Of Fire and Lions

by Mesu Andrews

“Are you well?” The captain’s concern was rather surprising.

  “Yes, thank you. Could we slow our pace a bit?” Before the eunuch could answer, his stomach growled, and Daniel chuckled. “You and your men should have joined us for this morning’s meal. Mert is a fine cook.”

  The captain’s features remained grim. “The king needs you now, Lord Daniel. Please.” He extended his hand in the direction of the palace, and Daniel felt the prickly flesh of urgency.

  Continuing in silence, they left the walled city of Babylon’s wealth and noblility and ascended the marble stairs to the Processional Way. While crossing the wide avenue splitting Babylon’s municipality, they passed the three-storied Ishtar Gate, the military complex, and finally entered palace grounds through its southern gate.

  The pounding of drums and trill of a flute floated on a chill autumn breeze, and a sudden presence pressed Daniel to his knees. With both hands over his ears, he blocked out distraction and held in the silent whisper:

  “MENE, MENE, TEKEL, PARSIN.

  “Mene: I have numbered the days of Belshazzar’s reign and brought it to an end.

  “Tekel: He has been weighed on My scales and found wanting.

  “Parsin: I have divided his kingdom and given it to the Medes and Persians.”

  “My lord!” A huge hand lifted Daniel to his feet. “My lord, are you well?”

  Shadows cleared from the prophet’s eyes, and he gazed into ten pale faces. “Yes, yes. Thank you. We must hurry to the king.”

  The captain placed a giant arm around Daniel’s waist and fairly carried him toward the grand stairway. “I’ve heard you are a seer. Did you have a vision, my lord?”

  Daniel sensed something genuine in this man but knew a eunuch’s loyalty was first and always to his king. “If you have any family in Babylon, Captain, they should leave the city tonight.”

  His brows shot up, but a slight nod communicated understanding. Any Babylonian with a measure of sense knew King Cyrus of Persia had built an army that would someday overtake Babylon—the empire King Belshazzar had weakened by overspending, poor council choices, and constant revelry during the past fourteen years.

  The captain hoisted Daniel up the grand stairway and into the main entrance. They hurried through what had once been pristine hallways, now covered in dust and frayed tapestries. Music grew louder as they neared the throne hall but with no accompanying sounds of laughter or merriment.

  “I thought the king was hosting a banquet,” Daniel said.

  “He was.” Was it fear or loyalty that kept him from saying more? Guards at the throne room opened the double doors, revealing the colossal space filled with tables, terrified noblemen, and musicians whose timid notes tested the eerie silence.

  A man wearing a gold crown rushed toward Daniel. He’d seen the young king only once, on the day of his coronation, when Belshazzar entered Babylon in a chariot on the Processional Way. He was much shorter up close and much older tonight.

  “Are you Daniel, one of the exiles my grandfather brought from Judah?”

  Daniel barely had time for a nod before the king aimed a shaking finger at a side wall. “The inscription. See it? None of my wise men could interpret it.”

  Daniel followed his gesture and stared at the exact words from his vision blazing with an unnatural fire on the plastered wall. “I’ve heard the spirit of the gods lives in you,” the king said, his panic-stricken features but a handbreadth away. “Interpret the message, and I swear by my father’s life I’ll dress you in purple, place a gold chain around your neck, and make you the third highest ruler in our kingdom.”

  Sickened by the king’s stale sweat and fetid breath, Daniel was grateful he hadn’t eaten. How many promises had this regent broken? Many believed Belshazzar had killed his father to take Babylon’s throne. Shrugging off Belshazzar’s hands, Daniel stepped back and bowed with forced habit.

  “You may keep your gifts and reward someone else. The Most High God gives glory and splendor to whomever He pleases—as He did to your forefather King Nebuchadnezzar. But when the king became proud, he was stripped of his glory, driven away from people, and given the mind of an animal. He lived with wild donkeys and ate grass like the ox until he acknowledged that the Most High God is sovereign over all kingdoms on earth and sets over them anyone He wishes. But you, Belshazzar, though you knew all this, have not humbled yourself.”

