by Mesu Andrews
“Go,” Daniel said, nudging me in her direction. He ran to prepare the camels, and I went to comfort Amyitis.
By sunset, we’d ridden the short distance from the city of Borsippa into an arid wasteland, where we stopped at the gates of a walled fortress.
Daniel turned in his sedan to the line of weary friends behind him, relief on his features. “Here we are.”
“This? This is where we’ll live for seven years? Fighting vipers and spitting dust?” If I’d been closer, I would have slapped him.
Amyitis ignored my comment and prodded her camel forward. “Open the gate, Lord Belteshazzar. I’m tired and need a bed.”
Daniel lifted his fingers to his lips and whistled. The gates opened as if Yahweh Himself tugged on them. I heard Amyitis gasp—or was that my own astonishment when I saw the emerald kingdom inside the walls?
A corkscrew fountain, much like the ones Nebuchadnezzar had built in the queen’s gardens, rotated bountiful water in the center of the estate’s lavish courtyard. The sound of splashing water welcomed us as Daniel led us toward the barn. Arioch dismounted his stallion and led the creature off the cart first. Daniel, Amyitis, and I dismounted as well and followed Arioch into the barn, watching as he removed the rope and finally the blanket.
Repulsed, I tried not to turn away. The creature before us was massive. His spine hunched severely, requiring support from his hands to stand. Bones protruded from his back, covered only by a thin layer of skin. Thick feathery hair covered his whole body. Fingernails and toenails poked out long, curved, and pointed—like the claws of a bird. Cheekbones, elbows, and knees were sharp and bulging. The handsome king was only a vapor, blown away by the Creator’s discipline. I realized I’d been staring and looked away, ashamed I’d so flippantly rejoiced in his discipline.
Arioch stayed busy, finding a pitchfork to toss in fresh hay for the king’s evening meal. Daniel ran his hand over the intricately carved doorframe of the stall. “The king’s stall was built in the southeast corner so he would be greeted by sunrise each morning and shaded from afternoon heat. He is protected from the other animals but will never feel alone.” Though I knew he was trying to allay the queen’s fears, his tour created an incredibly peculiar moment.
Amyitis stood beside me, glaring. I reached for her hand, squeezing a little. “Daniel and Arioch are grieving too. This is not what any of us desire, but we’re with you. We will get through this—together.”
She pulled her hand away and wrapped her arms around herself again. “You have no idea what it means to grieve my husband, to see him reduced to—” She turned away, but I saw her whole body quaking in the torchlight. “Get me another blanket. I’ll sleep in the stall with Neb.”
“No!” My heart nearly leapt from my chest. “He could be dangerous. We don’t know if he—”
She turned a blazing stare at me. “I’m not asking permission.”
The anger had returned, and I couldn’t blame her. I looked at Daniel and nodded toward the blanket that was taken from her husband’s back. “Give her the blanket. I’ll get another from my camel.” Returning my attention to Amyitis, I asked, “Do you want anything to eat?”
“No.”
Nodding, I left the barn to do as she’d asked. And nothing more than she’d asked. I knew my friend and understood the Medes. They didn’t like to be pampered. They were a proud people, and seeing her husband in this state was almost more than she could bear. To the daughter of King Astyages, helplessness was worse than death.
The stable boy was still watering the camels, but he’d unpacked our sedans before beginning the long and taxing chore. I reached for my blanket at the same time I heard my friend’s air-splitting scream. Arioch and Daniel began shouting, and I ran to the barn in sheer panic.
Blood. Everywhere. The creature raged and roared inside the stall, smashing against the reinforced walls. Daniel held Amyitis across his lap, pressing a cloth against her left calf, while several other wounds bled through her robe.
“Tend to Arioch!” he shouted, pointing at the commander, who lay with his back against the stall door. A long, deep gash on the inner part of his left bicep gushed blood.
