are too much favored, Esther.”

“So—forty. And what is to keep the king from choosing one of the thirty-nine maidens who will go to him before I do?”

“Me,” Vashti said. “By the king's own decree, I set the laws for this choice of queen. I speak to the king to tell him about the girl he will see, and will speak to him again after her night with him. I can easily persuade him the others are not worthy to take my place.”

This plan sounded unreliable, but I had to admit at the moment I could think of nothing else myself. I looked at Hegai, knowing he would see my doubt; Hegai shrugged.

“The king is not overeager to choose a new queen,” Hegai said. “He still comes to Vashti for comfort, after all. He still listens to her. It is the best we can do.”

Vashti looked at me intently. “You don't like it? You're so clever, Esther—surely you'll think of something better. When you do, tell us at once.”

Vashti had more faith in my mind than I myself possessed. Still, perhaps I
would
think of something better. That night I sat quiet in my room, trying to invent a plan without flaw. I could think only that if Ahasuerus chose another to be his wife, I would die of grief.

At last I grew irritated with my own misery. If Ahasuerus chose another, I would
not
die. I would live with pain in my heart all my life, but I would not die.
I do not want to live my life weeping for what I cannot have. So I must think of a way to gain my heart's desire. And I have forty days to do so.

No, less than that. I must ensure my future before the first girl was summoned for her night with the king, for he might choose her simply to end this mad contest. For that, I must find someone wiser than I. Even as I thought that, I knew I must again ask advice of Daniel.

*   *   *

Daniel seemed unsurprised to see me at his gate. Well, by now all the world knew the numbers each of the Chosen Maidens had drawn.
Forty.

“Esther,” he said. “Come in and sit. Be welcome—although I'm not sure I can do anything for you this time.”

“You can listen,” I said, and Daniel smiled.

“Yes, that I can do. Speak, then, and I will listen.”

And he did, sitting quiet as I told him everything. Vashti's plan, Hegai's doubts, my fears—all poured out before him like water from a broken jar. “And so I will be the fortieth girl the king sees. It is so long to wait, there are so many chances for all to turn to dust in my hands.”

Daniel waited, but I suddenly had no more words to offer.

“Would it be so bad a thing, if you are not chosen queen?” he asked.

“I don't care about being queen. I—” I drew a deep breath. “I love Ahasuerus. I don't care about the rest, save that I cannot have him if I do not win the crown.”

“You are sure?”

I laughed, shakily. “I think I am sure. How do you know your own heart?”

“That is indeed a hard thing to know, Esther. I didn't know my own until—well, not
too
late. But—”

“But you have her, your Samamat.” I liked Daniel's wife, foreign though she might be. Samamat was clever and kind; I wished she were my mother.

“Yes, I have Samamat now. But I nearly lost her, and Arioch too, because I was afraid.”

Arioch—? Oh, yes, the captain of Nebuchadnezzar's guard, the man who had helped Daniel save himself from the wrath of mad kings.
“Now it is my turn to listen,” I said, and Daniel laughed softly.

“That is
not
a tale for your maiden ears, child. And it was all a long time ago. A very long time.” Daniel sighed, and gazed into the fountain, as if he saw dreams in the bright falling water. “Arioch—” Daniel turned his face to me, and I saw the past shadowing his sky-eyes. “He won Samamat, for I was too slow to speak first. And too afraid of what the other Jews would say, if I married her.”

Daniel turned his head and came back to me. “If you love Ahasuerus, you must cast out fear. And always remember that small fears are more killing than the great. ‘
What will others say? Will I look foolish? Will he say no?
' Those things don't matter. Dare and win.”

“Or dare and lose?”

“Yes. But even if you fail, at least you will have tried. You will not spend all your days reproaching yourself because you let small fears rule you.”

Sound advice, as I only truly understood later. Now I yearned for more tangible guidance. “But what am I to do? How can I ensure the King of Kings chooses me?”

Daniel stared past me, as if he saw my future in the soft hot air. At last he said, “Did you not say that Vashti wishes you to be chosen?”

“Yes,” I said.

“And did you not say that Hegai looks upon you with favor?”

“Yes. Yes, he does.”

“Then,” said Daniel Dream-Master, “I suggest you ask them, and not me. If the banished queen and the keeper of the king's women both want the king to chose you, I'm sure they have some plan in mind—probably something so exquisitely devious it would give the Sphinx a headache. Go and ask them what their cunning plan is, and then come up with a plan of your own. Something simple.”

I looked at him closely, to see if he jested. His eyes smiled, but his mouth remained solemn. “Something simple,” I echoed.

“Yes,” said Daniel Dream-Master, who had counseled kings. “Something simple, Esther. There are far too many clever deceptions coiling through the palaces like invisible serpents.”

For a breath I felt the cool malice of such serpents slide over my skin. I shuddered, chilled. “I will avoid them.”

“That would be wise. It may not be possible. Remember that nothing is secret in a palace. Nothing. May the Lord Our God protect you, Hadassah. No one else will.”

*   *   *

Something simple.
The words repeated themselves in my mind, like a song that will not be forgotten.
Something simple.
The king must chose me, he
must.
Vashti wished it; Hegai wished it. And I—I desired it with all my heart. My blood burned for Ahasuerus.

