Of Fire and Lions

by Mesu Andrews

  Abednego missed the connection. “Good! Daniel will hear the news too.”

  But Shadrach rushed his brothers into Meshach’s room. “Gula, prepare the boys quickly.”

  Gula cast a sympathetic glance in my direction before following the boys inside and closing the door.

  Mert stood behind Shadrach, her eyes downcast. Her future had been shaken by today’s events too. Would Shadrach take her with him when he was reassigned to another province? Or would they separate at the end of the boys’ training?

  “Daniel loves you, Abigail.” Shadrach’s affirmation surprised me.

  “He told you?”

  “He’s not afraid or ashamed to declare it. If he can refuse the betrothal, he will. My brothers and I will lend whatever support we can tonight at dinner. Try not to worry.” He offered a less-than-inspiring smile and disappeared with Mert into his chamber, leaving me standing alone in the hall.

  My sorrow instantly turned to anger. If he can refuse the betrothal? Daniel was a nobleman now, ruler of Babylon. Not just a Hebrew boy in training. Of course he could refuse the betrothal. He would rule the wise men soon—including Rubati’s father.

  Fuming, I stomped back to Daniel’s chamber and slammed the door, ignoring the sounds of the boys’ hurried departure. Mert tapped on my door. I sat on the bed, arms folded, pouting and silent.

  The door opened slowly, and my friend’s lovely dark face peeked around it. I dared not speak, lest I completely lose control of my emotions. Mert slipped through the door and joined me on the bed. “I wish Shadrach loved me as Daniel loves you.” She reached for my hand and stared at some nondescript spot on the wall. “When Shadrach came back to our chamber wearing the linen robe and jewels, he spoke of joining the royal house of eunuchs to secure the king’s protection for himself and the twins.”

  “Mert, no!” I pulled her around to face me. “It’s an abomination for a Hebrew man to do such a thing.”

  Her eyes glistened. “Which is worse? Becoming a eunuch or loving an Egyptian chambermaid?”

  I stumbled over the question, seeing my friend with new eyes. Of course, I had known she was Egyptian when she shared her story on the day we met, but now I saw her as a woman. “It is worst of all,” I answered, “to love and never share it.”

  Beautiful and exotic, Mert’s stunning gray eyes, short-cropped hair, and lithe form made her alluring in a way I could only imagine. But to my knowledge, Shadrach had treated her with only respect and dignity—showing not a shred of emotion. Neither had he taught her to read or write. Mert spent her evenings seated outside his chamber, carding and spinning wool, while Shadrach quizzed his brothers on their studies.

  “Have you ever hinted at your feelings for him?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course not!”

  “Why not be the first to risk your heart if the alternative is to be separated forever?”

  Another knock on the door saved Mert from answering my question, and Gula peeked in. “May I join you?”

  “Of course.” Mert waved her over to join us on the bed and then glared at me with a silent warning. I understood and would keep her secret safe.

  Chattering like sparrows, we talked until our stomachs protested. “Has the palace kitchen canceled all our meals since our masters are dining elsewhere?”

  “I’ll go find out.” Mert scooted off the bed, but Gula halted her.

  “No, let me.” She was off the bed and at the door before Mert could argue. “I know the cook. Maybe I can get some leftovers from the king’s table.” She rushed out the door and slammed it behind her.

  Mert scrunched her face. “Why wouldn’t a friend of the palace cook serve a tidy princess? Why clean up after messy Hebrew twins?”

  I shrugged, thinking of a hundred easier jobs Gula could get with a friend in the palace, but I was far more interested in our conversation about Mert’s heart. “Why wouldn’t a smart Hebrew prince marry his lovely Egyptian maid?”

  My question was equally absurd, and we must have realized the gap in my reasoning at the same time. We both spiraled into full-bellied laughter. I’d never seen my friend so hysterical. In that moment we became two silly girls without a care in the world. When our joy wound down like a spool of thread, we wiped away tears in a pleasant silence.

  Suddenly, Mert pressed a finger to my lips and hers in warning. I hadn’t heard anything, but she slid off the bed without making a sound. Her bare feet massaged the floor, and she pressed her ear against the door.

