The journey back to my luxurious dwelling that evening felt like an eternity. With a heavy heart and a deep, gnawing sense of dread, each step back home echoed with the resonating blows of the day’s humiliating events.

It was unbelievable. I had left home that morning an ecstatic chief advisor, confident and assured that the day would be magnificent. Now I returned a broken and embarrassed man, with the actual day’s events now permanently etched into the annals of my darkest hours.

It was long and dreary, but I eventually arrived home. In the brightly lit lair that usually bore witness to my highest moments, I gathered with Zeresh and my closest confidants as usual. The air was heavier than usual, with the lingering memories of the day’s humiliation as fresh as ever. The tension that had gripped the room was as palpable as could be, as my wife and friends watched me worriedly while I prepared to unveil the twisted turn of fate that had befallen me that day.

“Zeresh, my trusted partner and companion, and esteemed friends,” I began, my voice carrying the weight of the day’s sorrows, “gather close to me, for I bear news that will rend the fabric of our ambitions.”

Their eyes continued to reflect a mix of curiosity and concern, as I unfolded the tale of the king’s unexpected decree.

“I made my way to the palace, ready to make my request known to the king. When I was called in to his chambers, however, the king sought my counsel on a different matter, enquiring how he should honour a man he desires to honour. Believing it was me, I told him to put his royal robes on that man, place him upon a horse the king had ridden, have him bandied around the town square by an official of the king who would proclaim this is how the king honours whom he wishes to honour.”

Taking a deep breath, I dropped the shocking twist. “I said all this knowing it was meant for me, as there was nobody else. But in actual fact, there was someone else. It was Mordecai.”

A collective gasp filled the room.

I nodded. “The honour I thought was destined for me, was bestowed upon Mordecai, the very Jew whose insolence has plagued me. King Ahasuerus commanded me to dress him in royal robes and parade him through the city—a true mockery of my worth.”

A stunned silence descended upon the lair as the weight of the revelation sank in.

“But… but how could this be?” Jehiel wondered. “What sort of good deed could that lowly man possibly have done to warrant the king making such a declaration?”

I raised my hands up in confusion. “I have not the slightest idea, my good friend. I have not the minutest idea what that wretched one could have done to obtain favour that should be mine.”

Sitting back in my chair, Zeresh met my gaze with a mixture of empathy and concern.

“My lord, if I remember correctly, Mordecai is a Jew, right?” she whispered.

I stared at her, then nodded. “Yes, yes, he is,” I responded.

My friends exchanged glances, suddenly looking uneasy as their minds seemed to grapple with some information I was not privy to.

Jehiel murmured. “My lord, it appears we may have committed a fatal oversight in disregarding the truth of Mordecai’s identity. With this new development, I fear it casts a long, foreboding shadow over our aspirations.”

“Indeed. If Mordecai is a Jew,” Moshe mused with a heavy sigh, “then we may be entangled in a battle far greater than we anticipated. The Jews are a resilient people, and their God is known for delivering them from the most dire of straits.”

A sense of unease settled upon our gathering. The atmosphere, once full of confidence at all times, now withered under the weight of uncertainty.

“Perhaps,” Zeresh added solemnly, “we should reconsider the course of our actions. The tables have turned, and we find ourselves entwined in a struggle that may prove more formidable than we initially perceived.”

With all that had been said, the possibility of defeat seemingly loomed large, with the realization that Mordecai, being a Jew, might not be easily vanquished.

Had this been suggested to me hours ago, I would have scornfully dismissed same and considered the speaker to be one of low or zero intelligence. In the aftermath of my humiliation, however, I had to soberly acknowledge that the grand design to destroy Mordecai had become a lot more complicated than I could have ever anticipated. Suddenly, the Jew I once scorned as nothing, now stood as a formidable adversary.

With a formidable force backing him.

As the heavy air of deliberation lingered on in my chambers, a sudden intrusion interrupted our somber reflections.

The quiet murmurs ceased as the king’s eunuchs, resplendent as ever in their royal livery, entered with an air of urgency.

They appeared, and I immediately remembered why they had come: it was a call to partake in the grandeur of a banquet with King Ahasuerus and Queen Esther. One that only I had been invited to.

“Haman,” one of the eunuchs announced with a measured tone, “the king requests your presence at the banquet hall. Queen Esther herself extends a reminder of her invitation for you to join in the festivities.”

Yes! The ignominy of the day had taken up much space in my mind, such that I had forgotten about this. But upon hearing it, a spark of hope flickered within me. The prospect of standing once more in the king’s favour, surrounded by the splendor of the royal court, beckoned to me like a distant oasis in the desert of my misfortunes.

And it would be pure folly to reject the opportunity to restore my pride and joy.

“Ah, yes!” I exclaimed, a forced cheerfulness coating my words. “Yes, yes, I remember. I shall accompany you to the palace immediately.”

Turning to my wife and friends, I proudly declared, “Perhaps this banquet is the antidote to the bitterness that has plagued this wretched day. Zeresh, my friends, fear not the specter of Mordecai, for in the king’s presence, I shall regain the glory that is rightfully mine.”

With a resolute air, I turned to bid farewell to my loyal confidants. Zeresh’s gaze bore the weight of unspoken concerns, yet she offered a supportive nod. My friends, too, mustered words of encouragement, genuinely hoping that the banquet would serve as a salve for the wounds the king’s decree had inflicted.

“May the banquet halls be filled with joy,” Philetus offered, attempting to inject a note of optimism into the room.

“As you depart, let the shadows of the day recede, and may the king’s favor shine upon you once more,” Zeresh added, her words a fragile echo of hope.

With a pleased smile, I took my leave, the anticipation of the banquet momentarily overtaking the dark gloom that had settled upon my spirits. After all, the grandeur of the royal court beckoned, promising a much-needed respite from the bitter truths that had unfolded.

As we arrived at the palace and I walked towards the banquet hall, the weight of the day’s events weighed heavily on me like the thickest of cloaks. The resplendent corridors were once a testament to my ascendancy; now they echoed with the haunting whispers of uncertainty. My quest to take down the spiteful Mordecai had turned on me in spectacular fashion, and now the fact that he was a Jew made the quest seem more difficult than I had anticipated.

But, that was to be deliberated upon later. At that moment, the allure of the banquet offered a glimpse of redemption—a chance to cast off the shadows and indulge myself back into the mood of merrymaking and joy and pride in who I am.

Haman the Agagite, son of Hammedatha. The great chief advisor of King Ahasuerus.

Well, let’s see what happens at the banquet. Will he regain his pride as he believes he will?