The Jewish scribes and scholars would meet some afternoon of the week to discuss “issues.” This could range from philosophical dribble to impassioned contests over the prophets, or to some highly disguised gossip. Mordecai would happen by upon occasion, especially if the numbers had been favorable to him leaving him with the afternoon free.
On one such occasion after much argument over Sabbath day activities, acceptable and non, they had drifted into a discussion over time itself. The oldest, Baruch by name, was of the opinion that the passing of time actually accelerated in some unique fashion as one got older. None of the others were too excited over this issue, except that Mordecai noticed there was most definitely a direct relation between interest displayed and years accumulated.
Mordecai may have one time opposed this view, but since Esther had come to be with him, the years had seemingly passed by without his permission or scrutiny. She was seventeen years old the year the army returned home from the Greek campaign. By the time they showed up in Shushan, they looked army enough, but the talk was that this was due to six months of recovery on the east side of the sea. There in the former Greek colonies, they apparently quelled some rebellions, took some time for wound licking, and then headed home with suitable opinions of what had happened in the Aegean Sea.
The king and his company had arrived first, several months before the bulk of his army. The approved report was that the land was not worth the investment. Greatly overrated. Rocky hillsides good only for grazing animals, a quarrelsome people lacking refinement of any nature, and terribly unpredictable weather, all combined to convince the king to return and cancel the great endeavor. After all, he had penetrated the mainland itself, set his marble traveling throne on one of the hills overlooking the heartland, and realized it just wasn’t what he was really in the market to purchase. All to say it was not by any means a defeat, just a careful, wise reconsideration now that more information was available. Any wise monarch would have done the same.
The talk on the street was that Ahasuerus had actually succeeded in blundering in a fashion greater than that of his predecessor. History would most certainly reserve a “special place” for him.
Esther had grown in grace and beauty. Her face demanded a second look from any stranger. Her eyes were so blue and penetrating, that at first glance she almost appeared to be frightened. But then the observer realized it was the sheer intensity of the beauty that created this affect. Her whole countenance was that of vibrancy.
Mordecai caught himself beginning to fret over her. He was not too old to know that such beauty would very soon begin to draw on those who lived for the scent of feminine symmetry. He had already herded a few stray stares back into their proper corals at synagogue. Esther herself seemed heedless of these sorties, but Mordecai found himself taking each one as a personal attack. He knew the inevitable, but right now contented himself with justifications that would allow him a few more years with her. He told himself that soon he must take the matter in hand to find her a good husband, but ….not quite yet.
Their schedule together was so pleasant. She was up and about preparing breakfast while he would sit on the small back terrace in meditation. Then they would share the day’s first meal together in cheerful conversation that would usually end up in some kind of spiritual inquiry and impartation. They both enjoyed their respective parts immensely, and often turned to small rhetorical sparring contests to further season their topics. Her best weapon was speed; she was of such quick wit that she could always beat him to the draw. His armory was bolstered by the weight of answers lived, not just conceived. It was a curious chess match they enjoyed and each always anticipated another opportunity.
After breakfast, Mordecai would set his course to his small office close to the gates of the palace. Here he would accept any work involving accounting and computation in the financial arena. Often he was “sub contracted” by the palace financiers themselves. They had come to recognize his gift and utilized it freely. He probably would have been snatched up by the same, if it had not been for his immigrant status. Even then, there was talk of the assets he could bring. Mordecai had grown quite familiar with all the shakers and movers, and the sight of his figure shuffling about within the palace peripheries was not unusual. He was well liked for his wit and talent, yet there was always the barrier, usually unspoken but so very present.
Mordecai didn’t really mind. He actually was comfortable with this arm length of distance; there was too much that separated, too much to try to explain, too much that couldn’t be explained. And so it was.
When the sun and heat became abusive, he would head back to his small house and the coolness of the back terrace. His fig and vine flourished and insulated the little area from the intense heat. Here he and Esther would partake of a small meal, ending with the fruit that prospered around them. After a short nap, he would often return to his work for a couple of hours before shutting his door for the day. Often there would be a friend or relative to join them for the evening meal. These would be great times of conversation and communing. Esther would usually remain quiet, listening to the content carefully. If there were points she wanted to focus on, she would do so the following morning at breakfast. After a glass of wine, company would go home, Mordecai would head off to his small room for evening prayers, while Esther cleared off the remains of the meal and then retired herself. Except for the Sabbath and frequent holidays they were allowed to celebrate, this was their daily habit, and both were suited to it.
This serene regimen came to a jarring halt quite unexpectedly and would never again be savored in quite the same fashion. What could bring such a peaceful orderly picture to a state where it would never be the same again? (Glad you asked) Why, a golden apple of course, plopping itself down, almost rudely, right on center stage.
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