Within a month I was utterly spoilt—or would have been, had not Ahasuerus treated me with a sort of dutiful indifference. Since I admired him greatly, I longed to gain his attention, and that was one of the three gifts that saved me.
I followed Ahasuerus about and obeyed his commands, however ridiculous. And unlike his slaves and servants, I was not obliged to attend upon him; there was no need for me to enter his presence if I did not wish to—or if he did not command me to come to him. Ahasuerus knew this, and so my constancy engendered affection. Soon he treated me with the careless fondness of a brother for an importunate younger sister.
So I had a playfellow and a friend who never told me, “You must not, Vashti. It is not proper for girls to—”
To run. To ride. To read. To laugh loudly.
Ahasuerus permitted me to do all these things, and more. I spent many hours of my day with him, learning everything he already knew, and that he was delighted to teach. I think, now, that already he had grown a little bored with his endless liberty. In me, he had an apprentice, a follower, an admirer who never told him to run along and play and “Leave this matter in the hands of those who know best how it should be managed.”
So we both were pleased with our marriage. Ahasuerus treated me as if I were his beloved little sister, and I followed him about the palace like his shadow. We were joyous friends, permitted a closeness few royal spouses ever knew. We were not yet lovers. The true consummation of our marriage was another event Amestris wished to put off as long as possible. One of my charms, for her, was my extreme youth. My mind was that of a child; my child’s body did not even hint at what it would someday become.
* * *
The second gift that kept me from becoming a spoilt, demanding tyrant was Hegai. He treated me not only as the queen I was called, but as the child I still was. It was Hegai who ordered toys brought for me, knowing I found more joy in a gilded leather ball than in a gold necklace, that a game board of amber and ivory entranced me more than bolts of Cathay silk.
It was Hegai who understood my tastes when I myself had not yet learned to recognize them. Hegai saw that I liked roses better than lilies, preferred cinnamon to coriander. He noticed what colors pleased my eyes, what stories made me laugh. He found songs I liked to sing. It was Hegai who discovered I had never owned a pet, and who remedied that lack by presenting me with a puppy—a small, plump creature with a coat soft as brown velvet and a fondness for chewing my jeweled slippers.
And it was Hegai who comforted me when night’s dark hours freed a strange misery to torment me. When I woke and wept, Hegai sat beside me on my bed—a bed so large I sometimes feared demons lurked in its vast empty corners—and gathered me into his arms. I did not understand why I was unhappy, but Hegai knew that, too.
“Yes, of course you love your palace and your gardens. And yes, everyone is kind to you.” Hegai stroked my hair. “But wonderful as your new life is, still it is new and different, and if there is one thing our minds and hearts fear above all else, it is change. There will be many nights when that fear will waken you, but with time it will pass. And I will always be here, Vashti.”
“Always?” I said, clinging to his tunic.
“Yes, little queen. Always.”
By day, I had no such qualms; I delighted in possession of my own palace, my own gardens, my own handmaidens and slaves. Even in such matters as my servants, Hegai’s wisdom enhanced my happiness, for he selected a dozen girls of my own age for my household. For the first time in my life, I had playfellows—although they never forgot that I was queen and they were not.
In the fabulous, outrageously opulent life that I now led, Hegai remained constant, a rock to cling to as the court swirled about me. I could not imagine a life without Hegai close by to scold me and hug me, and ensure I did not gorge on honeyed rose petals, and that I looked for myself to see that my pets were being properly cared for. I thanked the Good God each morning in my prayers for the gift of Hegai.
* * *
For the first time in my life, I had freedom to explore my world—and so found the third gift that kept my character true. I ran down garden paths and no one ordered me to walk slowly, meekly. My world now was the great palace complex that rose above Shushan, and it seemed so vast I would never find its end.
I roamed the palaces—closely attended by a fussy eunuch named Hatach, a half-dozen years older than I, who ensured I did not lose myself—and at the far end of one of the many gardens, I came upon a gate, and behind that gate, a small house set into the deep wall between the women’s world and the men’s. The walls of the house were tiled in a deep rich blue that made me think of the Ishtar Gate in Babylon. Two lemon trees in yellow-and-white pots stood beside a door banded with copper. Crescent moons and seven-pointed stars were etched into the copper bands.
