“Well, the king’s well rid of her. A barren wife is worse than debt. Ten years wed, and no child!”
That sounded very bad for Vashti, until I remembered something, and quickly reckoned up years.
“True enough,” I said, “but they were wed when she was ten. She’s only twenty now. And how often do you think the king called for her, and went in to her? How many concubines does he possess who received his seed instead of Vashti?”
“Hadassah!”
“Rachel!” I echoed, mocking her shocked tone.
“Hadassah, you should not say such things.”
“Everyone in Shushan—no, everyone in the empire—is talking of nothing else. Why should we be silent?” I was unsurprised when Rachel ignored this question, as did the other girls. The contest for the queen’s crown held far more interest than did the king’s concubines—at least today.
“Oh, who cares about Vashti now? Now that any girl in the empire—any one of us here—may become queen in her place!”
“Not any girl. Only the most beautiful one.” Rachel—of course it was Rachel—made this statement.
The chatter ceased as all the girls fell silent; slowly, reluctantly, their eyes turned to me.
“You are beautiful, Hadassah. Very beautiful.” Miriam sounded bitter, as if my beauty took away her own. “Perhaps you will win, at least here in Shushan.”
I laughed. “I? I will not be chosen; I will not even be considered. Can you truly see my cousin Mordecai permitting me to enter such a contest? To be judged as if I were a heifer for market?” Everyone knew how strict Mordecai was, what a stern upholder of the law, and of tradition. The other girls seemed to settle back, comforted by my words.
Words I believed. Never, if I lived to be as old as Sarah the Laughing One, could I have imagined that Mordecai himself would insist I put my name forward.
But that is what he did. He came to me as I was reading The Chronicle of Arslan, and told me to set my book aside. I rolled up the scroll, placed it within its case, and then folded my hands and waited. And waited, as Mordecai stared at me, and then walked back and forth before me. At last I said, “What do you want of me, cousin?”
Mordecai stopped pacing. Without looking at me, he said, “Hadassah, put on your veil and go and drop your name into the queen’s basket. There’s one at the gate to this street.”
I stared. “Are you mad, cousin?” I asked.
Still he did not face me. “You are my ward, Hadassah. You will do as I say.”
Too stunned to yet feel anger, I rose to my feet. “No, I will not. If you think I will offer myself up to this slave auction, you’re wrong. I won’t do it.”
Now Mordecai turned, and his face was stone. “You will, Hadassah. You will do it because I already have paid rubies to have your name written on the list of those who will go into the palace. And you will do it, Hadassah, because I order it. Now go and put on your veil.”
Mordecai had bought my place among the queen-maidens, paid for me to enter the palace? The man who demanded I veil myself to my knees, walk with meek steps and downcast eyes, wished me to enter a royal slave market. No, not wished it—ordered it. I stared at him, unable to summon words.
“Rubies,” I said at last. “You bought my place with rubies.”
“Yes. Your mother owned a necklace of rubies, part of her own dower when she wed your father. They were to have been yours on your wedding day. But they are more valuable used to ensure you are seen by the king.”
“Cousin, you are—”
“Hadassah, be silent and listen. You will go into the palace, and you will behave meekly and obediently. You have the chance to become Queen of Queens.”
I would rather have had my mother’s rubies. Yes, and you would rather ride Star across the hills than bake bread in Shushan. But I tried to discuss the matter calmly. “Very well, so you bought my place with my mother’s rubies. My rubies.” Rubies I had not even known I possessed. “Why?”
Mordecai looked uneasy. Guilty. “I will not be questioned,” he said.
“And I will not be sold into the palace. Cousin, why?” There had to be a reason.
For long moments he said nothing. Just as I opened my mouth to ask again, Mordecai took my hands and stared into my eyes. His own eyes seemed oddly bright. Feverish.
“Because you will be queen, Hadassah.”
I opened my mouth, then closed my lips firmly before I asked him if he had run mad. I managed to make my next words soft, as if I were a soft, biddable girl. “You cannot know that. Yes, I am fair to look upon, but there are many others as beautiful as I. Rubies may have bought my place in the contest, but they cannot buy the king’s choice.”
