That was quite enough to set Vashti calling for my handmaidens and giving Kylah a dozen orders for my care. I said nothing, but sent Kylah a look that the clever girl rightly interpreted as meaning, Listen and nod and say, “Yes, my Lady Vashti.” As soon as she leaves, we can forget it all.
I smiled at Kylah. I closed my hand over the ivory disk I had tied in my sash. Forty. Mine, mine to keep always.
Much later I had a palace jeweler carve a small hole in the disk, and for many years I wore it on a silk cord about my neck. Whenever life grew hard to bear—even palaces hold sorrow—I would touch my fingers to the ivory token, and take comfort from its smooth warmth.
VASHTI
When I chose Esther to be Ahasuerus’s next queen, I did not realize I also chose a friend for myself. Not since Ahasuerus and I had been playmates together had I known so close a bond. Esther’s mind ran swift and clever, and she was so learned I could only shake my head and profess myself unequal to her.
“Nonsense,” Esther said. “You are just as clever as I. You simply never have learned to use your mind for anything but play.”
“How would I learn to—not play?” I asked, and Esther smiled.
“By hard work and perseverance, Vashti. And by practice.”
“And if I work hard, and persevere, and practice…?”
“You will learn to think your own thoughts, rather than those of others. It’s a useful skill to have.”
“I wish I could change places with you—oh, not in the contest, but I think—I think it would be wonderful to live outside palace walls.”
“Most would change places with you, and not with me, Vashti. May I ask a question of you?” For the first time, Esther sounded uncertain.
“Yes, and I will even answer. What would you ask?” I waited with interest; I never knew what Esther might say, what she wished to know.
“You have been Queen of Queens. If it were possible, would you wish to be queen again?”
And I thought carefully before I answered. Did I want to be queen again? If I could trick the king into choosing me, as if we all lived in a tale of peris and phoenixes, where hearts were worth more than crowns, would I do it? No. No, I do not want to be his queen. I do not know what I do want, but I do not want that.
Esther waited; I could read nothing in her eyes. When I did not speak, she said, “Some would commit any act, if it would ensure even a chance at a crown. One girl rubbed tar into her twin sister’s golden hair so that it had to all be cut off. No one would choose a girl with a shaven head for the king to look upon. Another washed her face and found her smooth pale skin blotched and red. Yet another—”
“Stop,” I said. How terrible, how cruel the choice of beauty.
But Esther possessed more than a keen mind, more than a vibrant beauty. She owned that most rare, most elusive, charm: she was likeable.
Everyone liked her—even maidens who competed against her for the crown liked Esther. Hegai liked her, and Hegai liked few people. Sometimes I wondered if he truly liked me, but I never quite dared ask.
It was good to have a friend—and twice good that friend was Esther. A girl my own age, one who understood what I longed for. And Esther knew much that I had not yet learned. I listened avidly to her tales of growing up wild in the mountain valley, and of slipping unnoticed through the city below the palace. I could not go to the valley—
“But you can take me down into the city, Esther. Yes, we will go and you will show me how men and women who are not kings and queens live.”
“No, we will not,” Esther said flatly.
That was the beginning of an argument that lasted from one end of my garden to the other and back again—for Esther liked to move about, as if she were a restless mare, and I had learned to walk with her. It was also an excellent way of ensuring no one eavesdropped upon our words. Esther steadfastly refused to do my bidding in this, and I begged and cajoled, promised her whatsoever she desired. At last I said,
“If you will not come with me, I will go alone.” I held my head high and proud, waiting.
Esther regarded me critically—no, resignedly. “You have been a queen too long, and have forgotten there are things women may not do.”
“No, there are things a great queen may not do. I am Vashti; I do what pleases me. And it pleases me to go out into the city—well, into the upper city at least,” I amended, seeing the expression on her face. I had seen such a look on the face of a waiting-woman when her little daughter had tried to balance upon the edge of a deep lotus-pond.
