One Night With the King: A Special Movie Edition of the Bestselling Novel, Hadassah by Tommy Tenney;Mark Andrew Olsen

by Tommy Tenney;Mark Andrew Olsen

  “Tell no one of your Jewishness,” he muttered over and over again. “It will become an issue. It could actually mean your life.”

  By the time he began to speak of how to approach my time with the King, Mordecai's themes had begun to flow together in a seamless verbal torrent. “I know you are frightened by what your capture implies, but my dear, you must realize that there are greater things to fear than the unknown regions of sexual intimacy. Much more than the King's bed partner is at stake. Hidden powers are jockeying for position here. Just stay as observant a Jew as you can. Privately, G-d will understand the things you are compelled to do upon pain of death. And you will be forced to break some commandments. But try your very best not to. Remember who you are, even if you keep it silent. Keep up your prayers to the Lord. Do not follow the others-the common sentiment-but remember what I taught you about the Word of G-d.”

  I suppose Mordecai's alarming behavior helped shield me from the full shock of my impending fate. I spent the two days in a sort of daze, trying my best to absorb the best of what he was attempting to impart and at the same time distinguish his true nuggets of wisdom from product of mere panic. In the end I slipped into a sort of numb state of my own, a mindset that I can barely remember to this day. Thank G-d, the time passed all too swiftly.

  The fateful dawn arrived. I stood just inside our door arrayed in a fine tunic that Rachel had purchased for me at the King's Gate bazaar. Rachel had come early, and I was bathed, perfumed and beautified to the best of her experience. I now recall with some amusement that I actually believed myself to be as clean and fragrant as a girl could possibly be, that any further beauty treatments before it came to be my night with Xerxes would just be futile excess. How little I knew! And how naive! I was able to form the phrase “my night with Xerxes” not understanding even a small portion of what that meant.

  Finally, just as we stood to face the door and all the fearfulness awaiting outside, he turned to me with tears in his eyes.

  “Hadassah, my dear,” he said in a broken voice, “I think it is best if you leave your star necklace with me.”

  I gasped in shock and dismay. For some reason, surrendering the one relic from my dead family seemed like the cruelest loss of all-more grievous somehow than losing my freedom, my innocence or even my future.

  Yet I knew from the crushed look upon Mordecai's face that he had my highest good at heart; it was no easier for him to ask it than for me to relinquish it. So I numbly felt my fingers reach to my neck, unclasp the medallion and hand it to him. Then I turned back for the door, opened it and stepped outside into a chill morning and the sun's bright rays emerging over the tops of nearby buildings.

  Right on schedule, the synchronized slapping of boots on cobblestone was heard approaching our place. Rachel began to sob; Mordecai merely draped an arm over my shoulder, squeezed hard and stared at the opposite side of the street. The only motion in his face was that of his lower lip, which now quivered, I must admit, like that of a baby.

  And then they were beside us. Today's column was far more military and precise than the one that had found me two days before. After their captain had barked out his order to stop, the men stared straight ahead. The only sign of their humanity was the faint wisps of air pluming from their mouths in the night-cooled air.

  I almost fainted, for my breath was now rasping in my chest, shallow and halting. I tried to speak but my spastic throat would not form a word. My knees gave way, and I would have fallen but for the three pairs of male hands that immediately grasped my arms and held me up.

  Through my tears and the lurching sway of my sight I could see Mordecai back away, his hands held pleadingly in front of his face. He was no longer in control of his faculties.

  “No! No!” came all the pathetic plea he could muster.

  The men pulled me farther into their midst, their grip so strong that keeping my feet was no longer necessary. They started to carry me uphill.

  “The East Gate!” Mordecai began to shout, tearing at his hair, his eyes wild with grief. “Meet me at the East Gate when you canI'll be there!”

  I wanted to acknowledge his instruction, but all I could manage was a single word.

  “Mordecai!” I screamed.

  “Keep the commandments!” he shouted after me, his voice beginning to dim. “Remember! Keep the commandments!”

  The same houses I had passed on my quiet return home now flowed past like mournful reminders. The early risers I had seen a few days before were now staring wide-eyed at the commotion.

  “Come on, girl, it's not so bad,” the King's agent said from my left. “You're not going to be executed. You're going to spend the best twelve months of your life, get bedded by the King and even stand a decent chance of becoming Queen of Persia. There are girls lining up all over the kingdom to be considered for this.”

  And that, believe it or not, is the first time I heard a clear statement of my future.

  he soldiers led me up the hill and through the Palace's front portico. I thought of the euphoria with which I had entered only days before, seemingly safe in my pathetic disguise with my protector Mordecai by my side. The Palace had then seemed the most awesome and wondrous place I had ever imagined. Now, knowing what had happened to Jesse, the place loomed as a fate worse than death. A chamber of horrors and of unknown, unspeakable outcomes.

  The soldiers turned left just inside the portico and walked me beside the lovely reflecting pools I had once admired. We turned away from the great buildings I had visited for the banquet, that cataclysmic event that seemed to be changing everything, and walked for some distance toward a tree-shrouded enclosure of graceful, low-slung structures.