  Still, I heard nothing. “It’s probably one of the other maids. They’re starving too.”

  “Shhh!” Mert waved away my noise. Listening again. She rushed back to me and hauled me off the bed like a sack of grain and shoved me to the floor. “A maid doesn’t wear sandals. Get under the bed and stay quiet.” She pulled a dagger from a leather sheath strapped to her thigh, and I realized Mert was not a simple chambermaid.

  I sat beside the bed, shocked and confused at my friend’s sudden skill. “Where did you get—”

  “Shut up and get under the bed. Now!” She shoved my shoulders to the floor, pushed me beneath the raised mattress, and moved like a desert cat toward the door. Finally, I heard the faint scrape of a sandal approaching. I almost shouted at her to come away. All four of our boys wore sandals now. What if she sliced their throats by mistake?

  My enigmatic friend grabbed a towel, covered the dagger, and waited.

  A heavy knock sounded. “I have a message for the handmaid Belili, from her master, Lord Belteshazzar.”

  Hidden by overhanging covers, I watched as she opened the door and a strange guard appeared. He spoke too quietly for me to hear, towering over Mert, and then tried to step past her. The moments that followed were a blur of confusion and horror. I knew it had been Mert’s quickness that surprised him because when the guard fell beside the bed, I saw life drain from his shocked face.

  “Belili, hurry!” Mert whispered sharply. “There could be others on their way.” She struggled to scoot the heavy guard aside so I could squeeze around him from beneath the bed.

  I tried to avoid the pooling blood, but some of it stained the front of my robe as I crawled around him. Trying to wipe it away, I began to cry and tremble, my hands now coated with blood. Standing beside the man’s body, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t look away from his wide eyes and gaping mouth, frozen in death with the same surprise I’d seen in his last moments. “Look what you did, Mert! Look…”

  She rushed to the doorway and glanced up and down the hallway. “Hurry!”

  I trembled violently, black spots threatened my vision, and I retched on the floor. Mert grabbed my arms and shook me, her gray eyes glistening. “We don’t have time to be frightened or think about what happened—not if we want to live.” She swiped fiercely at a traitorous tear, then dragged me into the hall.

  I followed her down the stairs, and then we hesitated before exiting the iron gate. She looked both directions down the darkened street and walked at the pace of a chariot race, whispering more to herself than to me, “Gula must have sent the assassin when she went to the palace for our meal. I knew there was something suspicious about her.”

  The notion jolted me. “Why would Gula want to kill me?”

  Mert pushed me into a dark alley. “It wasn’t Gula. She worked for someone very powerful.”

  Stunned, I was certain Mert had lost her mind. “No one cares about a simple Hebrew maid.”

  “Are you really so blind, Belili? Daniel has never hidden his feelings for you, and King Nebuchadnezzar wouldn’t want his chief wise man to marry his maid.”

  I felt another gorge rise in my throat but swallowed it down, forcing myself to think instead of react. “Ashpenaz warned I’d be attacked tonight. He knew.”

  Mert’s hands went to her hips. “And you’re just mentioning this now?”

  Why h
adn’t I believed him? I’d placed Mert and myself in danger with my stupidity. “I’m sorry, Mert. I couldn’t imagine why anyone would try to harm me.”

  Moonlight reflected the sadness in her eyes. “Belili, King Nebuchadnezzar will ensure his governor of Chaldeans marries a woman who represents the elegance and culture of Babylon’s finest society. Ordering your death was like swatting a fly.”

  Her worldy wisdom shocked me. “How do you know this?”

  “My mother was beautiful—like you. She was a fly in the court of King Nebuchadnezzar’s father.” She lifted the bloody dagger. “I’ve carried her dagger ever since he decided she was a pest to be destroyed. When I took it from her lifeless body, I vowed to kill or be killed before I became a fly to any king or nobleman.”

  “Oh, Mert, I’m sorry.” I squeezed her hand, terror seeping into me. “What should we do now? If the threat came from the king, who can help us?”

  “What about Ashpenaz?” Mert asked. “If he warned you about the attack, perhaps he would be willing to help.”

