Chosen: The Lost Diaries of Queen Esther - Couverture souple

Garrett, Ginger

Couverture souple

ISBN 10 : 1434768015 ISBN 13 : 9781434768018

Editeur : David C Cook Publishing Company, 2010

Synopsis

The story of a girl unsparingly plunged into heartache and chaos, who would save a nation … of Esther, who would be queen.

Wrenched from a simple life for her beauty, Esther finds herself at the mercy of King Xerxes. Leaving behind her only relative, her cousin Mordecai, and her first true love, Cyrus, she is thrown headlong into the unrestrained extravagance of palace living. Quick of mind and strong in spirit, she refuses to suffer the fate of her harem sisters and boldly challenges Xerxes to give of his heart before taking his pleasure, thus sealing her place beside him a queen. While conspiracy spins its diabolical web, Esther’s mind and spirit waver, and she is forced to confront the past in order to save her future—and that of an entire nation.

 

 

A propos du livre

À propos de l'auteur

Focusing on ancient women's history, Ginger Garrett creates novels and nonfiction resources that explore the lives of historical women. In addition to her writing, Garrett is a frequent radio and television guest. Ginger resides in Georgia with her husband and three children.

Extrait. © Reproduit sur autorisation. Tous droits réservés.

CHOSEN

The Last Diaries of Queen Esther

By Greg Garrett

David C. Cook

Copyright © 2010 Greg Garrett
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-4347-6801-8

CHAPTER 1

Eleventh Day of Shevat Third Year of the Reign of Xerxes Year 3394 after Creation

Was it today that I became fully awake, or have I only now begun to dream? Today Cyrus saw me in the marketplace haggling gently with my favorite shopkeeper, Shethana, over the price of a fleece. Shethana makes the loveliest rugs—I think they are even more lovely than the ones imported from the East—and her husband is known for his skill in crafting metals of all kinds. When I turned fifteen last year, he fashioned for me a necklace with several links in the center, painted various shades of blue. He says it is an art practiced in Egypt, this inlaying of colors into metal shapes. I feel so exotic with it on and wear it almost daily. I know it is as close to adventure as Mordecai will ever allow.

But as Shethana and I haggled over the fleece, both of us smiling because she knew I would as soon give it to her, Cyrus walked by eating a flatbread he had purchased from another vendor. He grimaced when he took a bite—I think he might have gotten a very strong taste of shallot—and I laughed. He laughed back, wiping his eyes with his jacket and fanning his mouth, and then, oh then, his gaze held my eyes for a moment. Everything in my body seemed to come alive suddenly and I felt afraid, for my legs couldn't stand as straight and steady and I couldn't get my mouth to work. Shethana noticed right away and didn't conceal her grin as she glanced between Cyrus and me. I should have doubled the price of her fleece right then!

Cyrus turned to walk away, and I tried to focus again on my transaction. I could not meet Shethana's eyes now—I didn't want to be questioned about men and marriage, for everyone knows I have no dowry. To dream of winning Cyrus would be as foolish as to run my own heart straight through. I cannot dream, for it will surely crush me. And yet I can't stop this warm flood that sweeps over me when he is near.

I haven't told you the best part—when Shethana bought her fleece and left, I allowed myself to close my eyes for a moment in the heat of the day, and when I opened them again, there was a little stack of flatbread in my booth. I looked in every direction but could see no one. Taking a bite, I had to spit it out and started laughing. Cyrus was right—the vendor used many bitter shallots. The flatbread was a disaster.

CHAPTER 2

Fifteenth Day of Nisan Fourth Year of the Reign of Xerxes Year 3395 after Creation

Once more I can tell you of exciting events!