  Upon reaching the compound's front doorstep, the soldiers paused. A heavy wooden door swung open and a well-clad, richly muscled man appeared.

  “Already?” he said. “The voluntary ones have not even started to come in.”

  The King's agent laughed derisively. “We've heard rumors for years that the most beautiful girl in the Empire lived right under our noses, in the Hebrew quarter,” he replied. “And look at her. How could you see that and not see a Candidate for Queen?”

  “I understand,” said the man in the door in a low voice. “All right, you can go now. I'll take her from here.”

  The hands that had gripped my arms for what seemed like forever now released me in less than a heartbeat. I almost fell to the ground, so accustomed I already had become to their painful grasp.

  But now I felt other hands bear me up-softer, gentler. I looked up into the eyes of the man from the door. He was older, probably in his fifth decade, and though his face bore the distant expression of a world-weary citizen, I saw also a warmth, almost indiscernible in its source, radiating from him. His skin and expression seemed oddly feminine. And then it struck me. Is he a... ? And then thoughts of Jesse and fears for him flooded my mind. I let out a small whimper and swayed a bit.

  “Here, little one,” the man said, steadying me with a firm grip. “It's all right. I know the whole thing is very frightening. But I promise you'll be fine.”

  He guided me inside to a dark and cool interior room, an antechamber of sorts, lined with thick velvet pillows. “Believe me,” he continued, “the method was not of my choosing. But this kind of edict puts everyone on edge, especially soldiers. Everyone is so anxious to advance. Here, you're so shaken up, let's take you straight to your room. What is your name, my dear?”

  “Ha-” I started, intending to give my full name, but I then realized that its Jewishness might give me away. So instead I stammered, grasping for a name. The first thought that occupied the vacuum in my mind came with overwhelming emotions. “Star,” I said weakly, recalling the beloved necklace given to me as a child. “My name is Star.”

  “That is a lovely name,” he said in a soothing tone. “Star, my name is Hegai. I am His Majesty's royal eunuch. The King's Chamberlain, I am also called. And don't you worry, little one. I will make sure you are pampered beyond y
our imagination.”

  Through a thick gauze of shock, I remember thinking that what he described sounded inviting. But I was incapable of response. All I knew was that I was being led down a marble hallway, then turned into a high-ceilinged bedroom floored with real stone and lit by a large window open to the courtyard.

  “Here. Now you rest,” the man invited.

  I lay down on a bed, a low platform softened with layers of sheep's wool, pulled a thin blanket of surprisingly soft material over myself and quietly cried myself to sleep. I dozed fitfully as bizarre scenarios careened over each other in my mind. The fact that I was sleeping on the Palace grounds seemed like but one of my delirium's fantastic inventions. I awoke a few times to the sound of movement in the hallway outside; twice I heard girls whimpering followed by the voice of our host, comforting them as he had me.

  I awoke, opened my eyes and almost rolled from my bed in combined shock and confusion. For nearly all of my life, I had slept and awakened in the very same bed in the very same room. Now, blinking open to the sight of a strange wall, a strange ceiling, a strange light, I bolted upward while my breath shuddered in gasps.

  Slowly, my panic subsided and the realization of where I was began to seep into my consciousness. I recalled traumatic snatches of my capture: the world reeling around me, the soldiers' hands reaching for me, Mordecai's pleading voice, the looming shape of the Palace gates as they swayed into sight.

  The room was filled with that half-light that is difficult to distinguish between evening and morning. I stood on the tips of my toes and craned my neck to see over the edge of the high window. The landscape before me shone in the sunlight. I had slept a few hours. The back of a flowering cherry tree partly obscured my view of the marble terrace, the pool at its far edge, and the hulking shapes of the Palace's great halls crowding the horizon. I could sneak out came my first thought, until I pondered further and realized that every gate in the forbidding outer wall was under heavy guard. I ruefully considered how I had always thought of the Palace guard as keeping intruders out-not keeping terrified occupants in.

  One Night With the King: A Special Movie Edition of the Bestselling Novel, Hadassah by Tommy Tenney;Mark Andrew Olsen

  Am I a prisoner? came the lingering question. I didn't exactly feel like one; the room certainly did not seem like a cell. And yet I definitely was here against my will. Maybe the next hour or two would tell.

  I turned back to the room, aware that sleep was over for now. Walking to the entrance, I tried the handle of the door and pushed it open silently. The hallway was spacious and cool with that airiness unique to stone spaces. I tiptoed out to an open-air courtyard filled with small trees and an enclosed smaller pool. The place's stillness and elegant beauty at this hour took my breath away. The golden light was kissing the walls' pale olive and the water's cool blue depths with all the richness of a painting. I had never seen such a serene and beautiful sight. Circling the pool, I came to a large open room filled with couches and tables. Empty, overturned wine goblets and rhytons were strewn across the furniture and floor. I turned away and returned to my room.