Esther drew in a deep breath, and nodded. “The upper city. Yes, that we can do—if walking the palace beyond the Women’s Gate will not content you.”
“That I have done already.” That I had done beside Ahasuerus, playing at being his page. And when his mother had scolded us, Ahasuerus had only laughed, and then Amestris had smiled …
“Vashti?” Esther put her arms around me. “Why do you weep?”
“I don’t,” I said, and blinked hard. “I was remembering…” I told her how I had dressed as a boy, followed the king about, and how Amestris had not been truly angry at us. “I remember how she smiled,” I finished.
“How did she smile?” Esther asked.
I hesitated. With—satisfaction? Pleasure? “I do not know, I only know that—”
“That Queen Mother Amestris rules here, and intends to do so until she draws her last breath. And if there is one thing I have learned with all my reading and study, it is that those like her live long, long lives.” Esther pushed me back, regarded me again, and then wiped my eyes with her own veil. “I think, you know, that it is at the Queen Mother we should look, Vashti. We should look long and carefully.”
A thought slashed unbidden into my head. “Do you think Haman is her creature?”
“Is there anyone in the palace who is not? Save you and I and Hegai?”
I noticed she did not add Ahasuerus’s name to that short list. “I do not like Haman overmuch,” I said, and Esther laughed softly.
“What, after all his pains to cozen you into friendship? Unkind, Vashti!” After a moment’s pause, Esther added, “I do not like Haman at all.”
When I asked her why, Esther only shook her head. “Why doesn’t matter. I am unlikely ever to meet him ag—in the Women’s Palace.”
“Oh, let us forget about Prince Haman and Queen Amestris! You promised to show me the upper city.”
“No, you demanded I take you there. Never lie to yourself, Vashti, even if you lie to others.”
* * *
My unruly thoughts gave me an idea I thought very clever: I dressed as a young man, and so Esther would be a well-born lady walking with her brother. She wore the full veil, covering herself to her knees. I need only line my eyes as a man would and hide my too-bright hair beneath a turban. No one beyond the palace knew my face, after all.
I commanded Varkha to wear flowing robes and let his hair fall loose down his back. Varkha would play with my wolves at the far end of my garden; anyone who looked for me would think they saw me with my beloved pets—for very few people would dare approach close enough to see the deception.
As I had promised Esther, it was not hard to walk out of the Women’s Palace, a place all longed to enter and few to leave. Then it was only a matter of leading Esther through the courtyards until we reached the King’s Gate, and then to walk out through the King’s Gate to the Great Staircase.
For a moment we stood there at the top of the vast expanse of smooth-polished marble, gazing out across the bright city to the mountains far to the east.
“Look.” Esther tilted her head back, staring up at the endless sky. “A falcon.”
I glanced at the soaring bird, then looked down the long hill of stairs, a staircase wide enough for a dozen horsemen to ride up abreast. “Come on, sister. I want to see the city.” I thought I heard her sigh, but it might have been the wind that swirled about the palace.
It took us almost an hour to make our way down th
e Great Staircase. We walked down and down, past the bazaars selling all the world’s wares, past merchants and soldiers and courtiers. Past heavily-veiled women accompanied by eunuch guards, and past heavily-curtained litters carrying ladies too high-born to be looked upon at all. But as we walked lower, I began to see women who were not hidden from the world. Their faces, free for all to see, had been painted yellow as saffron, and although the thin silk of their garments clung to their bodies, the cloth was always a dull green. Necklaces of coins hung heavy upon their breasts.
“Harlots,” said Esther. “Don’t look upon them—dear brother.”
Odd that so honey-voiced a girl could speak sharp as lemon. Honeyed lemon, to be sure. I never learned the trick of it.
“A man may always look, dear sister.” Brash, arrogant words that I thought a boy might wish to speak in such a moment.
“When you are a man, then you, too, may look. Until then, guard your eyes.” Nothing Esther said would sound in the least odd to any who listened, even did they hear her soft words. Any sister might gently chide a younger brother so.