His eyelids fluttered, but I patted his cheek. “Stay with me, Arioch. You can’t die. The king would never forgive me if I lost his best friend.” I removed my belt and tied it between the wound and his heart, as Gadi had shown me when one of our servants was injured in a riding accident. “And I will never forgive you if we see only the barn of this beautiful estate. Come, now. We must get you inside the villa.” I tried to help him to his feet, but he’d lost consciousness.
I glanced Daniel’s direction, and he was patting Amyitis’s cheek with the same fervency. “My queen? My queen!”
Afraid to ask, I stared at him in silence, waiting for his pronouncement.
“She’s fainted, Belili. That’s all.”
“That’s all?” In that moment, I would have given all I owned for a little Median fortitude.
The creature continued roaring, and every shred of courage left me. I fell against Arioch, sobbing. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t comfort me. It didn’t matter that my husband held another woman less than two camel lengths away. All that mattered were my tears, and they would not be stopped.
Everyone slept in the barn on our first night in Borsippa, too exhausted to move. It was a foreshadowing of my life in what was now my third exile.
31
Cut down the tree [Nebuchadnezzar]….But let the stump and its roots, bound with iron and bronze, remain in the ground….Let his mind be changed from that of a man and let him be given the mind of an animal, till seven times pass by for him.
—DANIEL 4:14–16
Borsippa
As the first rays of dawn shone into the open barn doors, I woke to joints and muscles that ached from yesterday’s long journey and my restless sleep on the dirt floor. The first sound I heard was the creature’s inglorious snoring inside his stall.
According to Daniel, when Amyitis entered the stall with her blanket last night, the beast had become agitated, and the queen feared it might harm itself. She’d charged inside despite Arioch’s warnings, and the commander threw himself in the path of the creature’s attack to protect her.
The creature. It. I could almost forgive the beast, but never Nebuchadnezzar.
Sprawled across my lap, Arioch moaned, waking Daniel and Amyitis. Our faithful stable boy, who had accompanied us from Babylon, was curled up and still, sleeping soundly on a nearby pile of straw. My attention returned to Daniel, who mouthed “I love you,” bringing tears to my eyes.
Before I could respond or even speculate on our dire state, two men appeared at the barn door. Daniel’s expression brightened with recognition. “Ezra, Samson. Praise be to Yahweh.”
Faces painted with shock and concern, the two men stepped inside. One of them looked at the large eunuch lying across me, then back to Daniel, and then at the queen. “Where is the king?”
These men knew?
“In the stall.” Daniel pointed in the direction of the creature’s stirring. Their voices must have wakened him. “The king’s guard and the queen had some trouble with him last night. We’ll need your help moving them to the villa.”
“Of course.” Both men spoke in unison as if they’d practiced the reply and immediately helped Daniel with Amyitis. Moments later, they returned with Daniel to carry Arioch into our new home. Bearing a strong resemblance to each other, the young men were most certainly brothers. They were likely in their early second decade, too young to have accumulated a bride price through a skilled trade. Had they left their family behind, as we had ours?
Following them out the door, I paused to scan the estate in daylight. The fountain splashed, revealing a spring at its source, and lush green grounds spread in every direction inside a high bricked wall. Poplars
grew around a modest villa positioned about twenty camel lengths north of the barn. Between the two structures was a vast orchard, extending farther than my eyes could see, full of fruit trees: apple, pear, pomegranate, and fig. Northeast of the villa lay sprawling fields that looked as if they had recently been harvested—broad beans and barley, no doubt. Would we be planting and harvesting next year’s crops?
Daniel and the two young men disappeared into the house with our injured eunuch, and I hurried to catch up. Once inside, I stood in a common room, where we would all likely gather to eat, cook, visit, and generally live as a family. A single hallway extended to the back of the villa, and I caught a glimpse of a deep red robe vanishing inside a door on the right. “Put him in here,” said an unfamiliar female voice.
I hurried across the packed dirt floor and down the hall, stopping at the second doorway, and watched as Daniel and the brothers lowered the hulking eunuch to a straw-stuffed mattress on the floor. Arioch moaned pitifully. A dark-haired young woman knelt beside him, wringing out a cloth over a clay bowl of water. She dabbed his forehead, speaking soothing Egyptian words. I recognized them from Mert’s ministrations.
