Jewel of Persia (65 page)

Zethar sped away, and Xerxes stood, stepped down. He offered his arm to Esther and smiled when she tucked her slender fingers into his elbow. “I must apologize.”

She smiled up at him. “There is no need. I understand that you want time alone with her.”

Yes, she always understood. Was there a sweeter, more serene woman in all the kingdom? He had never met one. “Still, I should have sought you out. Artaxerxes wishes to winter with us next year.”

“I would love to have him, you know that. Amani would love it too—she adores him.”

He nodded, then searched his mind for another topic. Only one presented itself, but what could they say about Kasia? He contented himself with basking in Esther’s soothing silence. Smiled when he saw the beautiful table she had set up in the outer chamber of her rooms.

Haman arrived a minute behind them, and they all took their seats. His friend beamed with pleasure—had he ever been invited to one of Esther’s banquets before? He did not think so.

Well, then, let him enjoy it for a while. Xerxes did his best to keep his smile in place as servants brought out the first course and filled their cups. But with each degree the sun sank, he had to fend off the urge to end the meal and go check on Kasia.

When his first cup of wine sat empty, he gave in and turned to Esther. “What is your request, my queen? It shall be granted to you, whatever it is.”

Esther met his gaze, searched his eyes for a moment. “You are eager to see Kasia. If it pleases you to grant my petition, come with Haman to another banquet tomorrow, and I will present it to you.”

Xerxes smiled. “We will be here.” And he would be sure to visit Kasia first, so that he might better give Esther his attention.

~*~

Haman nearly danced his way out of the gate—until he found himself face to face with that insubordinate Jew, Mordecai. He stood in the middle of the street, arms wide and face toward the heavens. What in the world was he doing? Haman stepped forward. “Out of the way, swine.”

The Jew’s arms lowered, as did his face. But his expression was pure defiance. “You have done your best to remove us permanently, have you not? It will not be as easy for you as you think.”

Haman smirked as his guards took a menacing step toward the wretch. “It will be even easier. Now that your precious friend is lying on her deathbed, the king cares for nothing else. Get used to the feel of my heel, swine—it will crush you until you die in a few short months.”

“Kasia is in Jehovah’s hand—and I have no fear of your heel.” The swine stepped to the side and gave him a mocking smile. “You may want to watch your step, though. It is a rickety bridge you attempt to build your empire on.”

Haman stormed past and forced himself to remember all that went well. When he entered his house, he greeted his wife with a kiss.

Zeresh pushed him away, but amusement sparked in her eyes. “What has gotten into you? And where have you been? You send word to gather everyone together, then do not show up for more than an hour.”

He pulled her into the hall and grinned when he saw all his sons and their families, his daughters and their husbands. His neighbors, his friends. Rickety—never. “The god has blessed me beyond measure, my friends. This evening I dined with the king and queen. No one else, just the three of us. And I am invited again tomorrow.”

They gushed, they congratulated, Zeresh even slid an arm around his waist. But his smile would not hold. “Still, when I see the arrogance of the swine—when I left the palace that Jew was in the gate, mocking me.”

Zeresh shook her head and patted his stomach. “What is that to you? Soon enough his whole people will be killed.”

“Not soon enough. Not for him.”

“Then let a gallows be made.” His eldest son lifted his cup of wine, a hateful smile curling his lips. “You are second only to the king—ask him in the morning to put the man to death for the grief he has caused you, then go merrily with him to the banquet.”

Did he dare? The king had always liked Mordecai. But then, he need not name him. He would define him by his actions, just as he had done before.

Yes, he would do it. At first light, he would put it to the king. Then he would watch the first of his enemies die.

He spun to his eunuchs. “Do as my son suggests. Build a gallows, fifty cubits high.”

His friends cheered him as the servants left to do his bidding.

Forty-Nine

Would he ever sleep again? Really sleep, without jerking awake in a panic? Xerxes had his doubts. For the third night in a row he gave up while the moon stood at its highest point in the heavens and dragged himself to his table.

History. Nothing would tire a man like the chronicles. He had Zethar bring it over.

“Here you are, master.”

“Thank you.” He unsealed the scroll and nudged it so it would unroll to whatever spot it willed.

Six years ago, when he returned from the war. He read through it, barely seeing the cuneiform script.

Still he did not think he could sleep.

Five years ago. Esther’s first year with him, and when Kasia had Artarius. Mardonius’s army had just returned, emaciated and near-starving. His hands had been full with so many things tied to that. Then—what was this? He frowned and reread. The assassination plot, the doorkeepers. They had verified the truth of it, had them put to death. But no other notes finished the story. “Zethar, what honor was given Mordecai for this?”

Zethar glanced down, read the spot on the parchment that he indicated. “Nothing, master.”

“Nothing?”

His eunuch’s lips twitched up. “It was the same day you learned Kasia carried Artarius, master. You were . . . distracted.”

He grunted and glanced toward the window. Nearly dawn. “Is anyone in the court yet?”

Zethar jogged out, returned a moment later. “Haman just arrived, master.”

Perfect. “Call him in.”

When his friend entered, Xerxes smiled. Haman would have excellent advice on this matter. “What shall be done for the man I would delight to honor?”

Haman’s brows lifted in thought for a moment, then he grinned. “For such a man, a royal robe ought to be brought which the king himself has worn, and it ought to be put on the man’s shoulders. Then he ought to sit upon one of the king’s own horses, a royal crest upon its head, and the reins should be given to one of the king’s most noble princes, that he may lead this man through the city and proclaim before him, ‘Thus shall it be done to the man whom the king delights to honor!’”