At last we reached the bottom of the Great Staircase, and there we stopped to rest. To descend those stairs took almost as much effort as it did to ascend. We moved aside, beneath a rose tree in a green-tiled pot. “Are you content yet?” Esther asked, and I shook my head.
“Very well.” Her voice was placid; I sometimes wondered if anything ever troubled her. “An hour then, and do not say, ‘No, I want more.’ It will take us until midafternoon to climb those stairs again, and if we are missed—”
“It will not matter,” I assured her.
She leaned close, and when she spoke I felt her breath upon my ear through the sheer cotton veil. “You are no longer the Queen of Queens, and I am no one at all. It will matter.” She straightened again, and adjusted her veil. “Come, brother. You promised to show me the Sunrise Street, and to buy me a bangle there.”
* * *
All went smooth as butter until we turned back, and thought to find a shorter path to the palace than that we had taken to the Sunrise Street. A man began to follow us; a man who had walked past us, and stared intently at my face. He turned and his footfalls paced ours. At first, I thought he must know who I was, but I could not have been more wrong. My disguise proved too convincing.
Soon, instead of following, our shadow came up to walk beside me. “Greetings, pretty one,” he said. “You look too fine a boy to be shackled still to your mother.”
For a moment I was too astonished to answer; then wicked delight filled me. He thought me a real boy! I nearly laughed—but then he stepped ahead of me and I had to stop. The man looked me up and down, as if I were a horse he thought he just might bargain for.
I drew myself up, about to speak in arrogance and outraged pride, when I heard Esther’s sharp indrawn breath. A gasp of fear, half-muffled by her silvered veil.
I think wisdom began for me that day, in that moment, summoned by that breath. For I remembered that I was not Vashti, Queen of Queens. Here, now, I was not even a girl. I was a young man, a very young man. And I must curb my tongue and speak as what I seemed to be would speak.
But I was still Vashti, and so what I said was, “My sister would not like it, sir.”
“What a pity. And do you always do as your sister says?”
“I try to be a good brother,” I said, and as Esther grabbed my arm and pulled me away, I glanced back over my shoulder. The man smiled at me, and winked. My face burned hot and I willingly went where Esther guided me.
“Are you quite mad?” Esther demanded, as we fled back down the narrow street. There we stopped, sucking in air in great breaths, and I began to laugh. “Be quiet,” she hissed. “Be quiet—brother—or I will slap you.”
“You dare not,” I gasped. “Oh, Esther, he thought—”
“I know what he thought. He thought you a boy and me only a woman, and so he could do as he liked with us both. That is what he thought, and it is not in the least funny. Oh, do stop laughing!”
“I wonder what he would have given me?” I managed to ask, and despite her scolding, Esther answered,
“And I wonder what he would have done, when he found himself fondling a woman and not a boy!” Then she, too, began to laugh.
But once we had returned safely to the Women’s Palace, Esther turned to me and said, “Never again, Vashti. I should never have let you persuade me to such folly. Think on what would have happened had we been discovered.”
I started to protest, but Esther held up her hand. “No, Vashti. Think, not of yourself, for you would not suffer more than a tongue-lashing for this. Think of what would have happened to Varkha for his part in this escapade. And think of what would have happened to me. I would have lost all chance of even seeing the king. I would have been lucky if I had been relegated to the concubines’ palace.”
I stared at the bright tiles beneath my feet. Esther was right. Of course she was right. But—“Why did you come with me, then?”
Esther sighed. “Because I am tired of being trapped behind walls. Because it is very hard to deny you what you ask. And because I am very, very tired of waiting to see the king. So you see, Vashti, I have no more sense than any other girl.”
I hugged her and kissed her cheek. “I am sorry, Esther, truly. Be patient for a little longer. Ahasuerus will choose you. I know it.”
