by Mesu Andrews
Daniel leaned forward. “So Cyrus and General Gubaru will reign in Babylon as co-regents without the arrogance of either man causing a power play?”
“They will not be co-regents,” Allamu said. “Let there be no mistake, Lord Belteshazzar. We will all serve Cyrus the Great, sole ruler of the Persian empire, but he will give Gubaru, the Mede, oversight of the Babylonian province.”
I saw the concern wrinkle Daniel’s brow, but I had my own concerns. “What will Daniel’s role be, Allamu? He’s not as strong as he once was. He gets tired if—”
“I don’t know Gubaru’s plan,” Allamu interrupted. “Are you capable of serving on the high council, Lord Belteshazzar?”
Without hesitation, Daniel inclined his head. “I would not dishonor you by offering less than my best after you graciously spoke on my behalf.”
Seeming unnerved by my husband’s respect, he stood in a sudden rant. “Was I invited tonight simply to gain information about your new rulers?” Even his stone-faced guard raised a brow. What had we said to make him so angry?
“Please, Allamu, don’t go.” I was afraid he’d leave, angry and disappointed again.
Mert and three other maids carried in the meal. My friend shoved a tray into my son’s hands with a mischievous grin. “Thank you, Allamu. We don’t usually allow the guest of honor to help serve, but since you’ve offered…” She scurried away before he could protest, her brashness once again snapping the tension. Zerubbabel bowed his head to hide a laugh.
Kezia rose from her place and took the tray from him. “Has she always been this rude,” she asked, “or is it getting worse as she gets older?” They shared a brief grin, and my heart sang.
“Please, Allamu.” Daniel extended his hand to his empty cushion. “We invited you because you’re a part of our family.”
My son glanced at his guard, and the man raised both brows as if challenging him. Some understanding passed between them, and when Allamu turned back to Daniel, I saw resolve had replaced his anger. Why would my son consider the opinion of a servant before making a decision? He obviously respected Zerubbabel, a Hebrew. I determined then to find out more about the man who guarded my son.
Allamu resumed his seat. “I have no need of a family, Lord Belteshazzar. For years, I served King Astyages until his grandson, Cyrus, marched against Achmetha and made the Medes errand boys of the Persians. Family betrays.” He laughed, seeming to have surprised even himself with the transparency. Lifting his goblet as if toasting, he added, “My life is dedicated to King Cyrus and ensuring the traditions of the Magoi tribe live forever.” He took a few long, slow gulps of our strongest wine.
Kezia reached for her wine and prompted her sisters. “Perhaps we should all drink to Allamu’s sentiment. I think we can all agree.” She lifted her goblet. “Family betrays.”
Allamu pointed at Kezia with his goblet, sloshing a little wine on the table, and I exchanged a glance with my husband. There could be no better introduction for our confession.
He lifted his goblet and nodded at me to do the same. “Let’s drink to the poor parenting choices that have left all our lives in shambles.” Daniel took a gulp and I a quick sip, but our offspring were too surprised to join us.
Allamu looked like a cat that had just spied a mouse. “Surely you haven’t made parenting mistakes, Lord Belteshazzar.”
“Every parent makes mistakes, Allamu. The difference between healthy adults and broken ones is the willingness of parents to apologize.” He turned his attention to our four daughters and their husbands. “Shortly after Shesh and Kezia were married, your ima and I abandoned our family for seven years. We apologized when we returned yet said nothing more. Because we were bound by honor to King Nebuchadnezzar, we couldn’t reveal the truth, so our apologies were empty. After Nebuchadnezzar died, the upheaval in the royal family and our need to hide Amyitis from the warring factions made it necessary to continue the ruse.”
Shesh shrugged. “You were on a military campaign with King Nebuchadnezzar. It’s understandable that you couldn’t share more detail.”
Kezia cast a searing gaze at me. “It was Ima who chose to be with Queen Amyitis in Achmetha instead of—”
“Your ima and I were together,” Daniel said, “hiding the king and queen at an estate we own in Borsippa.” Our children couldn’t have appeared more shocked if I’d stripped naked. Daniel lifted his goblet again. “Until I revealed the secret at Belshazzar’s banquet, we’d never told a living soul, but it’s finally safe to tell you the truth.”
