Esther Read Free

home he will do far worse than bring you to the king’s harem.”
    The voice belonged to Erez. If he would not help me, who would? As the torchlight moved on, all hope drained out of me.
    Spots of blue continued to float before my eyes. I watched them as I was pulled forward by the rope around my wrists, away from the sounds of the villagers’ wailing. Soldiers were yelling at people to stay back. A man ran up beside us, calling to one of the girls, “I will not leave you. I will be beside y—” I heard the crack of a whip and looked back. In the torchlight, I could see the man bent over upon the ground. Farther back I could see the villagers gathered behind us, and soldiers taking water from the village well. Farther still, I could see the outlines of the huts in which we had been sleeping not long before.
    Tears began to form in my eyes. I quickly turned back to the march. None of what was happening seemed like it could possibly be real.
    When the sun finally came up though, I could clearly see the rope around my wrists. I started to cry. I hated myself for it but I could not stop. I was one of a hundred girls being driven like oxen east across the scorching desert plain by Xerxes’ soldiers, straight into the rising sun.

CHAPTER TWO
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THE VIRGINS’ MARCH
    We were being marched single file along the Royal Road, a length of stones laid upon hard-packed earth that stretched from Shushan to the Aegean Sea. My lip throbbed where I had bitten it and my feet soon grew raw in my sandals, but I was careful to keep up my pace. The ropes around our wrists had all been tied to one long rope; if anyone slowed, the rope would yank upon her wrists, burning her skin.
    The soldiers were scattered beside us upon horses all the way up the line. The nearest one was at least fifteen cubits in front of me. From the clomping I heard a short distance behind me, I knew they were also at the back of the line.
    I wanted to know which one had stolen me from my bed.
    I looked for the wound I had inflicted, but the soldiers’ tunics covered their arms. There was no way of discovering which one had taken me unless he raised up his hand so I could see where I had bitten him. Still, I could not keep from looking. Though I hated all of the soldiers, I hated him most. The hatred helped me endure the heat and the throbbing of my lip.
    Hoofbeats suddenly sounded from the rear. A soldier rode up so close that I could hear the flies buzzing on his horse’s flanks and the swishing of the animal’s tail.
    â€œYou in the red head scarf. Take it off,” he ordered me in a voice hoarse from giving commands. It was the soldier who looked like Parsha, but whose tone was crueler and more confident. He had been yelling at the girls to walk faster and following each order with threats of the lash. He had made it known that if a lash fell upon a girl she would no longer be fit for the king’s harem, and would instead be given to the soldiers.
    â€œ Girl, ” he said. The girl ahead of me panicked, stumbling in her attempt to move away. The soldier laughed and drew his horse back.
    Before she regained her balance and began to slowly plod forward again, I saw the high cheek and proud nose of her profile. She was Yvrit, the butcher’s daughter. I had lived in Babylon until my parents were killed, and Yvrit and I had been friends. We looked so similar that people sometimes confused us. Yvrit had admired me and always asked for my advice. She had even wanted to know how to walk and what to say. Though we both worshipped the One God, Yvrit had seemed to worship me most of all. She was moving so slowly that the rope was tugging at her wrists, jerking her forward. I kicked her heel.
    â€œOw!” Yvrit said, raising her heel up as if it were the road that had kicked her.
    â€œI am sorry, but you must not slow down. There will be time to tend your wounds when we get to the palace.”
    â€œHadassah, is that