Something simple—a simple plan to ensure he chooses me—

“If only I could just tell him!” I cried aloud, and as the words faded into the air, I knew what I had to do.

*   *   *

“You want me to tell him now to choose you?” Vashti stared at me with her huge silver-green eyes. “Just tell him?”

“Yes,” I said. “It's what we all want. So tell him. Why gamble when the stakes are so high? He will listen to you, I think.”

She looked thoughtful, twirled a lock of her ivory hair about her fingers. “Yes, he will listen. And—oh, Esther, I think it may work.”

“It will work better than scheming and hoping. I think you should tell him plainly what you wish for him, and for me. Too many have played with him as if he were a puppet rather than a man and a king.”

Vashti regarded me wide-eyed, then nodded. “You are right. But—what if he says no?”

“If he says no—well, that will at least end the suspense.” If the king refused me sight unseen, I would weep for a day. If he refused me after I had spent my one night with him, I would weep until I had no tears left. I would walk dry-eyed and stone-hearted for the rest of my days.

“You're crying.” Vashti put her arm around me. “What's wrong, Esther?”

What is wrong is that I burn for a man who has never set eyes upon me. I am so afraid he will not choose me that my heart hurts with each beat.

I longed to say these words aloud, to unburden myself. I knew Vashti would be kind, would soothe and cosset me and try to make me smile again. I nearly did say them—but then I remembered Daniel's words.

Nothing is secret in a palace. Nothing.

I drew a deep breath and pressed my fingers to my eyes, wiping away the betraying tears. I smiled. “What's wrong is that I am tired, and that I think too much on the forty long days and nights I must wait to see the king. That is all.”

That was quite enough to set Vashti calling for my handmaidens and giving Kylah a dozen orders for my care. I said nothing, but sent Kylah a look that the clever girl rightly interpreted as meaning,
Listen and nod and say, “Yes, my Lady Vashti.” As soon as she leaves, we can forget it all.

I smiled at Kylah. I closed my hand over the ivory disk I had tied in my sash.
Forty.
Mine, mine to keep always.

Much later I had a palace jeweler carve a small hole in the disk, and for many years I wore it on a silk cord about my neck. Whenever life grew hard to bear—even palaces hold sorrow—I would touch my fingers to the ivory token, and take comfort from its smooth warmth.

VASHTI

When I chose Esther to be Ahasuerus's next queen, I did not realize I also chose a friend for myself. Not since Ahasuerus and I had been playmates together had I known so close a bond. Esther's mind ran swift and clever, and she was so learned I could only shake my head and profess myself unequal to her.

“Nonsense,” Esther said. “You are just as clever as I. You simply never have learned to use your mind for anything but play.”

“How would I learn to—not play?” I asked, and Esther smiled.

“By hard work and perseverance, Vashti. And by practice.”

“And if I work hard, and persevere, and practice…?”

“You will learn to think your own thoughts, rather than those of others. It's a useful skill to have.”

“I wish I could change places with you—oh, not in the contest, but I think—I think it would be wonderful to live outside palace walls.”

“Most would change places with you, and not with me, Vashti. May I ask a question of you?” For the first time, Esther sounded uncertain.

“Yes, and I will even answer. What would you ask?” I waited with interest; I never knew what Esther might say, what she wished to know.

“You have been Queen of Queens. If it were possible, would you wish to be queen again?”

And I thought carefully before I answered. Did I want to be queen again? If I could trick the king into choosing me, as if we all lived in a tale of
peris
and phoenixes, where hearts were worth more than crowns, would I do it?
No. No, I do not want to be his queen. I do not know what I do want, but I do not want that.

Esther waited; I could read nothing in her eyes. When I did not speak, she said, “Some would commit any act, if it would ensure even a chance at a crown. One girl rubbed tar into her twin sister's golden hair so that it had to all be cut off. No one would choose a girl with a shaven head for the king to look upon. Another washed her face and found her smooth pale skin blotched and red. Yet another—”

“Stop,” I said.
How terrible, how cruel the choice of beauty.

But Esther possessed more than a keen mind, more than a vibrant beauty. She owned that most rare, most elusive, charm: she was likeable.

Everyone liked her—even maidens who competed against her for the crown liked Esther. Hegai liked her, and Hegai liked few people. Sometimes I wondered if he truly liked me, but I never quite dared ask.

It was good to have a friend—and twice good that friend was Esther. A girl my own age, one who understood what I longed for. And Esther knew much that I had not yet learned. I listened avidly to her tales of growing up wild in the mountain valley, and of slipping unnoticed through the city below the palace. I could not go to the valley—

“But you can take me down into the city, Esther. Yes, we will go and you will show me how men and women who are not kings and queens live.”

“No, we will not,” Esther said flatly.

That was the beginning of an argument that lasted from one end of my garden to the other and back again—for Esther liked to move about, as if she were a restless mare, and I had learned to walk with her. It was also an excellent way of ensuring no one eavesdropped upon our words. Esther steadfastly refused to do my bidding in this, and I begged and cajoled, promised her whatsoever she desired. At last I said,