King Xerxes has proclaimed a feast that will last for 180 days. It is for the royals of his provinces, every satrap and governor. Of course, no one in the market will go, as we are all common, but the feast has brought us to life nonetheless. Some of the customers in the marketplace have whispered to me that the feast is to bring support for Xerxes' coming invasion of Greece. Greece would be the final crown jewel for Persia; all else has been captured. But the Greeks are a difficult people to conquer. Persia has made shallow progress at moments, but never won her war. The Spartans are fierce warriors but even their softer cousins, the Athenians, will defend her shores to the death. Greeks are deeply superstitious, and this makes them irresistible bait for the ruthless Persians. The Greeks will not fight during religious festivals, even with an approaching army. I know Persia is hungry for more land. We are not burdened by their gods and we care not when we strike. No one here believes the Greek gods hold any sway over our fortunes. So the men say, "Let the Greeks worship as they must, and we'll take their land even as they pray inside their temples." As a Jew in exile here, I cannot bring myself to pray victory for either side. How foolish they seem to me, worshipping gods made from mud and stone, when our houses are made from no less!

But Mordecai tells me darker news—the Jewish elders suspect the feast is being given to remind us that our exile has been declared finished for years now. Yet so many of us remain, unable or unwilling to make the journey home yet! They say Xerxes and his officials want to make it clear to the kingdom of Persia that the G-d of Israel has either forgotten His people or abandoned them to Persia forever. I don't know why Xerxes would want to humiliate the Jews, however. This is a land of many gods—surely no one has paid so much notice to the one G-d the exiles still worship?

Mordecai and his officials are watching the palace carefully for a sign of what is to come. It has been mentioned more than once that perhaps my people will be taken as slaves at the end of the feast, when it has been made clear to everyone that this G-d does not reign in the hearts of the Jews here anymore. One man harassed Mordecai in the market, telling him, "If you have chosen Persia as your home, you must serve Persia as your master." I can tell Mordecai shares the fears of the elders but has not come to a conclusion. "Perhaps the feast is just a feast," he says. "Xerxes is known for his appetites." The crown has brought Xerxes unlimited access to food and women and war, and he has not restrained himself.

So for days now I have been watching caravans move through the city, weighted down with wines, pistachios, dates, and so many delicacies that it's all I can do to swallow down my salted goat meat at night. I wonder if Mordecai, too, longs for just one package to fall from the caravan, unnoticed; but then he's too busy counting his money from the market. We've sold nearly all of our lambs to the palace for the great feast with their promises of extra money if we can deliver more tender meats before the feast is ended. The palace commissioner even spied the red roses I have growing outside our door and asked what price I would take for the blooms. I set a fair price. It is not such a burden to send a bit of my heart to the palace. Perhaps I will catch scent of my roses later and they would bring me news of the rarities I was missing!

CHAPTER 3

Twentieth Day of Tammuz Fifth Year of the Reign of Xerxes Year 3395 after Creation

Today at the market I caught sight of Cyrus moving slowly through the booths with his father and mother. His mother is a good customer of mine. She has an eye for the best cuts of meat and occasionally even takes a bloom from the roses I sell. I know she must grow her own, but I think she buys from me because she knows I am an orphan. It doesn't feel like sympathy, though. It feels a little more like a certain kindness. I waited for her to come to my booth and was paralyzed by the sight of Cyrus today! I had to stand there and conduct my business, but I felt clumsy, even when I wasn't moving.

Then a strange thing happened, and I do not know what to make of it. Perhaps as I write, its meaning will become clear to me. Cyrus's father made the purchase this time, and he was all business. Cyrus held back with his mother, but I could feel him looking at me from behind her robes. I got the feeling I was being inspected by this father even as he inspected the goods in my booth. I do not know if this is a bad omen or a hint of something good to come. Cyrus's father gave me no clue. He bought his meat and left without another word. I noticed he exchanged a glance with Mordecai as Mordecai approached the booth to let me rest for lunch. But Mordecai can tell me nothing of what my future may hold. I wish he would listen more to the women's gossip in the booths of the market—for they would know what was unfolding. But Mordecai's ears are dull to the details of what's really important in the life of a girl.

