Hadassah

by Tommy Tenney

  I smiled warmly at advice like this, for it conformed so well with my overall philosophy toward the King. Focus on him. Focus on him. It had been our elderly friend Jacob’s refrain, and now it would be mine.

  “Be willing to try anything, but remember that your artless virginity is also part of capturing His Majesty’s interest. You must be both maiden and harlot as the moment calls for,” Hegai told me on another occasion.

  I agonized before G-d about the morality of the whole encounter. Could I be considered married to Xerxes at the occasion of my deflowering? Regarding this dilemma I received no clear word, no definitive response from on high. But over time, I became convinced in my spirit that I was doing my very best, that I was here for a good reason. A reason that would reveal itself over time.

  And Mordecai confirmed this in his hurried and whispered conferences with me each morning. He quoted passages from the Song of Solomon to guide my thinking and preparation.

  As for my seven maids, I resolved to treat them like younger sisters, like the female companions I had never had. I shared bits of news and Palace conjecture with them and elicited their stories one by one during late-night discussions in my suite. I assured them that if they had not already been in royal service, all of them would have made superb Queen candidates—I am not certain they all believed me, but I think they appreciated the sentiment.

  Afternoons were long, languid stretches at the harem. Many girls spent time in the sun by the pool, adding a deep suntan to their diminishing list of physical attributes, since Hegai had explained that the King preferred fair-skinned women. Others caught up on any beauty treatments that they had happened to miss during the morning hours.

  I spent much of my afternoon time engaging in a clandestine activity: reading books from the royal library. Since, as you know, Persian women are not supposed to know how to read, I had my handmaidens discreetly bring various scrolls and parchments on the pretext of a mission for Hegai. Then they would deliver them to me out in the thickest part of the garden, across from the eunuchs’ house. There I would curl up on a thick mat of fallen banana leaves and devour works of history and philosophy.

  Or at least pretend to.

  What I was really doing there, besides doing a bit of perfunctory brush-up work on my reading skills, was watching for an opportunity to make contact with Jesse.

  I had first inquired about him on my third day there and learned that all eunuchs would convalesce for a week before beginning their training and would not join us for another few months.

  That was far too long. I cared about Jesse, although the chaos of my capture and subsequent adapting to my new environment had largely crowded him from my mind. Our kiss on the gryphon statue had taken place a relatively brief time before, yet it now seemed like it had happened in another lifetime, to another person. Now that I had given myself time to reflect, I remembered how things had changed so dramatically between us in those days just before his capture. For years he had merely been the annoying young boy who tagged along with his grandmother. While entertaining to a lonely, isolated girl, he had been little more than a pest with dubious hygiene. Then he had become a friend. And puberty had added yet a new dimension.

  I had noticed even before the kiss how Jesse was growing into a lanky, handsome young man. But the kiss seemed to have released something within me. I felt like I had been suddenly introduced to a whole new crop of emotions. My future as a woman, once a barren and worrisome set of images in my mind, now began to include brief, tentative scenes of being Jesse’s wife. I had discovered, much to my surprise, that the scenarios did not displease me.

  Thinking of it there in the orchard, I shook my head in disbelief. How drastically things had changed! Now I was promised—if not in marriage then at least in body—to the King of Persia, a flamboyantly jealous ruler. And Jesse was now sadly shorn of much that had once made him a man and a husband-to-be. Yet I cared for him deeply nevertheless, and I determined that I could not allow us to exist so close to each other without making at least an attempt to see him.

  26

  One afternoon in the orchard I rolled up my parchment, set it down on the leaves and began to weave my way through tree trunks to the edge of the old unused gate I had discovered during my first day’s explorations. I had heard voices earlier, and sure enough, some of the young men were playing a game of catch with some sort of inflated animal bladder. They wore only swatches of linen tied around their waists; their bodies resembled those of every other lean, muscular young boy I had ever spied from my old rooftop. I stopped and stared for a moment and found myself surprisingly taken with what I saw. For the moment, their grim fates were forgotten—they leaped, ran and wrestled one another with all the fervor and impetuousness of typical male youth. They were beautiful; I had to admit it. The loss of their manhood had not yet made its effect known upon their bodies.

