Of Fire and Lions

by Mesu Andrews

  * * *

  Daniel had descended halfway down the stairs when he saw Allamu flee Mert’s chamber. His stepson wore that expression only when he was angry with his ima. Perhaps this wasn’t the best time to inform his family about the vision, but a sense of urgency compelled him.

  He knocked on the door and heard slight shuffling inside. Mert opened only a crack. “What?”

  She wouldn’t win a prize for respect, but she was more like family than servant. “Tell Belili I’ve had another vision and need to share its message with everyone right away. I’ll send one of the children to assemble the others in the courtyard.”

  “Now?” Her frustration confirmed his suspicions.

  “I saw Allamu leave. Is Belili all right?”

  “She will be.” Mert closed the door.

  Massaging the back of his neck, Daniel determined he and his wife would have a long talk about her son after the family meeting. He found one of his grandsons and sent him to fetch the adults from the second family villa. He then found Shesh, who was reattaching the rope to the bucket above their well.

  “I need to speak with everyone around the table right away,” he said without preamble.

  Shesh set aside his mallet, beads of sweat running into the creases on his forehead. “Did something happen that you couldn’t say in front of Allamu?”

  “No. No. I’ve had a vision, and it affects us all.” He squeezed Shesh’s shoulder.

  “What—”

  “I’ll tell you when everyone arrives. Please. Call everyone to the table.”

  Daniel ambled to the family’s meeting place, using these few moments alone to search his heart before he burdened theirs. He’d known since he was a boy of twelve that he wanted to return to Judah. He’d worshipped in Solomon’s magnificent Temple, eaten grapes from Jerusalem’s palace vineyard, floated while sitting in the Salt Sea, and climbed Mount Hermon. His family had never stepped foot out of Babylon. When he and Abigail had vowed with Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah to return to Jerusalem at the end of Jeremiah’s prophesied seventy years, how could he have known that he’d be responsible for a family of sixty-one people?

  Four daughters, their husbands, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren busied themselves with tasks all around him, trimming scarred trees, repairing damaged furniture, and restoring the many blessings Yahweh had rained down on them during Daniel’s long life in a foreign land. Would the blessings become a millstone around their necks when it came time to return to the true gift of God’s Promised Land?

  He sat down heavily at the head of the first table as Belili emerged from Mert’s chamber. “You’ve had another vision?”

  “Yes, my love. The messenger Gabriel appeared again.”

  She turned a vacant stare to the family streaming into the courtyard, absently working her ruby pendant between two fingers. It was a nervous habit she’d picked up in Achmetha, where he assumed she received the necklace as a gift from Gadi. He never begrudged her the keepsake, but would mementos like these prove to be roots that grounded them in Babylon when Yahweh called them to Jerusalem?

  Their children and grandchildren squeezed around the single table, leaving little ones at rest and play with servants to care for them. Even the question of servants tightened the knot in his gut. Yahweh, will we return to Jerusalem the way the captives came to Babylon—with the clothes on our backs and a bag on our shoulders? Bowing his head, Daniel silently recited the two things of which he’d been so certain after the vision. Yahweh would quickly bring the exile to an end, and the Temple would be rebuilt. I trust You, Yahweh.

  When he lifted his head, everyone had stilled, their attention focused on him. “Thank you for coming so quickly. You know the story of Belili’s and my captivity, how we were taken as children from Jerusalem.” Affirming nods bid him continue. “Shortly before our capture, the prophet Jeremiah prophesied Babylon’s attack and our exile. He also proclaimed the length of exile would be seventy years. When Belili, Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego, and I were faced with leaving God’s holy city, we made a vow to return at the end of the seventy years.”

  Kezia shifted nervously beside Shesh. “I thought you were going to tell us about a vision you had, Abba.”

  “I believe the seventy years was part of this vision, Daughter.” He turned his attention to Shesh. “I picked up one of Jeremiah’s scrolls to show it to Allamu and opened it to the prophecy of seventy years. After he and Belili left our chamber, I was guilt stricken, realizing the ways I’ve failed to serve Yahweh faithfully in my sixty-six years in Babylon.”