Daniel looked up and saw me. “Belili, my love, this is Hasina. She’ll help you and Amyitis in the house and fields.” He pointed to the broad-shouldered young men while my mind absorbed the word fields. “I’m sorry I didn’t officially introduce you to Ezra and Samson. These are Solomon’s brothers.”
“Solomon?” I said, trying to fit all the pieces together.
“Yes, Mistress?” Our stable boy stood behind me, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
My heart softened toward the little man who’d shown great courage during yesterday’s journey. “I’ve just met your brothers.”
He ran into the arms of the taller brother. I watched my husband tease and banter with the three boys and ached that I’d given him only daughters. Every man wished for a son. Memories of Allamu came to haunt me on this turbulent morning. My family, now cast upon the four corners of the wind, would grow and change without my direction, without my care. Yahweh, why have I been forced to give up my children? Am I such a terrible ima?
Hasina’s hand rested on my arm. “Your tears mean you are as good as Master Daniel.”
I laughed and shook my head. “No one is as good as Master Daniel.”
Her black eyes sparkled, and I liked her immediately. She wasn’t Mert, but she was sharp, and I suspected she would feel like family soon in this cramped villa. “In which chamber did you put the queen?”
Hasina pointed. “Down the hall. Last room on the left.”
Thinking I should check on my friend, I turned and ran into Amyitis. “What are you doing out of bed?” My tone was sharper than intended.
“Get out of my way. I’m going to see Neb.”
I almost snapped back but remembered everyone’s nerves were frayed. Pausing to poke my head into Arioch’s room, I caught Daniel’s attention. “I’m going to accompany Amyitis to the barn.”
He gave me a wary frown at the same time Amyitis voiced her objection. “I’m perfectly capable—”
“We’ve come here to hide Nebuchadnezzar from the world,” I said to her, “but we’ve also come to care for you.” I reached for her hands, drawing them both to my lips. “Let me care for you, Amyitis. Let us care for you.”
The queen swallowed audibly and nodded. “Thank you.” Without another word, she stepped around me, off to see her husband. I followed, casting a triumphant glance at Daniel.
We walked in silence out the door, down the flat-stoned path, and across the courtyard toward the barn. Amyitis limped a little. The wound on her left calf was likely sore this morning. I slowed my steps to match hers and noticed Borsippa’s heat rising in waves from the ground. “I’ll miss your palace servants with their ostrich-plume fans to keep us cool.”
Amyitis choked out a laugh. “I’ll miss more than the fans.”
There would be no more small talk. The queen hesitated when we reached the barn, bracing herself against the doorframe.
I laid my hand against her back. “Perhaps you should wait before you see him again. Rest a little first.”
She shook her head. “Neb gets no rest from this awful curse.”
I could have argued, offered facts or logic. But why? When a heart hurts, only another heart can heal it. “I’m with you, whatever you decide.”
With a deliberate sigh, she marched into the barn, and I followed. Our eyes adjusted from bright morning sun to the dusty haze of an alley of stalls, where we’d spent our first nightmarish night. Solomon had somehow slipped in before us and was forking soiled straw into a dung pile. When he saw us, he leaned on his pitchfork and bowed to Amyitis.
She stopped beside him, examined the dirty smudges on his cheeks, and lifted his chin, turning it left and then right. “Thank you for helping us yesterday. Shouldn’t you get home to your ima?”
“My brothers and me work for Lord Belteshazzar now because my abba owed lots of debt when he died. I lived in Babylon with Ima last year, while she cooked for the Chaldean students. I just found out yesterday I would drive the cart for the king and live here with my brothers.” His expression fell. “I’m sorry about the king, and I’m sorry he hurt you. I don’t think he meant to.”