  Jesse, once again, was not among them.

  Finally the game broke up and most of the young men dispersed, leaving only an exhausted pair languishing upon the marble terrace. I stepped out just enough for them to see part of me, then lifted my fingers to my lips indicating quiet.

  One of the boys cocked his head and frowned earnestly in my direction. I stepped out just a bit farther and waved, adding a small smile. He elbowed his companion. The two scrambled to their feet and began to carefully make their way forward into the trees. Finally they came within a few cubits of me. Their eyes were wide as saucers. Either their training had led them to fear the females of the species or they were aware of the possible consequences of this little meeting. Maybe both. Strangely, I felt no fear—tension, but no fear.

  “Who are you?” one of them asked, his voice sounding strangely high pitched.

  “I am Star, a Queen candidate from next door.”

  “Do you know what kind of trouble you could drag us all into with this kind of contact?”

  I shook my head. “No, although I know it wouldn’t exactly be permitted. But I have a question for you, and then I’ll never bother you again. Where is Jesse? Is he here? Is he all right?”

  The tallest one, closest to me, winced at the mention of Jesse’s name and looked down to the ground.

  “Are you a friend of his?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Jesse is not doing well. He is inside, in bed, and has been there since the day of his arrival. He—well, he is deeply despondent and will not move. He has been beaten several times to get him going, but that has only made matters worse.”

  “What will happen to him?” I asked, feeling the pull of dread within me.

  “I’m not sure. If he does not get better, it could range from simply releasing him to his family to executing him. It depends on how exasperated the head eunuchs become.”

  I took a deep breath and made a rash decision. “Please get me in to him.”

  “Are you crazy? The whole place is filled with eunuchs in training. We couldn’t sneak in a horsefly.”

  “Fine. Then take me in through the front door. I am the lead Queen candidate and have the favor of Hegai, head harem eunuch. I will take my chances.”

  The two boys glanced at each other grimly. The taller one sighed heavily. “The others are in a protocol training session that just started. We’re missing it ourselves. You just might make it in undetected.”

  “Yes. Let’s go.”

  They both shrugged at the same moment and turned back for their building. I followed closely, trying to hide behind their broad backs. We crossed the marble, entered through a side door and found ourselves in a stone hallway much like the one in my harem abode. I could hear a man’s voice loudly haranguing from a nearby room, and I steered away. The lead boy motioned to a closed door with a jerk of his chin. I raised my hand in thanks and waved them off, then entered the room. Curtains were drawn; the space stood in a deep gloom. I paused for a moment to let my eyes adjust, then moved forward.

  “Jesse?” My voice felt small and weak against the despair that seemed
to pervade the room. Finally the shape of a bed resolved in my vision, then the form of a body in the blankets, sitting upright.

  “Hadassah?” The voice was only vaguely familiar, a breathier, weaker version of Jesse’s once vibrant baritone.

  “Yes, it’s me,” I answered and suddenly found myself lunging to his side, my throat constricting in the effort not to cry. I felt my way around his shoulders and wrapped him in a spontaneous hug, nudging my face into his neck to hide my grief.

  “What in the world are you doing here?” he asked. I realized only then that he had no idea I had been taken. How could he? My capture had occurred after his own.

  “I’m staying right next door,” I replied. “I was taken as a Queen candidate just two days after you were captured. In fact, I’m here in a way because of what happened to you.” I tried hard to control the emotions I was feeling.

  He pushed my shoulders back and took a close look at me, his gaze piercing and deeply troubled. “What do you mean?”

  “When your grandmother came over and told us you were missing, Mordecai realized right away what had happened. He told her, very carefully, very reluctantly. But I became so upset that I ran out. I lost my mind; I ran all the way to the portico. The gryphon statue.”

