by Mesu Andrews
He whispered through gritted teeth, “Lower your voice, woman. Or perhaps you wish to tell the whole city of our plan—as you told Mert—and put all our lives at risk.”
Quiet fury seethed. “Mert needed to know in order to care for our children, one of whom was married a week ago and will be devastated when she emerges from her wedding chamber to discover her ima has abandoned her for the most crucial year of her marriage. Three more daughters, who are coming into womanhood, will believe their abba abandoned them in the name of ambition and their ima chose a queen’s friendship above their care.”
My husband’s anger drained like water from a cracked pitcher. He pulled me into a tight embrace. “Please, my love. I can’t do this without you. You’ve raised our daughters to be strong. They’re older than you were when you were taken into captivity, and they’re surrounded by people who love them.”
I fixed my eyes on Mert, who stood five paces behind us, tears streaming down her cheeks. She and I had spoken of that very parallel during the weeks of preparation—the scars of abandonment, the yearning for love and relationship, lifelong marks from early wounds. Mert held out my shoulder bag, her sign it was time for us to go. I’d made my choice when I began planning the escape. It had been easier to talk about leaving than to actually walk out, but she was right. The time for talking was over.
I wriggled from Daniel’s arms and grabbed the bag from my friend. “Remind them every day how much I love them.”
“You know I will.” She wiped her face and fled from the chamber.
Daniel and I changed into servant’s robes and double-checked the bag. Inside were two more servant’s robes, a woman’s head covering, pairs of sandals, and a plain robe, head covering, and sandals for the queen.
Daniel reached for my hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed it. “Our daughters have Mert and each other. They’ll be fine. We’ll mend whatever’s broken when we return.” We left our chamber and escaped through the rear entrance like thieves—without a goodbye to anyone.
Our stable master’s confused expression seemed to shout silent questions at our hurried departure but merely watched as Daniel rode toward the docks and I toward the palace. How would I convince Amyitis to leave Babylon in the same stealth when, by the king’s command, she hadn’t been told of his dream or the impending judgment it promised?
I hated Nebuchadnezzar. Not only for all the havoc he’d wreaked on my childhood but because of what he’d done to Amyitis and me. When Daniel and I returned with Nabonidus from Achmetha, Nebuchadnezzar refused to see us. And when I married Lord Belteshazzar, the king refused to let his wife associate with me. When my husband interpreted his dream last year, however, he not only reinstated Daniel to palace service but also reinstated me as friend of the queen—if I chose to be so. Though I was angry she abandoned me when Allamu was sick, I knew she’d been frightened of the plague and could never disobey Nebuchadnezzar. She was my dearest friend, whom I hadn’t seen in nearly fifteen years.
Of course I forgave her and had been seeing her almost every day for the past year. She’d been a wonderful help while planning Kezia’s wedding and even gave advice when my daughter turned into a turbulent bride.
Amyitis’s husband, however, I could never forgive. Nebuchadnezzar was an arrogant bully who was finally getting a fraction of what he deserved. Let Yahweh pour out the burning sulfur of Sodom on his head.
Even as the thought lingered, concern for Amyitis tempered my anger. Like every woman who adored her husband, she saw beyond his public facade to the insecure boy inside—or the roguish gentleman, depending on the day. My friend would be devastated when I told her of his fate. Though their children were grown and had families of their own, she would leave them—as I had—and the lovely grandchildren she doted on.
Too quickly, I reached the palace stables. I carried my bag inside rather than leaving it with the stable boy. Hurrying past servants carrying pitchers and trays, I turned a corner and ran headlong into Ashpenaz.
“Oh! Forgive me, I…” Immediately, I stared at my sandals, searching for an excuse. “Amyitis and I are sneaking out to a vineyard for a midday meal.”
His bald head wrinkled with his brow, making him look remarkably like a raisin. “Why sneak out?”
