by Mesu Andrews
“Get up, girl. Humility doesn’t suit you.” He stormed past me through an intricately designed iron gate and entered a well-manicured garden. I followed closely, but Ashpenaz stopped me, pressing his finger to his lips and then pointing at a man clipping dead branches from one of the bushes. He spoke in hushed tones. “You must realize the great honor you’ve been given to serve Belteshazzar. He will be a great man one day. Already he uses his influence for the benefit of others. He’s rescued several Judeans from fates as dire as yours.” Ashpenaz nodded at the gardener. “That man was sent to the temples as you were but for…well, let’s just say he will never again lie with a woman.”
My cheeks warmed, and I ducked my head—but felt silly. I’d lived for the past six months in a temple of eunuchs, and the man standing with me had undergone the same humiliation. Why was I suddenly embarrassed to hear the reality of Babylon’s royal life? Confused, I crinkled my brow at Ashpenaz. “Why do you feel sorry for the gardener when you share his fate?”
His magnanimous demeanor clouded to disdain. “I am a eunuch by choice. For honor. My manhood wasn’t taken by force.”
A sudden horror gripped me. “Daniel? The others? Have they been made…”
Ashpenaz looked down the slant of his long nose. “Belteshazzar and your other three friends have not yet been given the opportunity to come under the king’s protection as eunuchs. They must complete their three years of study and face King Nebuchadnezzar’s personal testing before they’re approved for a life at court. Only then can they choose between a family or a life of royal honor.”
Royal honor? I didn’t want to offend him again, but I certainly didn’t understand the pride shining from his eyes.
My thoughts must have betrayed me. Ashpenaz straightened his spine and gritted his teeth. “Are you still so ignorant of what’s truly important in this life, Wildcat?” Without warning, he shouted at the gardener. “Come and meet the new chambermaid.”
I wanted to dig a hole and hide in it. “Please don’t talk about—”
The gardener arrived and gripped Ashpenaz’s wrist, nodding his head in a respectful but familiar bow. “Peace and health to you, my friend,” he said as if the two men had known each other for years. His wide gold neckband gleamed in the sun, and his face still bore a faintly uneven tan where his Hebrew beard once grew.
“Peace and health to you,” Ashpenaz answered. “I was telling Belili why a Hebrew might choose to become a eunuch.”
Without hesitation, the man began his explanation. “When the king chooses to honor a boy or man with the opportunity, it is a privilege. If that man or boy accepts the honor, he then dedicates his life to the king alone, shunning family, friends, and societal norms. In return, a eunuch comes under the king’s sovereign protection and provision for the rest of his days. He is favored, blessed, and regarded by his lord forever.” The man looked to Ashpenaz and back to me. “Do you question my decision?”
“No! No.” I looked away, hoping to hide a disapproval I couldn’t dislodge from my chest. The gardener couldn’t have been more than twenty years old. How could he choose to throw away his whole life in exchange for a foreign king’s promises?
Ashpenaz placed a fist over his heart, and the man returned to his work.
“Thank you for your explanation,” I called after him. Ashpenaz’s kindness toward him warmed my heart and bolstered my hope. “You’re a good man too, Lord Ashpenaz.”
Something unreadable passed over his face, and he nudged me toward the villa. “It’s too bad you can’t choose to become a eunuch.”
I followed Ashpenaz into the villa, pondering his cryptic words. This man was both bread and gall, life and venom. “Why would I choose to be a eunuch when I have you and Daniel to protect me?”
He halted at the courtyard gate, pinching the bridge of his nose, as dramatic as a priestess. “I am not your protector, little Belili. And Dan—uh, Belteshazzar—will soon be one of the king’s Chaldeans who even I will call ‘lord.’ ” He shook his head. “You Hebrews are a troublesome lot.”
I reached up and cautiously tugged at his arm, effectively ending his tantrum. “Tell me what trouble you’ve had with the four princes. Perhaps I can speak with them about it.”
