We Served the Throne, Not the Queen
We were the king’s wise men, not because we saw far — but because we knew what not to say.
In Susa, power does not belong to the wisest.
It belongs to the one who can preserve order when wine has unraveled it.
So when Queen Vashti refused the king’s summons, we did not gasp. We calculated.
Because her “no” was not just disobedience — it was precedent.
Memukan Spoke, But We All Agreed
Yes, it was Memukan who voiced it. But we all thought it. If the queen could refuse, what would stop every woman from questioning her husband?
What would stop the gates of the empire from bending inward, when even a crown did not bend outward?
It was not fear of Vashti.
It was fear of what she represented:
The possibility of choice.
We Drafted a Law to Silence a Voice
We suggested the decree.
One that would carry across all 127 provinces — from India to Cush.
It would not mention her name.
But it would ensure no woman ever saw hers in herself.
“Let every man be ruler in his own house.”
It sounded wise.
It sounded neutral.
It was not.
It was the empire’s panic, dressed in law.
We Watched the Throne Empty
She did not cry.
She did not plead.
She vanished as swiftly as she had once entered.
We replaced her.
Brought in a sea of virgins.
Turned the search for a queen into a parade of control.
And when Esther took her place — softer, quieter, compliant — we exhaled.
Not because we were just. Because we had averted a tremor that felt like rebellion.
We Do Not Speak of Her Now
Vashti’s name is a whisper, a ghost woven into palace curtains.
We tell ourselves we saved the throne.
That the empire is stronger now.
That law is better than uncertainty.
But sometimes…
When we sit in the marble chamber and the king grows restless again… When he sips and slurs and forgets what he signed…
We wonder — What if the queen had been right?
What if strength was not in forcing submission — but in respecting silence?
We do not answer those questions aloud.
We are advisors.
And advisors survive by choosing which truths to bury.
