Without even glancing aside, Xerxes took a goblet of wine from his personal aide and gulped the liquid as though it were water. He tossed the solid gold vessel into the grass, closed his eyes in bliss and smiled broadly, deeply. How sweet the next few minutes would be! At last to witness the final defeat of the hated Greeks, defiers of his rule, murderers of his father. He would soon rule not just a vast portion of the world but the entire civilized world itself.
Standing next to him, his general Mardonius pointed. Their ships were on the move. Persia had far more vessels than the Greeks, and larger ones, as well. Once they had squeezed through the narrow canal and massed in front of the island itself, the battle would be all but won.
The sails bearing his royal gryphon symbol had been unfurled, and their bold standard flapped in the wind from hundreds of ships. Actually, the biggest challenge of the day would not be defeating the Greeks but navigating so many boats through the narrow passageway separating them from Salamis. As Xerxes watched, the first wave of three boats broke from the pack and headed into the strait, which could accommodate no more than three abreast. Three more sailed in behind them, and three more after that-a juggernaut of naval might.
He was admiring the seamanship of his captains when he noticed Mardonius frowning, staring farther away.
“What is it?” he asked.
Mardonius pointed down to the Greek position. “Well, your Majesty, it appears the Greek ships have taken a head-on course and are making quite a speed in our direction.”
“Is that worrisome?”
“Well, it is unexpected, sir. They're sailing right into our teeth. One would have expected them to feign and dodge to avoid killing themselves outright.”
“Maybe they are trying to hasten the inevitable,” Xerxes said with a chuckle. The other generals and nobles around him chuckled, also, understanding their roles.
“They are not known for taking their lives, your Majesty. As evil as the Greeks may be, so far they have conducted themselves with a measure of bravery.”
One Night With the King: A Special Movie Edition of the Bestselling Novel, Hadassah by Tommy Tenney;Mark Andrew Olsen
“Be quiet, Mardonius,” Xerxes snarled, suddenly tired of the general's endless analysis. “You're ruining my moment.”
“But they certainly have gathered speed,” said another beside him.
Xerxes squinted for a better look. It was true-a good dozen Greek ships, smaller and nimbler than his own, were sailing straight into the Persian onslaught at a velocity that seemed downright reckless. He stood without thinking as the Greeks closed the gap, racing toward ...
The unthinkable happened: they rammed their sharp prows into his lead boats and sliced them open like overripe fruits! A moment later, the groan of severed wood reached their ears. The sound felt almost human to Xerxes, like the dying gasp of a very large man.
Or maybe the dying gasp of his own aspirations.
The sonic wound reverberated through his assembly like a thunderclap; generals and high-born civilians alike recoiled and tried to stifle their own gasps by covering their mouths.
And their sounds soon turned to moans, for the worst had only begun. The wounded Persian ships not only floundered, tossing dozens of elite fighting men into the water like swarms of tadpoles, but their useless hulks now began to block the narrow canal. The ships behind them soon began to run aground and collide into one another!
I learned later that this was among the first times the hardened rams had been used in naval battles. The rather constricted area through which the Persian ships had to sail became a noose as the suicidal attacks by the Greeks decimated Xerxes' fleet.
Xerxes stood and shook his head, trying to forestall the moment when his mind absorbed just what was taking place before him. “No. No. Mardonius, tell me this is not happening.”
Mardonius did not answer. He stood scowling, with his hands on his hips. Several of the concubines brought along for the trip had wilted, physically bowled over by what was taking place.
It only grew worse. The entire Persian fleet had acquired a speed of its own entering the strait, and so the great bottleneck continued. Ship after ship plowed into the one before it-tossing men and weapons overboard like wrecks in a hurricane. Meanwhile, the Greek boats continued to speed into the melee with a disregard for their own safety, which had it been exhibited by his own captains, Xerxes would certainly have deemed heroic.
The hillsides above the water's edge now filled with Spartan swordsmen, Greece's most skilled soldiers, along with archers, and even from this height, he could see the water turn red with Persian blood. Greek soldiers were actually leaping from the deck of one ruined Persian ship to another, killing their Persian enemies at full stride. His men were being slaughtered wholesale before his very eyes.
He turned to Mardonius. “Are we going to lose?” he asked in a voice that sounded to him like death itself.
The general answered without turning from his watch. “We already have, your Majesty”
will never forget the day, or the moment, when poor Memucan entered with his skin the color of cinders and his face a mask of numb disbelief. He seemed a decade older than when I had seen him last, just an hour before. I was finishing the noon meal with two of my handmaidens, and we had just been reminiscing about the seemingly long-ago candidate days. I stopped in midsentence the instant I saw him.
He sat down on a divan next to me and placed a smooth hand upon mine. “I have some bad news, your Highness. Do you wish to hear it with your companions at your side?”
I nodded silently as my food suddenly soured in my stomach.
