When a baby girl is born in the Jewish village of Arad during the Exile period, more than 2,500 years ago, it is prophesied that she will be a memorable person who will do extraordinary things and be a savior for her people. Exceptionally intelligent, strikingly beautiful, and graced with wisdom few adults could claim, the girl born as Hadassah is indeed special, but her life is not easy. Her simple life is shattered when the Black Hundred destroy her village and kill her parents, brothers, and friends. Her family is gone, but her faith remains. She vows to seek justice for not only her family, but her fellow villagers. Hadassah's destiny begins to unfold when she enters the palace of the Persian king, eventually gaining the name Esther and becoming his queen. It's here, bolstered by an unusual and wonderful love, that she uses her unique talents to bring justice and prosperity to the land before embarking upon a final mission-a tragic and paradoxical one that takes her back to events painfully similar to the destruction of her childhood village.

Esther

By Danny Rittman

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2011 Danny Rittman
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4620-6669-8

Chapter One

The village of Arad is not far from Shushan, the capital of the ancient Persian Empire of the Achaemenids. It is late in the Exile period. The Babylonians have taken the people of Judah away from the land promised them and the people of Judah are now living under Persian rule.

"She is so beautiful!" The young mother beamed as tears welled up in her eyes.

The newborn girl was lying on her mother's belly, her eyes wide open. Amazingly, she did not cry or scream. Instead she looked all around and took in her new world. The women who had assisted in the delivery rinsed her small eyes with clear river water and cleansed her body of the afterbirth. She was lovingly wrapped in a soft beige blanket that her mother had knitted months earlier from the downy chins of village sheep. Now her mother held her close to her breast and quietly rocked her, singing to her in a soft voice that the child was learning to love.

The baby had pure white skin—quite rare for babies in the region. Her eyes were another astonishing matter. Clear and sea blue—simply gorgeous. They express such wisdom, thought her mother in fascination. She treasured each of her baby's new moments in the world. She held her to her heart, kissed her gently and just gazed at her in the silent joy of a new mother.

The baby looked straight at her mother. She moved her little head slowly to the left and right, observing her mother for a few minutes, and then another incredible thing happened.

The baby girl smiled at her mother.

The mother's mouth opened in amazement. She could not believe her eyes. There could never be anything as beautiful as that. She had helped many women in delivering their babies but never saw a wide-awake baby smiling so shortly after birth. Newborns simply slept. But not her daughter. Not this amazing gift. Not this amazing, smiling gift. Speechless, the mother offered the baby her breast and she instinctively began thinking of nourishment. Nature guides us, after all.

The baby found her way and avidly took in her mother's milk. Pleasantly sated, she cuddled into her mother's arms and fell asleep in the warmth and safety that lay there. The candlelight flickering in the small tent gave the baby's face a soft, glorious appearance. She is absolutely beautiful, thought her mother with complete fulfillment. She continued gently rocking her baby.

The baby's grandmother quietly opened a flap and entered the tent and smiled at her daughter and the newborn. The mother smiled and pointed proudly though needlessly to the serene baby. The grandmother looked in wonder at her new granddaughter. Her white hair sparkled gently like glimmering stars as the candlelight ebbed and flowed, making the moment even more wondrous.

"There is no one like her," whispered the grandmother. "She is unique." Looking into the mother's eyes, she saw them sparkling in the dim light, speaking to her in a silent way.

"Yes, she is."

"I mean she is special," said the grandmother gently. "She will do extraordinary things. She will be a savior."

The mother looked at her, not quite understanding her.

The grandmother turned again towards the sleeping baby. "She is special, intelligent—and she has a good heart. She will be a leader." She paused a few moments and studied the baby's face. "She will save our nation and she will help many other people as well," she announced as she moved closer to the flickering tongues of fire. "Have you named her yet?"

The candlelight danced along with the grandmother's motion. Entranced by the mysterious prediction, the mother could not formulate a reply. Anxiety raced through her being. Her mother's prediction had surprised her and even unsettled her. She looked at her sleeping baby and calm returned to her heart. She breathed in slowly, smiled lovingly and looked closely at her baby's face.

"No, mother, no name yet."

"Good," said the grandmother as the waves of her long white hair shone. "I might have a name for her."

The grandmother turned to her daughter and the sacredness of the moment seemed to lift her from the hold of the earth. She moved towards the infant and the mother froze in expectation as she awaited her mother's whispered announcement.

"Esther."

"Esther," repeated the mother. "I love the name. It's so delicate."

