A Reluctant Queen (37 page)

Hathach cracked the door slightly and the threesome in the queen’s reception room stood in total silence, listening intently for the sound of footsteps. It was not very long before they heard them. Then they heard Ahasuerus say, “Send for Haman and tell him to attend me in my reception room. But first I need a bath.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The door across the corridor closed and there came the sound of a single man walking back down the corridor. The messenger going for Haman, Esther thought. Hathach softly closed her door all the way.

“Courage, my lady,” Luara said. “The most dangerous part of this whole affair was your intrusion into the banquet, and that is behind you. The rest will be easy. Once the king hears what Haman has done, he will be thankful for your intervention.”

She means well
, Esther thought, and sent her maid the flicker of a smile. She thought of having to tell Ahasuerus that one of his most trusted friends had betrayed him and she quaked. He would not only be angry, he would be devastated. And then, to add to his pain, she would next inform him that his wife had been lying to him ever since they first met.

Oh my dearest love, I would do anything to take this agony from you, but I cannot
.

They moved into the small dining room to await the king. Luara urged Esther to take a sip of wine, but she shook her head. “It will make me dizzy.”

They continued to wait.

More time passed. Then there came a soft knock upon the door. Hathach opened it and a page announced the arrival of Ahasuerus. The king came in, followed by Haman.

Hathach slipped out the door to go inform the kitchen that the food could be served and Luara followed him.

I will not faint
, Esther told herself as she greeted her guests and asked them to be seated at the table. She flared her nostrils and inhaled deeply.
I will not faint
.

Ahasuerus scanned her face. “You are too pale and the shadows under your eyes look like bruises. Are you feeling well enough for this, Esther?”

His concern is so sweet
, Esther thought. Would he ever look at her this way again? “I am well, my lord,” she replied quietly. “If you will be seated, I will serve you and your Grand Vizier some wine.”

She poured the wine into the golden goblets with the dexterity and grace that she had learned from Muran. Ahasuerus’ eyes were a darker gray than usual as he accepted the cup from her and there was a line between his brows. Haman looked wary.

The king put the cup down decisively. “If you want me to eat, Esther, you are first going to have to tell me what this is all &7 about. What could possibly be so dire that you had to violate my banquet last night?”

The moment had come. Esther turned from the wine table and faced the two men. To her great relief, she felt perfectly steady as she spoke the words she had rehearsed over and over again in her mind. “My lord, I have an urgent request to make of you. That is why I wished to see you—to ask you to grant me this request.”

He frowned. “A request? Of course I will grant you a request.” He glanced at Haman, clearly puzzled as to the necessity of his attendance.

Esther straightened her already straight back. “My lord,” she said in a formal voice. “I ask you that my life be spared, and I beg that you also spare the lives of my people. For my people and I have been delivered to destruction, slaughter, and death.”

At Esther’s words, Haman had gone deadly white. He made as if to rise from his chair, then, realizing the futility of escape, he slumped back down again.

Ahasuerus did not notice Haman’s movement; his eyes were all for his wife. His voice was clipped. “I do not understand you, Esther. Who dares threaten your life?”

“You do, my lord,” Esther said quietly, “although I do not think you know anything about this decree.”

“What decree?” Ahasuerus slammed the flat of his hand down on the table, making the golden cups and plates jump. “Esther, what are you talking about?”

She flinched at the noise of his hand crashing upon the table, but her own hands were steady as she withdrew a roll of parchment from within the folds of her robe. “This decree, my lord.”

The sweat began to pour down Haman’s face.

Esther went on, “This is a decree that was sent out under your Royal Seal, my lord. May I read it to you?”

He nodded impatiently.

Esther unrolled the parchment and began to read from it. Ahasuerus made an abrupt movement and she looked up. “Go on,” he said tersely, and she continued until she got to the relevant point:

We hereby decree that all Jews living in our empire, together with their wives and children, must leave their present dwelling places and places of business and return to the land of their origin, as once was ordered by our father, Cyrus. If they do not obey this decree by the fourteenth day of the month of Adar of the current year, then they shall be utterly destroyed by the swords of their enemies
.

She stopped reading. The silence in the room was terrifying. Haman sat in frozen stillness, his gaze glued to the scroll in Esther’s hand.

At last the king said in an ominously quiet voice, “I never caused such a decree to be written.”

“I never thought you did, my lord. It was promulgated after you left Susa to deal with the Mardians.” She moved to stand next to him and held the parchment out for him to look at. “However, you can see that it is signed with the Royal Seal.”

Ahasuerus looked down at the familiar symbol. Slowly he lifted his eyes, slowly he turned his head. “Haman,” he said, “is this your doing?”

Terror looked out of Haman’s dilated eyes. “Yes, my lord,” he whispered.

“You were going to issue a decree against the Mardians.” Ahasuerus was as bewildered as he was angry, and Esther felt her heart go out to him. “What is
this
?”

Haman heard the bewilderment also and a gleam of hope flickered in his golden stare. “My lord, the queen has not told you that I found evidence that Mordecai was stealing from the Treasury. It made me so angry, my lord, that a Jew would so betray your trust that I . . . that I let myself get carried away.”

“Carried away?” The note in Ahasuerus’ voice was terrible. “You have authorized the murder of thousands of men, women, and children—in my name—and you say you were carried away?”

“My lord. I am sorry. I was so angry at the Jew’s betrayal. I did not think . . .” Haman’s eyes fell before the look in Ahasuerus’, and his voice trailed off.

