by Mesu Andrews
He grinned, steering me around a corner and through another guarded gate. Mouth gaping, I halted at the sight of another impressive structure. It wasn’t covered in gold like our Temple in Jerusalem, but it was at least three times the size. “What is this one?”
He nudged me forward. “This is where you’ll serve, little one.” The sadness in his voice confused me. It was like a paradise. Date palms abounded in the courtyards, and the beautiful gardens with their shaded benches created peaceful and inviting settings. Bald, clean-shaven men tended bronze braziers that emitted the smoky sweet aroma of incense. I paused when my escort approached the sprawling stone building, but he nudged me forward—and no one stopped us.
“Won’t we be struck dead?” I asked, taking mincing steps as we drew closer to the double doors.
“Of course not.” My guardian flung open a door and hailed a tall young priest, who looked as if a strong wind might knock him over. “I have here a serving maid for the Esagila.”
The young priest gazed down a long, slender nose. “Do you worship Marduk, girl?”
I glanced first at my captor and then back at the priest, thinking it best to simply shake my head no.
“Our supplicants enter the temple and immediately proceed to the altar, where they receive a gift from Marduk before offering their petition.” The priest moved into the dimly lit chamber to our right, where a looming gold dragon-like statue stood over chanting priests.
My captor whispered as we followed. “This priest is devout and will treat you kindly, but others won’t. Learn who you can trust, girl, or you won’t live long.” He shoved me at the tall priest and interrupted the man’s instruction. “I need no lessons on Marduk.” He was gone before either the priest or I could protest.
I stood in the shadow of the gold idol, choking on the cloying odor of foreign incense, and noted a gold table beside the altar. On it sat a single platter stacked high with pieces of broken bread. Broken bread, not whole loaves as in Yahweh’s Temple.
“What’s that?” I asked the priest.
“The pieces are Marduk’s gift to the supplicants. You’re old enough to bake. Perhaps the high priest will assign you the job.”
I wanted to ask why Marduk didn’t bake his own bread but was sure it would earn me a beating. Returning my attention to the pieces of broken bread, my dread turned to despair. Yahweh would never find me here. Could Yahweh find me anywhere in Babylon?
8
Fear of man will prove to be a snare,
but whoever trusts in the LORD is kept safe.
—PROVERBS 29:25
It had been a week, and the kind soldier hadn’t returned. I was silly to hope. His advice, however, had become my best friend. The first priest I met delivered me to the chief priest, who was as corrupt as a festering sore. He ordered me to clean until I became of age and then turned me over to the chief priestess, who assigned my daily duties.
This morning after sacrifices ended, I was given a new job in the worship chamber—cleaning the blood from Marduk’s image and disposing of animal entrails after a divining session. The sound of sandals scuffing on tiles whirled me around, a wet cloth my only defense.
The chief priest’s chambermaid met my fear with a smirk. “Take that attitude to my master, and you’ll be flogged before you speak. He commands your presence immediately.”
She turned to go, and I followed, leaving my dirty cloth and murky water at the altar. Winding through hallways and darkened corridors, she led me into the bowels of Babylon’s wealthiest temple. We passed busy scribes and arguing priests, primping priestesses and happy noblemen. Finally, we turned down a windowless hallway with a single doorway at the end. My breath quickened, and I felt as if I could reach out and touch the walls on both sides.
“Please, tell him you couldn’t find me.”
I turned to run, but she captured my arm. A single torch on the wall gleamed in her eyes, making her appear unreal. “Too late.” She lifted her hand and knocked.
The door opened before a second quick strike, and the high priest pulled me inside, ignoring his maid. “Here’s the little beauty I’ve been telling you about, Lord Laqip. She’ll be ripe for initiation by the Akitu festival in the spring. What better way to celebrate Nebuchadnezzar’s coronation and Marduk’s ascension to supreme god over all the earth?”
The priest held my back against him, one arm across my chest and the other locked under my chin, forcing me to face the nobleman.