  Jesse’s expression softened. “I’ll always remember that, Hadassah.”

  “Me too. But on my way home, I was cornered by an army patrol. They were with the King’s agent in Susa, and they decided I would make a good candidate, so they gave me two days’ notice, after which they hauled me up to the citadel. I’ve been nearby ever since.”

  He shook his head, wide-eyed, as though I had told him something impossible. I could tell he considered his ordeal so terrible that he could not imagine my being anywhere close to him.

  “They’ve given me a new name,” he said mournfully.

  “Yes, they also have done so for me. Mine is Star.”

  “I am now Hathach. I hate it. My real name came from the line of David. I don’t even know where Hathach came from. For all I know, it is some pagan god.”

  I placed my hand on his arm. “Please, Jesse, it will be all right. You’re in good company. Remember our Jewish brothers Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael and Azariah? They were all given pagan names when they entered royal service. And look how G-d remained with them and used them to accomplish His purposes. Besides—you will always be Jesse to me.”

  He smiled at me then, and I felt a flood of gratitude for him and his presence with me there in that intimidating place.

  “Oh, Jesse,” I wept in spite of myself, “I can’t believe what has happened to us! One minute we’re young people with all of life before us, and the next we’re committed to—you know . . .”

  My words seemed too much for him to absorb. He looked away from me, down at the floor. How much life had been drained from him in those few short weeks! He had been a mischievous boy with a gentle soul. He had been growing into the kind of man who would walk through town with his head held high and a marked twinkle in his eye. The kind of man everybody liked.

  Now I could not distinguish his expression from that of the blind beggar Mordecai had once invited home for dinner. Empty, hopeless and despondent.

  I grasped him by the shoulders and shook him gently, lowering my head to try and capture his vacant gaze. “Listen, Jesse. You have to stay strong, for me—for both of us! I need you, do you hear me? I need your support if I’m going to make it through this!”

  He rested his stare on me, only slightly roused from his stupor. He finally spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. “Hadassah, you’ve never needed me a day in your life. You are so strong; you just never knew it. I imagine you’ll find out now. If anything, I’ve needed you.”

  “But that’s not true! Especially now. Please, Jesse. Please get better. Listen, I’ve already become the favored candidate—I have privileges, I have Hegai’s ear. I can help, I can get away to meet you, I can do a lot of things if you’ll just get up out of this bed.”

  He laughed softly. “My shy little Hadassah—Queen of Persia. Wouldn’t that be ironic?” Then he smiled weakly, laid his head back on the pillow and gave my hand a long squeeze. I took that as hope for tomorrow and crept away. Thank G-d, no one saw me leave.

  27

  And so my peculiar afternoon ritual took shape.

  I returned to my room that day feeling like someone had reached into my heart, grabbed it tightly and squeezed it without mercy. Jesse’s demeanor had the specter of death to it. I did not even try to imagine how he had suffered. The mere thought of a boyishly innocent personality like his being thrown into that kind of cruelty filled my veins with ice water. I knew the feeling, of course. I knew how it felt to have a child’s trusting heart shattered by the hatred and violence of men. But I had thought I was the only one in the world to live through such a thing.

  In the week that followed, I slipped away to Jesse’s area with gifts of foods the eunuchs could not receive—luscious fruits, meats, exotic candies and pastries. Eventually I was hearing encouraging reports of Jesse’s recovery. And then came the wonderful day when he met me himself, looking more like the Jesse I knew and loved. So another tradition was established. Jesse would meet me and we would visit briefly, tentatively. Sometimes our meeting place would be empty, so I would leave behind presents along with encouraging notes.

  And I noticed gradual improvement in Jesse’s alertness. He began to smile more often. His sentences grew longer.

  Of course, I had told Mordecai the very next morning about my visit. He uttered a deep sigh of relief upon hearing my report; not because he considered my words good news, but because it was enough just knowing Jesse was alive. Rachel would be so relieved, he told me. And I knew from the words he chose that Mordecai would not reveal to her the full extent of her grandson’s state. Then his old fear returned just as quickly. “Don’t get caught crossing boundaries,” he warned. “And remember. Do not let them know you are a Jew.” I simply nodded my agreement once again and kissed him on the cheek.

