by Tommy Tenney
A great war with Greece was now imminent, the battle to end all Greco-Persian battles. Xerxes had fought an earlier war only a few years before, one in which his father was killed and the army had failed to conquer Athens. Now obsessed with sacking the Greek capital, he was in the middle of planning with his generals to march on Greece with the largest army assembled in the history of mankind.
Today, you and I both know the outcome of that campaign, for we are living through its aftermath even as I write these words. Already, the events themselves have begun to acquire that peculiar tarnish of history past—that quaint aspect of an event whose danger, whose razor-sharp edge of catastrophic risk, is eroded by the passage of time. Yet its consequences now define every day of our lives.
Back then, none of this was known. Persia was still the undisputed ruler of much of the world. Xerxes, although not claiming to be divine, was as close to G-dlike as any mortal ever born.
31
And then it was the eve, then the morning of that day. I remember little of the hours leading up to my departure, for my handmaidens had worked themselves into an unchecked frenzy of last-minute beauty experiments, harried arrangements and raging anxiety. I already felt like a queen, at least a queen bee surrounded by a never-ending buzz of exertion.
Oddly, I found myself slipping into a strange, trancelike contentment during those last frantic hours. I knew what I needed to do, I knew I was ready for it and I was as prepared as I knew how to be. The simple finality of those affirmations gave me a peace that thankfully settled over me while everyone else flew about on adrenaline. The handmaidens’ agitation collided around me like an outer storm from which I sat insulated, even strangely calmed by the commotion. Somewhere out there, outside of myself, I could feel the passage of time. But the dwindling moments were not part of my inner world.
No, my emotions were consumed by two seemingly contradictory truths that day. First was my desire to enter into the King’s presence and please him with every part of myself. Second was an already vibrant sense of G-d’s nearness. I could feel His Spirit within me, fortifying my resolve and thrilling me with a sense of purpose and destiny I had never known before. My mind could not analyze these two seemingly disparate facts, but I knew them to be.
When only a few hours remained, I spoke out in a soft voice and began to express some personal requests. First, I asked my handmaiden Vodhi to fetch her harp and play a selection of the songs from her native Syria. I requested that the other girls begin to calm down, lower their voices and move as gracefully about me as they could.
I asked for one final anointment with perfume. Four of the girls set about covering every inch of my skin with the contents of a small bottle Hegai had discreetly supplied containing the King’s favorite essence. He told me no one else had used this rare oil.
Next, I had one of my handmaidens wash my hair in milk, rub it dry in woolen blankets and smooth it with oil. Another one combed it straight down with my favorite ox-bone comb. My hair was long and nearly jet black in those days, and weeks of straightening treatments had removed any of the curl that it had had upon my arrival at the harem. Tonight it hung thick, black and shiny upon my shoulders, the Persian ideal.
As the preparations wore on, I began to catch sight of glances being exchanged.
“What’s the matter?” I finally asked.
“What do you mean, my lady?” asked Shakel, the handmaiden nearest me at the time.
“Everyone is acting strangely. Is it my request for quiet? Did I offend you?”
Shakel looked over at the others, then turned to me with a faint smile. “It’s not that. It’s just that you look so beautiful. You truly are the loveliest woman in the whole Palace. Truly. I imagine we are all asking ourselves the same question. How could Xerxes see you and not fall in love on sight?”
I could not answer the question, and I was grateful that no reply was expected of me. I knew that the girls were utterly sincere, and a feeling of gratitude began deep within my chest, spread outward and soon found its way onto my lips. My eyes filled with tears. Instead of speaking, I reached out to both sides of me and grabbed two of the girls’ hands. I squeezed them tightly and gave them each a warm smile.
The youngest of them entered from the hallway and carried a mug of something steaming over to me. “Here is your traditional good-luck brew,” she said, holding it out to me with a shy smile.
The tea smelled enticing, minty and sweet. I raised it for a drink, but as soon as the heat approached my lips, I realized I actually had a craving for something cool to drink. I lowered the cup and faced its giver with an apologetic look. “Thank you, Jivat. But I would rather have some spring water.”
“I heard it was bad luck to turn it down,” she insisted. “It seems to contain some kind of aphrodisiac.”
“You heard this from whom?”
She shrugged. “Misgath. She seems to know a lot about the Palace’s prenuptial customs.”
The blood rushed from my face. Misgath? I glanced back at the cup. Hegai had never said anything about a traditional cup of tea.
“Who prepared this?”
The handmaiden’s face fell. She no doubt had wanted me to believe she had fixed it herself. “She did, ma’am. Misgath.”
Suddenly it all fell into place: how some of the girls had become violently ill just prior to their nights with the King. I sent one of my handmaidens to fetch Hathach, told him the tea’s origins and asked him to find and invite Misgath in so I could express my gratitude. Apparently she had been lingering nearby, for he returned with the girl in just a few moments.
“My friend,” I told her with my warmest smile, “I just wanted to thank you so much for helping me overcome my ignorance about the rituals of this day. I only wish Hegai had told me about it earlier. I almost missed out on this delicious drink.”
Misgath had walked in with unusual stiffness upon entering the room, but the moment she thought I had drunk her potion, her whole body relaxed.
