Of Fire and Lions

by Mesu Andrews

  On his knees, Daniel dropped Jeremiah’s scroll as he lifted his hands and face toward heaven. “Should I have pronounced judgment on King Nabonidus’s cruelty, Lord?” Nebuchadnezzar’s son-in-law had ascended Babylon’s throne through a river of blood, and his son, Belshazzar, had become co-regent in the same manner. Yahweh felt so distant during those years, but in the first and third years of Belshazzar’s reign, the Most High had spoken to Daniel through visions. “Should I have declared the messages to King Belshazzar, Yahweh? Should I declare them to the Medes and Persians?”

  Silence answered, and Daniel relived the staggering exhaustion he’d suffered after the vision came in Belshazzar’s third year. He hadn’t understood the interpretation by the heavenly being named Gabriel, so he’d kept silent, returning quietly to teaching a few students assigned by the king.

  Weeping now, Daniel stretched out on his belly and reached his hands over his head. Was I faithful to You, Yahweh? Have I done all You required of me? Have we, Your people, kept You at the forefront of our minds and hearts while in this foreign land?

  In an overwhelming brokenness of spirit, Daniel cried out to the God of his childhood. The God who had heard his vow in that captive camp in Jerusalem and who knew the deepest longings of his heart: Lord, the great and awesome God, who keeps His covenant of love with those who love Him and keep His commandments, we have sinned and done wrong. We have been wicked and have rebelled; we have turned away from Your commands and laws. We have not listened to Your servants the prophets, who spoke in Your name to our kings, our princes, and our ancestors, and to all the people of the land…

  He had no idea how long he lay there, weeping, calling out, and repenting for himself, his ancestors, and his descendants, when suddenly Gabriel—the man he’d seen in his last vision—appeared before his eyes, saying, “Daniel, as soon as you began to pray, I was dispatched, and I’ve come to give you wisdom and insight because you are highly esteemed.”

  Daniel tried to lift his head but the glory of the messenger’s presence was too great. He could do nothing but listen.

  “Seventy ‘sevens’ are decreed for your people and your holy city to finish transgression, to put an end to sin, to atone for wickedness, to bring in everlasting righteousness, to seal up vision and prophecy, and to anoint the Most Holy Place.”

  Mind reeling, Daniel tried to make sense of it. Was he talking about the length of their exile? Seventy sevens? Were sevens to be considered weeks—seven days? Couldn’t be. Seventy weeks would have lasted barely over a year. He must have meant seventy years—confirming Jeremiah’s earlier prophecy. Anoint the Most Holy Place? Was he talking about a new Temple? Before Daniel could even get excited about the prospect, Gabriel’s words rumbled in his chest once more.

  “From the time the word goes out to restore and rebuild Jerusalem until the Anointed One, the ruler, comes, there will be seven ‘sevens,’ and sixty-two ‘sevens.’ It will be rebuilt with streets and a trench, but in times of trouble. After the sixty-two ‘sevens,’ the Anointed One will be put to death and will have nothing. The people of the ruler who will come will destroy the city and the sanctuary. The end will come like a flood.”

  The messenger poured out more words of war, another covenant, more destruction, and another end to offering and sacrifice in a temple that would be rebuilt. But an abomination would defile it before the final wrath would end it all. Daniel covered his head, mind spinning with such deep and weighty matters.

  By the time he lifted his head, having formed questions about the Anointed One, the sevens, and the identity of the ruler who would destroy a restored temple, Gabriel had vanished. The room was silent. And Jeremiah’s scroll lay open beside him. Daniel was sitting on the floor. Perspiring. Confused. Exhausted.

  But his faith had grown a hundredfold.

  Two things he knew with a certainty that could move a mountain: The Jews’ seventy years in exile was quickly coming to an end, and the returning remnant would rebuild Yahweh’s Temple.

  Remembering what Gabriel said about the power of prayer—“As soon as you began to pray, I was dispatched”—Daniel dropped his face into his hands. He inhaled a fortifying breath and exhaled the power to move the hand of God.

  Yahweh, direct my steps. Give me Your words. And grant me courage to do what I’ve believed impossible since the destruction of Your Temple.