“Whose house is this?” I asked Hatach, but before he could answer, I heard a voice say,
“It’s the king’s house. But he lets me live in it.”
An old man rose from a blue bench set against the wall. A very old man; I thought he must be older than the stars above the world. As I stared, he smiled. “Welcome, Queen Vashti.”
“How did you know who I am?”
“I know many things.” He smiled. “And everyone knows who you are. Few are graced with such hair. Who else could you be?”
I was not accustomed to such unanswerable questions. At a loss, I fell back upon the only thing that had made me of any value in the world until Queen Mother Amestris had plucked me out of Babylon and brought me here. “I am Belshazzar’s granddaughter.”
“Yes, I know. Your grandmother had hair like yours. Hair pale as sweet cream.”
“My grandmother?” I had heard a great deal about my grandfather Belshazzar, the last king of Babylon. Of his queen, my grandmother, I had been taught only her name—Ishvari. No one had ever said that she, too, had bone-white hair.
“Yes. A very wise woman. I was fond of her.”
My mind stretched to a question. “Did she have eyes like mine?”
He shook his head. “No. Her eyes were brown, like spring earth. But she had the same questioning look that you do. Don’t look so startled—questions are good things. How else will you learn?”
Another question I had no idea how to answer. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to expect me to say anything. He sat down again, and patted the bench beside him. “Come and sit with me, Vashti. Tell me your dreams, if you like.”
I heard my servant gasp, and turned. Hatach bowed low, and said, “You do the queen honor, my lord Daniel.” Clearly this Daniel was a man of great importance. Therefore I should do as he asked of me. I glanced at Hatach, whose eyes were wide; clearly impressed, Hatach nodded. So I walked over and bowed to Daniel, then sat beside him as he had asked.
“So—does my lady queen wish her dreams unbound for her?” The man called Daniel regarded me as if I were a riddle he must solve. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”
“You are Daniel.” Since I had just heard him named so by my servant, I felt this safe enough to say.
“But that name means nothing to you, does it, Ishvari’s granddaughter?”
Never before had I been named as the granddaughter of any save Belshazzar. Ishvari’s granddaughter. I savored the words.
“No, I see you’ve never heard of me. So much for my undying fame.”
“Daniel, stop teasing the child.” A woman as old as Daniel stepped out of the house into the sunlight. “Greetings, little one. So you’re our new queen?”
I nodded, and she smiled at me. Then she glanced at Daniel and raised her eyebrows. “What have you been telling her, Daniel?”
“Oh, just that she looks very much like her mother’s mother. Queen Ishvari. You remember Ishvari, don’t you, Sama?”
“Of course. A very clever woman, and a very brave one. And very beautiful.”
I noticed that for the woman Daniel had called Sama, my grandmother Ishvari’s beauty came a poor third to her wit
and courage. “What did she do that was so clever, and so brave?” Between one breath and the next, my grandmother Ishvari had become important to me.
“Ask Daniel,” Sama said, and my gaze turned back to Daniel.
“Now who’s teasing the child?” Daniel shook his head, ruefully accepting that he could not escape my new-roused interest in Queen Ishvari.
“Will you tell me about Queen Ishvari? If it please you?” Although it had been impressed upon me that almost everyone in the empire must now bow very low to me, I somehow sensed that if it did not please Daniel to reveal a thing, haughty command would not bring the words to his lips.
Daniel smiled. “Yes, O queen. Since you ask it of me, I will tell you the tale of Ishvari, the last queen of Babylon the Great.”
* * *
She came from far away, from the far shores of the Black Sea, where wolves ran swift beneath the moon and women gazed upon the future in mirrors of polished jet. She was beautiful beyond dreams and wise beyond words, and when Belshazzar of Babylon heard of her beauty, he ordered her sent to him as tribute.
“And of her wisdom?” I prompted, as Daniel fell silent.
“What, child? Oh, Belshazzar cared nothing for that.”
“Why not?”