Before I could concoct another flimsy tale, the palace’s chief official gripped my arm and pulled me into an empty chamber. He closed the door, and I jerked my arm from his grasp. “You will treat me with the respect I deserve or—”
“What happened on the roof this morning?” His hard-but-kind features were replaced with foreboding alone. “Where have Arioch and Daniel taken the king? If harm comes to King Nebuchadnezzar, you will suffer unimaginably.”
I swallowed back my fear. Daniel said not to tell anyone. But surely Ashpenaz…
“I see that you know.” His hand landed beside my head, rumbling the thick cedar door. “Tell me.”
I stared at the half-crazed eunuch. Was anyone more loyal to the king? More trustworthy? “Yahweh has stricken the king. It was prophesied in a dream a year ago—to the day—and Arioch saw the awful transformation this morning on the rooftop. He will be returned to his throne in seven years—”
“Seven yea—”
“Yes, seven years. Arioch and Daniel have a plan to maintain his throne. Daniel has already sent messengers to key locations, telling them to expect the king’s arrival any day. The confusion will take weeks to sort out, and by then he’ll have another plan in place.”
His mouth opened to speak, but words failed him. I patted his cheek and rose on tiptoe to kiss it. “If you escort me to Queen Amyitis’s chamber, she’ll feel better knowing we have an ally remaining in Babylon.”
He stepped back and scrubbed his face, as if waking from a nightmare. He looked at me, his eyes glistening. “You said Arioch witnessed the king’s ‘transformation.’ What did you mean? Transformed how?”
What could I say without adding to his torture? “In the king’s dream, he saw a tree cut down, but the stump eventually flourished again. I promise Arioch will return your king to the palace—in seven years.”
His eyes raked me like blades scraping away anything false. Finally, he bowed and opened the door, leading me through the servants’ dim-lit hallways to the harem stairs and finally to Amyitis’s chamber.
Her guards knew me well but exchanged an uneasy glance when I approached with their chief eunuch. “Good morning,” I said lightly, hoping to assuage their suspicions. “Ashpenaz and I were just—”
“You’re dismissed,” Ashpenaz said without gilding. “Your replacements are on the way.”
“Yes, my lord.” The guards marched down the stairs without a backward glance.
Ashpenaz stared down at me. “You’re a terrible liar.”
I grinned in spite of the circumstance. “I used to be quite good at it. I suppose I’ve lost the knack.”
“You need to get better if you plan to keep a secret for seven years.” He knocked on the door and announced our arrival, while my dread grew. Lying for seven years.
“Come in!” Amyitis’s cheerful voice cut me to the core.
Ashpenaz opened the door and ushered me in first. Amyitis looked radiant as always, her hair coiffed and curled with beads and ribbons. We’d been friends for nearly thirty years, and I’d never seen her in a plain or woolen robe. Always linen or silk for the queen of Babylon.
“Belili? Are you all right?”
“Yes, my friend.”
She chattered on before I could explain. “What a lovely surprise! I thought you would hibernate for a month after that lovely wedding feast. Aren’t you exhausted?” She stopped abruptly. “Ashpenaz, why are you lingering at the door?” Fear shadowed her lovely features, and her pleasantness fled. “Has something happened to Neb? Tell me, Belili!”
“I’ll take you to him, but first—” I placed my hand
at her waist, guiding her to the couch.
She shoved my hand away. “Tell me now!”
Heart aching, I met her fear with stubborn compassion. “I’ll tell you everything, my friend, but first you must sit.”
A thousand possibilities raced behind the windows of her soul. Finally, she relented, and I sat beside her. Words tumbled from my mouth. I don’t even remember what I said, but I remember her reaction. First came disbelief. “A terrible joke,” she called it. When I assured her it was the truth, anger settled in, and I endured her hatred while she changed into the plain robe I brought her and gathered a few essentials into her own shoulder bag. Her ivory comb. A polished bronze mirror. And, of course, her crown.
She reached for a jeweled pair of sandals, but her hand stopped, poised over the satchel, trembling. She held them there, her anger morphing into despair. “Will he know me?”