Well, Haman certainly lacked no imagination. “Let it be done for Mordecai the Jew, exactly as you said. And you yourself should guide him, since I hold you in higher esteem than any of my sons.”

Haman’s face froze. “The Jew.”

“I know you are not fond of his people, but I never rewarded him for saving my life five years ago. See to it immediately, Haman. I would start the day without this unpaid deed over my head.” Feeling a bit of energy for the first time in days, Xerxes stood and turned toward his bedchamber.

While it was done, he would visit Kasia. Perhaps, if Jehovah saw him honoring one of his chosen, he would show some mercy.

~*~

Haman shook as he plodded to his home. His family and friends were still gathered, most dozing on their couches after the night of feasting. His servants returned even now from the gallows they had built overnight.

He felt diseased. Three hours he had trudged through the city, each word of praise forced from his tongue tasting of wormwood.

How could the king make him do that? For the Jew, of all people? Walk the streets with that swine lording over him, mocking in his silence?

And the people—most had cheered, some had looked confused when they realized he was honoring a man whose death he had so recently ordained. Turmoil would ensue. Probably reach the palace.

Then the king would realize what he had done. Inevitable, yes, but he had hoped the witch would die first, so that Haman could use it to point to the power of Ahura Mazda, the inferiority of her God.

Now what was he to do? His original plan to kill her would not work now, with her confined to her bed under guard constantly.

Where was the god? Where was his might, his power? Why did he not fill him now, as he had in Sardis all those years ago?

“My husband, what is wrong?”

Haman shook his head and walked past Zeresh. “The king just honored Mordecai the Jew—by my hand.”

Zeresh sucked in a breath. “Why would he do that, when they are all to be killed in a few short months?”

He covered his head, wished he had the luxury to weep. “He does not know. I told him there were troublemakers, but I did not tell him who.”

“Haman.” His wife hissed, then took a step away from him. “You are crumbling before this Jew, and it will not stop until he towers over you. Worse, you will drag your family down with you. What have you brought on our heads?”

Before he could answer, the king’s eunuchs entered. Bowed. “The queen requests your presence at her banquet now, my lord.”

Ahura Mazda, where are you?

~*~

Esther expected her hand to shake. Jehovah steadied her. She expected nerves to sour her stomach. She ate and drank without problem. She expected her tongue to twist when her husband looked over at her and asked, “What is this petition of yours, Esther? It shall be granted to you, up to half my kingdom.”

Peace infused her, and she could look from Haman to the king without a qualm. Perhaps her life would be forfeit, but her people would be saved. She knew that. When he realized what Haman had done, he would find a path of mercy for the Jews. He would do it for Kasia’s sake, for her family and friends.

As for Esther . . . who knew how angry he may be to learn she had lied to him all this time? He would spare her people, but the price could very well be her head.

She drew in a calm breath and set her cup upon the table. “If I have found favor in your sight—if it pleases you, my king—then I ask for my life.”

Xerxes frowned and set his cup down with a splash. “Your life is in no danger.”

“On the contrary, my husband, my life and the lives of all my people have been sold for destruction. Had we been sold as slaves, I would not speak, though the enemy never would have been able to compensate for the loss it would mean for you. But the wicked man who did this would have us all killed. Man, woman, even our children.”

His frown deepened. “What enemy? Who?” He sat up straight, that infamous temper kindling in his eyes. “Who would dare devise such a thing?”

She had always retreated in the face of his anger, left Kasia to handle it. But tonight it brought strength to her spine. She whispered a mental prayer, inclined her heart to Jehovah.

The lights grew brighter, the shadows darkened. Esther nearly gasped. Was this what Kasia had told her about? The clear presence of the Lord, and the enemies held at bay? Was that warmth at the base of her neck the touch of an angel? And the emptiness that tried to suck the life from the room, that seemed to crouch behind Haman, was that what her friend had to battle every time she looked at him?

The Spirit settled over her. The breath she drew in expanded her lungs, her shoulders seemed to grow and harden. And the man before her shrank into a shriveling shadow.

“Him.” She held her arm out straight, level with Haman. Though it trembled a little, she felt no fear. No, only indignation, and fierce determination. “The adversary and enemy is Haman.”

Haman sprang to his feet, face devoid of color. “My queen, I do not know what you mean. Your people—I do not even know who your people are.”

Letting her arm lower, she raised her chin. “Perhaps you ought to have inquired before you sent out a proclamation of death against all the Jews.”

“You are a Jewess?” Panic and disgust did battle across his countenance. The panic won. “Please, my queen. My king. I did not know. I did not—”

“Silence!” Xerxes surged to his feet, knocking over the table before him. “How dare you use my authority for such a grotesque task? After I trusted you with my kingdom, after I called you brother? I could . . .”

He clenched a fist, took a step. But when Haman cowered, Xerxes only spat a curse and charged through the door to the gardens.

Haman fell to his knees, weeping. “Please, my queen. Please, spare my life. Spare my family.”

The darkness came off him in waves, a foul odor in her nostrils. How could anyone embrace it as he had? How could he not see that it did not fill him but rather left him a hollow shell? “You would have spared none of mine.”

“Please!” He crawled over to her, gripped her feet in supplication.

She fought the urge to recoil, to kick at him. His touch may be despicable, but it was only that of a defeated man.

The darkness could not reach her.

~*~

Xerxes sent an urn of flowers into the fountain and gripped his hair at the roots. Haman. What had that devil done? What had Xerxes allowed him to do? He would really sell the Jews to their deaths? All of them?