  And then I remembered Mordecai's final words. Meet me at the East Gate! And I knew what I had to do next.

  t was no great feat to escape the house itself. I had only to grasp the lip of the bedroom window, pull myself up, scoot over the sill, then jump down to the other side. Once there I stood perfectly still for a long moment, trying to acclimate myself to the new acoustics and listen for any disturbance I might have aroused. I heard only soft breeze through the leaves before me and a slight lapping from the nearby pool. I peered out through the foliage, trying to gauge where my greatest risk of detection would be. Would this compound have its own guards? Or were they all at the outer gates?

  I saw nothing, so I tiptoed ahead, keeping to the shade nearest the wall. My next task was to determine in fact where east was. I noted the location of the sun, then glanced outward to the mountainous Palace halls I had visited so recently and tried to make out the King's Gate, which I knew to be the southernmost part of the Palace. Of the three highest rooftops, I chose the closest, as it was from the King's Gate that I had first glimpsed the harem compound.

  Since that shape was southernmost, and the other rooftops lay on a north-south axis, and the sun was in front of me, I realized that east lay behind me, beyond the harem buildings. I continued to follow the wall until I knew I had come to the back side, then plunged forward into the garden foliage. After fighting my way through a thicket of lush bougainvillea, I reached an old gate that opened onto yet another structure. Its low roofline blended almost completely into the rich garden canopy. I avoided coming too close by staying on my side of the gate and darting from one palm trunk to another. I could not keep from peeking around, though, and what I saw brought me to a sudden and complete halt. A dozen young men stood under a loud stream of running water that cascaded from a corner of the roof. They were naked and tied together at the ankles by a thick wet rope. I thought I saw red rivulets in the stream trickling away from their crude bath.

  I looked away, my virginal curiosity overcome by the gruesomeness of what my mind was telling me. These were the new eunuchs, I realized. Jesse would probably be one of them-if not one of the bathers, then one of their companions inside. I shuddered and, feeling faint, slowly moved away on my quest to reach Mordecai.

  I slipped as silently as I could toward my calculations of east. A row of bright golden flowers flanked me for a while, nearly as tall as my waist. I passed through the shelter of a small apple orchard, then squeezed through a hedge on its far side. I finally shook my head, amazed. How large was this Palace? Besides the largest buildings in the world, how many forests, how many gardens and enclosed buildings could it possibly encompass?

  Suddenly I found myself standing face first against the Palace wall itself. Finally, the end of it. I turned left, then right. Which way was the East Gate? I gambled on right and began to hurry. The sun was now setting, and the protecting shadow a small comfort. But I could picture an alarm being given for the escaped Jewish girl, packs of heavily armed soldiers stalking the gardens for my tracks. I had to get to the gate.

  Up ahead, the wall was broken by a thick column and a wide gap. I sighed in relief. The East Gate. I tiptoed up to the column and peered around. From my narrow view through the iron bars I saw a flash of white tunic and burlap bag. Merchants and shoppers going about their final business of the day. No soldiers; but I could see only the farthest end of the gate's aperture.

  I decided to take the chance. I slipped around, looked through the bars and, instead of a soldier's, the face that greeted me was Mordecai's, looking worn and tired. It was clear that he had been standing there since I had been taken, on the chance that I would come. He cried out at the sight of me and rushed to the gate.

  “Hadassah! Are you all right?” He was weeping.

  I could not form a response; indeed, from my very sight of him I was undone. A loud sob ripped forth from the bottom of my lungs as I leaned forward to take hold of his outstretched hands through the bars. It was more than crying-what overwhelmed me was a mixture of weeping and shouting for joy. I grasped his fingers and covered them with kisses and tears. I felt as though I had not seen him in years. Just being close to him, drinking in his person, his nearness, seemed like the most refreshing spring water to a desert wanderer. I had a flash backward in time to that conversation with old Jacob, when he described the young child so overjoyed at the sight of his father.

  “I'm fine, Poppa,” I finally managed. “Hegai the chamberlain is a very nice man and the quarters are quite comfortable. I have no complaints.”

  A semblance of reassurance seemed to come over him when he heard those words. Then he thought of another concern. “Have you met any of the other girls, Hadassah? What are they like?”

  “None of them yet, Poppa. I have been here only a short time.” And hearing myself say those words brought rushing back the fact that I was to stay here fo
r the rest of my life. My composure col lapsed in an instant. “Can you get me out?” I pleaded. “What can you do, Poppa Mordecai? You're a Palace worker.”

  He shook his head and tears began again to stain his cheeks. “This is a royal edict, Hadassah. I have made inquiries. I think I can walk past the front of the harem every morning and we can talk, but that is all. Other than that, nothing is to be done. Nothing, that is, except to bear this fate like a worthy child of Israel.”

  “You mean I'll never go home? I'll never sit down to dinner with you again?” My weeping seemed to twist the sound of my speech into the parody of a whining toddler, but I did not care. I reached forward to touch Mordecai's hair as I said it; he did nothing to resist, for he was in tears as thoroughly as I was.