by Mesu Andrews
I opened my eyes and drowned in his. I longed to be held in his arms, to feel the security of a man who loved me and cared deeply for my welfare. I was tired of being strong, but I couldn’t betray my son. He’d never forgive me if I took him away from the Magoi tribe and his dream for the future.
“Perhaps when you return in the spring, you’ll visit Allamu and me.” Even as I said it, I knew we wouldn’t survive.
Daniel dropped his hands and stepped back, hurt etched on his features. “You and Allamu will die if you stay in Achmetha. Don’t be foolish.”
I stared at my trembling hands. Daniel wrapped his warm cloak around me and pulled it closed at my neck, drawing me near. My heart warred with my mind as I stared into his warm brown eyes. Daniel was my survival. But was I betraying my son? The promise of becoming chief magus coursed through his veins. Riding away with Daniel would answer my deepest longings—and shatter my son’s life and dreams.
In the warmth and safety of Daniel’s presence, I betrayed my own heart to search for a way to keep Allamu in Achmetha. “Will you allow me to speak with Astyages before I give you my answer?” With furrowed brow, he nodded and released me.
I knocked on my chamber door. “Allamu, it’s safe. A contingent has come from Babylon on palace business, and Lord Belteshazzar has come to see if we’re safe—”
The door flung open, and Allamu fairly leapt into Daniel’s arms. “I knew Mithra would answer my prayers.” He looked up at Daniel. “You must help me speak to my father. I have so many questions now that he’s crossed over. And I miss him.” His voice cracked, and he buried his head against my friend’s chest.
Panic gripped me. I’d warned Allamu of Lord Belteshazzar’s strict adherence to the Hebrew God, so he’d kept silent about his priestly training when we were in Babylon. But now? I pulled Allamu from Daniel’s embrace. “Lord Belteshazzar must return to the palace, Son.”
But Daniel reached for him again. “I have time, Belili. You go. I’ll stay and talk with the boy.”
They stood arm in arm, and I felt the familiar sting of exclusion. Could I trust an eleven-year-old boy to keep the one secret that could make Daniel rescind his offer?
“Very well, but Allamu…” I waited for my son to meet my gaze. “No more talk of Mithra. Do you hear me? You must show respect for Lord Belteshazzar and his God.”
The spark in his eyes dimmed. “Yes, Mother.”
23
You shall have no other gods before me.
—EXODUS 20:3
I rushed into the wintry day with only determination to keep me warm. The cold air cleared my head and gave me the words to speak. Astyages was a hard man but loved his daughter with a loyalty every bit as ferocious as mine for my son. Because Amyitis was my dearest friend, Astyages had grown fond of me, and I had no doubt he’d grant anything I asked—if it was within his power.
Approaching the palace entrance, I saw only one Median soldier joined by a Babylonian eunuch. The Mede nodded and stepped aside. The eunuch blocked my way. “No one enters the palace unless escorted by an official.”
I let my eyes singe his face before I spoke a word. “Would you rather me tell King Astyages or Lord Belteshazzar you refused the chief magus’s widow entry? Both will have you impaled by midday.”
His bluster died with his bow. “Forgive me, my lady.”
I charged past him and ran to the throne room, my emotions too raw to manage any more confrontations. Thankfully, the guards at those doors recognized me and flung open the doors at my approach. Only a dozen gathered around the throne where Astyages sat, head buried in his hands. He looked up, startled, when I rushed in.
“I apologize, my king.” Dropping to my knees, I regretted my bold entrance. “May I approach your highness?”
“Lady Belili, this is a most unexpected visit.” Silence stretched to awkwardness, but I would not reveal my purpose until I could look him in the eye. “Rise and approach, my dear.”
Relief washed over me, nearly loosing the tears I’d contained for days. I must present my proposal with logic and tact. The king waved away the men gathered around him, but they hovered like vultures less than two camel lengths from the edge of the dais where I stood.
Astyages studied me, frowning. “You are shivering, woman. Where’s your cloak?” His eyes lit with concern. “Is Allamu sick? Do you need the physician?”