She dropped the sandals and collapsed into my arms. I held her until Ashpenaz cleared his throat and offered the queen’s bag, packed and ready. “You must hurry, my queen. You can trust me to support the king here in Babylon. I will work with Arioch and Lord Belteshazzar to keep his throne secure for as long as he must endure this.”
Amyitis wiped her cheeks and patted his forearm. “Thank you, Ashpenaz. What would we do without you?”
I knew then that Yahweh had arranged my meeting with Ashpenaz for Amyitis’s sake. It wasn’t a mistake to tell him. A man I once counted my enemy had become my ally—and a display of God’s mercy to Babylon’s queen. He was dear to us both.
He led us toward the door. “You must leave the palace through the main entrance, Mistress Belili. If you take the queen through the servants’ halls, as you came in, suspicions will rise.”
The queen looked at me and back at her chief eunuch. “Won’t we draw more attention by leaving from the main entrance?”
The right corner of his mouth twitched but stopped short of a grin. “A very skilled liar suggested you two might share today’s midday meal at a vineyard. That’s the story we’ll tell.”
30
You will eat grass like the ox and be drenched with the dew of heaven.
—DANIEL 4:25
We crossed the single bridge leading out of the city across the Euphrates and turned south, following the streets leading to the Adad Gate. We mingled with caravans of camels, donkeys, and ox-drawn carts, just two women dressed in servant’s robes tromping through their daily lives. Finally, as the sun approached midday, Amyitis and I neared the gate.
“Where is he?” she shouted above the noisy sea of traders and merchants milling inside and outside the gates.
From atop my camel, I saw over the crowd to a copse of date palms in the distance. Arioch’s stallion was tied to a tree, prancing nervously. Daniel stood beside a cart that carried two cows covered with blankets—wait. Yahweh, help us! One of those creatures was too small to be…
“Come, Amyi— Come, my friend.” I nearly called her by name. I glanced back and saw Amyitis focused on the cart near the date palms. Daniel hurried out from beneath the shade, arms lifted to slow our camels’ progress. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he shouted in an unnaturally loud voice.
Amyitis removed her whip, ready to tap her camel to its knees for dismount. Daniel grabbed it. “No, stay in your sedan.” His sharp tone startled her. Keeping his voice low, his features softened. “We can’t cause a scene. We’ve placed him in the cart beside a heifer, both covered with blankets so people will assume we’re moving two animals to Borsippa. It would be best if you could wait until journey’s end to see him.”
She looked at the cart again and covered a sob, bowing her head to hide her emotions. Daniel looked at me, silently pleading with me to say something. Anger at my husband still boiled beneath the surface. What comfort had I to give? My daughters were likely plying Mert with questions about my whereabouts, while my husband and I risked our lives to help save the man I hated most in the world. I returned my husband’s silent plea with a defiant glare. The disappointment in his eyes pricked my heart but didn’t soften it.
“Amyitis,” he said gently, “we must continue the ruse as Arioch’s servants moving livestock to Borsippa. We’ve fed both the king and the heifer poppy plants sprinkled with lavender oil to keep them calm for—”
“What?” Her head snapped to attention. “Do you know how much to give…” Her words trailed off as she realized to whom she was speaking. Daniel was the foremost asutu—expert in medical wisdom—in the empire.
Daniel offered her a forebearing smile. “Perhaps you can see him after we’ve loaded the cart on a kelek and begin to sail—without a crowd to witness your reaction.”
Amyitis dried her tears and lifted her chin. “I will never forgive your god for this, Lord Belteshazzar.” Head held high, she fixed her eyes on Arioch, waiting for him to lead us.
I stared at my friend in awe. Even now, at the most desperate moment of her life, Amyitis was as elegant as an eagle in flight. Daniel and the commander of the king’s guard resumed their mounts, and Arioch clucked his tongue to lead our little caravan. Daniel fell in behind the stable boy and cart. This time I followed the queen.
We arrived at the same canal that only a week ago had taken King Nebuchadnezzar downstream to celebrate the New Year’s festival of Akitu. During the next six days, Nebuchadnezzar completed a series of rituals to ensure Marduk’s favor on the empire, while all of Babylon enjoyed feasting and rest from their normal activities.
