Chosen
Page 9
“Is that how you will win a crown?” she huffed. I fumbled with the gold clasp on my robe, almost tearing it, and she made an awful noise—it was a laugh that was choked somewhere between one of her chins resting against her throat. She stared at me until I felt the first tears beginning to spill down my cheeks. I hated myself in that moment, for crying in front of this wretch, but my tears are as disobedient as any child, and I could not call them back.
Sadira watched me cry for a moment, noting with pleasure each tear that stained my gown. She seemed to count them, until she found their number to be just right.
“We are ready to begin now,” she said, and miraculously, she smiled. It was a fearful sight—I almost wished for her grimace again. Her teeth were yellowed and a thick paste rested between each one, like mortar.
“Resistance to learning, that is, your fear,” Sadira continued, “is always best spilled through tears. Let us begin, and you will find this rotting old woman holds the keys to the palace, and a new life, for you.”
Here she sprang up, as quick as any of the eunuch boys, and stood alongside me. With a flourish of her hands she began working down the clasps of her own robe, and motioning for me to imitate her. She half closed her eyes, losing herself in this slow trance as she moved through her garments, with me following each of her movements, until at last we both stood only in our linen underwear. Then her eyes met mine, and she barked out another series of choking laughs, slapping her thigh and making it wobble like a drunkard on weak legs.
“Again!” she cried, throwing her robes back on. She danced around the room a bit, waving her arms and choking now and again on a laugh. Honestly, soon I couldn’t help but laugh myself. I wasn’t sure I understood but laughed more and more, without knowing why.
And so, I learned how to disrobe for a king.
When we finished (which I understood when she abruptly collapsed on the floor on her back, heaving great breaths in and out of her bosom), she once again became the crass creature I first met. Standing with great effort, she jabbed her pipe at my face, and said, “Keep your mouth shut, and practice what I have taught you. I will return tomorrow.”
And so she left, and my next set of tutors arrived, carefully skirting Sadira as she made her huffing, windy exit. The next set of tutors seemed small and plain after Sadira, but perhaps it is as well, since they had more complicated routines to teach.
Yes, I am learning to dance, and already, new robes and scarves have been set out for the servants to dress me in when I awake tomorrow. The dance is nothing of what I would expect. Because I am from Xerxes’ home region, I do not dance as the Egyptians or girls from the East. The Egyptians swing their hips and invite the man near; the Eastern girls tell stories with their hands and start their seduction in his mind. But the girls of Persia dance a sacred dance, using their arms, moving them softly through the air in a snake’s pattern. They are careful never to look the audience in the eye and allow themselves to fall into a type of quiet euphoria, exalting their bodies as sacrifices to Ahura Mazda. This is said to be most pleasing to King Xerxes. This is the dance I am learning, but I do not think of a pagan god, made of wood or stone, as I dance. I will dance better than all of them, but for my G-d, not a king or a block of wood.
27
Fifteenth Day of the Month of Tammuz
Eighth Year of the Reign of Xerxes
Year 3399 after Creation
I heard Sadira coming before I saw her. I had been led downstairs, into a private courtyard, where I was to wait for her arrival. She was lying on a mat, carried in by the strongest of the male servants, and I at once feared for her health.
“Sadira, what has happened to you? Have you been hurt?” I cried out.
Sadira glared at me, like I was a camel without a hump, totally useless to her, and popped a grape into her cavernous mouth. She looked round her mat for her bottle of wine and assaulted it with one great gulp. The servants set her down as gently as their strained shoulders would allow and fled from the courtyard.
“I am fine. Your lesson just interrupted my lunch is all, and I did not wish to abandon it quite yet.” Her explanation would have been incredible to me had I not already lived in a palace that stretched my imagination every moment. After a few more bites of food, Sadira closed her eyes, took several peaceful breaths, then extended her hand to me. I joined her on her mat. She offered me a grape, which I declined, so she ate it as she began her lesson.
“You have learned now how to catch a man’s eye. Now you must learn to capture his mind. Depending on the man, this may be a difficult task.”
“Does Xerxes have a great mind?” I asked.
“He brings a different virgin to his bed every night, my girl,” Sadira replied flatly. “He is a drunkard and a glutton. Does this sound like a man of great mental clarity?”
I shook my head no.
“And yet we must prepare you for no less than a king, and so we will prepare you well. Already you have failed the test.”
“How?” I asked. “I did not know we had begun!”
“You stare helplessly at me like a calf rooting for an udder. Do you really think I would enjoy your dark begging eyes staring at me? You must learn to look away, while keeping me the focus of your attention. Only look me directly in the eye if you truly must.”
“Yes, Sadira, I will learn.” I said this while looking at her, then caught myself and turned my gaze away quickly.
“You have failed again!” she barked.
“But I looked away as soon as I caught myself!” I replied.
“You are never to speak until you have taken a deep breath and released it. Your words should be slow and soft. Never has a woman here said anything so important that she needed her full voice.”
I breathed in and released it, keeping my eyes on Sadira’s mat instead of her. “Slow and soft,” I repeated.
