by Mesu Andrews
Yahweh had provided for all their needs during the first winter in Borsippa, and Ezra and Samson had established key friendships with local merchants to trade for goods in the city market. Their estate’s goats provided wool, milk, and cheese for trade, and the sheep provided wool and meat. They’d added ducks to their estate shortly after they arrived that now produced eggs and meat for an occasional celebratory meal. The orchard, fields, and gardens would provide the rest of their fruits, vegetables, and herbs. Jehovah-jireh, our great Provider.
Three figures approached in the distance, and Daniel shaded his eyes to see that Arioch accompanied Belili and Amyitis. All three wore simple rough-spun robes with rope belts. Daniel chuckled at the sight of the giant eunuch in a woolen robe and the memory of his first meal in the presence of his queen.
Hasina had insisted they move the round leather mat used for their meals into Arioch’s chamber so he could at least join them for their first evening meal together. He lay in his bed, conscious but blurry eyed from the poppy tea Daniel had given him.
“We’ll live as a family,” Daniel had begun, trying to explain gently that they must all serve one another. “Everyone will be called by first names, not titles.” Pointing to each one, he recited the unfamiliar names in case anyone had forgotten since early morning. “Hasina, Solomon, Ezra, Samson, Arioch. I’m Daniel, of course. My wife is Belili, and this is Amyitis.”
The queen looked as uncomfortable as her new acquaintances. “I am still Astyages’s daughter and queen of Babylon, Lord Belteshazzar.”
Daniel’s patience with her Median pride had worn thin. “Indeed. But you are also one of seven adults and a stable boy who will tend fields, cook meals, and protect a king’s throne. We will all do things we’ve never done before, Amyitis.”
Babylon’s queen hesitated only a moment before nodding. “It will be as you say, Daniel.”
The woman walked toward him now with the same Median resolve, but she could now pluck a duck faster than Hasina. The Egyptian girl had taught them all new talents in house and field, her spunk adding life and joy to the toil and sorrow of this place. Daniel noticed Belili’s sober countenance as she drew nearer and saw the same on Arioch and Amyitis. Perhaps everyone would need a generous dose of Hasina’s joy today. Daniel raised his hand in silent welcome.
Arioch raised a scroll in return. Belili carried one too. Dread churned in his gut, and he wondered which bad news he should ask for first.
His wife’s tears won without hesitation. “Come, my love. What’s happened?” Belili faced most of the Borsippa hardships with her jaw set and eyes narrowed for the challenge. Tears meant a new rip in her heart.
“You must do something.” She shoved the open scroll into his hand, and he recognized Shesh’s familiar scrawl. The first section reiterated the familiar summary of their household with little variation from his last five letters: Mert continued to lie about their true whereabouts; Kezia remained angry at us and the world; Eva and Eden were fine because they had each other; little Gia was despondent and had withdrawn into a world of her own. With the heavy weight of responsibility on his shoulders, Daniel read the last section more carefully:
Nabonidus told the high priest of Marduk that King Nebuchadnezzar had sent him to Borsippa with a large offering to Nabu and his priests in Borsippa. The priests of the Esagila were outraged. Nabonidus has now begun meeting regularly with the high priest to stoke his anger, and I’ve heard other priests vow their support should the king’s son-in-law make a play for the throne. Everyone knows General Nebuzaradan will oppose Nabonidus. But the king’s son-in-law has raised support from some in the army. Babylon’s streets will run with blood if the king doesn’t return soon, Daniel. I beg you. For the safety of your daughters if for no other reason, convince King Nebuchadnezzar to return to Babylon—soon.
Daniel gathered his wife in his arms and nodded at the scroll in Arioch’s hand. “Is it from Ashpenaz?” The eunuch nodded once, his silence foreboding. “What does it say?”
“It’s as you predicted, Belteshazzar. Nabonidus will make a play for the throne at next month’s Akitu festival with the support of Marduk’s priests.” He paused only a moment. “Since you predicted so accurately, let’s hope your plan to stop it proves equally accurate.”
Amyitis looked at Arioch, her face a mask of calm. “Tell Ashpenaz he has my permission to kill Nabonidus.”