  * * *

  We found Ashpenaz sitting on a cushion in his chamber, bent over a wax tablet with a stylus. “Since you’re still alive, come in and close the door.” He did not turn to greet us. “Do you believe me now, little Belili?”

  My cheeks warmed. “Yes, Lord Ashpenaz. I’m sorry. I…Mert protected me, and…” Emotion strangled me. I dared not cry and let him think I’d come for sympathy. “We seek your wisdom…and protection.”

  “Ha!” He turned slowly, a sneer on his face, but jumped to his feet at the sight of my bloody robe. “Are you injured, Belili?” He inspected my arms, turning me side to side like a fussy mother hen.

  “I’m all right. Mert protected me.”

  “Of course she protected you.” He heaved a sigh, seeming satisfied I was unharmed. “She wields her mother’s dagger as if it’s a spoon in her gruel. I placed her with the four most talented Hebrew boys, certain they’d need her protection from jealous classmates or bigoted councilmen.” His eyes lingered on me, his features softening. “I never imagined the trouble would fall on you, Wildcat.” He cleared his throat, leaving the room in stillness.

  What a puzzle he was, this roaring lion with a heart of gold. I reached for Mert’s hand and knew we would be all right. Ashpenaz would protect us. He would find a way.

  Even as the thought crossed my mind, he spoke, all tenderness gone. “You must leave Babylon tonight, Belili. I will send you with two eunuchs—men I trust—who will deliver you to a safe destination that even I won’t know.”

  Mert’s hand tightened around mine. “Surely Mert could come with me. She’s—”

  “No.” He looked at Mert. “Go. Now.”

  She bowed and left without a word. No argument. No pleading. No goodbye.

  I was alone again. “How long before I can return to Babylon?”

  Ashpenaz clenched his teeth and then turned his back on me. He reached for a piece of parchment and began writing what I assumed were orders for my escort. “You will never return to Babylon.”

  * * *

  At Lord Laqip’s villa a servant escorted Daniel into the library, where scrolls filled three walls of floor-to-ceiling shelves and astrological diagrams covered every visible surface of a large wooden table. Daniel had nearly memorized one of the maps by the time a servant arrived, carrying a tray of delicacies and two goblets of wine. Laqip followed her with a six-month betrothal contract for Daniel to sign. “I see no reason to delay when my daughter is in love,” he said, scooting the food and wine aside to offer Daniel quill and ink.

  Stunned to silence, Daniel was forming his tactful refusal when a second servant ushered in his friends, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. It took only a moment before he realized Laqip had invited them to celebrate a betrothal to which Daniel had not yet agreed.

  “Excuse me, Lord Laqip,” Daniel said. “I’m deeply honored you would consider me worthy to join your family, and I am very fond of Rubati; however, I cannot marry your daughter.” He bowed in the awkward silence and rose to find the man’s smile unaffected.

  “It’s been an eventful day, Belteshazzar, and I shouldn’t have broached the subject this evening. Let’s enjoy our meal together, and we’ll talk of the future later.” He rolled up the betrothal contract, placing it back in its leather binder, and tucked it away on a shelf. “Come. Let’s eat.” He motioned toward the courtyard.

  “No, Lord Laqip.” Daniel wouldn’t be cajoled. “Now or later, my answer will be the same. I love another, and it would be unfair to Rubati to marry her. I’m sorry.” Offering a perfunctory bow, he spun on his heel and fled the villa.

  Letting the cool evening air fill his lungs and clear his head, he took long, quick strides, hoping to return to his room in time to eat the evening meal with Abigail. Perhaps now that he was governor of the Chaldeans, he could eat every meal with her. Once they were betrothed, however, she’d need to sleep in another chamber until they married.

  The thought brought a smile, and his shoulders relaxed. His strides slowed, and he breathed deeply of the Babylonian life Yahweh had given him. Abigail would be his wife when his training concluded in less than twelve months, and he would be assigned a villa on palace grounds—perhaps one as splendid as Laqip’s. Abigail would become the mistress of her own household. She would miss Mert, of course, and he would miss his three best friends. But he would assign them as governors over nearby provinces, and as governor of the Chaldeans, he would also have authority to place other Judean friends in key positions throughout Babylon. His sacrifices had been worth it. Leaving Jerusalem. Relinquishing worship in Yahweh’s Temple for seventy years. Never seeing his family again. Thank You, Yahweh, for blessing our lives here.