  21

  This is what the LORD, the God of Israel, says: I am about to turn against you the weapons of war that are in your hands, which you are using to fight the king of Babylon and the Babylonians who are outside [Jerusalem’s] wall besieging you….I will strike down those who live in this city—both man and beast—and they will die of a terrible plague.

  —JEREMIAH 21:4, 6

  Babylon

  October 586 BC

  The long, lonely days of Nebuchadnezzar’s war travels sent Queen Amyitis to her homeland each summer, where she could escape Babylon’s heat and enjoy Achmetha’s mountain air. She stayed at her father’s palace, of course, but she spent so much time at our villa that Allamu called her “Auntie,” and we became like sisters. Gadi welcomed our endearing friendship, eager to strengthen his relationship with our king and hear her latest gossip from Babylon’s court.

  When King Nebuchadnezzar’s travels neared their end each autumn, Allamu and I would occasionally return with Amyitis to Babylon. The fall breezes hadn’t yet begun when a Babylonian messenger arrived at our villa, bringing news of her husband’s early arrival and his request for her presence. I’d never seen her so excited, nor had she ever been so persistent about Allamu and me returning to Babylon with her. “You simply must come to discover what great conquest Neb has made.”

  We’d known Jerusalem had been under siege for over a year, so I made every excuse for why I could not accompany her. However, Allamu was relentless, begging to see what Auntie promised would be her husband’s best captive train yet.

  So there we stood, Amyitis, Allamu, and I, on a third-floor balcony of Babylon’s towering palace, the queen pointing out her husband’s valor and eleven-year-old Allamu joining her accolades. I focused on something else in the pathetic Judeans parading before us. Open sores riddled the captives’ bodies, along with blackened lumps and bruises. I’d lived with the Medes’ chief magus, expert in magic and medicine, long enough to recognize the black mark of an angry god.

  Three days later, two eunuchs in the palace reported similar symptoms. They died a few days after, and dozens more fell ill. Nebuchadnezzar barricaded himself in his private chambers, sending Ashpenaz to plead with his magicians, enchanters, sorcerers, and astrologers to find a cure. When many of the wise men also fell ill, rumors spread faster than the plague. Among them rose a general fear that Belteshazzar, chief of the Chaldeans, had cast a spell of vengeance on the city responsible for his people’s destruction.

  “Lord Belteshazzar can’t be trusted.” Amyitis rocked back and forth, rhythmically spinning her wool. “I told Nebuchadnezzar he should cut him into pieces and feed him to the dogs.”

  I remained passive on the stool beside my loom, hiding the screaming fear inside. “A woman’s intuition is not to be ignored, of course, but do you have anything on which to base your suspicions?”

  She set aside her spindle. “Belili! He’s Judean. And he has repeatedly wielded the power of his god.”

  “Has he ever wielded that power to harm the king or this kingdom?” I noted the rising suspicion on her features and wished I could take back the words.

  “Why are you defending him? Don’t tell me he’s charmed you.” She stood and crossed the room in a few long strides, towering over me. “I think he looks rather silly with that light-brown hair oiled and curled like a Babylonian. It’s obvious he’s not one of us.”

  “Need I remind you that you aren’t Babylonian either?”

  She glared at me, trying to remain cross
, but a grin broke her sullen features. “I suppose he isn’t so hard to look at.”

  “I’d say he’s rather handsome.” Why did my heart still flutter when I thought of him?

  She resumed her seat and took up her spindle again. “The only handsome man I trust is Neb.”

  In all my visits to Babylon, I’d been careful to avoid both Daniel and Neb—as she called him. Both reminded me of a life I longed to forget. I worked hard at loving Gadi. He’d treated me like precious pottery during the months I carried our son, but when Allamu was born, my husband refused to let me nurse him. He insisted my body should return to the way it had been as quickly as possible. I lost two babies within the next three years, and though I’d conceived Allamu easily, I worried the herbal packs I’d used as a priestess to block conception somehow damaged me internally. Gadi suggested we sleep in separate chambers until I’d fully recovered. That had been seven years ago. Now he visited the temple to sate his desires.