“Because men see far better than they can think.” This from the old woman, Sama. To my surprise, Daniel merely laughed.
“As you say, Sama. As you say. Where was I?”
“Belshazzar the Sot had ordered Ishvari of the Black Horse People sent to him like a bolt of silk or a bag of pearls.” Sama’s voice cut sharp, but again, Daniel only agreed. At least this time he remembered to continue the tale.
Now, Ishvari of the Black Horse People was a lady high-born and high-bred, and she had grown up riding the wild horses that were her people’s wealth. Horses and gold. And horses and gold and Ishvari were sent to Babylon, to King Belshazzar.
No one in Babylon had ever set eyes upon a woman like Ishvari. She rode her own horse, a mare white as Ishvari’s own hair, down the great Street of Processions, between the walls of sky-blue tiles and painted lions, through the towers of the Ishtar Gate. She sat her horse straight and tall as a warrior. And any who chose to look might gaze upon her unveiled face. She rode her horse up the palace steps and into King Belshazzar’s throne room, and at the foot of his throne, she reined in her mare.
“King Belshazzar sent for Ishvari of the Black Horse People. Well, I am here.”
Belshazzar stared at her, moonstruck. And then, as his guards—
“Dithered,” Sama muttered, and Daniel shot her a reproving glance.
—waited upon his command, and his courtiers gasped in astonishment, the king rose and came down the steps from his throne. He reached up and lifted her down from the moon-white mare, and then he took Ishvari’s hand and led her back up the steps to stand with him before the throne of Babylon.
“This is my queen,” Belshazzar declared. “She will reign over my heart, and all men will bow before her as if she were the king himself.”
I sighed, enthralled by the images Daniel’s words summoned.
“That didn’t last very long.”
“Sama, please.”
But greatly as Belshazzar loved Ishvari, he loved wine better. Against such a rival, Ishvari could not win. Being wise, she abandoned a hopeless battle. She knew that beauty fades and wisdom grows, and she became the true ruler of Babylon. Her work consoled her, as did her child. For at last she conceived, and bore a daughter.
“My mother?” I asked, and Daniel smiled at me. “Your mother,” he said.
But now Darius the Mede had turned his eyes upon Babylon. Yes, and marched his all-conquering army toward Belshazzar’s kingdom. As Darius marched, Belshazzar held a great feast at which wine flowed freely as a spring river. Belshazzar ordered all the nobles and all the princes and all the lords of Babylon to attend. And he ordered the Master of Treasures to open the treasure vaults, and to bring forth the vessels of gold that King Nebuchadnezzar had plundered from the great temple of the Lord God in Jerusalem. It was Belshazzar’s delight to use those sacred vessels as wine-cups for his great feast—
“Queen Ishvari told him that was a bad idea. Arioch told him that was a bad idea. You—”
“I had the sense to keep my mouth shut on that occasion, and if you wish to finish this story, Samamat, certainly you may. No? I may continue? My humble thanks.”
So Belshazzar ordered sacred objects used for carnal purpose. And he ordered Queen Ishvari to attend this feast wearing all her most precious jewels, and to drink from the golden bowls of the Lord’s temple in Jerusalem, but she refused.
“My most precious jewels are my daughter and my honor,” she said, “and I will not display either for the pleasure of drunken, impious fools.”
Well, Belshazzar was not pleased to receive such a message, but what could he do? He had surrendered his power as a man to wine, and as a king to his queen. So he drank ever more deeply, and said nothing, until he looked up and saw a ghostly hand dip itself into his wine cup. And then the hand wrote across the wall of the banquet hall in the king’s wine these words: Mene, mene, tekel, upharsin.
Daniel paused, watching Samamat, but she pressed her lips tightly together and shook her head very slightly. Daniel smiled, and continued.
Now, Belshazzar could not tell the meaning of these words, nor could any other there in the banquet hall with him. And the king was much distressed, and confused, and being greatly troubled, he sent again for his queen—for at last he remembered that she was not only beautiful, but wise as well. And this time, being humbly petitioned, Ishvari came into the hall and up to the king her husband, and set her hands upon his. And Belshazzar showed her the writing on the wall and told how greatly it troubled him that none could interpret its meaning. And Queen Ishvari said:
“My lord king, there is a man in your kingdom who is master of dreams, a man whom the king your father made ruler over all the astrologers and magicians and soothsayers. My lord king, ask Daniel.”