“Amyitis!” Belili lurched from Daniel’s arms. “Any instability at the palace will cause bloodshed in the streets and put everyone’s family at risk.”
Arioch ducked his head to hide a grin. “Though I like your plan, my queen, I must agree with Mistress Belili.” He’d never abided by the first-name rule. “We’ve already coordinated a false military campaign in Canaan with Ashpenaz, who has been communicating the king’s locations to key Babylonian officials each month. The ruse has worked for nearly a year, but the Akitu festival draws near, and the whole city grows anxious to celebrate with their king. Ashpenaz has managed to distract the council members by instigating riots in Babylon’s outer city and stirring rebellion in the heart of Lydia’s king.”
“Ashpenaz is starting riots?” Belili’s shrill voice frightened sparrows from a nearby tree.
Arioch lifted his brows, challenging her tone. “Yes, and a rebellion in Lydia.”
Belili turned to Daniel with an accusing glare. What did she think he’d been doing with the king’s seal around his neck? He tugged at the leather string, pulling the engraved stone cylinder from under his robe. “The best way to keep our families safe is to create distractions in other places. It’s the essence of war, Belili. You send troops to distant lands so your own family never witnesses the atrocities.”
Arioch tapped the leather-bound scroll in his hand. “Ashpenaz says only Nabonidus challenges the king’s throne, but if General Nebuzaradan senses the slightest crack in the foundation of Nebuchadnezzar’s empire, he’ll swoop in like a falcon on a mouse. We need a distraction that can keep all that ambition occupied elsewhere.”
“Neb only misses Akitu,” Amyitis said, “when he’s detained by war. You must start a war, gentlemen.” She was as calm as if she’d commented on the weather, but Belili looked like she’d swallowed an egg sideways.
Impressed with the queen’s political prowess, Daniel turned his attention to Arioch. “We’ll invade Egypt. Ashpenaz reported rumblings of Pharaoh’s rebellion to the council in Babylon months ago. It makes sense.”
Arioch’s slow, deliberate smile showed a war plan already developing. “General Nebuzaradan will lead the campaign, and we can place Nabonidus over his own regiment.”
“Nabonidus is a statesman,” Daniel scoffed. “Placing him over a regiment is like putting me in command.”
“With any luck the Egyptians will kill him for us.” Amyitis waved her hand as if dismissing him easily.
Daniel exchanged a hesitant glance with Arioch. Now was the time to tell her who they’d chosen as interim king. “Amyitis, in order to keep the throne secure, we’ve chosen a man we believe will serve Babylon rather than himself. Someone who can willingly give up the power and glory when Nebuchadnezzar returns to Babylon in six years.”
Wary, her eyes shifted from one adviser to the other. “Tell me.”
Arioch knelt before her and pressed her hand against his forehead. “We plan to place your daughter’s husband, Neriglissar, on the throne.” He looked up then, releasing her hand but remaining on his knees. “Your seven sons are fine men, but placing one of them on the throne could cause dissension. Neriglissar is…”
“He’s a lamb.” Amyitis studied Arioch and then Daniel. Surely if she trusted them with her life, she could trust them with her husband’s kingdom. She lowered her head and breathed out a sigh. “My son-in-law is as fragile as a flower, but my daughter Kassaya is strong. She rules him, so he can rule Babylon without my sons feeling threatened.”
> She straightened her robe as if doing so could arrange the scattered kingdom. “I’ll tell Neb about your plan. He’ll be pleased to know our Kassaya is in charge.” She was gone before the two men could respond.
Concerned, Daniel noted his wife’s silence during the war deliberations. Was she angry with him again? He’d seemed the object of her wrath quite often recently. He cautiously reached for a single finger, not her whole hand.
She didn’t pull away, so he drew her near, and she melted against him. “It feels wrong somehow to thank you for instigating a war in Egypt to protect our family—but thank you.” Her voice was strong, not the broken words of weeping.
“War wasn’t my first choice, Belili. It was our only choice.” He pulled her arms from his neck so he could see her face. “You claim I never say no to our daughters, which requires you to do all the discipline. You’re right.”
