She laughed at the joke she had long shared with him and Kasia. “I have prepared a banquet. Will you and Haman join me?”
That was obviously not her petition, but a thoughtful gesture. Haman had been working nonstop for him this past week, always so busy that Xerxes had scarcely seen him. He
deserved a break—and Xerxes needed one too. An hour or two in her calming company, yet still near Kasia.
“Zethar, fetch Haman and let the general know I will talk to him tomorrow instead of this afternoon.”
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