Now, King Belshazzar thought Queen Ishvari’s advice good, and he bade her summon Daniel to him. Ishvari went herself to Daniel and asked him if he would come to the king and ease his mind concerning the writing on the wall.
“Which he alone can see, Daniel. There is nothing on the wall. Nothing save splashes of wine. They are all drunk beyond telling.”
Daniel looked into Ishvari’s earth-brown eyes and saw that she knew all he must say. That Darius the Mede’s army surrounded the city, that Belshazzar was doomed. That Ishvari and her daughter were doomed—for no one knew that Darius had a great heart, and would spare them. “Very well,” said Daniel. “I will come and tell the king what I can.”
“Tell him what he must hear,” Ishvari told him, and they went together to the banquet hall. And there Daniel told Belshazzar that the words the king saw upon the wall read thusly: that the kingdom of Babylon is ended, for its king has been tested and found wanting, and his kingdom has been given into the hands of the Medes and Persians.
But Belshazzar was too drunk to care any longer, and returned to his depravity. So Queen Ishvari took her daughter, and her royal crown, and asked Arioch, the commander of the king’s guard, to escort her to the tent of Darius the Mede, whose camp lay outside Babylon’s mighty walls. Ishvari knelt before Darius and submitted herself and her daughter to his rule. Darius accepted her homage and granted her petition that her daughter’s life be spared. And Darius spared Ishvari’s life as well, that she might raise her daughter in the ways of honor.
And Ishvari praised Darius for his mercy.
But Ishvari wept for Belshazzar, whom no one could save, for he had doomed himself. For she had loved him once, and he had once loved her.…
“And so you, her daughter’s daughter, were born to be—well, queen, I suppose. I hope I have not bored you, Queen Vashti.”
My name startled me, brought me back into myself. Daniel’s words had bound me to a past long dead, as if I had seen fo
r a time with Ishvari’s eyes. I stared at him. “Are you a sorcerer?”
“No. Just a man with a gift for words, and dreams.”
Samamat laughed softly at that. But while I somehow did not hesitate to demand answers of Daniel Dream-Master, I did not have the courage to question Samamat. Not that day.
Just before I stood up to leave, Daniel asked again a question I had forgotten. “No dreams to read for you, my queen?”
Dreams linked us to the gods; to our pasts, our present, our futures. Each morning my mother had demanded to know my dreams. I dreamed, of course—everyone dreamed. But I rarely remembered my dreams at all, and when I did, their images fled me as soon as the sun burned its way into the sky.
My mother had not liked my truthful answer, so I had learned to create dreams to tell her that she liked to hear. Now I told Daniel what I had so often told my mother.
“Crowns,” I told him, obedient. “I dream of crowns.”
Silence in the small garden. Daniel stared at me; I do not think he saw me, though. He looked through me, into my cold, banked dreams.
“That’s not what you dream of, Ishvari’s granddaughter,” Daniel said. “You do not dream of crowns. Not of crowns at all.”
But he would not tell me what I did dream of. He merely smiled, and told me I might come and visit him whenever it pleased me to do so. I soon learned this was a great honor; even Queen Mother Amestris walked in awe of Daniel, a man who had survived the reigns of five sovereigns and who guarded memories of ancient glories.
I bowed to Daniel, and thanked him. I think he knew I cherished the gift he had given me: knowledge of my grandmother. From that time onward, I thought of myself, not as Belshazzar’s granddaughter, but as Ishvari’s.
Some nights I dreamed of her. She walked out of the night sky, clad in clouds and moonlight, a circle of stars crowning her shining hair. She bent and kissed my forehead, and smiled. She lifted the crown of stars from her own head and held it out to me. The stars burned so bright I could not look upon them. I reached out—for the crown, for my grandmother—which? And then, as the stars flared, Queen Ishvari faded, slipping like moonlight through my outstretched hands.…
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