“Your voice must never carry to the walls; it should be soft enough to hang about you like a gentle fragrance.” Sadira’s words sounded rehearsed and weary. I wondered how many poor girls had received this same advice and where they were now.
“Yes, Esther,” Sadira continued, “every act of love begins as a story, and you are the storyteller. Your eyes, your voice, must invite him into the story. Use whatever the gods have given you to tell the tale. If there is a table, run your fingers slyly along its length. Will he imagine it as your fingers along his spine? Remind yourself constantly of what makes you a woman—brush your fingers along your lips, along your bodice.”
Suddenly Sadira barked out another laugh and took a swig of wine from the bottle. She looked me right in the eye. “As if a woman needs to be reminded of what sets her apart. What fool of a king needs a woman who has to double-check to make sure her lips or her bosom are still there? And yet it is you who will play the fool, and perhaps wear a crown. Tell me, Esther, if you do wear the crown, will you rule as a queen, or a jester?”
I could not think of an answer. Sadira loved that.
“Very good! Never answer a difficult question. Just touch your bosom and smile, and he’ll forget why he asked.” Then Sadira screeched for the male servants to come and carry her away. As they approached her mat, she tossed me a little cluster of grapes.
“Good luck, young one.” She smiled.
A small horror struck me. If this was to be my last instruction before my night with the king, it seemed many details had been omitted.
“Sadira!” I protested as she was being lifted into the air. “Sadira, no one has taught me how the story … ends. No one has taught me what to do when he reaches for me!” It was as modest as I could express myself, although now I wonder if my modesty is lost on my companions here.
Sadira spoke over her shoulder to me as she exited, tossing her words as casually as she tossed the grapes. “My dear, some things the king would prefer
to teach you himself.”
28
Third Day of the Month of Kislev
Eighth Year of the Reign of Xerxes
Year 3399 after Creation
My year is nearly done. If I am lax in writing down the events of my days here, you must forgive me, my diary. The last three months have been an endless repetition of baths, perfumes, cosmetics, and oils. All has been quiet and no more deaths have occurred. (I am assuming that the murderous rival has not become queen, else Xerxes would not continue his quest for the perfect virgin. Yet I have been here long enough to know he may never find her, and may well enjoy us all in his time.)
And this is my second plea to you to forgive my lack of writing: that there are some things not fit to print, that would curse the pen and paper just to receive the words. When I see the other girls in the harem walking around naked, proud, and senseless, I can only avert my eyes in shame, a shame they will never feel. The eunuchs tell wild stories of debauchery, and indeed there are eunuchs who do more in service to the royal courts than I would have cared to know. Niloufar has had her right hand chopped off this week for being found with a eunuch in an unspeakable act. There is no limit to imagination here, I must say.
Why would G-d bring me to this place? Surely Mordecai was right when he called this people godless, for G-d is far removed from them. But if I walk among them, does G-d still see me? I cannot imagine that He would turn his eyes toward this palace of sex and intrigue. But I will serve him, even here, even if He cannot bear to hear my prayers. When I pray, I go out onto the roof, where Ashtari has learned to give me my peace and I can be alone with G-d, as far above the godlessness as I can go. Only Mordecai’s letters strengthen me to remain true to my heart for G-d, even as it seems I have been forgotten.
Oh, Lord, they are teaching me things here I should never have known. My night with the king is fast approaching, Lord, and forgive me if I almost welcome it! I know I will ask for the crown, and if it is not given, I will be forced to lie with him anyway. I see it is only one final night of degradation. I fear my desire to act in honor is weakened at moments by the lure of being free of this place, of doing what is expedient in my cause. Yes, I will act in honor; yes, I will ask for the crown before the bed, but I confess I care not sometimes whether I give or am taken.
In this place, I’ve grown to love Ashtari and Hagai. It’s true; never have such kind and good souls lived among such refuse. But I want to be free of this house of prostitution … for that is what it must seem to you. When I move on to the wives’ harem, I must hope it will be different. These women do not have the burden of winning a crown; indeed, they will never see the king again unless called to him by name. Hagai says that Shaashgaz, the eunuch in charge of the wives, is a much happier man than Hagai himself is. The wives do not bicker so much, nor do they preen so proudly and order the eunuchs about in service to their whims. They are more settled and secure, and Shaashgaz says that friendships flourish there as the blessed ones tend to their children. So, Lord, if this is what you have planned for me, I will go there. Just remove me from this den of intrigue. Send me where there won’t be a thousand whispering voices, and clandestine meetings by candlelight, and enemies hiding in the shadows. And if it please You, allow me to conceive on this one night of shame, so that I may live my days in honor at last.[1]
[1] See corresponding commentary in the appendix.
29
Second Day of the Month of Tevet
Eighth Year of the Reign of Xerxes
Year 3399 after Creation
“What is he like, Hagai?” I asked.
Hagai frowned as he turned to answer. “He is a man, Esther, no more. But he is a man with the means to satisfy every desire, and so he has become dangerous.”
I urged Hagai to continue.