“Now, do not fear the worst, ma'am. His Majesty is perfectly safe. You can rest assured on that score. However-” and on that word he paused and drew a tremulous breath-“our armies have suffered a terrible defeat. The Greeks have withstood us.”
“But I thought we had just sacked Athens, burned the Acropolis! I thought the war was over!”
“I thought as much myself, your Highness. However, it appears that His Majesty attempted to pursue and wipe out the Athenian refugees, and our navy was ambushed in the process. They suffered a terrible defeat and are unable to resupply the army. His Majesty is en route back home to Susa as we speak, for our navy can no longer replenish the troops. I do not know more than that, dear Queen Esther.”
He bowed and rose to leave, but I caught his hand and pulled him back beside me. I needed a wise and experienced presence beside me just then. I did not let him, or my handmaidens, leave me until I had fallen into bed and begun a long night of weeping and wrestling with fears that would not stop tumbling over each other in my mind.
What is Xerxes' future as King? And by extension, mine as Queen? Is Persia in danger of being toppled or conquered by a rising power? Will the unsavory influences rising in the Palace during Xerxes' absence now feel emboldened to show themselves and challenge his throne? How much can befall a politically weakened King like this one, not to mention his new, commoner Queen?
After hours of restless questions, I once again saw Mordecai's face and thought to pray. I wish I could tell you I left it all in G-d's hands, but at least I finally fell asleep.
Unfortunately, the defeat at Salamis was just an omen of the ill tidings to come. One of the few men to distinguish himself during Xerxes' Greek campaign was the satrap of Negev, Haman the Agagite. Time and time again his advice on how to properly round up and execute civilian populations, as well as strike terror into the Greek ranks in general, had proven absolutely essential. Furthermore, the King soon learned that his newest governor was also one of his wealthiest. Even after decades of marauding, his predatory bands had never stopped raiding caravans all over the Negev, and their haul had now grown prodigious.
As a result, while the Persian army and Xerxes' entourage made their slow and despondent way home, the truth was that Haman actually possessed nearly as much wealth as the King himself.
Neither man knew it at the time. All they knew
was that Haman currently ranked as one of the fastest rising stars in the whole Empire. And Haman no doubt realized that now was the time for him to call in his favors.
News of the defeat struck Susa like a death in the communal family. An eerie stillness fell over both the Palace and the city itself. I could feel it when merely leaving my quarters; the hallways seemed to be covered by some gray blanket that swallowed all sound, all life, all enthusiasm.
Yet by the time the Persian army returned to Susa, its calamity at Salamis had been given the proper political interpretation as both a heroic survival from treacherous Greek tactics and a righteous stand against the enemy's defilement of the rules of war. Far from erasing the sour taste of defeat, the revision of history merely took the worst of the sting from Xerxes' return and at least allowed a disheartened cheer to the returning men.
All the Crown needed now to complete the scenario was a good scapegoat.
As for Haman, it took him only a day to realize he had come back to a far different Susa than he had left. His departure four years before had been a highly calculated risk-with his plot against the King only freshly foiled, his co-conspirators still displayed on the logs of their gallows, and he not knowing how much information they had divulged before their executions. Leaving for war alongside the King, he had gambled that his role at the heart of the coup attempt was still unknown. And he had won. This, of course, we did not know at the time.
Furthermore, the capital of old had been a jubilant launching point for what promised to be a historic and triumphant military campaign. Now the King was diminished and cowed, and the entire picture had altered.
One thing Haman knew for sure. Xerxes' impulsive behavior on the battlefield had cost Persia the war, and the Amalekite must have felt more certain than ever of his chances for an overthrow. To put it mildly, he told his lieutenants in his sumptuous tent, Xerxes was a fool. A man like that did not deserve to stay king, let alone possess the acumen to stay in power. It would be a stroll through the poppy fields to pick off this weakened king. Maybe he'd even to take this Queen for himself...
In fact, Haman had already set the stage for his next move. His own private army had galloped into Susa at the rear of Persia's downbeat ranks. Mordecai discreetly joined me, and we had watched the ragtag procession from the top of the King's Gate. All of a sudden, a band of horsemen arrived, completely unlike the soldiers who had preceded them. Their faces were taut and determined, their mounts of a different breed and a different gait than all the others. They didn't appear weakened or disheartened, as the regular royal troops had. They cheered and waved their swords about them as though they had won and were receiving their triumphant entry.
And then we both saw their backs-the symbol of the broken cross.
A foul wind blew through me as if I were made of straw. I reeled back, took a deep breath, and burrowed my fingernails into Mordecai's arm. He did not notice the pain, for he was reacting as spectacularly as I, standing as though made of stone. I was immediately in tears; yet because I was standing atop a reviewing post and knew others were watching me, I tried my best to rein in my emotions.
But I could not help it. Every terror that had ever beset my childhood had just returned tenfold.
