The man smiled. “Her chief servant chose me to come here because I am a Jew. He told me many things about your daughter, so that I might answer your questions. He
assures me none have ever seen the king show such favor as he has for her. And she, in turn, wishes you to know that though she misses you all, she is happy with her
husband.”
Abba loosed a blustery breath. “Why did you not deliver these messages to begin with, man, instead of acting as though you did not understand us and knew not who sent you?
”
“I was cautioned that only a few members of the family knew the truth of the situation, and that I was not to speak of her identity to anyone who thought her dead.” He
shrugged an apology. “I only respect your decision for secrecy.”
Abba grunted but took the second tablet. “We will have the first pieces done before they leave. Are you able to carry a message back?”
The servant nodded, and Zechariah lifted his brows. Abba had not mentioned Kasia as though she were alive until now. What would he say to her?
Abba reached up and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Tell her we pray for her.”
“I will. Good day to you both.”
Zechariah watched the two men leave and turned to his father. “I am nearly done this chair for Bijan. I can get started on the table within the hour.”
Abba put the tablet down and moved to the corner, where he kept his best wood. “You will have to work on all three of those pieces, my son.”
“Will you start on the others already? These are more pressing.” He had not asked for the tablet to be translated, though, so how would he even know what the king had
requested?
“No. There is something else more pressing still.” Abba lifted out a few lengths of cedar. A ghost of a smile haunted his mouth. “Something more special than a table or a
chair. You can handle those, can you not?”
“Of course.” He wanted to ask his father what the “more special” piece was, but he would wait and see. Abba had that closed-mouthed look about him.
Zechariah picked up the second tablet. His breath leaked out as he read item after item that the king wanted made, the details for each and the price he would pay.
Enough to keep them busy for years to come. Enough to feed the family long after they finished.
Enough to guarantee his father would never allow him to leave with the army. Even with two of them, it would be difficult to complete all this in the amount of time the king
had designated.
Time for his brother Joshua to learn the trade. Zechariah had hinted all year that Abba ought to bring him to the shop, but he had been ignored—probably because his father
knew well he only wanted to train a replacement.
Things had changed. The great Xerxes may take Kasia away to places unknown, but he had effectively shackled Zechariah to Susa. He would have to resign himself, would have to
shoulder the responsibility without complaint.
He would focus on the blessing Kasia had sent them. He would rejoice in what this meant for his brothers, who would now have ample opportunity, for his sisters, who would
now have dowries to ensure good marriages. He would be glad. He would.
If only his soul would not yearn for what could never be.
*
“Is that all?”
Mordecai glanced down at the scroll in his hands and nodded. “It is. Thank you, my king, for taking the time to share your wisdom with your servant. I will make your
judgements known.”
He rolled the parchment up again and bowed. Only twice a year did he go before the king to present the cases that could not be handled by lower officials—once when the
royal house first arrived in Susa, and once before they left. This time he had wondered if the king would be distracted, given what had so recently transpired with the
queen, but he had seen no difference in his behavior. Had he not heard the decree himself, he never would have guessed that this man had just deposed his first wife.
Who could understand the mind of a king?
Before he could turn away, Xerxes held out a staying hand. “Would you walk with me?”
Mordecai fought to keep his surprise from showing. “I . . . of course, my lord. I would be honored.”
The king looked pleased as he nodded and stood. With a single motion he swept his royal robes behind him and descended the step. Mordecai could not recall ever seeing him on
even ground, but Xerxes did not need the step to tower above the court. They were of a height—something Mordecai encountered rarely.
“I will not keep you long,” the king said as he led the way through the hall, “but I could not pass up the opportunity to ask a few questions of a man obviously learned.
You must be of strong faith, to be so esteemed by your people. Am I right?”
Mordecai nodded. “My faith in Jehovah has sustained me through many a trial, my king.”
“And you are a descendant of Shadrach, who was friend to the great Belteshazzar. One of the three who emerged unsinged from the furnace.”
“That is right.” Mordecai glanced over his shoulder when he felt people crowding in. The king’s guard—he ought to have realized.
“I confess I am bemused by your God. In some ways, he seems much like mine. Both your Jehovah and my Ahura Mazda are uncreated. Both are said to be the father of all things
good. Correct?”