He seemed almost startled by my concern. “Thank you, Belili, but Belteshazzar has already taken care of the matter. Upon arriving, he and the other three refused the special diet ordered by the king, though it included the finest cuts of beef and lamb and wine from the altars of the Esagila.”
I silently cheered my boys’ devotion but tried to hide it. “What did you do?”
“I thought to force the meat down their throats, but your Belteshazzar has the tact and wisdom of the gods. He proposed a test, asking me to give them only vegetables and water for ten days.”
Grinning, I waited to hear the outcome.
“And by the gods, they were healthier looking than the other royal students after only ten days.” His laughter sounded as I imagined a playful lion’s roar would.
This compassionate yet powerful man was winning my respect if not my trust. “Will I prepare and serve these vegetables then?”
“No, little Belili.” His eyes wandered to his sandals. “All meals are prepared in and delivered directly from the palace kitchen.”
Puzzled, I laid my hand on the gate, ready to enter the villa. “What will I do then? Clean?”
Ashpenaz stepped around me and led me inside. “Yes, clean and tend to Master Belteshazzar. Let’s get you settled.”
Tend to Master Belteshazzar? What did that mean? I clutched the folded robe in my arms and walked through the arched entry of the two-story home. Immediately inside the doorway was a private well. Its beautiful stonework stood waist high, and a bucket hung on a rope wound around a crossbar that was suspended between two beams. Beyond the well was an expansive open-air courtyard, shaded only by long slanted beams stretching across the roof. The slanted wood allowed light and yet provided slivers of shade to protect both people and plants from the punishing rays of Babylon’s sun. Gathering areas with bright-colored cushions and lush green plants filled the lovely space.
At the other end of the courtyard sat a cooking area, cold and unused. Beyond the courtyard, on the ground level, archways led to darkened hallways with rooms and closed doors that captured my curiosity.
“Belili, you really shouldn’t gape,” Ashpenaz said, nudging me forward. “A bug could fly in at any moment.” I closed my mouth, preferring his sarcasm to disapproval. “The masters’ bedchambers are upstairs,” he said, beginning our journey up a staircase. Matching stairs bordered the other side of the courtyard. The second-story balcony formed a horseshoe, accessing an entire floor of closed doors.
“Are all the upstairs rooms sleeping chambers?” I asked when he stopped at the last door.
“Yes, and all are occupied by Judean nobility who arrived with your princes. Belteshazzar, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego are the occupants in these three chambers.” He pointed to the last three doors.
He opened the last door without knocking, and I peeked inside. A raised bed frame with a straw-stuffed mattress sat against one wall, and a reed mat was placed against the opposite. A hammered-bronze washbasin perched on a three-legged stool between them. I saw two large baskets in the corner, and three pegs held robes—two of white linen and one of brown wool.
“You will serve as Belteshazzar’s chambermaid.”
I chuckled to myself, looking again at the mattress and reed mat, wondering which of the boys got the soft mattress and which slept on the reed mat on hard tiles. Perhaps Daniel and Hananiah took turns. They were nobility, after all, and had been more polite than other boys I’d known.
“Does Hananiah have a chambermaid?” I asked.
Ashpenaz stepped into the hallway. “Of course. In the room next door.”
The door was ajar,
and two large dark eyes peeked out. When I approached, the door slammed shut. “What…?” I turned my question on the eunuch. “Why can’t I go in?”
Ashpenaz grimaced. “That’s not your chamber. You serve Belteshazzar.”
“Not my cham—?” Before I could say more, the eunuch pointed to the third room.
“Not that it’s any of your concern,” he said, “but I did keep Meshach and Abednego together in the room closest to their brother.” He opened the door and I peered inside. Two straw-stuffed mattresses and one reed mat.
The realization came with sickening clarity. Daniel and Hananiah wouldn’t share the first chamber. They wouldn’t take turns on the soft mattress. “Tell me where I am to sleep, Lord Ashpenaz?” For some reason, I needed to hear him say the words.