Shesh was first to recover. “Why would you hide Nebuchadnezzar and Amyitis? And why so secretive about an estate in Borsippa?”
Daniel cleared his throat before beginning the explanation. Starting with the king’s dream and its meaning, he began to describe Nebuchadnezzar’s transformation.
Our children’s mouths gaped as the details unfolded. “He had talons and attacked the queen?” Kezia grimaced. “It sounds like his appearance became as hideous as his essence.”
Daniel looked at our daughter with the shock I felt. “I think that describes his condition profoundly, Kezia. He was in every way the most piteous creature I’d ever seen.”
“Why would you help him, Abba?” she asked. “He destroyed Jerusalem, killed its royal family—your family. He treated you horribly.”
I happened a glance at Allamu’s guard, whose stare nearly burned a hole through my husband. It seemed he, too, waited to hear. Even after all these years, I still didn’t understand why Daniel had insisted we must care for them. I knew what it was like for a girl to grow up without an ima. They would celebrate every first with a stab of longing. I’d experienced it my whole life. For our girls, every first reminded them of an ima who’d chosen her best friend over them.
Daniel lifted his head, tears on his cheeks. “At the time, I thought by helping Nebuchadnezzar, I was serving Yahweh. But now?” He gave a self-deprecating grin. “Now I realize I did it to see Nebuchadnezzar suffer and prove myself right.”
“Prove yourself right?” Kezia stared at her abba as if seeing a stranger. “Right about what?”
“Right for hating him.” Even I was stunned by my husband’s rawness. “I wanted to be the first face he saw when—if—Yahweh restored his mind, so he would be humiliated before me and never mistreat me again.”
“Did he?” Even Allamu seemed drawn in by my husband’s confession. “Mistreat you, I mean, after he was restored?”
Regaining some of his tenderness, Daniel nodded. “He did, but somehow it mattered less.”
“You let the man who ruined your childhood ruin ours as well?” Kezia’s voice trembled with rage, her eyes lit with indignation. “I could believe Ima’s heart so cold, but yours?”
He braced both elbows on the table and leaned toward our eldest daughter. “Your ima begged me to stay in Babylon and let others care for the king and queen, but I refused to listen.” He slowly met each of our daughters’ eyes as he spoke. “Since my vision this morning, I’ve pondered the time I wasted during my life in exile. Why so many long nights away from my family? Why such striving for things of no eternal value? Why didn’t I focus more on the census records, teaching the Law, and making more written copies of our sacred texts?” Clenching his fists, he let out a growl. “If only I’d been more faithful, we could be better prepared when the remnant returns to Jerusalem.”
Allamu’s brows shot up. “Why would anyone go back to Jerusalem?” I heard warning in my son’s voice and prayed Daniel would use wisdom.
He paused before answering, which was a good sign. “After you and Belili left the chamber this morning, a heavenly being appeared to me.” Allamu grinned and rolled his eyes. Daniel continued, undaunted by his skepticism. “His name was Gabriel, and he confirmed that a remnant of our people will soon return to Jerusalem, where they’ll rebuild both the city and Yahweh’s Temple.”
“I’m quite serious.”
“Jerusalem is a jackals’ haunt. It will never be inhabited again.”
Daniel smiled patiently. “Gabriel disagrees.”
Allamu sobered. “Do you have any idea how much planning and wealth would need to be—”
“Actually,” Daniel interrupted, “I was hoping, since you’ve spent time in the highest echelons of Median and Persian royalty, you could tell us if you’ve seen a golden box that was taken from Yahweh’s Temple during one of the attacks on Jerusalem. We Hebrews call it the Ark of the Covenant and believe God’s presence rests on its lid between two replicas of cherubim.”
Allamu’s eyes narrowed. “How small is your god if he rested on a box and allowed himself to be stolen?”
No one was laughing now, but Daniel still offered a gracious smile. “Grant me a few moments to compare our gods, will you?”