"Yes," confirmed her mother. "And strong. She will be renown for her strength. She will be given great strength for the magnificent things she is destined to do."

"My little Esther, you have a destiny!" The mother gently smothered the child with kisses as her tears flowed, some raining softly upon the baby. As she gently dabbed the droplets with the soft blanket, a sudden thought struck her with devastating force. Her entire being shook as the realization formed. She looked all around but her mother was nowhere to be found. The flames of the candles grew longer and danced wildly. Her heart raced wildly and she panted anxiously. Sweat formed on her forehead though her body felt cold.

She realized that her mother died last year.

E

"She's waking up," said one of the women as the mother opened her eyes slightly.

"You will feel better now," said one of her helpers. "You passed out shortly after the birth."

The mother could not answer.

Although a name had been offered by the grandmother, the mother could not remember it and so they came to name the baby "Hadassah." Over the following years she and her husband enjoyed their new baby girl and continued to do so as she became a young girl.

Hadassah grew to be smart and beautiful girl, well loved and admired by all in the small Jewish village of Arad.

E

Hadassah was excited. When she reached the age of seven years, she and her friends prepared for an outing to explore the hills and mountains above their village. It was an annual event for the young of her community and the children of her age looked forward to the day. Arad's villagers often worried of children getting lost on such ventures so now they were accompanied by teachers. They'd spend five days in the foothills and on the more challenging slopes, exploring the natural wonders they held for all who ascended them. The mountains were riddled with caves inside of which were magnificent limestone formations. Carved by underground channels long ago, the caves wound through hundreds of miles of rock.

The caves were a long hike away from the village that Hadassah and her family lived in, not far from the prosperous city of Shushan where the king resided. The cave adventure was one of the most exciting events for the children of Arad and all looked forward to it with high expectations.

Imagine the wonder and excitement that a five-day trek holds for us, Hadassah thought excitedly.

It was Friday morning and she was about to help her mother prepare for the Shabbat and also to get ready for the mountain trip the following day. She liked to sleep late on Fridays, but not this one. It seemed to her that the whole world was yearning for Sunday to come.

She awoke with the first rays of sun that crept through the curtains of her room that had been added to the brick and mud dwelling which was her home. No longer did she have to share a room with her two younger brothers. She had long known that privacy allowed her to nurture her own thoughts and she had continuously pressed her parents for her own room. At last her father, with the help of family members, added a small room and after a little decorating that she created, she felt more independent.

The sun was brighter than ever that morning and she was sure it was all for her. She opened the curtains to regard the mountains and their verdant cover standing above the village. The peaks reached to the heavens. "There I shall go this Sunday," she boldly said. The immense jagged rocks looked down from the crests and seemed to have a spirit of their own.

"Those rocks are so huge! How will we ever climb them?"

The morning air flowed gently into her room, treating her senses with the mild aroma of iris blossoms, which had become as much a part of her room as the beige walls and red Luri rug at the foot of her bed.

This will be a great Shabbat, she thought as she smiled with her eyes closed.

Her imagination floated away and there she was, on her way: scaling the bold slopes and passing over imposing boulders with ease. Finally reaching the summit, she stood in triumph and beheld the valley below. The sprawling town of Shushan and the small villages around it were all within her compass. She took a deep breath, confident she could take on whatever the days ahead held for her.

There before me lies adventure!

"Hadass!"

Her mother's call brought her reluctantly back to her surroundings. Her glorious moment was gone, or at least postponed. Oh well, she released a long sigh. Sunday is coming and then this moment will be real—and mine!

"Yes, mother," she answered as she put on her clothes for the day.

"I will need your help at the market. Please bring the baskets and prepare the donkey. It is Friday today and we have much to do."

"Yes, mother. Of course."

She put on her work dress—a short, brown garment—and looked into the metal piece her father had made her. It was so brightly polished that she could see her reflection, and she used it to prepare herself for the day. She discovered this property one day while playing with a shiny, flat sheet of copper she'd found near the edge of the village. She brushed it hard with rough foliage and delighted in seeing her face. An idea occurred to her. She asked her father for a similar piece of copper, but larger. Then she began to polish it. He gave her sand cloth used by a neighbor who dealt with metals and together they polished the piece until it shone magnificently. She could see her face as in the still waters along the river bank.

She hung it in her room and so had her own mirror. Few if any of her friends paid attention to their appearances, but before she left home she would make sure that her face was clean and her hair smooth and combed neatly backwards.