  Shocked whispers rolled like a tide over the noblemen in the hall, confirming that King Nebuchadnezzar’s transformation had not been widely known. Daniel scanned the crowd, noticing for the first time the glint of gold set before each guest.

  Righteous indignation loosed his tongue again. “You set yourself against the Lord of heaven by allowing your nobles, wives, and concubines to drink wine from the goblets taken from Yahweh’s Temple. You have not honored the God who holds your life in His hands, so His hand wrote your doom on the wall.”

  Daniel pointed to the blazing words and read aloud:

  “MENE, MENE, TEKEL, PARSIN. The Lord has numbered the days of your reign and brought it to an end. You have been weighed on scales and found wanting. Your kingdom is divided and given to the Medes and Persians.”

  He bowed once more and turned to go.

  “Wait!” Belshazzar grabbed his arm and then lowered himself to one knee, inclining his head. “Please. I believe everything you’ve said, but please have mercy.” He stood and lifted his voice to the gathering. “Daniel will wear a purple robe from my chamber, and only my commands and those of my father carry more authority than Daniel’s in the whole empire.”

  Belshazzar removed the gold chain from his neck and lifted it over Daniel’s head, letting the chiseled granite seal rest on the prophet’s chest. Lingering near, he spoke in a voice meant for only the prophet. “You’re now a son of Babylon. Surely your god won’t destroy an empire governed by one of his own.”

  Daniel answered in an equally quiet voice. “My God will destroy many empires to bless His own.”

  King Belshazzar recoiled, stiffened, and studied him. “You will remain at my side until I’m convinced you haven’t somehow conspired against me.”

  “As you wish.” Daniel followed him to the elevated table, eating food prepared by palace cooks instead of the meal made by Mert’s loving hands.

  Yahweh, protect my family when You bring Cyrus into Babylon.

  2

  One courier follows another

  and messenger follows messenger

  to announce to the king of Babylon

  that his entire city is captured.

  —JEREMIAH 51:31

  When I fled to my bedchamber after Daniel was taken, my daughters glared at me, and their husbands—temple scribes, all of them—gathered in a corner, whispering. What were they plotting? Could scribes rescue my Daniel? Their whispers did nothing but add to the tension.

  I fell onto the couch beside our bed and buried my face against the armrest. Yahweh, protect my Daniel. Only You know why he’s been taken.

  My chamber door opened without a knock, and Mert entered with a tray of samplings from the delicacies she’d prepared. I was furious. “I told them we weren’t eating until—”

  “You’re being ridiculous.” She plopped the tray on the couch between us. “The babies were fussy, and the adults were about to revolt. Master Daniel wouldn’t want us to waste all this food, and you’ll feel better after you eat.”

  In stubborn silence, I stared into her wintry-gray eyes. Why was she always right? “Sit down and help me eat it, then.” I scooted over to make room for the woman who was servant, comforter, counselor, and friend. “My children hate me.”

  She spread a generous portion of goat cheese on a piece of bread and handed it to me. “They can’t hate someone they don’t know.”

  “They can’t know someone who abandoned them
.” I threw the bread onto the tray and inhaled sharply, driving away unwelcome emotions. I’d cried enough for ten lifetimes.

  Mert picked up my bread and took a bite. “You didn’t abandon them. Explain what happened. They’re adults now. They’ll understand.”

  I shook my head, still not trusting my voice, and prepared another piece of bread with goat cheese. After a few bites, I was ready to proffer another plan. “I’ll go down after they’ve eaten and try to salvage the day. Perhaps Daniel will return soon and provide the balm for any additional wounds I’ve caused.”

  Mert reached for my free hand and squeezed it. “Perhaps when others are stingy with forgiveness, you should direct them to your god. Master Daniel comforts them by praying with them.”

  Surprised and a bit convicted by my friend’s suggestion, I set aside my bread. “I’ve tried, Mert. Anytime I’ve suggested prayer or asking for Yahweh’s help or wisdom in a matter, my children have made it clear—they see nothing in me to warrant that kind of trust.” The gaping hole inside nearly swallowed me. I bowed my head and cradled Mert’s hand in mine. “I fear their scars are too deep.”