“Well, Star,” she answered with a smug look, “Hegai doesn’t know everything. I have a few sources of my own.”
“Yes. I’m sure you do,” I said evenly. “By the way, Misgath, I enjoyed this so much I would like to share it with you. Since I am done with it, I would like you to have a drink of it yourself.”
“Oh, it’s an aphrodisiac,” she answered, suddenly appearing less relaxed. “I hardly have use for that—yet. Besides, tradition has it that only the candidate of the night can touch the drink.”
“No, Misgath, I heard that it was a drink to be shared among good friends. I insist.” I held out the cup.
“No.” Her voice was now flat and adamant.
And that is when Jesse did something I never expected. He grabbed the cup from my hands and took a deep draught himself. His eyes remained locked on Misgath as he lowered it and wiped his mouth.
“You’re going to come with me to Hegai,” he said with a sudden authority to his voice. “We’re going to talk about who your father really is and why you lied about it. And we’re going to discuss who your secret friend is who gave you the poison I just drank. And when I become ill, your time as a candidate will be over.”
The handmaidens froze in shock. Misgath’s face twisted into a sneer. “Who are you to speak to me this way, Hathach? A eunuch? You’ll pay for your impudence.”
Jesse smiled confidently. “I am charged with serving and protecting the candidates, Misgath. And toward that end, I have all the latitude I need.”
Just then he grimaced and bent over with a groan. He looked up at her. Through a forced smile and gritted teeth, he muttered, “I don’t think Hegai will lack for evidence of your treachery.”
Still wincing in pain, Jesse walked over, grabbed Misgath by the arm and dragged her from the room.
As the sound of her threats and insults faded with distance, I turned to the handmaidens and breathed in deeply. Privately, I was filled with fear for Jesse’s safety. Would this development somehow reveal the f
riendship between us? And given how quickly the other candidates had recovered from their illnesses, would his superiors believe his account of the plot? It seemed far easier to simply write off the previous incidents as crises of nerves. Hysterical women. I breathed a quick prayer for his safekeeping and steeled myself to the task at hand.
“Well, girls,” I said, “we’ve had a lot of excitement added to the day, haven’t we? I’m sure you’ll hear more about how this turns out than I will. But I still need to get ready. Shall we?”
Strange how quickly that inner feeling of peace returned. I knew more than ever that G-d was with me.
Just as all seven handmaidens finished carefully draping the light blue sheer silk wrap around me and tying it around my waist with a flourish, I began to feel that my moment of completion had arrived. At that very moment, as if forewarned of my readiness, there came a knock on the door and Hegai looked around the edge.
“Star?”
A hush fell over all of us. The handmaidens stopped, and their hands fell to their sides.
“Come in,” I answered.
Hegai entered, stopped and stared at me as I stood in the center of the room. He folded his arms over his chest and smiled faintly.
“The rumors are true,” he said in a half whisper.
“What are those?” I asked.
“That the favored candidate will capture the moment.”
Then he came back to himself, stiffened his back and gave the handmaidens a brisk hand gesture. On cue, they cleared out of the room like butterflies swept away by a brisk wind. I felt an immediate pang in my heart.
“Wait, girls!” I called after them. “Can we bid one another good-bye?”
Hegai reached me and touched me on the cheek with the tip of his thumb. “Do not worry, my sweet. This is how it is always done. You will see them again. As for Misgath, you and Hathach both have just rendered a great service to the Crown. Hathach is in the infirmary. He will recover fully, but he has amply proved that the girl’s tea contained a strong stomach irritant. Misgath has confessed and has been taken to the garrison. You will never hear her name again, I suppose. Nor, I am sure, the name of her father, Prince Carshena.”
“Hegai, if it is acceptable to you, I would like to forget about that whole thing right now. I have so much more to think about, and even allowing myself to be distracted would give her too much of a victory.”
The head eunuch smiled. “As usual, you show wisdom beyond your years, Star. I could not agree more. So, my dear, let us depart.”
I turned toward a deep-blue softly-woven cloak, and Hegai quickly lifted it and placed it around my shoulders. The single medallion, his early gift to me, was already in place. He nudged me forward with the pressure of his hand under my arm. I followed him out the harem’s front door, and there awaited something I had never seen before: a golden litter sitting on the walk with a strapping eunuch standing beside each end of the pole. Applause rang out as I stepped forward. I looked about me and saw nearly every member of the harem stretched out in a crowd, standing with smiles of genuine affection and goodwill. At the front of the gathering, clustered in a group with tears in their eyes, stood my handmaidens.
Hegai came alongside me now and gestured toward me with an open hand as he faced the harem girls. “Your favored candidate!”
A loud cheer engulfed the terrace. I felt a wave of warmth wash over me. I believed I had won the hearts of most candidates there on one occasion or the other, but I had never seen it so vividly. Now all the backstabbing and grousing were forgotten, and it seemed I was truly loved. It certainly felt that way. “Thank you, G-d,” I said silently as Hegai nudged my elbow toward the litter. I complied and climbed into the seat. As the eunuchs bent down and pulled upon the pole, all at once the world lurched sideways and rose. With the rising came the most unusual sensation somewhere just above my breast. It felt like the popping of some delicate thread that had once tethered me to the ground and maybe, in a deeper way, to all that had come before. The impression was almost tactile—like the head of a dandelion breaking from its stem or a thread of yarn softly giving way. It was followed by a feeling of lightness as the litter righted itself and the eunuchs began to carry me forward, at shoulder height, across the courtyard.