Amyitis bent and kissed the top of his head. “You’re right. He would never harm me intentionally, Solomon.” I watched her strength return at the reminder of the truth. She lifted her chin and strode toward Nebuchadnezzar’s stall with renewed purpose.
I followed with less enthusiasm and reached for her arm. “Please don’t go in there again.”
She stopped, staring at the locked wooden door that separated her from the husband she no longer knew. “You saw him on the barge yesterday. He knew me. Last night in the stall was different. He was frightened out of his mind.” She turned to face me. “He’s still my Neb, Belili. If it was Belteshazzar in there, you would go into the stall.”
I released her arm. Would I? My anger and bitterness toward my husband had built steadily during the past year. I’d agreed that Amyitis would need my presence to encourage her through the seven years of hiding and that the king would need his wife’s coaxing to admit Yahweh’s sovereignty at the end of his judgment. But I was still angry. At Daniel and…I couldn’t bring myself to admit any negative feelings toward the God who had forgiven my past, wed me to Daniel, and given us four beautiful daughters. How dare I grumble against Him? So my anger smothered Daniel and dimmed the flame of our once-passionate love.
As Amyitis and I neared the stall, we heard a strange grinding, crunching—the creature’s chewing. Rising on our toes, we peeked through the iron-barred window and saw him eating a pile of fresh hay. He seemed utterly calm and content. He even glanced at us, pausing before resuming his morning meal.
Amyitis and I exchanged a surprised look. She squeezed my hand, took a deep breath, and unbolted the door. Slowly she crept inside while I stood in the doorway, holding my breath. The creature looked up momentarily but, again, resumed his meal. She eased closer, hand extended, until her fingers barely swept over his coarse black hair. His hide twitched at her touch, but he didn’t stop eating. She laid her hand on his side and began stroking. Speaking in soothing tones. Assuring him of her love. Promising him a future.
If it was Belteshazzar…I couldn’t imagine how I would react if Yahweh had chosen such a judgment to mete out on my husband. Would I see Daniel beyond God’s judgment, as Amyitis saw Neb? In our current circumstance, could I love him unconditionally, trusting his proven relationship with Yahweh to be trustworthy and to lead us back to a healthy family? As I stood outside the stall, feeling utterly useless, I considered my husband’s purpose for me on this journey. What did my friend need from me at such a dark hour? I heard no Voice from heaven, but I knew what I must do.
Hand shaking on the door, I stepped into
the stall with Amyitis and approached the creature she loved. Both looked at me with surprise, and I nearly turned and ran.
My friend held out her hand. “He won’t hurt you, Belili.”
I took her hand, my heart beating like a thousand chariot horses in my ears.
She drew me close and placed my hand on his side. “Feel that?” I nodded, and she said with a smile, “It’s the same heartbeat I heard each night when I laid my head on Neb’s chest to fall asleep.” She leaned over to press her ear against his side. “He’s in there, Belili. My Neb is still there.”
32
[The messenger in Nebuchadnezzar’s vision said:] “The holy ones declare the verdict, so that the living may know that the Most High is sovereign over all kingdoms on earth and gives them to anyone he wishes and sets over them the lowliest of people.
—DANIEL 4:17
Eleven Months Later
Daniel sat beneath a tamarisk tree, feeling a little guilty about enjoying the cool spring morning with their flock of sheep and goats while Solomon, Ezra, and Samson harvested the broad beans. Adjustment to life on the estate had been more difficult than he’d expected. The first night’s disaster had kept Arioch abed for a month, and Amyitis spent most of her first week in the barn with Nebuchadnezzar. Daniel feared Belili might demand to return home, but she stayed, her anger somewhat abated, though he couldn’t imagine why. Blisters and open sores plagued Amyitis, Belili, and Daniel for weeks until their hands developed calluses from the long hours of work in the fields, barn, and kitchen.
Even more painful, however, were the frantic letters from their families, at first asking and then demanding they come home. Winter lessened the demands, both families realizing that the snow in the Zagros range would blockade their mothers in Achmetha at least until spring. No doubt, the letters would begin again soon.