  “Nonsense.” She drew her hand away and presented my bread to me. “Your girls have their own little circle to depend on, so they’ve held their grudge tightly. But one day, Belili”—she winked—“one day, they’ll all come around. You wait and see.”

  Her optimism, though likely misplaced, brightened the mood, and we chatted of lighter things while finishing our meal. She took the dirty dishes downstairs, leaving me alone to return to prayer. Yahweh, I know You’ve forgiven me, but how could others—when I can’t forgive myself?

  My silent plea revealed a hidden truth I hadn’t even acknowledged in conscious thought. Could I ever forgive myself for the mistakes I’d made as an ima? Unsettled, but feeling the draw of obligation, I straightened my robe and returned to the courtyard to play hostess to a house full of family who loved each other and barely tolerated me.

  I spent the day with the youngest in my clan, babies and toddlers who cooed and laughed on my lap, as yet untainted by family stigmas. By nightfall, fussy little ones filled all our villa’s beds, and the adults gathered in huddles to share horrible possibilities of my Daniel’s fate.

  I wandered through our courtyard alone. The splashing fountain calmed me, and the cricket song assured me that Yahweh cared for even the most insignificant in His creation. I sat on the bench in the garden between our courtyard and street, counting the winking stars.

  “Are you all right, Ima?” Son-in-law Shesh stood in a shaft of moonlight beside me.

  “Not really, but I’m trying to remember that Daniel’s absence doesn’t mean he has come to harm. He would stay at the palace for weeks if a king asked it of him.”

  Shesh shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other and waited as if he had more to say, so I patted the bench. “Join me, if you like.”

  We sat in companionable silence for a while. I closed my eyes, inhaling Babylon’s night air and thanking Yahweh for our oldest daughter’s husband. Shesh was a leader of men with a heart of compassion. He’d been kinder to us than seven sons and was generous to show Daniel deference in our old age, though he and Kezia were now master and mistress of our shared villa. He adored Kezia, had been a loving abba, and was now a doting saba of their nine grandchildren. Every Jew in Babylon respected him, and as chief scribe of the Esagila—Marduk’s temple—he’d cultivated a healthy connection with Babylon’s religious community as well.

  “Sheshbazzar!” Kezia’s voice grated like a cat’s claws on tile. “Why didn’t you tell me you were waiting with Ima?”

  “Come, my love.” Shesh offered his hand, calling her to join us.

  I scooted to the bench’s edge, and she squeezed between us, bringing a wave of tension with her. “We should send one of the servants to the palace. Check on Abba. See if he’s all right.”

  Shesh pulled her close. “If your abba hasn’t returned by morning, I’ll call Israel’s elders together and send a delegation to inquire of the king.”

  I patted her knee and joined my support. “Sending a single servant would be dangerous, but a delegation of Jews who hold powerful positions in the city won’t be ignored. Shesh is very wise.”

  The moonlight showed Kezia’s lips pursed into a thin white line, but she held her tongue. An improvement over her early days as wife of Judah’s prince. I locked my lips as well, proof that Yahweh had done a work in us both.

  Sudden splashing in the canal across the street stole my attention, and before I could voice concern, soldiers emerged. Dressed in foreign armor. Swords drawn.

  Kezia screamed, and I jumped to my feet. Shesh clamped his hand over her mouth, while other shrieks echoed down the street. Then wailing.

  “Get inside!” My strangled whisper mingled with the invaders’ shouts, and my feet halted on the tiles. “They’re Medes.”

  Startled that I still understood the language after all these years, I silently interpreted an officer’s instructions. “Kill those who resist. Displace the others and send them across the river to find housing.”

  I hurried to catch up with Shesh and grabbed his arm as we reached the courtyard gate. “Listen to me. We must leave willingly when they come. They’ll send us to the unwalled part of the city across the river.”

  He looked at me as if I’d grown horns. “You understand their language?”

  My children and adult grandchildren gathered around us inside the courtyard. “What language?” one of the grandchildren asked. “How does Savta know—”

  “You!” Four Medes rushed toward us. “All of you! Out!”

