Jewel of Persia

“And you have no capacity for amusement. I know not why I tolerate you, Haman.”


Haman smiled and jerked his head toward the path. “Because someone has to keep you in line. You are a fool, and we all know it. Parsisa is arguably the second most

beautiful woman in Persia, but you are still set on seducing your brother’s wives.”

Masistes waved an unconcerned hand but fell in beside him. “Parsisa knows she has my eternal affection and admiration. She does not mind if I seek harmless entertainment

elsewhere.”

Haman glared at the two in the river. “That one is not harmless.”

“A point I must grant, much as it pains me.” Masistes released an exaggerated sigh. “Still, one must wonder what it is about her that has enthralled my brother so

completely . . . and long to figure it out for oneself.”

“No, one must not.” Haman shook his head and then looked beyond his friend. “There goes your daughter—were you not looking for her earlier?”

“Ah, yes. Do you mind?”

“Go.” He waved Masistes off, then pressed his lips in a tight line. Given Artaynte’s course, she had undoubtedly been with the Jewess.

A shadow seemed to pass before the sun. When he had encouraged Xerxes to take a concubine from among the Jews, he had not expected that she would do anything but irritate

him after his initial lust was sated. Had he anticipated this, he would have urged the king to forget her.

How was he to know the wretch would earn the king’s confidence, his heart? And not only the king’s at this point—she had won the affection of Masistes’ wife and

daughter, of the other concubines. Darius still seemed beyond her reach, thank the god, but many of the other high officials greeted her with fondness whenever they saw her

—usually on the arm of the king.

It did not bode well. Xerxes had already sent untold business to the Jewess’s arrogant swine of a father—what else would she seduce him into doing for her people?

Amestris had been right to fear the wench’s poisonous influence.

Haman headed for his quarters, sent his servants away, and pulled out a correspondence tablet. He opened the hinged wood and carefully peeled off the wax. A sharpened metal

tool rested among his similar wooden ones, which he extracted for this task. It took twice as long to carve a message into the wood as it would into the wax, but Amestris

must be apprised of this. She would send back a message similarly disguised, advising him on what she would have him do.

Once finished, he sealed the wax back onto the tablet and, with a wooden stylus, pressed a missive to his steward into it. Then he clapped the wooden form together, secured

it, and called a servant to get it on its way. Given the series of outposts the Persian kings had set up for their official riders, it would be in Susa within two days.

Within the week, he would know what to do about this threat.





Seventeen



Susa, Persia



Esther breathed in the silent air with relief. Much as she enjoyed her visits with Kish and Zillah’s brood, coming home brought blessed peace. Martha would be outside in

the kitchen, and Jonah probably sat hunched over the accounts. Neither were much given to conversation; perhaps that was why Esther had grown so accustomed to uneventful,

solitary days.

She paused when she spotted movement within Mordecai’s chamber. He was on his prayer rug again, just returning to a sitting position. How long had he been there this time?

Knocking on the post by his door, she stuck in her head. “Do you need anything, cousin? A drink, some bread?”

Mordecai shook his head and stood. “Thank you, Esther, but no. I have not been here but an hour.”

She could only nod. An hour in prayer seemed to her such a long time. Her cousin, though, sometimes spent a whole day on the floor beside his bed, moaning and muttering. He

had been diligent about his prayers as long as she had known him, but these extended sessions did not begin until Kasia—

“Is there something I should pray for?” she asked to interrupt her own thoughts.

His smile was small but warm. “Perhaps. Zechariah weighed on my spirit today.”

“Zechariah?” Her hand fell away from the post as she took a step back. “What about him?”

Mordecai chuckled and came her way. “The Lord gave me no specifics. Did you see him today?”

“Only a glimpse.” She spun toward her room so she could deposit her basket of sewing supplies. “He has been hard at work on a bed this past week.”

“For the palace?”

“Not this one. The sister of his Persian friend is also betrothed, and her bridegroom commissioned it.”

Mordecai studied her. “It seems everyone is marrying this winter. Which reminds me that, though I would deny it, you are a child no longer. We should discuss your future

soon, little one.”

Her throat went dry. “Are you in a hurry for me to leave your house, cousin?”

He chuckled, as she had known he would. “I dread the thought.”