Mordecai could not resist a smile. “Did that work?”
“Oddly.” Xerxes chuckled. “It was a plan that would not have made sense in the morning, but he humored me. When he slept, the same figure appeared to him, asking why he
dared try to dissuade me from the course set out by the god. He lunged at Artabanus with red-hot pokers aimed at his eyes. My uncle awoke screaming—and of a changed heart.
The god’s will was clear. I announced yet another change of plans, and the people rejoiced.”
Mordecai shook his head. “Fickle people—yet devoted to their king, and rightly so.”
“And to their god.” Xerxes sighed to a halt and faced him. “Hence my dilemma. I have seen proof of my god—and evidence of yours too. But only one can be the true god. I
was hoping your insight would show me they are one and the same, but I am not certain. Could it be so?”
His spirit seemed to close up around him, giving him the strangest sensation of a wall thrown up. “I cannot think so, my king. I am no priest, nor a prophet like Daniel,
whom you call Belteshezzar. I have not the wisdom of my ancestors. But this dream of yours . . . I cannot say if it is from your god, but it would not be from mine. This
much I know. Though Jehovah may promise greatness, he does not encourage pride. And he would never lunge at a man with pokers.”
Xerxes arched his brows. “But did he not wrestle with your forefather Jacob? Is that not how he earned the name Israel?”
“You are a well-learned man.” Mordecai could not help but respect a ruler who knew so much about the least of his subjects. “I have seen many a father wrestle with his
children. Never have I seen one try to put out their eyes.”
“Well, Artabanus can be very trying.” Grinning, Xerxes turned back toward the palace. “I thank you for speaking with me. I wish there were a happier way to resolve our
beliefs, but alas. We shall have to be content with mutual respect and disagreement.”
Something stirred within him, tickled its way up until words came from his mouth that Mordecai did not recognize as his own. “You will see the power of Jehovah yourself, my
king.”
Xerxes inclined his head, eyes dancing. “Let us hope you have a touch of the prophet after all, my friend. I should very much like to see more of your God. From what I have
read, he puts on quite a show.”
Mordecai said nothing more, but he had to wonder if this king would take such proof to heart any more than his ancestors had. They were all happy enough to acknowledge his
God’s power . . . but never did they call him theirs.
*
“My lord.”
Xerxes paused and turned to Hegai. The custodian hurried toward him from the women’s palace, concern etched on his face. All thoughts of slipping away for a quiet dinner in
solitude fled. “What is it?”
“The women.” Hegai panted to a halt and sketched a bow. “They are arguing. I would not usually bother the king with such things, but it is over the crown.”
Xerxes sighed even as he headed for his wives. He should have realized this would come up. He ought to have spoken to them days ago, but he had more pressing concerns.
Naming Darius as his heir yesterday. Making sure Amestris made no foolish attempts before her entourage departed Susa this morning.
Now, though, he must deal with the ambitions of the harem.
Raised female voices reached him long before Hegai showed him to the courtyard in the house of wives. He halted in the shadows rather than make his presence known.
One of his older wives hushed a younger with a matronly scowl. “You are all fools if you think this is anything but a warning to the rest of us. The next to wear the crown
will be his choice, not a result of your plotting.”
The younger sneered. Had he once thought her beautiful? She looked hateful and petty now. “You are so complacent only because you think you will be queen, Suri, now that
you are the senior wife. But he already had one queen he cared nothing for, why would he appoint you now that she is gone?”
Xerxes winced. The ways of women still astounded him sometimes. They fought their battles in secret, using weapons that one could not defend against.
Give him spears on an open battlefield any day.
Suri shook her head as if dealing with an out-of-sorts daughter. “Well, if he chooses for love, you ought to give up all hope of the title. It would go to Kasia.”
Xerxes swept his gaze over the crowd of women, wondering what Kasia would say to that. He found her nowhere in their numbers.
An explosion broke out, snippets of angry words bombarding him.
“He would not!”
“She is only a concubine!”
“That wretch?”
“Never!”
Movement from the opposite hallway caught his eye, and Kasia stepped into the courtyard. He folded his arms to await whatever she had to say. This may be the moment when
hidden ambitions came to light.