I try to pray at night, facing Jerusalem with Mordecai, who whispers the sacred texts in his prayers. I do not whisper my own prayers aloud, but I wonder if our G-d hears the prayers of orphans as readily as He hears the prayers of great men like my Mordecai. It is not for me to suggest, but if I am ever given in marriage, I want it to be to a kind and gentle boy, like Cyrus. But in all I must remain silent, my prayers sent with closed eyes and an unmoving mouth.

CHAPTER 4

First Day of Tishri Fifth Year of the Reign of Xerxes Year 3396 after Creation

Our new year is beginning today, while the king's great feast is almost over. He has now opened the palace gates for all men of Persia to come and enjoy the splendors and wines of his garden. The beautiful Queen Vashti has opened her palace as well—every woman in the province is welcome. Vashti is the most beautiful woman in the world. No one can dispute that about her when Xerxes has had his pick from every nation and every tribe. It is said to look upon her is to be left breathless, that to look into her eyes is to see the sapphires of all the earth, and her teeth are endless rows of perfect pearls, that no sunrise has ever matched the spreading glory of her long hair. (I want so badly to go and see her myself, to learn how she does command the imagination of so many men.)

I wish I were old enough to attend! I begged Mordecai last night over and over, but he won't hear of it. He's angry enough that the palace has set the opening date of both feasts on our day of holy rest and the palace has also consigned many Jews to work at the feast. A rumor ran through our village that the palace was using serving utensils that had been stolen from our Temple when it was first destroyed and never returned. I didn't believe that, though—who would be so bold?

"It's just once," I pleaded to Mordecai, "and we could attend to our duties in the morning before leaving."

Mordecai shook his head.

"I'll never have a chance again to go inside the queen's palace!" I protested to deaf old ears. I'm so angry at Mordecai, but all I can do is hold my tongue, my anger softened by the fact that he rescued me long ago. I know if it wasn't for me, Mordecai would have a better chance at marrying. He could save more money for the bride price he must give and more freely consider his future. I've seen him secreting money away into a jar every night after the market. For the longest time I thought it was to buy a bride, but now I suspect it is for a dowry for me. Has he seen the looks that pass between Cyrus and me at market? Has G-d answered my prayers through my uncle?

Mordecai is so good to me. But stubborn. I'll never change his mind about the queen's feast.

So tonight I lie on my bed dreaming of adventures I have been denied once again. I have to shut my ears to the sounds of the lyres, the tambourines, and the women from my village laughing as they make their way to the palace. When, Lord, when will I have adventures and attend glorious feasts? Must all my days be spent on flocks and flowers and grinding flour for our dinner? Will it be my lot to always dream and never live?

CHAPTER 5

Second Day of Tishri Fifth Year of the Reign of Xerxes Year 3396 after Creation

Today I am sixteen, and I should not even write down the events of the day. If Mordecai ever finds this, if this book ever sees eyes beyond my own, I will burn with shame. But without a mother, I have no one to tell these things to, and so I must write them down here. A girl cannot keep such things to herself, for I feel I would burst! I do tell them to G-d in my prayers, and I am emboldened when Mordecai places his hand over mine as we pray together. I believe more and more that G-d will bend low and hear. But some prayers remain silent, and some thoughts must not be shared with my good cousin.

Cyrus, although the same age as I, celebrated his passage into manhood when he was but thirteen. The elders of the city, including Mordecai, took Cyrus to the hills where, Mordecai tells me, he hunted and killed a wild ram and the men feasted on it by a campfire, and took turns blessing Cyrus as he began his journey into manhood. I knew of these events only through Mordecai, although I envied Mordecai almost to sickness for the privilege of spending this time, and that meal, with Cyrus. My Cyrus. I can call him that now, with certainty, for we have exchanged more than looks today! Oh, let me tell you of the most marvelous day a girl has ever had!

There is no celebration for the Jewish girls in this village who pass into womanhood, although everyone knows we become women earlier than the boys become men! So today in the market, as I did every year, I had to content myself with receiving many warm hugs from the women, and a few trinkets to mark the day. My heart burned to be acknowledged like Cyrus was. Am I forever fated to be a child? Will no one accept me as the adult I surely am?