  “Abba, no!” Shesh covered Daniel’s hand. “Who in Babylon has been more faithful than you?”

  “Our service to God isn’t about comparing ourself to others, my son. It’s about measuring obedience to our individual calling.” Daniel studied the bewildered expressions on his family’s faces. “I made a vow to return to Jerusalem, but was it based on Yahweh’s will for me or confidence in my own strength and desires?”

  Shesh laced his fingers together, his gaze intent. “Only you can know your own heart, Abba.”

  “And only Yahweh knows who will be among the remnant that returns to Jerusalem to rebuild His Temple in four years.” Daniel returned Shesh’s stare. “I want to lead the remnant, Sheshbezzar, but is it my will or Yahweh’s?”

  Like the calm before a summer storm, Kezia sat silent, her features churning like turbulent clouds. She shot to her feet. “You’re being ridiculous, Abba. Our family is not leaving Babylon.”

  “Wait.” Shesh tried to catch her arm before she rushed away, but couldn’t. Sheepishly, he returned his gaze to Daniel. “What exactly was revealed in your vision, Abba? The seventy years? The rebuilding of the Temple? Did this Gabriel name the leader?”

  “He spoke of seventy sevens,” Daniel said to the group, “confirming Jeremiah’s prophecy that I held in my hand when the vision began. Then he spoke of an Anointed One, the rebuilding of Jerusalem, and of sixty-two ‘sevens’ and seven ‘sevens.’ I believe the sixty-two sevens and seven sevens speak of the period in which we will rebuild the Temple, but I can’t be certain.” He directed his next words to Shesh. “I must confess, Gabriel didn’t specifically name the man who would lead the remnant, but it must be someone with the unwavering respect of the elders.”

  Shesh leaned both elbows on the table, lips pursed tight in thought. The others sat in silence, showing varying levels of trepidation. Daniel felt it too, but he had nearly eighty years of Yahweh’s faithfulness to lean on.

  Belili’s hand slipped into the bend of his elbow, and she asked in a soft whisper, “So you’re sure, then?”

  “Not sure, my love.” He watched quiet questions spread like wildfire over his clan. Fear bred dissension. They needed time to form good questions, and he needed time to ask for Yahweh’s wisdom. “Jeremiah’s scroll also confirmed that the Medes’ invasion was Yahweh’s judgment on Babylon. We don’t yet know the details of the Medes’ rule—how or if they’re in league with Cyrus or fighting against him. Praise be to Yahweh that one of our own family members is among them. Return at dusk for a feast tonight. We’ll discuss these matters with Allamu, and I’ll try to answer your questions about the vision.”

  It seemed to Daniel as if the family released a collective sigh of relief as they pushed away from the table and began to disperse, but Belili’s grip tightened on his arm. “When Allamu left Mert’s chamber, he made it clear he wants no contact with me.”

  He pulled her close to kiss her forehead. “He’s angry still, but I saw longing in him when he realized he had a family, beloved. He’ll come.”

  27

  “Lift up your eyes and look around;

  all your children gather and come to you.

  As surely as I live,” declares the LORD,

  “you will wear them all as ornaments;

  you will
put them on, like a bride.”

  —ISAIAH 49:18

  Belili left the family meeting to tell Mert about the impromptu feast, and Daniel climbed the stairs to continue packing. His wife returned to their chamber with reports of revolt among the servants—led by Mert, of course—at the short notice. They’d have difficulty gathering enough food after last night’s invasion closed the market, but Mert would manage. She’d served more people with less.

  Daniel started packing on his side of the chamber, but everything he placed in a basket, box, or chest, Belili removed. “We don’t need that,” she said. “Only take essential personal items to the new villa.”

  Finally, he sat on his favorite cushion in the corner, realizing he could be most helpful by watching his busy-bee wife buzz around. She was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. At home she wore her hair, now a vibrant silver, in a long, thick braid over her left shoulder. Covering that tender heart she guarded so closely.