Esther sighed. “I am number forty, Vashti. I know you and Hegai believe the king will choose me, but—”
“He will. I myself will speak to him before the first maiden goes to him. You are the perfect queen for him, and I will tell him so.”
For a long moment, Esther said nothing. She pressed her lips together hard and closed her eyes tight against tears. At last she looked at me and said, “I would rather be the perfect wife for him. Remember that, when you speak with the king. Now come and change out of those boy’s garments before Hegai sees you dressed like that.”
* * *
Since I could not go to Ahasuerus—for the edict forbidding me ever again to come before the king remained forever sealed into the laws—I must summon him. And since I must speak to him on an important and delicate matter, I must make sure I set my request before him at an auspicious moment. I asked Hegai if he thought I should go to Daniel Dream-Master for advice.
“You have no dream for the Dream-Master to interpret for you,” Hegai pointed out.
“You are right—do you think I should ask a priest to throw the pur for me? To tell me what day I should ask the king to come to me?”
Hegai sighed. “My lady Vashti, the day to ask the king is this day. To wait is risky. Ask him now.”
I knew Hegai was right; I must act at once. I sent for Nikole, who came prepared with her box of pens and her clay tablet and papyrus, and sat cross-legged by my chair, writing-board across her thighs, waiting as I dithered over the words of my message. At last Nikole said,
“May I ask a boon, my lady princess?”
I stopped twisting bracelets around my wrist and looked at Nikole. She regarded me calmly over her writing-board. “Yes, of course,” I said.
“If my lady princess will permit me, I will write a draft of the message, which you then may approve or alter, as pleases you.”
“An excellent idea,” Hegai said, before I could answer.
I looked from Nikole to Hegai, and realized my inability to decide even upon the first words of a simple request would keep us bound here until nightfall.
“Yes,” I said to Nikole, “it would please me greatly if you would write what I should say.”
“Thank you, my lady princess.” Nikole bent over her writing-board and began putting neat, swift words upon the papyrus. A few moments later, she held out the message, and I took it without waiting for a maid to hand it to me.
If it please my lord the king, his loving sister the Princess Vashti begs him to come to her when it best suits him so that she may speak to him upon a matter of the utmost importance.
I read the short missive, and began to laugh. So simple, so direct—and so different from the long, convoluted attempts I had made to compose my message. I rose and walked over to Hegai.
“Nikole has written precisely what I would have said, were my head not filled with clouds instead of thoughts.” I handed the message to Hegai. “Please send this to the king at once. And tell the page who delivers it to wait for a reply.”
* * *
Ahasuerus’s answer sent me into another panic, for he would come to me that very evening. Now I must decide how to receive him. With a splendid dinner of all his favorite dishes? With wine and fruit? Or should I await him in my courtyard, a suppliant?
And what should I wear? My finest robes? A simple gown? Or …
“Vashti, you are chattering like your brainless marmoset.” Hegai’s statement stopped me in mid-dither. I barely noticed that he had used my name alone, unadorned. “You’ve known the king since you both were children. Do you really think you need to await him as either queen or supplicant?”
“But what I must say to him is so important. I must find the right words, the perfect words. I must—”
To my surprise, Hegai put his arm around me, as he had when I was a small girl new-come to the palace. His embrace comforted me; I leaned my head on his shoulder.
“You must speak to the king as you always have. Fairly and plainly. Yes, what you must say is important, but it is not difficult. Tell him the truth. That is all you can do. What happens then is in his hands.”
Hegai’s advice calmed me, for I knew he was right. I remembered Esther saying too many had played the king as if he were a puppet. I would not treat Ahasuerus as if he were a mere chessboard king, moving by my whim.
“Thank you, Hegai.” I kissed his cheek, an impulsive intimacy. He stiffened, and withdrew his arm, leaving me standing alone again. Feeling oddly bereft, I asked him to arrange matters as he saw fit for the king’s visit that evening. “And choose what garments you think I should wear. I will be guided by your good judgment in all things.”
* * *
Game of Queens Page 34