The faithful Memucan, on whom had fallen the onerous task of reporting every piece of bad news since Xerxes' coronation, now bore the awful burden of telling a defeated King that he was also depleted of his wealth. The conversation did not go well. I was not in the room when Memucan delivered his dark report, but I was nearby, and I heard Xerxes' shouts clearly. How could the King's most trusted advisor allow this to happen? How could he have failed to stanch the flow, without even warning the innocent monarch of what was happening?
I could not make out Memucan's response, but I can imagine his rightful riposte-that he was not the cause, nor Susa the site, of the financial hemorrhage. Indeed, it was Xerxes' foolhardy military jaunt and the extravagance of his own demands that had caused the losses. But the defeated King, the spoiler of Persian invincibility, wanted to hear no such thing.
Memucan was ejected from Xerxes' presence with shouts and thrown shoes, plates and even a piece of silverware or two. Knowing the King, I am surprised the poor man left with his life, although Xerxes' angst was only momentarily directed at the loyal Memucan.
As for my reunion with the King? I am sorry to say that it took several days to happen, for Xerxes was preoccupied and angry in those first few days, far too distracted to entertain my joy at his return. Beyond that, I am also sorry to say, I had heard rumors that he had brought along a contingent of his favorite concubines on the trip. (Not exactly my favorite aspect of royal life.) I waved at him from a high balcony, and he waved back with a smile, but that was all.
And once again, I allowed the worst of my fears to overcome me. Today, I am certain that he actually waited to see me because he wanted nothing to intrude on the joy of our being together again. He was indeed assailed by a hundred pressing issues upon his return, and he hardly slept for his first three days back. But I once again began to question both his love for me and my continued viability as Queen.
Finally, on the night of the third day, he called for me. And the moment I entered the bedchamber and he turned around to meet my eye, it was as though no time had elapsed at all since our last night together. His face brightened and a broad though slightly weary smile creased his features; he held out his arms and braced himself, for I was running toward him from the first moment our eyes met. I leaped into his arms and thankfully the momentum forced us backward and onto the bed, not collapsing in an undignified heap on the floor.
Now, I know it may seem silly or incredibly naive of me to be so in love with a man who had just deserted me for four years and who had generally behaved like a capricious maniac the whole time he was gone. But you must realize this: sometimes what might seem capricious to you and me is wisdom for a king. I was forced to realize early on that Xerxes knew more than I did about kingdoms, authority and the seemingly irrational requirements of staying in power. So I worked very hard not to question his decisions-but to love him.
And you must know-it was as if G-d had given me a mad love for the man. An irrational one, perhaps, but undeniable nevertheless.
He muttered, “I can't believe how much I missed you,” and I believed him, for better or worse. And we spent the next two hours delightedly retracing the intimate territory that his absence had denied us for so many nights.
t started with a knock on the door.
Xerxes bolted upright at the sound, his face flooded with a mixture of rage and apprehension. “Ignore it,” he whispered to me with a dismissive gesture toward the sound.
But the knocking continued; in fact, it grew louder with every passing second. I recoiled inside, for I did not want this glorious reunion tainted by the memory of seeing someone beheadedwhich appeared to be this ignorant interloper's upcoming fate. No one interrupted times between the royal couple; not even the Master of the Audiences, who could approach Xerxes when no one else could.
I saw Xerxes glance around for some sort of weapon or projectile to use. His eye settled on the sword lying to one side of the bed, where he had undressed. He walked over and brandished the weapon, then turned for the door.
“What?” he shouted with venom toward the unfortunate one on the other side of the door.
The door opened slowly. I winced, preparing for the worst. Then I hazarded a glance, and my eyes widened once, then again.
Jesse stood in the doorway, his face the whiteness of marble. He advanced more tentatively than any male I had ever seen in my life. He did not so much as look my way; he kept his eyes aimed straight at his feet in a terrified sign of submission.
“Your Majesty, I beg your forgiveness for this most importune intrusion. And I implore you to listen to my news before you decide on taking my life. It is my wish only to bring you grave tidings that your Majesty should know at the very soonest opportunity.”
The swo
rd lowered. Xerxes glared at him expectantly.
“What is it now, eunuch?”
“Your Majesty, it is my deepest sorrow to inform you that Master of the Audiences Memucan has been murdered.”
I did not see Xerxes' initial reaction, for my own eyes shut themselves in shock and sorrow. At the same time, understanding settled over me-as Memucan's chief aide, Hathach was the logical choice to deliver this news.
Within a split second, a loud clatter filled the room. Xerxes had dropped his sword, and he stood motionless, incapable of further movement. He fell to his knees, and I rushed to his side. Xerxes neither embraced my coming nor shrugged me off; he was too overwhelmed to react at all. The next thing to emerge from his mouth sounded like singing, so melodic was his lament.
“Nooooooo ... ”
And that is when I caught him, about to pitch over sideways. He swayed in my arms for a moment, then finally regained his composure.
“Have the murderers been captured? Do we have any idea who did it?”
One Night With the King: A Special Movie Edition of the Bestselling Novel, Hadassah by Tommy Tenney;Mark Andrew Olsen Page 24