  “Belili!” Amyitis’s strained voice wrenched me from my thoughts. Allamu stood in the doorway. Face crimson. Covered in sores.

  I leapt to my feet, toppling over my stool, and covered the distance in two strides. “Is your throat sore?” I tried to lift his arm. “Do you have lumps under your arms or in your groin?”

  He shoved me away weakly. “Mother, I’m eleven. I’m not a child.”

  “You’re my child!” I grabbed his elbow to lead him to our chamber, but he cried out in pain. I scooted up the sleeve of his robe and found more sores and a large lump under his arm.

  Amyitis stood frozen in the doorway, her eyes flooding. “He’s going to be fine. Take him to your chamber. I’ll send the king’s physician.”

  I could only nod, my throat too tight to speak. Why had I brought him to Babylon? I hadn’t wanted to come, but I’d bowed to Amyitis’s pleading, and Gadi hadn’t dared deny the queen. I thought a long journey with Allamu would strengthen our bond and perhaps loosen the stranglehold Gadi kept around his heart. I led my man-child to our chamber, heat emanating through his Egyptian linen robe. He was warmer than if I’d wrapped him in three woolen blankets, his cheeks redder than Judah’s finest wine.

  “I want Father.” His eyes rolled back, and he fell against me.

  I heard footsteps behind us as we entered our chamber. Marching footsteps. I turned to see a contingent of guards, the royal physician leading them. They stopped ten paces from us. “Queen Amyitis sends her regrets. King Nebuchadnezzar has commanded all those showing symptoms of the gods’ judgment to evacuate the palace complex immediately.”

  I took a step across the threshold into our chamber. “We’ll stay inside our room. It’s on the opposite side of the palace from the king’s—”

  “I’m sorry, Mistress Belili, but the king made it quite clear. No one is allowed to stay on palace grounds if they show a single symptom of the plague, and, um…your son…”

  “My son is sick! You can’t possibly expect a sick child to—”

  “Not I, Mistress Belili. The king.” The physician stepped aside and swept his hand into the hallway as if I’d forgotten where to exit. The guards placed their hands on their swords. What was I? An assassin with a hidden dagger?

  Mind reeling, I tried to think of any other shelter, but who would take in a plague-ridden boy? Amyitis, my dearest friend, was abandoning me, allowing her brute of a husband to displace my son when he was weak and dying. A fiery ball of fury rose in the pit of my belly. “At least let me gather our belongings.”

  “Of course.”

  The men stood there and watched me while I lowered my son onto a couch, stuffed our personal items into a shoulder bag, and considered the God I no longer knew. The God who could accept a bite of bread and still restore the loaf to wholeness. The God who stood inside a furnace and kept three men from burning. That God could heal my son’s burning plague. But that God would never hear my prayers. Not anymore. Not after what I’d done. To eat. To live. To survive. But if Daniel asked, Yahweh would surely answer. Daniel was worthy. He was good.

  Resolve filled me. I must find my old friend.

  “Father? Father, I’m thirsty.” My son reached into the air, delirious with fever.

  Marching over to the physician, I spit in his face and then offered him a linen cloth. “Only a peasant would leave a man in his humiliation, but a noblewoman offers escape.” I glared at each of the guards. “Which of you will escape the disgrace of leaving a nobleman’s wife and son homeless? Who will carry my son to Lord Belteshazzar’s villa for me? I would hate to see all of you fall under his displeasure.”

  Less than a heartbeat passed before one of the eunuchs stepped forward. “I will carry your son to Lord Belteshazzar’s villa, Mistress.” He lowered his voice, leaning close as the other guards melted away. “Lord Belteshazzar’s wife fell ill a few days ago. Are you certain he’ll receive you?”

  White-hot terror shot through me. How could his wife be sick when Yahweh always blessed Daniel? “Lord Belteshazzar and I are old friends. We’ll help each other care for those we love.” He accepted my word without hesitation, lifting my baby’s limp frame into his arms.

  Allamu touched the man’s face, calming some. “Father, you’re here.”

  “Go. Hurry!” I prodded the eunuch through the palace halls and out the south gate. I followed him through narrow streets lined with villas, still on palace grounds but outside the king’s family residences.