“Why would I pay for a child who has no idea how to please me?”
“Because with her initiation you’ll name her. Define her nature and character for the duration of her earthly life.” The priest pressed his hand tighter against my throat. “Just as the gods bestowed fifty names on Marduk when he conquered Tiamat, so you become like the gods when you name this little goddess—for a mere fifty talents of silver.”
“Fifty talents? You’re mad!” The nobleman started toward the door.
The high priest turned me to face him, hissing a threat. “If he leaves, you’ll beg on Babylon’s streets by sunset.” He shoved me toward the angry nobleman.
“Please!” I whimpered, stumbling over my feet and clutching at the nobleman’s robe to keep from falling.
He shrugged off my hand and looked down at me as if I were a crawling insect.
At least he stayed to listen. I straightened my dingy robe and met his gaze. I couldn’t beg on Babylon’s streets. Slavery to one man was better than torture by an angry mob. I had six months to escape the Esagila before the Akitu festival.
“I may not know what pleases you, my lord, but I’m no child, and I’m worth every shekel of fifty talents.”
Lord Laqip arched a manicured brow and again let his eyes roam my form. This time I put my hands on my hips, lifted my chin, and stared back. Surprise lit his expression. Then something more frightening than desire.
Tenderly cradling my cheeks, he drew to within a handbreadth. “I’ll call you Belili, like the consort of the shepherd god, Tammuz. All of Babylon will know you as my little lamb.” My skin crawled at the look in his eyes, but I stared back without flinching.
He released me and reached for the pouch at his waist. I bowed my head, trying to control my shaking. The priest shoved me toward the door. “Leave us, girl.”
I stumbled in my hurry to the door, opened it, and ran out of the chamber—only moments older but vastly wiser.
9
Among those who were chosen were some from Judah: Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael and Azariah. The chief official gave them new names: to Daniel, the name Belteshazzar; to Hananiah, Shadrach; to Mishael, Meshach; and to Azariah, Abednego.
—DANIEL 1:6–7
For six months I’d kept to myself, emptying waste pots, dusting idols, clearing ashes from altars, and dumping more animal entrails than I ever imagined a single city could produce. Every day I prayed to whatever god would listen that I might stay a child forever, but my body changed without permission, and I’d thought of no way to escape the Esagila.
Spring came and with it barley sowing and the feast of Akitu. Nebuchadnezzar returned to Babylon, having conquered the Hatti nation, and prepared for his official coronation as King of the Earth. On the fourth day of Nisannu, the high priest opened the Akitu ceremonies by presenting King Nebuchadnezzar with the divine scepter and sending him to Borsippa, a half day’s sail downriver, to spend the night in the temple of Nabu.
Waiting for the summons of Lord Laqip, I curled into a ball on my sleeping mat in the chamber I shared with five other chambermaids, shaking and nauseous. The maids told the temple’s chief steward I was too ill to eat, and since so few would visit our temple today, he excused me from my duties.
The summons from Lord Laqip didn’t come.
The next day, King Nebuchadnezzar was scheduled to return and make an appearance at
the Esagila. We maids cleaned every room, every nook and cranny. Though dread of my initiation still loomed, busyness dulled my anxiety and carried me through another day without a summons from the lord who had purchased my name.
So it continued each day of the festival, and over the course of the week, my dread slowly lessened. Perhaps Laqip had a change of heart—though I questioned if a man like him even possessed the vital organ. More likely, he had a wife who’d discovered his wandering and threatened him with the loss of something more precious. I spent the last day of the festival considering all the wonderful ways Laqip’s wife might torture him if she discovered his temple antics.
Just after midday, the temple steward called me aside. “The southeast treasury is a mess, and the high priest is furious. I told you this morning to clean up the room on the far end of the hallway. What have you been doing all day?”
I fell to my knees, arms extended overhead. “Forgive me, master. I’ll clean it right away.” Was he losing his mind? He hadn’t told me to clean it this morning, but I didn’t dare argue. I feared another beating.