“No, my king. Allamu is healthy and strong. Thank the gods.” I choked back stubborn tears, losing the battle now. “Your kindness overwhelms me, and I can only hope it will extend to my next request.”
He sat straighter, resting his back against the throne, suspicion now clouding his features. “What is it you want, Belili?”
His tone offended. Had I ever asked for anything from him or his daughter? “I need a husband, my king.” I lifted my chin and held his gaze. “Lord Belteshazzar has offered to take Allamu and me back to Babylon and raise my son as his own, but I was certain you would wish to keep the son of Gadi—chief of the Magoi tribe—in Achmetha. I’m willing to marry whomever you choose in order for my son to take his rightful place as chief magus—when his training is complete, of course.”
I saw a hint of amusement on Astyages’s weathered face. He looked ten years older than he had when Amyitis and I left at the first sign of autumn. Perhaps a wedding celebration would help the city’s morale. We wouldn’t need a banquet.
“Go to Babylon, woman. Allamu is safer there.” He leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “And you’re a fool to think the Magoi would wait for your son to take his father’s place. Already, two men have died in the power struggle to replace your husband. Nebuchadnezzar’s governor will train the boy well.”
Too shocked to speak, I bowed and turned to go.
“Belili.” I turned again and found the king standing. “Tell Amyitis her father is well, and tell Nebuchadnezzar I won’t be bullied to make peace with Lydia just because he’s my son-in-law.”
With an uneasy nod, I left the throne room and walked back to my villa. For nearly twenty years I’d dreamed of marrying Daniel ben Johanan—but not like this. Not while my son was in the throes of grief and loss. I lingered in my courtyard, dumping fetid water from jars and surveying the frosty dead plants. Allamu and I were leaving Achmetha. Perhaps we’d return to visit with Amyitis. A cold chill raced through me at the thought. I wanted nothing more to do with the woman who abandoned us during our deepest need.
Standing outside my chamber door, I heard Daniel’s and Allamu’s voices. No words, just low tones of peace and wisdom. I pushed open the door, and they looked up. My expression must have revealed my trepidation, because I now saw it reflected on Allamu’s features.
“What did the king say?”
My son would become a man in less than a year. I must treat him like one. “King Astyages said two men have already died in the battle for succession to chief magus, Allamu. You will not inherit your father’s position, and there is no man in Achmetha who would marry me to secure it for you.”
Daniel’s expression hardened. “You wish to marry another?”
“I was willing to sacrifice my happiness for my son’s, but it appears…” I sniffed back the emotion that threatened to undo me and returned my attention to Allamu. “Lord Belteshazzar has offered to train you in the ways of the Chaldeans and can offer you a respected path in Babylon, and I am honored to become his wife—”
“No!” Allamu leapt off the couch where he sat with Daniel. “I’m not going to Babylon. I’ll stay with the Magoi. They can teach me.”
Daniel stood and started to address my son, but I interrupted. “Lord Belteshazzar, thank you for speaking with Allamu while I was tending to other matters. We’ll be ready to leave at dawn.” I inclined my head and extended my hand to the door.
“Belili, wait,” Daniel said. “We have much to discuss and too little time. If yo
u’re to be my wife before we leave at dawn—”
I placed my hands on his chest and searched the depths of his soul, hoping for more grace. “Please, Lord Belteshazzar, would you allow my son and me to have the journey home to adjust to this decision?”
He glanced at Allamu and back at me. With a single nod, he slipped silently from my chamber.
“I’m not leaving.” Allamu folded his arms across his chest. “You can’t force me.”
“We’re both leaving, and I don’t have to force you. King Astyages commands it—for your safety.” It was almost true. “A Magoi never disobeys his king.”
My son’s swollen eyes filled with tears once more, and I pulled him into my arms. “I’m sorry, my love. My heart breaks with you, but we have no choice.” That, too, was almost true. I was sorry that his dreams had died today and going back to Babylon with Daniel was our only choice for survival. But my heart had begun to mend in the promised light of Daniel’s love. Only one thing could ruin it all.