Allamu nodded and spread both hands, as if giving Daniel permission to make his futile attempt.
“As chief magus, you rely on the stars to guide you in decisions, and though I’ve heard only whispers of Mithraic rituals, I suspect their priests—like many others—rely on omens, animal entrails, and casting lots to make predictions.”
“Yes, I rely on the stars,” Allamu conceded, “and I’m not at liberty to discuss the rituals of Mithra shared with me by a high priestess when I was a boy.” He shifted his attention to me. “You remember that woman, don’t you, Mother?” Without giving me time to answer, he spoke again to Daniel. “What does any of this have to do with Hebrews returning to Jerusalem?”
“As followers of Yahweh,” Daniel said without distraction, “we don’t rely on stars or sheep guts to reveal God’s will. We rely on Yahweh to reveal Himself, to speak, to draw nearer as we walk with Him in the process. For centuries, our people have kept meticulous records of their experiences with El Shaddai, and centuries-old prophecies predicted both our exile from Jerusalem to Babylon and our return. I showed you one of those ancient scrolls this morning while you were with me in our chamber. Do you remember?”
Allamu sighed, making no effort to hide his disinterest. “Yes, I remember. From a prophet Joseph or something.”
“The prophet Jeremiah. I picked up a scroll at random—or so I thought—and turned to the exact passage referring to the exiles’ return from Babylon. Moments after you left with your mother, I was caught up in a vision, Allamu.” He leaned closer. “I know the Magoi give special credence to dreams and visions, so this should give the validation you need to believe me when I say I am certain a remnant will return to rebuild both Jerusalem and Yahweh’s Temple. I’m asking you, Allamu, will you help us locate the Ark?”
Every eye was focused on him, and I held my breath, watching Daniel’s words etch hard lines into my son’s face.
Allamu stood, bumping the table and nearly knocking over everyone’s wine. “It’s getting late. Have you packed all the items you wish to move to the palace villa?” Without waiting for an answer, he bowed to those still seated. “Thank you for allowing me to invade your family gathering.” Zerubbabel’s gaze remained on the distant nothing.
I stood slowly with a heavy heart. “I hope you’ll join us again someti—”
“We should settle you in the new villa quickly if you hope to get a decent night’s rest. General Gubaru will expect Lord Belteshazzar in the throne room by dawn. I’ll fetch the guards and send them upstairs.” He bowed curtly, suspending all but official conversation, then hustled out of the courtyard. Zerubbabel followed without a backward glance.
Daniel and I excused ourselves from the meal and started toward the stairs. Mert waited for us at the rail. “I suspect the evening didn’t go as you’d hoped,” she said. “I also suspect you’re leaving me to care for your tribe again.” She shook her head and started up the stairs ahead of us.
Stricken, I pressed my palm against my forehead. I hadn’t even talked with her about staying here when Daniel and I moved to palace grounds. Allamu said servants would be provided for Daniel and me. With the distractions, I’d neglected to consult her, assuming she’d want to stay with Kezia and Shesh.
Hurrying to catch up, I tried to explain. “I’m sorry, Mert. I should have at least—”
“I’m not angry, Belili. I love the children, and I wanted to stay.” Quirking one side of her mouth, she added, “Not that anyone asked.” She placed a kiss on her palm, transferred it to my cheek, and continued up the stairs ahead of me.
I watched her go, feeling both relief and sorrow that she would stay behind with Kezia again. She was the glue that held our family together.
Daniel met me on the stairs. “That woman may be Yahweh’s greatest blessing and His most persistent test.”
He took my hand, and we continued to our chamber with lighter hearts, finding it as we’d left it. Stark and impersonal with a pile of baskets, bags, and wooden boxes piled near the doorway. Allamu came charging in shortly after us, leading twenty strangers into the most intimate room of our home.
“Is this all?” He pointed to the small pile we’d prepared. “I won’t send another contingent of guards to move things you’ve forgotten.”
“Yes, Allamu. We’ve packed all we need.” I breathed slowly to control my annoyance, while he followed his men downstairs to lead them to our new villa.
I stopped a guard before he grabbed the last basket, and I opened the lid. Mert peered inside with me. “What are you looking for?”
