The Royal Palace

As we approach, an enormous golden gate towers above us. “Welcome to Sha’ar Hamelech!” Tuvya announces. “This is the very spot where our master, Mordechai Hatzaddik, sat. This is where he learned with the children and where he would meet with the Sanhedrin.”

“Where is he now?” Shoshi bursts out. “Now that the Purim story is over? He doesn’t sit here anymore?”

“No, he doesn’t sit at the gate anymore,” Tuvya says. “Now that Mordechai has become mishneh l’melech, he has an important office inside the Palace.”

I feel my heart pounding. I lick my lips. “Do you think… maybe… perhaps… we might be able to see him?”

Tuvya laughs again. “And what a zechus that would be! Though I am not sure he is still at the Palace, as it is already late afternoon. He might be back home already.”

“Home?” I ask incredulously. “But… but doesn’t it say in the Megillah that he was given Haman’s house?”

“Sure. That is correct.”

“So… so we can go see Haman’s house?”

“Well, no, not really.” Tuvya scratches his head. “There is no more Haman’s house. Now it is Beis Mordechai HaYehudi.”

Shoshi shivers. “What a horrible place to live, in that rasha’s house,” she said.

Tuvya shakes his head. “Part of the grand yeshuah we just experienced was Mordechai being given Haman’s house. All the nations witnessed this grand statement of statehood. It was a big miracle.”

We walk through Shaar Hamelech and enter the most massive room I have ever seen in my life. It is clearly meant to be an entranceway, but it is — no exaggeration — the size of two full-size basketball  courts side by side. There are four ginormous columns holding up the ceiling. I eyeball them quickly; it’s one of my talents. I can tell by glancing at something just how tall it is, down to the inch — my friends love it. Each column is 13 yards, 43 feet tall. Elaborate mosaics and lots of glittering gold lend an affluent and royal appearance to the enormous hall. Shoshi and I gape in silent, horrified amazement. Tuvya grins. “They don’t have such palaces where you come from?” he asks. “This is just the anteroom. Wait until you see the palace.”

“If this is the entrance hall,” Shoshi squawks, “How big is this whole palace?”

“They say the palace grounds are 260,000 square amos.”

I say to Shoshi, “That’s like 24 football fields in a row.” At her confused expression, I make another rapid calculation. “That’s… more or less double the size of the White House grounds.” I think about my social studies class and tell her, “The White House has 132 rooms, Shosh, and I think three kitchens, and 35 bathrooms, and massive lawns, and all these huge gardens… Shoshi, this place is HUGE!”

We stand still and try to absorb that.

Tuvya chuckles. “And you haven’t seen the apadnas yet,” he says.

The Throne

“Could you please tell us about that? And about why you said Shushan was over there if we’re in Achashveirosh’s palace here and the palace was in Shushan?”

Tuvya indicates an elaborate gold bench against the wall. “Have a seat, yaldin,” he says. We settle down gingerly. I can’t believe I am actually sitting on a gold bench in Achashveirosh’s palace a mere few months after the miracle of Purim occurred. It’s surreal.

“Back in Yerushalayim, Shlomo Hamelech had a mind-boggling throne. It was huge and very fancy. After the Churban—” Tuvya swallows a great big sob as he says the word — “Nevuchadnetzar tried to take the throne for himself. But he could not ascend the throne, as a golden lion that was part of the throne attacked him. The same happened to other rulers who tried to take the magnificent throne for themselves. When Achashveirosh realized that he could not use Shlomo Hamelech’s throne for himself, he decided to commission the expert goldsmiths and designers in the distant town of Shushan to build him a replica of the throne. The capital city was far from Shushan, but the small Jewish town was renowned for its craftsmen.”

“I remember,” I interject. “When the throne was complete, they realized that there was absolutely no way to get the massive, elaborate throne to the existing palace!”

“Correct,” Tuvya nods. “Instead, a brand-new palace was built around the throne. That is how Shushan became the capital city — but the bridge is the divider between the old town of Shushan and the new capital city — Shushan Habirah.”