I braced Allamu’s shoulders and made him look at me. “In a few months’ time, you’ll begin learning the ways of governments and kings. I need you to maintain the secrets entrusted to you by your father—and me. Babylon’s wise men never mix priestly arts with wisdom skills. Lord Belteshazzar knows your father had begun training you in wisdom, so you must never divulge that I was a priestess or that I began your qualification rites.”
“But I heard Father tell Lord Belteshazzar often that combining the sacred and wisdom arts was a good idea and that—”
“Allamu, listen to me!” I didn’t have time to argue. As my mind thrashed for ways to coax an eleven-year-old to give up all he’d dreamed of, my eyes wandered to a small pitcher and clay lamp on my dressing table. I hurriedly snatched up both and pressed them into his hands as if my ordinary pieces were the priestly items awarded to successful initiates. “Your father had hoped to get an authentic pitcher and lamp from the temple when you reached the age of manhood, but since you’ve already completed the first priestly rites, I’ll give these to you now. These can be reminders of all he taught you in the land of the Medes, but allow Lord Belteshazzar to teach you the wisdom of Babylon.”
His back straightened. “I’d rather stay at the temple of Mithra. I’ve seen children working at the temp—”
“No, Allamu!” He had no idea what they did to those children in the temple. “Lord Belteshazzar will teach you many of the things your father planned to show you: literature, politics, medicine, mathematics, astronomy, meteorology, alchemy. With knowledge, you can advise kings and guide nations.” He opened his mouth to argue again, and I lifted my hand to silence him. “Enough. Go pack only what is necessary. You get one bag.”
His lips pursed into a thin white line, and the look in his eyes chilled my blood. He stomped out of the room and slammed the door behind him.
Was Daniel’s love worth my son’s hate? No. But my son’s life was worth everything.
Allamu hid in his chamber for the rest of the day and refused the meal Daniel sent over from the palace. I nibbled at the pistachios, almonds, and dried fruit while scanning my spacious chamber. Nothing felt like mine. The robes, of course, but Daniel had included a scroll with the food, telling me to pack only the clothing we needed for the journey. Everything else would be provided in Babylon. Everything would be provided. The words were like balm to my battered heart, and I sat in the middle of the floor and wept.
* * *
Clouds hung heavy with snow over the mountains that separated Achmetha from Babylon. The customary highway between the capital cities would be impassable this time of year. Nabonidus led us on the longer but safer southern trek, yet we still trudged three days through bitter cold, heavy snow, and howling wind before finally reaching a milder climate.
Allamu lay outside our tent, wrapped in woolen blankets, staring at an inky-black sky, counting his beloved stars. Only two more days and we’d transfer what little supplies were left to boats and sail upriver for five days to Susa. There we could enjoy fresh water, vegetables, and perhaps even a bath.
The escort with Daniel and Nabonidus was over four hundred strong, and the tent for Allamu and me was placed in the center of camp each night when we rested. I’d never felt safer—or more conflicted. Each day of the journey, I yearned more for Daniel’s arms, yet I ached for my son’s forgiveness. He’d barely spoken since leaving Achmetha, and I had no idea how to reach him.
Gadi had managed the discipline when needed, which had been very seldom, since Allamu worshipped his father. I sat at our tent opening watching my pensive boy. Gadi had sown in him a love of the stars and reaped Allamu’s total devotion. Everyone should have at least one love no one could take away. They had each other, and I always had Daniel tucked away in my heart. Death had taken away Allamu’s love. The thought gutted me.
“Are you waiting until we arrive in Susa to marry Lord Belteshazzar?” My son continued counting stars as if he’d asked about weather or the color of a flower. “297, 298, 299, 300.”
“No, actually we’ll marry in Babylon.”
More counting. “301, 302, 303. Do you like Lord Belteshazzar?”
My cheeks warmed. “We’ve been friends a long time.”