  As he approached their villa, he noticed his window was dark. Odd. He walked through the garden and entered the courtyard, where his other Judean friends were just sitting down to their evening meal. Their maids served bowls of stew with bread and cheese, but Mert, Gula, and Abigail weren’t among them.

  Daniel waved off invitations to join the meal, a sense of dread beginning to stir as he jogged up the stairs. Shadrach and the twins were still at Laqip’s, but he knocked on both doors to rouse one of their maids. No answer. He moved to his door, which was slightly ajar, the interior dark. He hesitated at the threshold. Perhaps Abigail was ill and the other two girls had gone for help. Heart beating faster, he pushed the door open, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light of the moon through the single window.

  “Abigail?” No answer. Feeling his way along the wall at his left, he came to the shelf where she kept the lamp and flint stones. Striking the stones together, he lit the wick and lifted the clay lamp to disperse the light. Their small table was knocked over, their cushions askew. When he stepped toward the bed, he noticed something spilled on the floor. Something…red. “Nooo!” Terror drove him to his knees, hovering over the smeared pool of blood. He lowered trembling fingers but couldn’t touch it. Was it Abigail’s or someone else’s?

  “Belteshazzar, what—” Friends from downstairs huddled at the door.

  Gasps and whispers grated at raw nerves. “Get Ashpenaz!” He fell against the bed, staring at proof of something despicable. Then searched the faces of those at the door. “Have you seen Abigail or Mert or Gula? Did you hear anything?”

  “Tonight’s meal was late,” one of them said. “We thought it was some sort of punishment or test. When I sent my maid to ask you or Shadrach about it, she said this side of the villa was empty.”

  Daniel’s mind whirred with frightening possibilities. If someone purposely delayed tonight’s meal to keep the young nobles in their rooms, the attack was coordinated by someone at the palace—or someone with power over the palace.

  “Take your meals and eat them in your rooms tonight.” Daniel stood, careful to avoid the blood. “No matter what you hear, don’t come out of you
r chambers. If anyone asks you later, tell them you saw nothing tonight.” The frightened eyes of his friends mirrored Daniel’s mounting suspicions. “Go!”

  Students and maids hurried down the stairs, gathered their food, and disappeared into their chambers, the last door closing only moments before Ashpenaz rushed into the villa with a contingent of palace guards. “Have you been harmed, Lord Belteshazzar?”

  “No, I left Laqip’s home early and returned to this.” He pointed at the pool of blood, and the eunuch squinted—as if it were difficult to see a stain the size of a goat. In that moment, Daniel knew the chief eunuch was involved, and if Daniel had been equal in size and stature, he would have killed him. “Send your men outside, Ashpenaz. We will speak in private.”

  His thin brows arched, and he nodded permission to his men. They retreated to the balcony, closing the door behind them.

  Daniel flew at him furiously, fists aimed for the eunuch’s face, but the bigger man effortlessly deflected every blow. Growling, kicking, crying, hitting, Daniel exhausted himself in futile rage. His body spent, he sagged against the wall and slid to the floor, covering his face and sobbing like a maiden. “Did you kill her?”

  “She’s not dead.”

  Like a clanging cymbal, the three words brought his head up. “What? Where is she?”

  He held Daniel’s gaze. “I do not know, my lord, where she was taken.” Carefully chosen words. Ashpenaz was telling the truth.

  “Whose blood is this?”

  “No one of import, my lord.”

  Daniel stared into the cold eyes of truth and felt the utter helplessness of captivity. He would never know what happened in his chamber tonight. Releasing a frustrated groan, he curled into a ball and turned away from his tormentor. “Leave me, Ashpenaz.”

  “I’m sorry, my lord, but King Nebuchadnezzar has summoned you.”

  He closed his eyes and fought back tears. He was too old to cry and wise enough to know that tonight was the king’s doing. Rubati’s betrothal. Abigail’s disappearance. How could a king who had praised Daniel—and his God—this morning carry out such a despicable plan tonight?