Sailors waited at the dock to assist merchants and travelers along the canal portion of their journeys. “Greetings, Lord Arioch,” said a captain. “How far downstream are you traveling today?”
“To Borsippa, Eriba. My stallion, three camels, and an ox cart with two cows.”
“Of course, my lord. All these passengers too?” He looked beyond the commander, surprised but pleased at the size of our party. “Two men, a boy, and two wom—” His eyes widened when he saw Amyitis, recognition dawning.
Arioch pulled him close with a fistful of the man’s robe. “And no one learns their identities or destination.”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” The man bowed and backed away, struggling to take his eyes off his queen.
We dismounted our animals and led them one by one over the gangway and onto the barge. Once on board, Daniel reached in his bag to feed lavender-oiled grass to the heifer and more poppy flowers to the king, while Arioch paid the captain and his two oarsmen handsomely.
Arioch returned to Daniel’s side. “I’ve confided in the captain that the king has made Nabu his new patron god for his military offensive in Canaan and has sent the queen with a secret offering to the priests in Borsippa. We’re her guards.” He pointed at Daniel, the stable boy, and me. “I’ve threatened his life if he tells anyone, but kelek captains gossip more than old women in the market.”
Was this what our lives would be like for the next seven years? Constant lies and threats and fear? I reached for the basket Ashpenaz had given me back at the palace. “For your journey,” he said with a wink. I looked inside and found enough bread, hard cheese, and dried fruit to feed all four of us and the stable boy during our sail to Borsippa. I closed my eyes and nearly wept with gratitude.
I offered Amyitis a small piece of bread and cheese. She barely took two bites while staring into the distance.
“What will Neb eat?” she asked Daniel, as if he were the expert on men turned to animals.
His Adam’s apple bobbed twice before answering. “Yahweh said he would eat grass like an ox in the field.”
No one spoke after that. What was there to say? In fact, I had nothing to say to my husband all day.
We arrived at Borsippa’s docks at dusk. Most of the traders had gone, and only a few local sailors lingered near the canal. Arioch and Daniel spoke in low tones I couldn’t hear. Amyitis stood alone, arms wrapped around her
self as if she would fall to pieces if she let go.
I drew near and slipped my arm around her waist. “The estate can’t be far.”
She laid her head on my shoulder. “I want to close my eyes and never wake.”
We watched in silence as the men unloaded the camels first and then the cart. A sound unlike anything I’d ever heard rent the air, and the creature bucked as the cart exited the kelek. The ox pulling the cart spooked, and the boy driver expertly gained control. But not before the creature-king released another unearthly wail and kicked open the cart’s gate. Backing out, he stumbled and fell out of the cart. The blanket hung precariously over his back. If the blanket slipped away completely, how would they explain an otherworldly looking beast escorted by the king’s wife and top two men?
Arioch approached the creature slowly, hands extended, speaking in gentle tones. It paced, agitated, tossing its head, skewing the blanket further.
“No!” Amyitis’s coarse whisper was more like a plea. She looked at the growing crowd. “People are staring.” Without warning, she raced toward the kelek and grabbed a woven papyrus rope dangling from a post.
I hurried over to Daniel, covering my mouth to keep from calling my friend back. “Is he dangerous? Will he recognize her?” My husband could only shrug, watching too intently to speak.
Arioch tried to block the queen’s approach, but she shoved past him. I couldn’t hear what she said. I didn’t need to. Arioch’s bow made it clear she’d commanded him to stand down.
My friend began to sing as she approached with the dangling rope. She sang an old Sumerian lullaby—with a voice like a holy messenger. The creature calmed immediately. Approaching cautiously, Amyitis slipped the rope around his neck, adjusted the blanket to cover him, and led him calmly into the cart.
I watched in wonder. The Medes were a strong race, mustering fortitude I could never possess. Head held high, my friend placed the lead rope in Arioch’s waiting hands. She then proceeded to the nearest date palm—and retched.