“Go! Now!”
I fled his presence, rushing first to get my cleaning supplies and then through hallways that skirted the temple proper. Finally, I reached the treasury wing. Priests were replacing goblets and dishes in small closets after their use in the festival. I tried each of the treasury room doors lining both sides of the hall, but they were locked. How was I supposed to clean when the priest neglected to unlock them? Only one door stood ajar at the end of the hall, a dim light shining from within.
I pushed open the door and stepped cautiously over the threshold, finding a single lamp sputtering on a table in the far corner. Strange. I took two more steps inside, enthralled with the glittering gold and silver stacked in piles from floor to ceiling. What faraway kingdoms had these beautiful treasures come from?
“There’s my little lamb.” A deep voice.
I whirled and dropped my cleaning basket. Lord Laqip stood behind the door—and closed it. Panic rose, but if I cried out, who would save me? The blood pounding in my ears answered. No one. No one. No one.
Terror knocked me to my knees. “Forgive me, lord. I was sent here to clean the treasury.” Quick breaths fought back tears, and I hoped feigned innocence would purchase time to devise an escape.
“You are the treasure, little Belili.” I sensed his approach and wanted to flee when dirty bare feet rested by my fingertips. He reached down to help me stand, but I let my body go limp, refusing to be lifted. I couldn’t run, but I wouldn’t make it easy.
“Ah, a stubborn one.” He gripped my arms, digging his fingers into my flesh, and lifted me off the floor, pulling my face to within a handbreadth of his.
I closed my eyes. He could not make me look at him.
The sound he made was like a growl—and then came the blow. The pain in my cheek brought an explosion of light. I fell, knocking my head on the floor. Instantly, Laqip’s heavy bulk smothered me. I wriggled beneath him, trying to breathe, to scream, to escape. I realized in that moment, no matter how invincible a woman’s resolve, a man’s sheer strength can break it.
“The high priest said I could find Lord Laqip and his new initiate choosing jewelry from the treasury.” A male voice from the hallway sent the nobleman rolling to his feet, smoothing his oiled hair and beard.
I crawled to a corner and curled into a ball, pressing my throbbing cheek against the cool tiles. I heard the door squeak on its hinges, then footsteps.
“Lord Laqip, greetings from the palace and your new king.” The voice was familiar, floating on the edges of my consciousness. “I’m taking the girl to her new master.”
I kept my face hidden, wishing I could disappear among the treasures.
“But I paid fifty talents for her!” the nobleman shouted. “She’s mine. I named her Belili.”
“It is a fine name.” I knew that man’s voice. Ashpenaz. “I’ll be sure to inform her new master.”
A grip like iron siezed my arm. I cried out and was released. Falling to the floor, I heard scuffling and grunts. I covered my head and tried to block out Laqip’s shouts and protests.
Then there was silence. Blessed silence.
A hand touched my shoulder gently, and I screamed again, my eyes squeezed shut. “Don’t touch me! Stay away!” Shaking, I scooted away blindly until the treasure blocked my retreat, unable to bear a man’s touch.
“Shhh, Wildcat. Laqip is gone.” I opened my eyes and saw the eunuch. “I’m taking you home.”
“Home?” My naïveté had nearly destroyed me. Now suspicion whirred at the awful things a eunuch might do to a ten-year-old girl. “Why would you want me?”
“I don’t want you,” he said with a lopsided grin. “But your friends—Belteshazzar, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego—sent me to find you.”
He was trying to trick me. I gathered my torn robe and pressed myself against the treasure at my back. “I have no friends, and I’ve never heard of those men.”
10
The king assigned them a daily amount of food and wine from the king’s table….But Daniel resolved not to defile himself with the royal food and wine, and he asked the chief official for permission not to defile himself this way.
—DANIEL 1:5, 8
Ashpenaz led me through the dimly lit halls of the Esagila. “Belteshazzar, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego are the Babylonian names of the princes you served on the journey from Jerusalem.” He slowed only long enough to give me a disparaging glance. “They still call you friend.”