I withdrew Allamu’s baby shoes, placing them in the large pocket of my robe. “Right now, I need a reminder of the boy I loved to soften the edges of a man I don’t like.”
35
Now, our God, hear the prayers and petitions of your servant. For your sake, Lord, look with favor on your desolate sanctuary….Open your eyes and see the desolation of the city that bears your Name. We do not make requests of you because we are righteous, but because of your great mercy. Lord, listen! Lord, forgive! Lord, hear and act! For your sake, my God, do not delay, because your city and your people bear your Name.
—DANIEL 9:17–19
A week on General Gubaru’s royal council—up before dawn and home after dark—and Daniel could barely drag his weary bones home from the palace each night. Tonight, Allamu sent the king’s guard, Zerubbabel, as his escort, but Daniel suspected he was sent as a human walking stick. Daniel was grateful. The man carried a lamp to light their way in one hand, and Daniel leaned on his other arm.
“I’ve never felt so old in my life.” His voice echoed in the narrow street leading to their palace villa, lined on both sides with multistoried buildings. His journey home was dark and discouraging after a day of noblemen’s grousing. “Do you suppose every royal council is the same, Zerubbabel? Does every empire complain of too little wealth, too many beggars, and unreasonable enemies?”
The man chuckled, a rough, rolling noise like a child’s ball on a cobblestoned street. “I’ve witnessed three royal councils: Astyages’s, Cyrus’s, and now Gubaru’s. So far, yes. They all worry about the exact same things.” His teeth shone bright white amid a bushy dark-brown beard, and a dimple made him look quite boyish, though he was as wide as a mule was tall.
“You hardly look old enough to have served three masters.”
He gave Daniel a sidelong glance. “Are you trying to flatter me so you can offer me an ugly daughter you’ve hidden somewhere?”
“No, no! Four daughters are enough, and they’re all happily married.” They walked a little farther, and Zerubbabel remained silent. Daniel wasn’t so easily put off. “So, how have you managed to serve three masters at such a young age?”
His smile dimmed, but a slight indentation of that dimple remained. “I don’t often tell my story. Why should
I tell you, Lord Belteshazzar?”
“Because I’m a nosy old man, and perhaps I’ll forget by tomorrow.”
He considered his reply carefully before he spoke. “I grew up in Erech. My abba and your friend Abednego were like brothers. They spoke of you often, almost as often as they spoke of Yahweh.” He glanced down at Daniel and seemed pleased at the shock on his face. “I was fourteen when I rebelled against their teaching and went to Susa to follow my dream of joining the great armies of the East. I rose quickly through the ranks and found my way into palace service in Achmetha during the last days of King Astyages.”
“When Cyrus betrayed him.”
Zerubbabel stopped abruptly, halting Daniel with him. “That’s what you’ve been told, but I assure you, it was Astyages who betrayed his grandson. Cyrus simply made him regret it.”
“I see.” Indeed, Daniel saw many things in this soldier’s past. A passion for justice. Deep loyalty. And an intentional rejection of Yahweh’s truth. “May I ask what made you rebel against the teachings of Yahweh?”
He secured Daniel’s arm around his and continued their journey. “I was a foolish boy with wanderlust in my blood. Isn’t that enough?”
“Have you ever returned to Yahweh?”
“What is there to return to, Lord Belteshazzar?” They reached the garden gate of Daniel’s villa, and the burly soldier met him eye to eye. “I’ve seen Jerusalem in my military travels. Allamu was right. It’s a jackals’ haunt. Where would I worship the true God when there is no Temple?” Zerubbabel opened the iron gate. “You should go inside, my lord. It appears you have guests.” He was finished talking of Yahweh.
Lights from the courtyard braziers streamed into the dark street, and the sounds of laughter reached them. Daniel wanted to talk more with his new friend, excited to find a true believer among General Gubaru’s men, but curiosity drew him. The courtyard was usually dark, with Belili waiting in their bedchamber by now. “Please come in and join us, Zerubbabel. Whoever it is, I’m sure we’ll have enough for one more.”