“But — but you said something else before,” Shoshi says. “You didn’t say Shushan Habirah, you said a panda!”

“The Apandna,” Tuvya corrects. “Let’s go see it.”

The Apadna

Tuvya turns to the right, and I gesture up ahead. “What’s after this entrance, um, hall?” Though it seems ridiculous to call it a hall. More like a wedding hall.

“Ahead of us is the rest of the palace; the royal living quarters, the Throne Room, treasury, storerooms, multiple courtyards, Moredechai’s office, and the Bais Hanashim. We’re going to the—”

“Panda bear!” Shoshi exults.

“No, no bears,” Tuvya says. “The apadna. The official part of the palace, meant for the public — that’s where the great mishteh was. Many years ago. You know about that?”

I nod. “The mishteh that Mordechai Hatzaddik said not to go to.”

Tuvya looks remorseful. “Right.”

We begin walking through a seemingly endless wide, open area. After a while, Shoshi sighs loudly. “Are we lost?” she asks.

“No, but I understand if your feet ache,” Tuvya says kindly. “It is very large, isn’t it. Yaldin, can you picture it? This entire area was set up for the mishteh. It stretched as far as one could see — all through this area, through the orchard, and through the apadna.” We try to imagine it.

Eventually we reach the orchard, and I have to agree with Shoshi. My feet are killing me; we’ve been walking for ages. A curly-haired toddler runs towards us, clapping gleefully. A tall woman is right behind him, and she nods her head. “Salam.”

Shoshi and I glance at each other. Tuvya taps my shoulder. “Meet the son of Queen Esther and King Achashveirosh,” he says softly. “This is Daryavesh.”

Chills run up and down my arms. This is the person who will end up becoming the Persian king, the one who will help build the Beis Hamikdash. He’s pretty cute right now, I think. I kneel down besides him. “Hi,” I say, softly. He giggles.

Daryavesh’s caregiver calls to him. He turns back defiantly. “No!” he says. “Want Maman.”

The tall woman looks at us apologetically and my pulse quickens. Are we… are we actually going to get to meet Esther Hamalkah?

“Maman is saying her afternoon tsolsa. When she is finished her prayers, we will go to her.” I let out all my breath in a whoosh. The sun is low in the sky. Esther Hamalkah must be in her quarters, davening Minchah. The caregiver looks down at Daryavesh. “But it is far, Dary joonam, and it is late. We must be going.”

We reluctantly take leave of Daryavesh and continue, through a lush orchard, onto the apadna. It is very impressive indeed, with row upon row of enormous and elaborate columns. They are even taller than the columns in the anteroom. I size them up quickly. Each pillar is a mind-boggling 20 meters high — a full 65 feet. Shoshi and I stand still again, trying to absorb the enormity of it all.

When we exit the apadna, the sun is even lower in the sky, and our shadows are long. Shoshi is yawning and Tuvya looks concerned. “I must be getting back to Shushan,” he says, and now we know that we are in Shushan Habirah, while the Yidden live over the bridge, in Shushan. “I did daven Minchah Gedolah,” he explains, “but my family will be getting worried about me.” He turns to us with a smile. “Would you like to come to my home for the ramsa meal? My children would love to meet yaldin like you.”

“The ramsa meal?” Shoshi’s eyes are wide. “What do you do there?”

“Shosh,” I whisper, “Ramsa is evening in Aramaic. He’s inviting us for dinner.”

“Can we go?” she asks hopefully.

I look back at the darkening sky. The sun has dipped behind the horizon, a deep orange glow flaming around the edge of the sky, with deeper blues blending behind it. Loud chirping from thousands of birds nestled in the trees of the orchard fill the evening air, joined by the deep croaking of frogs in the moat surrounding the palace. Otherwise, everything is quiet and still.

The apadna was large enough to host at least ten thousand people.

Chazal tell us that Haman and Korach were the two richest individuals ever.

(Esther Rabbah)

It is extremely hot in Shushan during the summer.

King Achashveirosh ruled for 14 years, from 3393 – 3407.

River Ulai in Shushan is currently known as the Shachor River.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha Jr., Issue 902)