The trees framing the harem now stood behind us, and I soon recognized the expanse that had yawned so large when I had walked into the banquet. The last of the candidates fell away, but I heard, to my amazement, that the applause did not—the farther we proceeded, the more people walked forward, applauding, calling out to me with shouts of encouragement.
Then I heard a shout above the others and looked around for its source. And there was a sight that instantly brought a lump to my throat. It was Mordecai. A wave of loving nostalgia washed over me as his beloved face grew closer. I called his name and waved; he laughed out loud, waved back and smiled wider than he had in many, many days. I winced, realizing how far this was from the Jewish wedding he no doubt had envisioned for me. Through his grin I thought I saw tearstains lining his cheeks. I gritted my teeth, breathed in deeply and willed myself not to cry. Regardless of how deeply I loved him, now was not the moment to spoil hours’ worth of cosmetic preparations. I owed it to this father who meant so much to me, who had been such an integral part of my life and even this moment, to remain in control.
He passed by, and I saw that Mordecai was indeed doing the weeping for both of us. “I love you!” I cried out. And then he was gone, swept into the tide of humanity that seemed to part before my procession as water before the prow of a ship. It did not seem to end: the soft slapping of the carriers’ sandals against the marble, the faint up and down motion of the litter upon their shoulders, the soft patter of applause, which truly did, upon this vast terrace, sound a little like the lapping of waves.
We traversed a long distance, beyond all parts of the Palace I had ever known. Finally we passed through a three-deep column of soldiers at attention whose golden breastplates glittered so brightly in the bright late-evening sun that I had to turn away.
The assault on my eyes was far from over, for overhead loomed a wall high enough that I leaned nearly out of my seat to see its top. Its surface shined even more brightly than the guards’ uniforms. I squinted and then realized that its ramparts were studded with—I focused harder to make sure—gold and silver!
I had known the world was far larger than my experience could envision and that Persia’s ruler was a mighty and wealthy man. But even that perception was beginning to pale in the face of reality. How much gold was there in existence? How much extravagance could one man amass—and enjoy, for that matter?
A set of high brass doors parted before us, and we entered another courtyard, totally enclosed yet nearly as vast as the one we had just left. Far away in the distance I could make out the abrupt rise of yet another wall with a similar door shining at its center. And here, too, stood people by the dozens—functionaries carrying satchels, clusters of soldiers in rows, beautiful women in robes of every color. How had I lived here a year and not known of this walled-in world and all its citizens? These also turned at the entrance of my litter and stared at me while a sudden hush fell over the place.
The pause was starting to grow awkward when Hegai, apparently sensing the odd stillness, began to shout, “Make way! Make way for the favored Queen candidate!” The people’s postures softened at those words, and their stares seemed to shift from vague alarm to curiosity. The litter began to move with purpose again, straight toward the second wall and its door.
The groups of women must have been concubines, because I glimpsed more than one angry glare directed my way—the same kind of What makes you think you are better or prettier than me? expressions my fellow candidates and I had been receiving all year from the concubines across our courtyard. I sighed deeply with an inward sense of resignation, for I obviously had not chosen this manner of naming a queen nor inserted myself into the process. I will tell you that I was still young and naïve enough
to be amazed at people hating me for things completely beyond my control. Life since then has brought me to a more pragmatic understanding and acceptance of this unreasonable phenomenon.
Like on my first visit to the Palace, the enormity of the place was beginning to play tricks on my sense of scale, of distance, of the relative value of things. The sun, low on the horizon, seemed to wheel in some fiery dance around my head, and I could feel the beginnings of a swoon assault my senses. I closed my eyes, eventually unable to care what the onlookers thought, and tried to regain my bearings.
For a very long pause I savored the darkness, then felt the litter pause beneath me. I opened my eyes again and found that we had crossed the enormous courtyard and stood waiting before the next set of giant doors. I shook my head, for this wall appeared to be more forbidding, as richly built and as well guarded as the last! As stunned as I had felt upon entering the banquet hall that first time I came to the Palace, I was struck dumb by the present splendor around me.
Stop—I told myself. Stop thinking about it. Stop measuring and assessing, and be. Simply be. Focus on the King!
The doors opened, and yes, fate was trying to tempt my resolve—what stretched nearly into infinity was yet another courtyard. This one was bisected by a well-worn path through a sea of tents. Between them stood soldiers—thousands of them, by the looks of it. These men seemed to be on a higher alert than their colleagues farther out, for at my entrance they all turned as one and fixed me with suspicious stares. I could almost feel fists tighten around swords and lances in anticipation of some shouted order or negative assessment.
Hegai waved, though, and the mood looked to relax at once, starting with the soldiers nearest us. Their stares turned from suspicious to something more leering, and I looked quickly away.