“The king has no more choice in this than you or I. The Most High decrees it, and so it will be.”
And then, as if forgetting he was not to be questioned, Mordecai told me what he had done—and why he was so certain I must go into the palace and into the king’s bed. “The Lord sent me a dream, Hadassah—and I dreamed it long before this contest was spoken of.”
A dream. Mordecai wagered my future on a dream. My face must have revealed my dismay; Mordecai took my hand in his.
“You doubt, Hadassah. You must have faith, and trust in the Lord.”
“Perhaps your interpretation of this dream is flawed.” I had never known Mordecai to place any great credence in dreams before. What made this dream worth rubies?
Mordecai shook his head. “It is not mine. I knew the dream for a portent, and so I consulted Daniel, knowing he only could coax its meaning into the light.”
“You went to Daniel? You?” Despite the high regard in which Daniel was held, I knew Mordecai’s opinion of him was ambivalent at best. For Daniel was a Jew, brought as tribute to Babylon when Jerusalem fell. But not only had Daniel married a foreigner, the gift that had given him the name “Dream-Master” seemed, to Mordecai, perilously close to sorcery.
“Yes, Hadassah. I.” Mordecai regarded me steadily. “You remember the king’s great feast?”
“Who in all the empire can forget it?” I said bitterly.
“The Lord our God sent me this dream the night before that feast began. It troubled me so greatly I knew I must discover its meaning.” Mordecai drew in a deep breath before continuing. “Listen, and you will understand why you must enter the palace. I dreamed, and I went to beg Daniel to unfold its meaning …
“In my dream, it was deep night. I stood upon the city wall and gazed into the heavens. I saw the stars gleaming bright as the queen’s jewels. The most brilliant star blazed up and then fell, and as that star fell all the stars whirled about me as if they sought to climb the heavens. Then another star rose, burring hot as the sun.”
Mordecai looked at me; his eyes hot and bright as the stars he spoke of. “And this is what Daniel told me: Queen Vashti’s star falls. Another queen rises.
“Esther.” Mordecai’s eyes looked past me, into the future he had dreamed. “Your Persian name is Esther.”
A name I had chosen myself. A name chosen so that I would never forget my past. A name that now sealed my future, for Esther meant—
Star.
* * *
Even after hearing Mordecai’s dream and Daniel’s words, I still thought Mordecai mad. I said many things about the selection to Mordecai—everything except, in the end, a final “No.” I wondered, for a time, why I seemed unable to utter so small, so simple, a word. All I had to say was “No. No, Mordecai, I will not do this. I have yielded in everything else, but I will not yield in this. No.”
At last I knew why I did not say it. I could not endure refusing, and having my refusal ignored.
I was Hadassah, daughter of Abihail; I read half a dozen languages and spoke half a dozen more. I studied the great books of Babylon and Sumer, could recite the epics of Homer. I could add a hundred numbers and reach a true tally. I could play the harp and the flute. I could cook and weave, sew and bake.
All that I was weighed as a feather on the
scales against my beautiful face and shapely body.
The only skill demanded of me now was obedience. I put on my long yellow veil and walked with Mordecai to the gate to the Jewish Quarter. A palace guard stood there, beside a tall narrow-necked basket of gilded willow. Mordecai reached out his hand to the basket, and the guard held out his hand. “No. The rules are that the girl herself must do it.”
I saw the guard trying to peer past my veil, perhaps to see if I were willing or not. Silently, Mordecai held out the square of papyrus with my name written upon it. I put my hand out through the slit in the veil and Mordecai laid the papyrus on my palm. For a breath I stared at my name on the creamy surface—the name by which the palace would know me.
I felt Mordecai’s eyes upon me, the silent pressure to obey. I need not. The rules are that I myself must put my name into the contest. I could stop this here, now—
I turned my hand and dropped my Persian name into the gilded basket.
Esther.