  Seeing Allamu this morning had been hard on her, but couldn’t she see Yahweh’s hand in it? The Medes’ invasion. Daniel’s presence at Belshazzar’s banquet. Allamu speaking on his behalf. Daniel’s appointment to the royal council. Shesh finding Jeremiah’s scrolls. The vision. Every moment had been skillfully shaped by the Master Potter. But how would they ever find enough gold, silver, and bronze to fashion the sacred items? Help me trust that You can fulfill every prophecy and vision, Yahweh.

  Inhaling slowly, Daniel stood and approached his wife as if she were a wounded she-bear. “What did Allamu say that has upset you so?”

  She steadied her hands on the sides of the basket. “Nothing he hasn’t said before.” Her quaking voice told him to tread lightly.

  He stood behind her, where contents of the trunk lay strewn like fallen soldiers. Placing a hand on her back, he waited for her to stand and then drew her into a commanding hug. “Enough now. Tell me what’s troubling you.”

  At first tense in his arms, he felt her body soften and then wilt like a flower in autumn’s first frost. “I want my children to know Yahweh. Allamu still trusts Mithra, and our daughters were too angry when we returned from our Borsippa estate to see my new faith. I’ve failed them. I’ve failed to convince the people I love most that Yahweh is real.”

  Daniel smoothed the gray strands out of her eyes and searched the deep lines of worry on her face. “You have not failed, and you can’t convince them. Only Yahweh can work in a heart to help those we love to believe. We must simply love them with an honest and transparent heart.”

  “Honest and transparent?” She pushed Daniel away and started putting away the treasures she’d emptied from the wooden trunk. When she reached for the linen-wrapped bundle, she paused, holding it between them. “To be honest and transparent with our children, you must tell them about our seven years at the Borsippa estate. Are you willing to confess you chose to serve Babylon’s king and queen instead of our own family? Can you share some of the blame our daughters assign to me for abandoning them?”

  Daniel lowered his head, weighed down by the truth of her accusation. His wife shoved the bundle into his hands and began sorting a basket of robes. He unwrapped the linen, revealing Queen Amyitis’s golden crown. She’d given it to them after they returned from seven years of caring for Nebuchadnezzar while Yahweh’s judgment transformed him to a beast. They’d sworn silence, believing Yahweh’s good work in Nebuchadnezzar would continue best if opposing political factions never knew. Daniel had kept that vow until Belshazzar’s banquet—but it was time for secrets to end.

  “Belili.” No answer. “Belili, look at me.”

  She swiped at her eyes and turned with an expression of stone. “What?”

  Yahweh, give me words to draw her close again. He held up the crown. “Tonight we’ll tell our children of Nebuchadnezzar’s transformation—and of yours—while we were in Borsippa. For the first time in our lives, we will share a meal with all our children. A meal without secrets.”

  Something he couldn’t decipher passed over her expression, but she quickly crossed the void between them and threw her arms around his neck. “I love you so much my chest aches.”

  “It’s probably sore muscles from packing all day.”

  She swatted him, and the air between them sweetened. Daniel felt his Abigail return to him. “It’s time for afternoon prayers.”

  Holding his hand, she knelt first and then supported Daniel as he knelt beside her. They always faced Jerusalem, though it was a pile of rubble. In this, at least, Daniel and his wife had always been united.

  28

  [Nebuchadnezzar] said, “Belteshazzar, chief of the magicians, I know that the spirit of the holy gods is in you….These are the visions I saw while lying in bed: I looked, and there before me stood a tree in the middle of the land….The tree grew large and strong and its top touched the sky; it was visible to the ends of the earth….Under it the wild animals found shelter, and the birds lived in its branches; from it every creature was fed.”

  —DANIEL 4:9–12

  April 571 BC

  My youngest three daughters sang David’s psalms like crested larks this morning while the women in our household ground, roasted, and stored the freshly harvested barley Daniel purchased during Babylon’s Akitu festival. But Kezia, our eldest, sulked in the corner alone. All four of the girls’ nursemaids and three kitchen servants scurried about the courtyard, busy with tasks Mert had assigned.

