Ahasuerus fretted. The attempted acquisition of greater glory had gone sour; no, rotten. He was sick of politics and ready to pursue finer things. The long absence from Shushan had made him uneasy. He knew of men and their schemes, and used only the most trusted of confidants to cover his back. When they had returned from the Greek campaign, he could smell it in air. There were no tangibles that could be garnered by his “eyes and ears”. Didn’t matter, he could smell it. He knew there was talk and disgruntlement over the military failure. That was to be expected. There could be a myriad of other intrigues commonly found growing close to thrones like moss around great trees. None of these really bothered him. He was accustomed to such and had confidence in those close to him. He knew that in time, whatever variety this happened to be, would somehow show itself. Cross a line, cast a shadow, whisper too loudly. Then it would be answered so severely that all the ambition entertainers would scurry for their lives. It had happened before.
But there was something else that troubled the king. Vashti. Though his reasonings verified and supported his decision, the deeper part of his being was distraught. There was no woman like her. It was becoming an increasing aggravation to him that he was in fact king, sovereign over all, and yet a technicality was keeping him from that which really belonged to him. The more he pondered the situation, the more unhappy he was with the way the whole thing had gone. If one more counselor told him about the law of the king not being able to be changed, he was going to make a law against people who quoted that law.
Those same counselors were becoming keenly aware that they had a brooding volcano on their hands.
“I want Vashti back” he moved his gaze from face to face of those who comprised the sacred circle of wisdom gathered about him. Some twitched; some stared as if deaf; others took sudden interest in the beautiful mosaic patterns on the floor (strange how they had gone so long without noticing the marvelous intricacy). No one had an answer, but all were beginning to realize they needed one soon.
“I have heard of a maid from Egypt master, whom they say surpasses any treasure that can hail from that country….”
“I did not ask for an Egyptian.” His majesty turned and fired broadsides into the face of the would-be comforter. The man withered in fear. As his majesty was reloading, suddenly Memucan jumped in: “Sire, I would ask your patience for but a moment.” He trembled slightly, knowing that in all probability someone was going to remember all too soon whose original idea it was to banish Vashti.
“I think there is a strand of merit in what my colleague brings to our attention, yet we have maybe thought in terms that are too small.” The king paused, and Memucan, though not yet acquainted with Latin, seized the day: “I feel that the unsettledness the king feels is in reality a door of hope being offered.” He risked a slight pause to see if there was a nibble on his line.
“Well?” Not much of a nibble but he took it as his cue to continue.
The twitchers and tile aficionados were happy that the pressure was redirected and were now settling in to watch Memucan dance. “It better be good,” each one mused.
“It is easy to make decisions and judgments in the presence of limited options, and, Sire, I believe it is time to drastically expand the limits of your options: There are 127 provinces under your royal hand. Each is to send within one month the three most beautiful maidens within its realm. You Majesty must undertake the kingly challenge of discovering the pearl of great price amidst all of these jewels. Furthermore, your Excellency, I am confident that the gods themselves will guide you in this crucial task of setting before all nations the perfect woman. She and you alike will be the envy of the world.” Memucan let his voice trail a little with this last thought. The king was looking past him now. He could tell that in his majesty’s imagination the first candidates were already filing past. Indeed the imaginations of all present had been jump started by the proffered solution. Now it was just logistics. Ahasuerus had bought in to the idea. From here on it was merely protocol and pomp, and there was no end to either with a project such as this.
“I want three of you to handle this” he paused. “No delays.” End of issue. 
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