BOOK FIVE
Palace of Dreams
VASHTI
No one seemed to know what would happen to me now that I was no longer queen. My handmaidens and queen’s ladies wept and mourned as if I had died. Tajet wailed, “What will become of you? What will become of you?” until I held up my hand and demanded they all be silent.
“I am not dead, and your wailing gives me a headache. Leave me, all of you.”
They obeyed, slinking out, eyeing me speculatively. If I were no longer queen, was I still to be obeyed? Were my wishes still commands?
Then I was alone. And to say truth, I didn’t know what I was supposed to do with my days, with my life. There was no law setting down those things that a queen whose crown had been taken from her must do, or not do. There were no rules she must obey.
For the first time since I was born, I had no rule to follow. In taking my crown, the princes had set me outside the traditions that governed every other man and woman of the court.
I did not sit long alone, for Queen Mother Amestris summoned me.
* * *
For the first time, I walked through the palaces without all my attendants clamoring for the great privilege of escorting me. Most of them slipped away as I passed, fearful lest my disgrace taint them.
Others, as I would learn, remained constant. One whom I never lost, even for a heartbeat, was Hegai. Now he strode ahead of me with as much dignity as if he still conducted the Queen of Queens. I had often dashed off without waiting for him, but today his presence comforted me.
When I reached the Queen Mother’s Palace, I found Amestris awaiting me in her own small throne room. And even she seemed uncertain what to do now. For the first time since I had been brought to be the king’s wife, I saw weariness in her eyes, and doubt. Even the Queen Mother could not undo what the King of Kings had sealed into law.
“Vashti, how could you have been so foolish?” she demanded. “You know the king’s lightest word is a command. Have you no sense at all? To openly defy the king! Now—”
“But what was I to do? If I obeyed—”
“You should have sent to me.”
I was about to complain that she had been lying deathly ill, when Amestris went on without giving me the chance.
“You should have sent to me, Vashti. I would have told you what to do.”
As you have since the day I wed your son. For a breath I thought I had spoken those words of fire aloud, that they hung upon the air between us like winged serpents. “You were ill, Queen Mother. And a woman may not appear at a men’s feast. What was I supposed to do?”
“You should have delayed. Yes, delayed until you could get word to me. I would have arranged matters.”
You have arranged too much. Another thought that slid unbidden into my mind. “Well, it is too late now.”
“Yes, too late. And you need not look so complacent, Vashti. You are not a clever girl, but surely even you must realize you are no longer Queen of Queens?”
As she always had, Amestris derided any claim I had to being able to think for myself. She had ensured I was taught only to play, and now chided me for learning my lesson well.
Sudden anger burned my skin. “Yes, I do realize that. That fact has been made very clear to me. I have only one question for you, Queen Mother Amestris.”
“And what is that?”
“What am I to do now?”
For the first time since I had met her, on the day I was ten years old, Queen Mother Amestris could think of nothing whatsoever to say. I did not wait for her to regain her sharp command over words. I bowed, most properly, and turned and walked away, out of her presence.
“I’m not sure that was wise, little queen,” Hegai said, as I stepped out of the Queen Mother’s Palace into the rising day. I paused, and looked up at him, and found myself smiling.
“Probably not,” I said. “But may I tell you something, Hegai?”
“Of course, my queen. Anything.”
“I don’t care.” As I began the long walk back to my own palace—or was it still mine?—I kept my head high and my back straight. Behind me, I thought I heard Hegai laugh softly. But my blood beat so against my ears I could not be sure.
* * *
After I had faced Queen Mother Amestris, and had walked back to my palace like the queen I no longer was, I dismissed my servants. I even ordered Hegai to leave me. But once I stood alone, the silence pressed upon me, the very air rasped against my skin.
At first I curled upon my bed, my marmoset burrowed against my neck and my silver foxes cuddled in my arms. But even my pets failed to soothe my restless thoughts. I was grateful to Suri and the fox twins—my wolves and cheetah and little deer had fled from me when I tried to grasp them in my arms.