  Despite his fears, the next morning Mordecai met me with a package from Rachel: a small satchel filled with dates and several sentimental knickknacks. Jesse’s eyes filled with life upon receiving it, giving me my very first glimpse at the Jesse of old.

  After the five hundred new eunuchs had been introduced to the candidates they had been castrated to serve, as I already told you, Jesse had begun to join me in the orchard for our afternoon talks. Very soon, these times started to rival my morning meetings with Mordecai as my most anticipated and encouraging encounter of the day. I would often bring treats from Rachel smuggled in via Mordecai, and he would tease me with memories of our childhood. It was not long before Jesse had completed his training as a eunuch, and the time had come for him and his colleagues to begin their duties.

  Jesse and I resolved never to reveal our acquaintance, for the fact seemed fraught with potential consequences. But it was difficult not to cheer or applaud when the crowd of young men was presented to the candidates at poolside! I avoided even the slightest eye contact with him from across the terrace, afraid that even that small connection would somehow give away our friendship.

  A collective groan came from the young women when Hegai explained that because of the closeness in ages, the eunuchs would all serve the young candidates at large instead of being assigned to one girl. I had hoped, of course, to somehow have Jesse assigned to my detail. But perhaps it was for the best.

  The weeks and months passed, each day essentially the same as the one before. Besides being a Queen candidate and enjoying the luxurious lifestyle it entailed, I now had a secret bodyguard—Jesse, who would gladly fight to the death anyone who so much as looked askance at me—and I had the ear of Hegai, the royal eunuch. The days of long massages and myrrh treatments flowed into one another. Then, suddenly, they were over.

  Then the second regimen began—perfumes and spices.

  Only the discipline of my daily prayer time kept me from self-cen
tered hedonism.

  Somewhere around the seventh month, I felt myself beginning to lose sight of what life had been like before I was waited on hand and foot, before my sole responsibility was to submit myself to hours of baths, massages and cosmetic treatments. I could understand how the other girls, without the support and the spiritual foundation I enjoyed, could lose their emotional bearings entirely.

  And lose them they did. I saw girls berate Hegai because a rain-shower had interrupted their sunbathing. I saw them tease a girl nearly into killing herself because she had darker skin than the others—ignoring the fact that their own poolside hours had rendered their skin several shades darker than before. I saw them divide into cliques that exhibited as much sullen hostility toward one another as rival armies. Had our compound been consumed by fire, I doubted some days who would have deigned to rescue whom.

  I must admit that I denied myself very few of the pleasures of being the favored candidate. The higher standing afforded me extra beauty treatments—milk baths, extra massages and hours of facial cosmetic experiments. I do not think a single caravan passed through Susa from the exotic lands of East and West without one of my handmaidens scouring them for something I might employ. In the course of that year my face and body underwent the ministrations of sea sponges from Tyre, scrubbing salts from the Dead Sea, olive skins from Judea, coral sand from Egypt, ground fish scales from the Red Sea and more liniments and potions from Indus and the Orient than I could count. I learned how to outline and shadow my eyes with Egyptian kohl and galena, blush my cheeks with mulberry juice, redden my lips with flecks of iron oxide and stain my fingernails and toenails with crushed henna. I learned how to crouch for hours, a thick blanket around my body, over a small urn spewing out the sweet smoke of myrrh and incense. Before long, even my hair smelled of incense.

  And throughout, Hegai continued to instruct me in the King’s desires. One of his chief pieces of advice I will pass on to you. You most likely are a virgin, and I hope you are, but since the King is far from virginal, the biggest factor you must overcome is his jadedness. He has seen and enjoyed every sort of female body. He is experienced in every lovemaking technique ever developed—from India to Greece. He has heard every come-on phrase, endured every coy approach the mind of a young woman can invent.