Her look of surprise was almost worth the confession and spurred him on to lay his heart bare. “Part of the reason is as you suspect—because I enjoy being the fun parent since I see them less often—but the greater reason is I fear my judgment could be too harsh. For many years, I spent my days teaching students facts, black and white, right and wrong. After the king’s dream, I lived in the world you just witnessed—riots, wars, and trading men’s lives for political efficiency. I feared bringing that calculated, unfeeling person into our children’s lives. Even worse, applying it to the moment of discipline, a point at which they should see Yahweh’s love and mercy reflected in their abba.” He brushed away a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “Will you forgive me?”
She nodded emphatically and laid her head on his chest. “Yes, I forgive you, and I must ask for your forgiveness and patience as I continue to sort out my own fears and failures. Only now am I realizing how different are the worlds in which you and I live. While on this estate, you create havoc all over the empire, but my thoughts are consumed with our children almost every moment of every day.” As he formed his defense, she placed a finger over his lips, and a sweet smile graced her lovely face. “And I’m sure you have no idea that there’s a miracle transpiring in the barn.”
“Arioch and I just checked the king this morning. If something is happening…” Alarmed, he exchanged a glance with Arioch, who sat beneath a tamarisk tree ten paces away. The guard raced over. “What is it?”
Belili stepped back, her smile gone. “See? Neither of you has witnessed Neb and Amyitis together recently, or you’d know there’s nothing to fear.” She turned toward the villa and barn, waving over her head. “I’ll see you at mealtime.”
“Should I go with her?” Arioch asked, watching Belili go. Indecision reared its ugly head, and Daniel hesitated. How many times had Belili assured him, “I don’t think he’ll ever harm her again.” But Nebuchadnezzar was a beast with the mind of one. If he sensed tension or felt fear, he could turn on any perceived threat—including Amyitis.
“No, let her go. I think the king feels safe with Amyitis.” Wasn’t that the reason they brought the queen to Borsippa? To bolster the king’s spirits? During this most terrifying transformation, perhaps he could find strength in the refuge she gave him and confess God’s sovereignty at the end of his chaos.
* * *
I left Arioch and my husband to discuss their invasion of Egypt, feeling both relief for their efforts and guilt that my relief would cause others pain. When I’d tearfully read my scroll aloud to Amyitis, her reply had been calm. “Don’t worry, Belili. Your husband and Arioch will take care of your family, even as the troops of Babylon have taken care of mine all these years.”
It seemed ludicrous to begin a war in Egypt to avoid bloodshed in the street outside my family’s villa in Babylon. But to Amyitis, the decision was no more than was expected from a king’s wise counselors to protect a throne and empire rightfully his. Would my children ever know the sacrifices made for them? Of course not. Had I ever known the dozens of decisions that kept war from our front door in Babylon? Was it sympathy I felt for kings who made such decisions? Revulsion? Both? And for their wives who must love them, live with them, support them—or at least submit to them—how did they cope with the weight of knowing their children would be first to die in an invasion but were also the cause of so much suffering in their own kingdom and around the world?
Suddenly, Amyitis’s love for Nebuchadnezzar seemed almost a sacred thing, and the work Yahweh was doing in their relationship during this incomprehensible testing was nothing short of miraculous. On some level, the creature-king seemed to understand he belonged to her, and he grew agitated if Amyitis was away from the barn too long. It was beautiful and heartrending, glorious and tragic.
I took the path toward the house, planning to fill my pocket with grain to feed the ducks on my way to join Amyitis in the barn.
Hasina met me at the door. “The messenger returned with another scroll. He said it had gotten lost in the bottom of his bag.”
Kezia’s writing. My heart pattered an irregular beat, and I tucked the scroll into my left pocket. I filled the right pocket with grain as planned and started for the barn. The ducks gathered around me, delighted with a midday snack. When I neared the barn, I heard Amyitis’s low murmur. Peering inside, I let my eyes adjust to the dim light and saw she’d led the creature outside its stall to comb its long hair with her favorite ivory comb. He was standing still, mesmerized by her voice.