“By the hair on Marduk’s toes, Wildcat, I showed you Daniel’s cham—”
His suspended rant told me he’d only now comprehended my stupidity. Would I always be so gullible? I couldn’t raise my head and reveal the emotions clawing at my heart. Any sign of compassion from Ashpenaz, and I would dissolve into self-pity. Had I been saved from one Babylonian lord to be forced into the bed of a friend? Was Daniel requesting the same service the Babylonian nobleman tried to steal?
“Little Belili, look at me.” Ashpenaz’s voice was gentle. He didn’t touch or command me.
With a defeated sigh, I swiped at tears and obeyed.
The eyes that met mine were as black as obsidian but as good as rich soil after a soaking rain. “Belteshazzar is a wise young man. You are now his maid, his possession. He may do with you as he pleases—”
I covered a gasp and turned away.
“Look at me, Belili. You must look at me.”
Yahweh, give me strength. Did the God of my ima still hear me? I could see only the mounds of bread in Marduk’s temple, broken pieces like my life in Babylon. But I inhaled a sustaining breath and met the gaze of the man who held my future. “Yes, my lord.”
He nodded with approval. “Though Belteshazzar may do with you as he pleases, I have seen him act with unwavering integrity. I believe he will treat you with respect.”
Obedience was my only option. Perhaps Daniel would be a kinder master than Laqip. Perhaps. I bowed and remained in the submissive pose. “Thank you, Lord Ashpenaz, for rescuing me. I am forever in your debt. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must prepare the chamber for my master’s return.”
I hurried past the eunuch into Daniel’s room and closed the door. Pressing my back against it, I held my breath and listened until his heavy footfalls receded on the tiled balcony and down the stairs. Fear twisted at the center of my chest and kept wringing my insides until my body lay in a heap on the floor. Writhing changed to quiet weeping for the life of a girl once named Abigail.
Dragging myself to the bed, I climbed onto the raised mattress and buried my face in Daniel’s feather-stuffed pillow to muffle my screams. Later, throat raw and body too weak to keep pounding the mattress, I rolled on my back and stared at the ceiling, weeping until exhaustion carried me into darkness.
11
Pharaoh said to Joseph, “I had a dream, and no one can interpret it. But I have heard it said of you that when you hear a dream you can interpret it.”
“I cannot do it,” Joseph replied to Pharaoh, “but God will give Pharaoh the answer he desires.”
—GENESIS 41:15–16
I woke in a strange room, and terror stole my breath. A moment later, memories of the day’s attack at the Esagila rushed back like a river released from a dam. Ashpenaz had arrived in time to save my honor. To bring me here, to Daniel’s room—where I would lose it. My throat burned with the irony of it. Did Yahweh see me? Did He even exist? Or had the stories been pretty little bedtime stories Ima told me when I was young to soothe my nighttime fears?
Ima. Would she have sent me away if she’d known I would go to a land where Yahweh was silent?
Daniel’s room glowed in the haze of dusk. He would surely be back soon. The thought both pleased and terrified me. Would he still be my kind and inquisitive friend? The gentle protector I’d come to know on our long journey? My heart ached at the alternative.
I scooted off the bed and set the washbasin on the floor. I moved the three-legged table to the single window and stood on it to glimpse the setting sun. The city below was still buzzing with Akitu revelers. A few market booths near the palace had begun folding their canopies, sunset marking the end of Babylon’s greatest annual feast and the second worst day of my life.
Cleanup had already begun along the Processional Way. Servants and slaves of all sizes, shapes, and colors worked under the watchful eyes of Babylonian masters with whips in hand. Were some of those who marched from Judah in the sorry lot below? Probably.
My stomach grumbled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since the night before. Daniel’s evening meal hadn’t yet arrived from the palace—nor mine. Ashpenaz hadn’t mentioned my provisions, and I didn’t dare venture from the chamber with drunken Akitu revelers still in the streets.
I climbed off the table, determined to forage for a morsel of bread or dried grain. One large basket in the corner held the contents I expected: extra linens and winter tunics. But the second was filled with scrolls, loosely tied with leather strings. Though I couldn’t read, I’d always been fascinated by the scrolls I’d seen in King Jehoiakim’s chamber. As if handling a thin-shelled egg, I carefully lifted one scroll from the basket and pinched the string between two fingers. Gently tugging, I—
“Abigail!”