Hadassah was a very pretty girl with large blue eyes and light brown hair. Since she was out in the scolding sun of southwestern Persia most of the day, she was well tanned and even had a few freckles on the tip of her petite nose. Her hair, very long in keeping with family tradition, was itself a thing of beauty and it created a remarkable setting for her young face, though she often wove her hair into long braids. Her pert nose looked upwards and gave her beauty an intimation of confidence. Her delicate red lips were always given to a cheerful smile. Her face radiated the curiosity of youth yet also a wisdom that usually came only with many more years than Hadassah had. Her winning smile brought small dimples to her cheeks which added riches to the essence she conveyed. No one could resist her bright smile and she used her charm well.

She was very intelligent—much more so than most of the children her age. She comprehended difficult ideas immediately. The teachers would say that she never needed to be taught something twice. Once you explained something to her, she understood it and often suggested ways to expand upon it or explain it better.

She took part in decisions regarding the household and family matters. Her father sought her advice, as did members of the village. In time they did so without any hesitation or embarrassment. Her precocious wisdom brought some difficulties with those of her age group, but she skillfully soothed any resentments that might arise through her kindness.

Today she and her mother would go to the marketplace to purchase all the needs for the Shabbat. She knew the holy meaning of the evening and treasured it. It was the only time of the very busy week that they sat together in solemn dedication to the family.

She envisioned the coming evening. She loved to watch her mother light the candles. The rite always filled her with joy. It wasn't a simple joy. It was something different. It was an uplifting and sacred feeling. She watched her mother prepare the long candles and place them in the decorative candleholders that had been handed down from generation to generation. The household was spotless and the table was covered with a pure white cloth made from homespun cotton. Her mother had toiled to wash the cloth at the stream and bring it to such purity.

Her father was in the prayer room, reciting the Shabbat night prayers.

Hadassah would be in her lovely Friday night attire. There would be complete silence as her mother recited the prayer of Shabbat candles, then lit each of them. The flames flickered back and forth before the fire took hold. As the sun set, the candles became the light of the room, providing a magical setting. Hadassah watched her mother close her eyes and quietly recite more prayers for the family. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and enjoyed the holiness in that room. That was the great meaning of the Shabbat day that had just started.

There's nothing like this.

"Hadassah!"

Her mother's voice came into her reverent dreams.

She had used her full name, not the less formal "Hadass," and Hadassah knew that she had to respond quickly.

The Shabbat will come later in the day, she thought as she skipped outside to bridle the donkey. We need to leave for the market. The day is short and there is much for mother and me to do.

E

Later that evening Hadassah was indeed watching her mother light the candles and fill the home with light and love. She closed her eyes and let her being be one with the holy moment.

Nothing else matters on Shabbat. The entire world is put on hold. It is sacred.

The table was adorned with newly plucked flowers and ferns. The plates were full of meats, potatoes, steamed vegetables, fresh fruits and sweet pastries that her mother had spent the entire afternoon preparing. The aroma of rose blossoms filled the room and Hadassah knew it was the sweet syrup her mother had made from rose leaves which were to be spooned atop the pastry.

The family fell silent as her father prayed the Kiddush over the wine. She watched him with dreamy eyes as he intoned the ancient words, as his father had, and as his father had before him. Her father's eyes shone and his gray beard bobbed with his words while he looked lovingly to his wife and three children.

She forgot the entire world. Only her father and his prayer existed. She treasured the words of the Kiddush, their meaning and even their very sound as they resonated throughout the room. When the prayer came to a close, they drank the wine and blessed the challah—the braided bread that her mother bought that day from the baker in the village marketplace. The challah, always sweet and soft, was her favorite bread.

Her father wished the family a joyous Shabbat and only then could they start the feast. Unlike her brothers who could barely wait to eat, she preferred the rite to the meal. But the cheerful thought of wonderful dishes came along and she happily partook of the meal with the others. Every Shabbat night was a celebration in itself.

Hadassah stuffed herself as though another meal was not in the offing. Chicken cooked in wine and herbs, potato skins marinated in rosemary, and lamb roasted with mint leaves. Pastries with sweet orange peels, almond paste, cinnamon, and crushed nuts; honeyed candy sticks; dough covered with coconut shavings; fresh dates and pistachios—all prepared by mother that afternoon.

Afterwards, she would watch father pray, still at the dinner table, until late. She studied his face, especially the virile furrows that marked his forehead. His long beard covered most of the accompanying folds on his cheeks and neck. His eyes, bright and brown, held the life spark.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Estherby Danny Rittman Copyright © 2011 by Danny Rittman. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse, Inc.. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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