She stroked first with the comb and followed with her hand to smooth his thick coat. Young Solomon sat in the corner less than two camel lengths from the queen, but he was watching me. As Amyitis’s self-appointed guardian, not much escaped him. I smiled and pressed a finger to my lips, sharing my intention to leave my friend and her husband in peace.
I turned toward the house, left to ponder the scroll in my pocket and the strange circumstances in which Yahweh had placed me. Why was I here? Arioch and Daniel pretended to be king. Amyitis calmed the beast. But what about me? Was I merely here as a hired hand, or had we all come to share in Nebuchadnezzar’s punishment because we’d somehow participated in his sin? No, I had plenty of my own sins for which to atone.
Rather than return to the house, I took the footpath toward the fields and found a shady spot to read the first scroll addressed only to me from my eldest daughter. Pulling it from my pocket, I broke the seal and braced myself for the venom.
Ima,
My son was born today. His name is Samuel. Mert was there to catch him between my knees since you thought it more important to be with your friend in Achmetha than with me. When you return—if you return—you need not pretend to care about your grandson.
In your last correspondence, you encouraged us to be adults and take care of ourselves. We will heed your advice. Shesh has taken it upon himself to find matches for my sisters. We will inform you of their betrothal dates and weddings.
You need not write so frequently.
Kezia
I pressed the missive against my chest, weeping, rocking, grieving the death of my relationships with my daughters. Why couldn’t I go home—for even a few days? I knew the answer. Amyitis would never leave Nebuchadnezzar, and I could never leave Amyitis. Our Borsippa refuge was hidden behind a teetering wall of lies built on the assumption that Amyitis and I were together as were Daniel and Nebuchadnezzar. For either Daniel or I to appear at home without the king or queen could raise suspicions and bring Babylon crashing down.
My daughters’ faces flashed across my mind’s eye and then Ima’s face tormented the edges of memory. Though blurred by years of separation, I remembered the most important things about her. At least she locked me out of that chamber in Jerusalem’s palace to save me. At least she’d said goodbye. But I’d abandoned my girls. No goodbye. No explanation. Every letter was a lie, sent from an estate less than a day’s sail from home. How could our absence ever be made right?
Yahweh, what is my purpose in Borsippa? Su
rely if You are good, as Daniel insists, we must see something better than riots and war from these months of lying and hiding. What is my part to play in the years to come?
I heard no Voice from the sky. The Man from the fiery furnace didn’t appear. I was alone and heard only birdsong in my despair. Tears were my midday meal, and I fell asleep to the sound of my own weeping.
When I woke, my world hadn’t changed. The scroll lay pressed between my hand and face like a jagged pillow, leaving marks on my cheek as it had on my heart. I tucked it in my pocket, stood under the tamarisk, and saw Ezra and Samson in the distance, still bent over rows of broad beans. They were good workers. Their parents had raised them well. I pressed my hand against the scroll in my pocket, heart aching afresh. I needed to tell Daniel about our new grandson.
But I felt suddenly drawn to the field. Walking twenty paces north, I inspected the first ground I’d ever tilled and the first seeds I’d sowed. I knelt beside a plant with young beans forming and felt an unexpected awe at the realization that these plants were food for our unlikely family. “Miraculous,” I whispered in reverent wonder.
Ezra had explained the multiphased harvest of this particular crop, and it hadn’t interested me until this moment. I pulled a single bean off the plant, inspected it, bit off a piece. Tender and sweet. This was the first harvest. We’d harvest as many as we could eat and cook the whole pod before the beans grew large and fibrous. In a few weeks, we’d harvest more, shucking the beans from toughened pods and eat the beans alone or dry them for later use in stews. The tough pods we would trade for silver with a nearby pig farmer to feed his animals through the hot summer when grass was scarce.
I scanned the field, imagining baskets and baskets of beans, our harvest complete. Some we would sell. Most would provide our sustenance through the summer, fall, and winter. In the last step we would chop the stripped plants and turn over the soil. The plants and dirt would become one as time prepared the land for next season’s tilling.