“Why are you waiting? 304, 305, 306.”
“I’m wondering the same thing.” Daniel’s voice startled me and brought Allamu to his feet. “Good evening. I’m sorry to interrupt, but I wondered if I could speak with your mother alone.”
He shrugged and laid back down on his mat. “She’s going to be your wife. Do as you please.”
“Allamu!”
Daniel shook his head and offered his hand, ignoring the disrespectful child at my feet. I took his hand and walked with him a few steps before offering my apology. “He’s still angry with me.”
“Grief takes time.” He looked up at the stars, and I knew he thought of Zakiti.
“Is your heart mending?”
A sad smile graced his handsome features. “Your presence helps.” He glanced at me again. “You were partly right when you asked if I’d come to Achmetha because I was lonely. I needed to get out of Babylon, away from the memories.”
He fell silent and led me to a clearing, where a blanket lay on the ground. Torches stationed at each corner stood sentry against wild beasts, and Babylon’s soldiers were no more than a stone’s throw away.
We stopped at the edge of the blanket, and he removed his sandals—and then mine. The tender act brought tears to my eyes. He wiped the moisture from my cheeks and invited me to sit with him on the blanket. He kissed my hand and then cradled it in his. “I had no idea Yahweh would return you to me. You are the single greatest gift of my life, Abigail, but I cannot marry you if you worship Mithra.” His voice broke. “I wanted to ask you during Allamu’s illness, but you were too fragile, and when he recovered, you left so quickly. I…I assumed the reason you wouldn’t pray with me to Yahweh was because you worship Mithra.”
His eyes pleaded with me to answer, but how much should I say? I wanted to tell him the truth—the whole truth. He could forgive me, couldn’t he? But then he tucked a finger under my chin and lifted so that my eyes could meet his. I saw love there. Love. And it swept me into a world in which only we existed. I studied his heavy brows arched above eyes as warm as fresh-baked bread. The noble tilt of his head that framed an enigmatic half smile. And his bottom lip, fuller than the top, now begged me to kiss him. Focused on his mouth, I thought of nothing but him as I leaned slightly forward.
“Abigail.” My name escaped on a moan, and his lips brushed across mine with aching tenderness. I circled his neck with my arms, needing him, wanting him more than my next breath. Our passion deepened, hearts beating as one—as they had been meant to pound since we were young and in love.
“Abigail, wait.” He tugged at my arms. “Wait, my love.” He pulled my arms from his neck and pushed me awa
y. “We can’t. Not here.”
Humiliated, I stood to escape, but he grabbed my hand. “Wait. Please.”
“Don’t call me that.” I kept my head down, eyes averted. “I’ve told you. Allamu doesn’t know I was Hebrew.”
“You’re still Hebrew. It’s not something you can change.” He waited in silence, but I couldn’t look at him, even when he stood. “Forgive me. I won’t lose control again.”
Forgive him? I laughed, the sound cold and brittle. Finally, I looked into the warmth of his familiar brown eyes. I saw no judgment, no revulsion.
He brushed my lips with his thumb. “It’s hard to resist a pleasure we enjoyed in our married lives. I’ll walk you back to your tent.”
I placed my hands against his chest and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek.
“What was that for?” he asked, surprised but pleased.
“Because you are still my Daniel, and I have loved you most of my life.” I turned and ran, unable to bear more unquenched passion. He had more than proven his love in his care for me and my difficult son, who would too soon become a man. How could I live a life of secrets with a man so good?
24
The heart is deceitful above all things
and beyond cure.
Who can understand it?
—JEREMIAH 17:9
Babylon
After a twenty-seven-day journey—on camels, boats, and back on camels again—Nabonidus and Daniel led our caravan into Babylon. No trumpets announced our return this time, nor did crowds sprinkle flowers under our camels’ hooves on the Processional Way. In fact, the plague-depleted city felt like a hollow shell. Half the number of quffas ferried people across Babylon’s canals, and only a third of the market booths were open for trade.