  My old friend elbowed me. “Go talk to Kezia. She’s a young girl in love and needs her ima’s reassurance.”

  “I can’t reassure her until Daniel reassures me.” I hissed the reply and glanced around our little circle, praying my younger girls hadn’t heard me.

  Eva and Eden, our eleven-year-old twins, crooned the joyful litany of Yahweh’s benefits from their favorite psalm, while Gia—age nine—pretended to strum a harp. Normally I would chide them for slacking—they were supposed to be grinding grain for today’s bread—but I was too upset. Why hadn’t Daniel returned from the palace yet?

  Mert stilled my hands on the dough I was kneading. “He’ll return, Belili.” She glanced at the girls and then back at me, speaking so quietly I could barely hear her. “If Nebuchadnezzar wished to kill Daniel, he wouldn’t summon him in the middle of the night to interpret another nightmare. He would simply order his execution.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, remembering the terror on Arioch’s face when Daniel opened our bedchamber door last night. “The king needs you to interpret a vexing nightmare—immediately.”

  Scoffing, Daniel’s eyes narrowed. “King Nebuchadnezzar hasn’t needed me for fifteen years, Arioch. He can wait until morning.”

  He tried to shut the door, but the king’s bodyguard wedged his sandal over the threshold. “Please, Lord Belteshazzar. I’ve never seen him so frightened.”

  Need? Frightened? These weren’t words I’d ever heard as descriptions for the King of the Earth. Daniel hesitated, as if considering the summons. My blood boiled.

  I shoved him, forcing him to face me, and spoke in a strained whisper. “Nebuchadnezzar has avoided you like a leper since he destroyed Jerusalem. Tell him no, Daniel. We’re discussing Kezia’s betrothal and haven’t come to a decision. We promised Sheshbazzar and his abba an answer by morning.”

  His silence and the set of his jaw told me his answer, but words confirmed it. “I should be home before dawn, Belili, and then we can finish our discussion.” His hands slid down my arms, and he lifted my hands to kiss them. He grabbed a rough-spun robe off a peg and was out the door without a backward glance. I wanted to scream.

  By the time dawn’s pink tint softened the eastern sky, fear had mingled its dark possibilities with my seething. Now, at midmorning, I paused my kneading and looked up to see Kezia wiping her tears. I swallowed back my own, fearing
for both our futures if Daniel didn’t return.

  Rubbing my throbbing temples with flour-dusted hands, I whispered to myself, “Why didn’t he just drink the cup of blessing, accept the gold ring, and sign the betrothal last night?”

  I knew the answer, but Mert looked at me as if I was cousin to a mule. “Daniel will never believe any man is good enough for his daughters.” She stole the dough I’d been kneading and placed a new batch on the table in front of me. “But he must find husbands for them all someday.”

  “That’s what I told him last night,” I said, beginning to knead the fresh dough. “Shesh is a good man. He and Kezia love each other. What more could we hope for?”

  She gave me a sideways glance. “What more does he want? He must have something in mind.”

  I shrugged and focused on my kneading, too embarrassed to admit that my husband was disappointed by the bride price Sheshbazzar offered. “My daughter is a treasure,” he’d ranted.

  “She’s your treasure,” I’d told him. “You coddle all the girls, making me the tyrant who must discipline.” Our discussion spiraled into the same quarrel we’d rehearsed since the girls were old enough to disobey.

  “You’re too hard on them, Belili. They need an ima to love them, not an army general to berate them.”

  “And they need an abba who sees them more than a few times a week, bringing gifts as peace offerings because he works too much.”

  My husband’s face flushed crimson. “Perhaps we should stop before we say things we’ll regret.”

  I raised my chin and leveled my gaze. “You mean before you accuse me of driving my own son away? Or before you admit you’re afraid once our girls marry, they’ll never come home because they hate me?”

  His mouth gaped. “Belili, no! Allamu made his own choice, and our girls love you. They’re just at a difficult age.” He opened his arms and stepped toward me. “Come here.”