  Without thinking, I bowed deeply and answered in Median, “We will obey, Master. May we retrieve the others from our household?” All four soldiers stopped in their tracks, exchanging odd glances. I bowed again before they had time to think. “I was a friend of Queen Amyitis, the great Median princess. She taught me to speak.”

  Seeming satisfied, the leader nodded to the darkened villa behind us. “Get the others and get out.”

  I turned and faced my terrified family. “The soldiers are Medes. They’ll be too busy killing to attack women right away—”

  “What? Ima, no!” Kezia’s shriek spread hysteria to the other women.

  Shesh drew her to his chest, silencing her, and turned to me. “Have they joined Cyrus’s army?”

  “He didn’t say, but Daniel has feared Belshazzar’s careless reign would draw Cyrus’s army like a wolf to an unshepherded flock.”

  The ashen faces of my own flock screamed silent terror in Daniel’s absence. He was the rock on which we stood. Yahweh, please. Give me Your wisdom. While waiting for divine help, I stalled with what I knew for certain. “Whether the Medes acted independently or under Cyrus’s command, we must get everyone—family and servants—to a safe place. Fleeing across the river won’t be safe for my daughters or the children.”

  My girls whimpered, drawing their children closer. Shesh’s brows dipped in consternation. “What do we do?”

  I saw Mert standing at the back of the gathering and felt the gentle wind of wisdom blow across my spirit. “Mert, gather the servants while the family collects our little ones. Shesh, go to the Esagila and speak with the high priest. Surely he’ll allow you, as chief scribe, to shelter your family there until the invasion is over.”

  One of the other sons-in-law asked, “Won’t the Medes attack the temples?”

  “They will raid other temples, but not the Esagila. Because of the Medes’ respect for Nebuchadnezzar, they fear his patron god, Marduk, so the Esagila remains sacred.” I shoved Shesh. “Go, Son. We’ll meet you there.”

  My decisiveness stiffened resolve and propelled parents to collect their dear ones. Within moments, we ventured out the side door into the dark, chaotic streets. It had been years since my old legs moved so quickly and eve
n longer since I’d seen this kind of carnage. Swords clanged. Women screamed. Children cried over their parents’ corpses. The canal ran red with noble blood, those who had been passed over or who snubbed their invitation to the king’s banquet. The Medes would have almost certainly attacked the palace by now, but I refused to let myself believe my Daniel lost.

  Invading armies showed no mercy to conquered kings and their nobles. Daniel had been led into Belshazzar’s presence this morning in nobleman’s clothes. But this couldn’t be the end Yahweh intended for my husband’s faithfulness. Yahweh, show him Your mercy. Deliver my Daniel by Your power as You delivered our friends from the furnace years ago.

  Kezia cupped my elbow, nearly dragging me through the street. “Ima, hurry. I’m worried about Shesh. You should never have sent him alone.” I bit my tongue, feeling the weight of twenty millstones around my neck. If anything happened to our dear Shesh, Kezia would never forgive me—nor would I forgive myself. It would be a relief when I could return the weight of family patriarch to my husband.

  We passed through darkened side streets, staying off the Processional Way, until we were directly opposite the temple complex. Hurrying up the stairs, across the wide avenue, and down the stairs on the other side, my cherished brood slipped past the towering ziggurat in darkness, its heavenward height blocking the moonlight, helping us to reach the sprawling Esagila in safety.

  Shesh was already there, speaking with Marduk’s chief priest in hushed tones, while the rest of us waited with other anxious families in the main hallway. Without permission, my eyes wandered to the yawning chamber at my right and found the glistening gold statue of Marduk mocking me. I hadn’t stepped inside this temple since my first days in Babylon.

  “Ima, come.” Shesh tugged at my arm. “We have permission to hide in one of the treasury rooms where I work.”

  “A treasury room?” My heart jumped into my throat. “No. I can’t.”

  Shesh’s brows drew together. Kezia rushed past him and grabbed my hand. “Ima, we must go before they offer the room to someone else.”