Fury swept through Esther. “This accusation of Mordecai is completely false, my lord. Mordecai is as honest as you are yourself. The evidence Haman speaks of was manufactured by him. It is merely an excuse for ordering the extermination of my people.” She could feel her face flush with her anger. “Yes, Haman,
my
people. I, too, am a Jew, and this proclamation applies to me as well as it does to the thousands of other innocents whom you would slaughter in the name of racial and religious hatred.”

The only sound in the room was the harsh ratchet of Haman’s breathing.

Ahasuerus said abruptly, “I must get messengers on the roads immediately if they are to reach their destinations before the fourteenth.” He pushed the chair out of his way and, brushing past Esther, he walked to the door. They heard his voice outside in the corridor telling a page to bring him a scribe and the captain of the Royal Messenger Service. There came the sound of a door closing, and Esther realized that he must have gone into his own apartment.

She looked at Haman. He was ashen. “My lady—” he began, then stopped, silenced by the look in her eyes.

“He trusted you,” she said bitterly. “He made you his Grand Vizier. He gave you his seal.”

“I was trying to protect him! He trusted all the wrong people!”

“He trusted you.” Esther’s voice was hard and pitiless as she repeated the words. “When they told him that you had poisoned his medicine, he never hesitated. He drank it all down. Do you remember that, Haman? What was that, if not a sign of trust? And then you did this to him.”

Haman whimpered, “Oh my dearest lord, what have I done?” and he buried his hands in his face.

A flicker of pity stirred in Esther’s heart and she pushed it down. She would not feel sorry for Haman. “What have you done with Mordecai, my uncle?”

Haman dropped his hands. “He is under guard in my own house, my lady. He is safe, I promise you.”

All of Esther’s anger came rushing back. “You were going to kill him. You made up lies about him and you were going to kill him.”

“My lady.” Haman pushed back his chair and, before she knew what he was going to do, he had rushed across the floor, flung himself at her feet, and clutched her robe. “Please, my lady, I am sorry, I did not mean—”

“Take your hands off my wife!”

Haman and Esther froze.

Then Haman scrambled to his feet. “My lord, I did not mean . . .” His voice trailed off as he saw who had come into the room with the king.

“Arrest him,” Ahasuerus said to the Eunuch Guardsmen he had brought. “I never want to see his face again.”

Ahasuerus and Esther stood in silence as Haman was removed. He did not struggle or attempt to appeal to the king, but, haggard-faced, walked in the midst of the guardsmen with the profound calm of utter despair. Then a small, big-eyed page announced the arrival of one of the palace scribes.

“Sit at that table,” the king said to the rotund man who had entered behind the page, “and write down what I am going to say.”

The scribe hastened to do as he was asked, moving one of the untouched golden plates so that he could unroll his parchment and find room for his ink and freshly sharpened quills. He dipped a pen into the ink and looked expectantly at the king. Ahasuerus dictated:

Ahasuerus, the Great King, to all the twenty satraps and governors of provinces in the Empire of the Persians: Greetings.

Some men become more ambitious the more they are showered with honors through the bountiful generosity of their patrons. Not only do they drive out gratitude from among men; with the arrogant boastfulness of those to whom goodness has no meaning, they suppose they will escape even the judgment of the All Wise Lord.

For instance, Haman, son of Hamedatha, a Palestinian, certainly not of Persian blood, and very different from us in generosity, was hospitably received by us. He repaid this generous trust by weaving intricate webs of deceit by which he plotted the destruction of Mordecai, our savior, and the whole race of Jewish people who are our loyal subjects.

You will ignore the letter sent by Haman, for he who composed it has met with our most bitter displeasure and punishment. No Jewish blood is to be spilt on the fourteenth day of Adar, nor of any other month. Instead this day shall be turned from one of destruction into one of joy, which you shall celebrate by feasts and by rejoicing, so that both now and in the future it may be, for us and for all loyal Persians, a celebration of victory, and for those who plot against us a reminder of their inevitable fate.

When the last word had been taken down, the scribe looked up at Ahasuerus, who said, “The royal messengers are waiting for copies of this decree, which are to be sent throughout the empire as swiftly as possible.”

“Yes, my lord.” The scribe blew on the parchment to help dry the ink. “We will have the copies made within the hour.”

“Bring them to me when they are finished and I will affix my Royal Seal.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“You may go.”

“Yes, my lord.” The little man looked anxiously at his pens and ink, clearly wondering how he was to take them along with the parchment, which had to be held open as it had not yet dried.

“Leave them,” the king said impatiently as he saw the man’s dilemma.

“Yes, my lord!” Unable to perform the prostration with the parchment in his hands, the scribe contented himself with a deep bow before exiting through the door.

Alone in the room, Esther and Ahasuerus looked at each other. His face was still and reserved, but Esther saw that the hands at his sides were clenched.

He said, “You told me you were a Babylonian.”

She had never actually told him that, but she had certainly allowed him to believe it. She said, “My family did come to Susa from Babylon, my lord, but they are Jews. Mordecai is my uncle.”

“And you did not think it worthwhile to tell me this?”

His voice was so cold, so distant, that she wanted to weep. “My lord, may I tell you how this came to be?”

He replied in that same cold voice, “I would be interested to hear such a tale.”

They were standing with half the width of the room between them. Esther thought fleetingly about asking him to sit, but his expression warned her not to. She clasped her hands together and began to tell him about Mordecai’s dream and his fear that something terrible was going to happen to the Jews.

“There were so many girls more beautiful than I, my lord. I never expected you to choose me. But you did. And then I came to love you so much, and I was afraid to tell you the truth.”

“You thought I would reject you if I knew you were a Jew?”

She took one step toward him in her anxiety to make him understand. “I never thought that. I thought you would be angry with me because I had lied to you.”