“A lion in the wild hunts its meat, and the men in the village understand the beast. There is harmony. But your Xerxes is like a caged lion; his supper is thrown to him. He has become bored, fat, and unpredictable. You must be the lioness that awakens him again.”
“How will I do that, Hagai?” I asked.
“She is smaller, but more stealthy. She controls the hunt with her eyes, always watching, weighing, waiting. She will always know the moment to strike. But there must never be a confrontation of power, for the male lion is unable to distinguish between enemies.”
“I still don’t understand what that means to me, Hagai.” I sighed.
He kissed me on the cheek. “You will.”
And yet I had one last question: “What shall I take into the king, Hagai?”
He paused, and I knew the treasures of the kingdom passed before his eyes. He looked at me and smiled. “You are enough for any king.”
I forced a smile back. I must believe that.
30
Twenty-ninth Day of the Month of Tevet
Eighth Year of the Reign of Xerxes
Year 3399 after Creation
As I was led down the corridor to the king’s chambers, I could feel the eyes of every man in the palace on me. The oldest guard placed his hand upon his chest and bowed his head, a gesture that said my beauty had won a heart. I saw a few gold coins being wagered, passed down the row to another guard for safekeeping. It told me Hagai’s words were true: I was just another piece of meat being thrown to a caged lion. Their roving glances at me would not have been so free if they earnestly believed this was a game that could be won, that I might become queen.
My scarves blossomed out as I walked along, the rich red silks setting off the copper and gold jewelry, making me look like the morning star before a red sunrise. I caught scent of my perfume as the breeze moved among the columns of the corridor. I had been anointed in the most unlikely places with a perfume made from lotus flowers, set in the oil from a crocodile. The lotus flower was an aphrodisiac, and Ashtari told me the oil would impart to me the unmatched power of the crocodile. All has been done to assure that I might conceive tonight. I have been stuffed and rubbed and washed with herbs of all varieties, and when the Magi came in to anoint me with spells and magic for my womb, only then did I refuse their entreaties to prepare me.
Ashtari gave me a bracing, strong wine to drink before she bade me farewell. I did not know why I should need to dull my senses before such an important night. Ashtari’s tone in reply was measured; I could tell she did not want to unravel my tightly wound nerves. “You are going to a man’s bed for the first time, Esther,” she replied. “You must expect there will be pain. Only I would caution you to smile throughout, or at least avert your face if you cannot. You would not want the king to think he did not enrapture you.” A smile was playing on her lips and I tried to smile back. I smelled the brew, as not to offend her, but it stung my eyes and I thrust the cup back to her at once, without tasting it.
Saying good-bye to Ashtari was much more difficult than I had imagined. On this night of good-byes, my heart is aching. I cannot seem to stop myself from thinking, too, of my love, Cyrus. It is his bed I should be going to. My body should have been prepared for him, for our wedding night, not as another offering to a gluttonous king. Cyrus had awakened me to love; it is cruel that this other man should be my lover. But G-d help me now, for this battle in my mind is overwhelming, and I must be free to do what I came for. At least I have this small comfort: Just as Mordecai was able to spirit messages to me inside the harem, he will find me wherever I may go after tonight. I will not lose that.
Hagai led me farther down the great hall, until we stood underneath a great frieze of running horses. It was three times larger than life, and I was struck by the splendor of the king’s palace. No wonder this was an idolatrous people, when the king lived in a palace more fitting for a god than a man. My knees began to feel pained and weak.
Hagai paused at the massive set of carved cedar doors just beyond the frie
ze, and let go of my hand, forever. “Our journey has ended, my child.” He smiled. “Do everything I have instructed, and I will pray to the gods for your favor.”
I pressed my hand back into his. “There is only one G-d, Hagai. It is YHVH, G-d of the Jews. Promise me that long after I am gone, you will not remember me, but this G-d. Then I will have served you well, my dear friend.”
Hagai bent down to kiss me on my cheek. “I will always remember how you loved this God of yours, how He calmed your raging heart. You are a woman any god would proudly claim. How He must be smiling tonight.” Then he whispered, “The lion awaits.”
I wished now I had accepted the strong wine from Ashtari.
I entered the darkened chamber slowly, as fear fought to control my legs. I kept my eyes low, but I could see attendants milling about, preparing the chamber. There was a large ornate bed, and a basin with water and herbs, and a table of scrolls with golden endpieces that sparkled in the moonlight that crept in, humbly, from a hole in the roof. Was even the moon afraid to disturb this man?
“Come in!” was the king’s sharp command.
Servants began to withdraw immediately, save for two Immortals, soldiers with frightening axes who guarded Xerxes night and day, even in the intimate moments of his life. Seeing me enter and approach the bed—this was a drama they had learned well, night after night. I knew I was to enter his bed, silently, crawling under the linens from the foot of the bed, and lie there, awaiting his advances. But I will crawl for no man, and certainly not enter a bed from the foot. I will not disgrace myself to exalt this king. If I die for breaking with the traditions of weaker women, then at least I die having known dignity.