  Please, Yahweh! You must hear Daniel’s prayers. You must.

  We turned right on the first street and followed it to the end, arriving at the largest villa situated directly on the canal. I lifted the heavy iron ring on the courtyard gate and let it fall. Again and again until finally a servant girl opened the gate only a crack. “I’m sorry. My master isn’t receiving guests.”

  She started to close the gate, but I lodged my sandal against it. “Your master must see me.”

  I pushed past her, and the eunuch followed through the weaving path of the expansive courtyard as I shouted, “Daniel! Daniel, it’s Belili. I need you.”

  The girl chased me. “Please, Mistress. You must leave. My master cannot be disturbed.” Ignoring her, we veered left and found an empty dining hall with a stairway leading to a balcony. “No, stop!” She blocked my path to the stairway. “My mistress is dying.”

  I stared at the girl, and up the long stairway, and then back at my son. I was sorry about Daniel’s wife, but only Yahweh could heal Allamu—and only Daniel could reach the God of my childhood.

  I shoved the girl aside and hurried up the stairs, shouting, “Daniel? Daniel, it’s Belili. I’m sorry to bother you, but my son is—”

  A chamber door opened as I hurried down the hall, and Daniel appeared. Startled at first, he looked at me as if dreaming. I walked over and stood before him, silent. Would he command me out of his home?

  His face twisted in grief, and he fell into my arms. Broken. Sobbing. “She’s gone, Abigail. My Zakiti is gone.” His weight nearly pressed me to the floor, so I guided him to a nearby stone bench. Still he held me, his shoulders heaving.

  I looked beyond him and saw the girl showing the eunuch into a neighboring chamber. Had Allamu heard Daniel use my Hebrew name? My son was delirious. Surely he didn’t hear. Wouldn’t notice. The eunuch kicked the door closed behind him, and I knew my son could rest while I sat with my friend. I cried with him, remembering the breadmaker’s daughter who had been my friend. I cried for Daniel’s loss, for the woman he loved. But I also cried for the years stolen from us. Most of all, I cried for my son. If Yahweh wouldn’t heal Zakiti, would He heal Allamu?

  I don’t know how long we wept in each other’s arms, but I lifted my head when someone emerged from Daniel’s chamber. Daniel, too, sat up and turned toward a dark-haired woman, her face tear streaked with grief.

  Her eyes stole my breath. “Mert?” The name escaped on
a whisper. “Is it you?”

  The brave girl who had saved me from the assassin was now a woman with the same winter-gray eyes. Recognition softened the grief on her features. “Hello, Abigail.” She arched a single brow. “Or should I greet Mistress Belili?”

  “Both of you, please, call me Belili. My son, Allamu, doesn’t know I’m Hebrew.”

  Daniel stiffened. “How will you explain our…friendship?”

  I heard a sharpness in his tone, but when I looked into his face, there was only disappointment. How I wished for anger instead. “I’ll tell him we met years ago because you and Gadi share the same craft. It’s the truth.”

  “Gadi teaches incantations and magic, Belili. I interpret dreams through Yahweh’s power alone, and we heal with herbs. I’ve never trained Chaldeans to use incantations or magic.”

  I turned away, ignoring the subject on which my husband and Daniel always disagreed. Noticing a washbasin and dirty rags in Mert’s hands, I fairly leapt from the bench and reached for the basin. “Here, let me help—”

  Mert jumped back like a skittish colt, the fear in her eyes palpable. I stood in the tension, wishing I knew what had changed my champion—yet thankful I didn’t.

  “I don’t need help,” she said. Looking at Daniel, she added, “I’ve washed and wrapped Mistress Zakiti’s body for burial. I’ll be in my chamber if you need anything else.” She hurried down the stairs and disappeared into a chamber immediately on the right.

  “I found her in the slave market one day.” Daniel’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Zakiti was as pleased as I to give Mert a place in our home. We hoped to make her a member of the family, but she insisted on becoming Zakiti’s personal maid. They’ve been together for nearly seven years now.” He dropped his face into his hands and then scrubbed it, leaving his beard askew. He looked up, eyes red and swollen. “Why are you here, Belili?”