“Ah!” I dropped the scroll and fell to my knees, hands stretched overhead in the familiar pose. “Forgive me! I can’t even read. I’ll never do it again. I promise.” Heart pounding, breath ragged, I covered my head when he neared, bracing for whatever blow might come.
A moment’s hesitation, and then his hand caressed my hair. “It’s just a scroll, Abigail.”
No, Yahweh. Please, no. I hadn’t known until I saw him which would be harder to bear, his violence or his violation. His anger I could forgive. “Please, Daniel. Don’t—”
Thundering footsteps stole my attention, invading the room, and then a shrill voice. “Abigail, you’re back!” Two bodies piled on top of my penitent pose and then rolled off, wrestling each other to their feet.
I stood too, straightening my hair and tunic, but kept my head bowed to avoid Daniel’s gaze. He stood behind me, and I faced the twins.
“You’ve changed, Abigail.” Azariah grabbed my hand. “You’re really pretty.” Mishael elbowed his ribs about the time Hananiah arrived at the doorway. A dark-skinned girl, not much older than me, stood beside the oldest of the brothers, her gray eyes inquisitive but cautious.
Still not ready to face Daniel, I asked Azariah, “How do you like your classes?”
“We get to look at sheep guts and use fancy gadgets to look at the stars.”
“I’m better at star gazing.” Mishael, the quiet one, puffed out his chest. “But Dan—I mean, Belteshazzar—is better than anyone at dreams.”
“Dreams?” I asked Hananiah instead of Daniel. “What does he mean, ‘better at dreams’?”
The oldest brother shot a grin at his friend. “It seems Belteshazzar inherited our ancestor Joseph’s gift. Remember the ancient stories of Jacob’s son Joseph, who interpreted Pharaoh’s dreams? Belteshazzar spends a few moments in prayer each day and then explains to diviners and magicians the dreams they bring to class.”
I turned on the only one I had yet to face and felt a strange sense of betrayal. “You’re practicing sorcery?”
Daniel winced as if I’d slapped him but stood silent, staring at me with those penetrating eyes completely unshuttered. I’d wounded him deeply.
The twins scurried toward the door, and their maid followed.
Hananiah shooed the twins out the door, but I reached for them like
a soldier for his shield. “Please, don’t go.”
The oldest stopped at the doorway. “It’s as if you don’t remember us at all, Abigail. How could you think Daniel would practice sorcery?” And then he was gone.
Fear sent my knees to the floor and my face to the tiles. “Forgive me, Lord Belteshazzar. Please, please don’t send me back to the Esagila.” My throat tightened, cutting short my pleas, but I would do anything—yes, anything—to stay here. Body trembling, I hardened my heart for what must come next.
I heard the disturbance of Daniel’s straw mattress. He was waiting for me to join him. I sat back on my knees and, without looking up, wiped my face on my sleeve.
I’d taken only two steps before Daniel stopped me. “Go sit on your mat, Abigail. You are never to sit with me on my mattress. This is my space, and the reed mat is yours.” I glanced up then, testing what I’d heard. His handsome face was weary and sad. “Whatever you learned in the Esagila, you will unlearn in my care. You will unlearn fear. You will unlearn distrust. And you will unlearn oppression.”
My feet felt rooted to the floor. Was he tricking me? I looked at the reed mat and then at his basket full of scrolls. I backed away a safe distance before asking. “While I’m unlearning, will you teach me?”
He rewarded me with a grin, looking like the boy I’d met six months ago. “Of course, but let’s start tomorrow. Tonight, we’ll eat our meal, speak of Jerusalem, and remember Yahweh’s faithfulness.”
Still suspicious, I kept my distance as he crossed the room to untie the leather string on the scroll I’d been holding. I lit a lamp, and he began reading, interrupted only by a knock on the door from a palace servant who carried a tray with two bowls of stew on it. One for the royal student Belteshazzar. One for his new maid, Belili.
12