I ducked my head, walking quickly past every priest and priestess, afraid any one of them might snatch me from my dream. When we stepped into the outer courtyard, I closed my eyes and lifted my face to the Babylonian sun, feeling its warmth replace the chill that penetrated my bones. Daniel sent Ashpenaz to find me. Shadrach and the twins hadn’t forgotten me. The sounds of children playing and the smell of spring blossoms ushered me back into the land of the living.
A hand on my back shot terror through me, and I shrieked, drawing unwanted attention. The eunuch glowered at me. “You are in need of a new robe, little Belili.”
“Don’t call me that,” I shot back, sounding like a petulant child.
“You will walk two steps behind me and address me as ‘my lord’ or ‘Lord Ashpenaz,’ and I will call you anything I wish, Wildcat.”
He started down a bricked path toward the river rather than the Processional Way, and I hurried to match his long strides. The sun, shining directly overhead, had already turned the brick-lined street into a griddle, burning my bare feet. An elegant quffa, lined in purple silk, awaited us at the quay, and I groaned my relief when I stepped into cool water in the bottom of the vessel. Ashpenaz lifted a single thin-plucked brow, and I detected a softening in those hard lines around his mouth. He crossed his arms over his muscled chest, and we sailed the short distance to the palace without speaking.
The royal quay wasn’t nearly as crowded as the dock where I’d been given my assignment six months earlier. No haggling traders or deck slaves to avoid, only finely dressed palace servants, busy with daily tasks. No one even glanced at the king’s chief official leading a young girl toward the palace. This time, I walked toward the three-story mud-brick building knowing who awaited me. I wanted to run and see my four boys.
Instead of taking me through the public southern gate, where I was separated from my friends last autumn, the eunuch led me to a long staircase that took us below ground level. He opened a secluded door surrounded on all sides by ivy. Warning bells rang in my mind, and my newly honed suspicions rose.
Ashpenaz had said he was taking me to my friends’ home. Why had he taken me to the palace? “Where exactly do the boys live?”
No answer. He continued walking down a long hallway as servants shuffled here and there through doorways lining both sides.
We had apparently entered the servants’ quarters of Babylon’s palace.
“Are my princes here? What will I do for them? Cook? Clean?”
Again, no answer. Ashpenaz turned a corner, where a single door waited. He opened the door and entered, but I stopped three paces from the threshold. Eunuch or not, I was determined never to be alone with a man again.
Before I could declare my decision, he emerged with a folded garment of finer linen than anything I’d ever owned. “Here.” He shoved it at me. “This should fit.” And then he began another journey to who knew where.
Through two hallways and the kitchen, up a winding staircase, and down another hall, we somehow eventually emerged in the same courtyard in which we captives had originally been deposited on our arrival in Babylon. We descended the majestic staircase, and I hopped from brick to brick, avoiding the scorching-hot glazed tiles that were being installed.
“Your feet will grow accustomed to the heat, Wildcat.” Ashpenaz chuckled, a strange sound. “Maids don’t wear sandals.”
We exited the palace courtyard’s east entrance, crossed the Processional Way, and walked on a lovely street where two-story villas sat in neat rows. A small canal—more like a stream—followed the bricked street, each home looking much the same with a fenced garden separating it from the street.
“Do the boys live in one of these?”
Finally, Ashpenaz stopped, ramming his fists at his sides. “You must stop calling them boys. They are to be members of the king’s Chaldeans, Belili, and you must show them the respect of their office.”
The weight of his words settled over me. He was right. Who was I to imagine that princes of Judah would deign to call me friend? They would become officials in Babylon, and I was nothing. Less than nothing. Laqip taught me that. I bowed to King Nebuchadnezzar’s chief eunuch, perhaps realizing for the first time how gracious he’d been to me. “Forgive me, Lord Ashpenaz. They deserve not only my deepest respect but also my lifelong service—as do you, my lord.”