Will even beasts not come to me because I am no longer queen? Hegai left me alone without one word of protest. Is he no longer mine? Mocking, Amestris’s words echoed in my mind: “You are not a clever girl, but surely even you must realize you are no longer Queen of Queens?”
Tears spilled down my cheeks; one of the foxes licked them away, its tongue soft and swift. I looked down into its bright eyes, and to my surprise, my despair vanished. “I am no longer Queen of Queens.” A burden I had not even known I carried slid away, leaving me feeling light enough to dance upon clouds. Free. I am no longer queen. I am free.
I kissed the fox’s gleaming black nose and gently set my pets onto the cushions beside me. It was foolish of me to send Hegai away, to tell him I no longer needed him. Of course I need him!
Well, I would remedy that error now. I would go to Hegai, and I would beg his pardon and ask his advice. And if ever Amestris learned I had so greatly demeaned myself—
I do not care. I do not care! Perhaps she will turn to stone in outrage!
* * *
His famed silver mirror, taller and wider than a large man, dominated Hegai’s reception hall. A silver Vashti regarded me gravely from its gleaming surface.
“My queen.” Hegai would have bowed, but I held out my hands and without hesitation he clasped them in his. “You should have summoned me.”
“And you would have come.” My voice sounded thin and weak; uncertain. Not at all the firm voice of the mature woman I wished to sound.
“And I would have come. What troubles you—other than having lost your crown and the good opinion of the Queen Mother?” He smiled, squeezed my hands, and I laughed.
“I know now I never had her good opinion.” All I had been to Amestris was a malleable game piece. “And I don’t care about my crown. I came to ask your pardon, and your advice.”
“You need never ask for the first, and you may always have the second. How may I help you, my—” The slightest of pauses, as if he had been about to speak a different word. “—my queen?”
HEGAI
When I learned that Vashti stood waiting in my own reception hall, for one joyous moment I thought her heart had opened to me. That she had come to me as my beloved. Such a thing was not impossible;
eunuchs often married, although not often for love. She is fond of me; she will grow to love me; we will marry and I will make her happy. She shall be truly loved and happy …
Vain dreams, swiftly dead. One look at Vashti before my silver mirror, and I knew my hope was no more than fruitless folly. Still, when she saw me she reached out to me—better than nothing, although so much less than I desired. Drawing upon long years of control over my thoughts and passions, I asked why she had come, rather than sending for me to go to her.
To my astonishment, she solemnly begged my pardon—for what, I did not ask, for she also begged for my advice. And when I asked, she raised her eyes to mine and said,
“What do I do now, Hegai?” Her voice held steady; no tears blurred her eyes. “I am no longer queen, but what am I?”
“You are Vashti,” I said. “You are always Vashti. And you know already what we must do now.”
She smiled and flung her arms tight around me. “Go to Daniel Dream-Master?”
“Yes.” I kissed her forehead, her skin warm under my lips. “Go to Daniel.”
* * *
As always, to enter the gate into Daniel’s garden was to walk into soothing peace. Nor was I surprised to find Daniel waiting on the blue bench. “Does nothing surprise you, Dream-Master?” I asked. Beside me, Vashti laughed softly.
“Many things, Hegai,” Daniel said, even as Samamat came out of the house carrying a bowl full of cherries.
“That’s because you never learn that people aren’t sensible, Daniel.” Samamat set the bowl down and sank to her knees beside it; looked up at Vashti. “So what do we call you now? Have some cherries; they’re particularly sweet this summer.”
“So you heard?” The most foolish of questions; who had not heard what happened at the king’s great banquet—and the queen’s? Samamat’s son Dariel must have told them almost at once.
“My dear Hegai, of course we’ve heard all about it. The entire empire will know by the end of the week.” Samamat smiled at Vashti. “Well done, Ishvari’s granddaughter.”
Vashti’s pale skin flushed warm pink; Samamat’s praise pleased her greatly. She knelt gracefully beside Samamat, who silently handed her a handful of cherries. “So,” Samamat added, “what do we call you now?”
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