But perhaps that is what it means to be a woman, to carry these little wounds in your heart and make no mention of them. Still, it was a good day and it brought good gifts. Shethana's husband sent along a beautiful engraving with a picture of the Temple, which had been destroyed before our captivity. It was the dream of rebuilding this Temple that had kept my people alive in their hearts for so long. There had never been a greater treasure for my people than the dream of rebuilding this Temple in Jerusalem, and so while we made our beds here in this foreign land of gold and swords, we never truly lived here. I love the engraving. Others sent a few sweets and a small jar of scented water. I know it is not as dear as real perfume, but who could ever dream a shepherd girl and shopkeeper would have perfume! Scented water is fitting, and enough. So it was a lovely day. People were not so quick to haggle over my prices in the market, and a few overpaid just by a bit, with a twinkle in their eyes. I felt loved. My mother would have been pleased with the day, I thought.

As the sun began to edge away, and vendors packed and left, I was reluctant to leave, somehow. I knew Mordecai would be at home, waiting, and we would share a small meal and our best wishes for the future before going to sleep, but I felt lonely. I think I was missing my mother and father. Everyone in the village had been so kind, so kind and good, yet it only made me miss being loved that much more. I hated the heaviness that crept into my heart as I folded our tent and turned for home. When my throat began to burn and a tear ran down my cheek, I knew it was more than the hot sands I was walking upon. I could not raise my head from the sadness of being so loved in the village ... and so alone in my heart.

Then he was there. Cyrus. He just stood in the road, watching as my shuffling feet marked their way to him. I froze for a moment—how could something you have dreamed of for so long strike you so completely dumb? I had rehearsed a moment alone with him for months, yet here it was, and I was at a loss. I simply stared. He smiled and walked toward me. When I still could not find my voice, he took the tent from my arms and set it on the ground. He reached for my hand and led me toward the mountain to our east. We walked side by side in silence, his hand never leaving mine, until we were on a beautiful perch, with a view of the palace in the distance, and the moon rising slowly over the glittering gold exterior. Cyrus turned me gently to face him and kissed me softly, just once, on the lips. I have never been kissed on the lips. It was so sweet, so soft, and set a fire in my belly that I could not have expected. Everything in me seemed alive, and I could feel my heart pounding, and the blood rushing in my veins. Mordecai surely would have stoned us both if he caught us, yet all I could think of was another kiss.

Instead, Cyrus spoke. "The elders have spoken to my father. I am told to plan for my future." He looked off into the night before continuing. "In another year, I will take a wife. And I can think of no one but you, Esther."

I could not believe my ears. It was as if my heart had written his words.

He frowned and looked at me with seriousness. "I know you have no dowry, and although Mordecai is highly respected among our people, my father respects gold above all else. I do not know yet how we can be together, Esther, but I do know you will not be taken from me. Not for a matter of gold. I pledge that I will be by your side for eternity. But if you feel differently about me, if you cannot return my love, tell me now."

He was giving me a courteous exit! It made me sick and giddy all at once.

I slid my hand back into his. I leaned my head against his neck and wished to stay there forever. He was so warm, and his skin seemed so roughened and different; he was the most intoxicating wine I had ever drunk. I understood why some people in the village had taken to their cups and never returned. There are some moments that change you forever, and some tastes that will never leave your tongue. I was drunk indeed with all these emotions. I would never be the same.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from CHOSEN by Greg Garrett. Copyright © 2010 Greg Garrett. Excerpted by permission of David C. Cook.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Détails de l'édition

• Éditeur: David C Cook Publishing Company
• Date d'édition: 2010
• Langue: anglais
• ISBN 10: 1434768015
• ISBN 13: 9781434768018
• Reliure: Broché
• Nombre de pages: 288
• Coordonnées du fabricant: non disponible
• Personne responsable: 1; NULL; https://strengholt.nl/en/ ; ; 1; NULL; 1; NULL; NULL; Bulgarie