Star of Persia

Prologue

"More wine for the king," a servant says, bowing low before his master and pouring the rich red liquid into the waiting cup of glinting gold. The king drinks deeply as the young man slips away, unnoticed and unacknowledged.

Loud music fills the air as the king stares out across the grand courtyard garden. It is filled with merry noblemen, squabbling dignitaries and drunk officials. Wine is poured freely into waiting vessels of exquisite gold, each cup unique and beautifully crafted. Servants hurry to carry platters of delicious and exotic fruits, meats and delicacies to the waiting people, who eagerly eat and drink.

The king watches from his couch of gold and silver thread as women draped in luxurious robes and sparkling jewellery weave between the grand marble pillars that tower over the feast. Their delicately sandaled feet move quickly across the mosaic pavement of alabaster, turquoise and white marble, dodging acrobats performing fluid summersaults and spins. With concealed smiles, they sidle past the glorious flowers and finely kept shrubbery into the arms of eager men. They are, after all, the entertainment the king's guests most enjoy.

"There is not a woman more beautiful than this one," loudly slurs a court official who pulls a barely dressed young woman to his lap. Her raven black hair and doe-like brown eyes seem to entrance the older man.

The dignitary seated next to him promptly slaps the official on the arm, sending a furtive look up to his king. King Xerxes watches on with narrowed eyes from his guarded position of honour.

"The second most beautiful woman," the drunk man corrects himself, "after the delightful queen, of course."

"She is perhaps the most beautiful possession in the king's treasury," another man says, joining in the discussion. "Where is the rare treasure, your majesty? It is the seventh day of the feast, and she has yet to make an appearance."

"She holds a feast of her own for the esteemed wives of the governors and the women of the foreign visitors," the king replies cooly.

"Well, you must summon her at once," chimes in a lord from Babylon. "I should wish to see the famed Vashti, queen of the Medo-Persian empire."

"You do not command the king of kings," hisses Memucan, one of the seven princes most highly ranked in the kingdom and who has great favour in the king's sight. "Our king summons and dismisses whoever he desires."

The Babylonian lord seems to realise the weight of his actions and shrinks back. He may have forfeited his life in rashly spoken words. Much to the man's relief, the king seems too intoxicated and distracted to pay his disrespect much notice.

"Do you not think Vashti should present herself before the men of the court, Memucan?" Xerxes asks with a lifted brow, his words lightly slurring. 

"I believe your queen to be of excellent beauty and perfect loveliness," Memucan purrs, "but only my king has the power to command the presence of his enchanting wife."

The king seems pleased with this response and leans back contemplatively on his luxurious lounge. His eyes scan the figure of Memucan, one of the youngest of the seven princes, but certainly the most favoured. He catches the prince's eye and gives him a subtle nod.

Memucan smiles and addresses the feast in a loud voice, "Would it please the king's guests to behold the woman who sits as queen of the greatest empire of the world?"