Of Fire and Lions

by Mesu Andrews

  “Afraid I’ll bite?” Babylon’s king asked with a wry smile, eliciting nervous laughter from the satraps filing into the room.

  “Not at all, my king. I simply left the place of honor for your third overseer.” Lowering his voice, he spoke only for Darius to hear. “You’ll likely wish to speak with him about being more prompt.”

  The Mede’s laughter boomed in the courtroom, garnering a curious grin from Allamu and dubious glances from the rest of the satraps. The third overseer sprinted up the aisle. “Forgive me, lords and kings. My wife was in labor all night—” His foot reached the first step of the dais, and Darius sprang from his chair to meet him.

  Daniel recognized the gleam in the king’s eyes and saw the glint of sunlight on his dagger. In what seemed to the audience of satraps to be a left-armed embrace, Darius sank his dagger into the young overseer’s belly with his right hand. When the young father crumpled on the steps, many quieted. When they noted the bloody dagger, the courtroom fell silent as a stone.

  But Darius’s smile never dimmed. “I hope I’ve made it clear that promptness is of utmost importance when you hear the king’s trumpet. No excuses. No delays.” When the room remained silent, his good nature turned sour. “I should hear, ‘Yes, my king.’ ”

  “Yes, my king!” A unified shout rattled the cedar rafters.

  A contingent of soldiers proceeded up the aisle.

  “What are you doing? Did I ask you to remove the body?”

  One of the eunuchs bowed. “No, my king. We’ll return to our posts and wait for your command.” He turned promptly, as did the others.

  “Better. Much better. Now bar the doors. Any satrap who hasn’t arrived by now will be executed, and another leader will be appointed to take his place.” Darius returned to his throne, shaking his finger at Daniel. “I liked your suggestion, Lord Belteshazzar.”

  “My suggestion, King Darius?” Daniel hoped he hadn’t thought speaking to the overseer about promptness meant killing the poor man.

  “Yes. I will speak with each satrap and overseer about their families. Get to know them. Discern their character through a simple conversation.” He pointed to the dead man. “Perhaps we can avoid more mishaps with young fathers who assume I’ll be lenient because of a woman’s labor pains.”

  “Avoiding further mishaps would be commendable, my king. Any kingdom has only so many fine overseers.”

  Again, the king grinned. “I like you, Belteshazzar. I suspect you’ve earned your gray hair with wit and cunning. King Cyrus and I will interview you first.”

  “As you wish, my king.” Daniel pointed at the dead man lying on the steps. “Shall I remain seated since the location for supplicants is occupied?”

  Darius laughed aloud. “Yes, Belteshazzar. Remain where you are and tell me about your family.”

  “I’m married and have four daughters,” Daniel began.

  “Is Mistress Belili still living?” Cyrus interrupted. Though the emperor had final authority in all matters, Cyrus had remained silent during most of yesterday’s proceedings. Why the sudden intrusion?

  Daniel trained his features into a calm facade. “Yes, King Cyrus, my wife is alive and quite well. Thank you. Would you like me to communicate your well wishes?”

  Cyrus’s eyes narrowed. After an excruciating pause, a slow smile sent a chill through Daniel’s veins. “No thank you, Lord Belteshazzar. I’d like to offer my regards to Mistress Belili in person.” He motioned the guards toward the dead overseer. “Take him away and escort Lord Belteshazzar’s wife to the throne room—immediately.”

  He elbowed Darius. “She was my aunt Amyitis’s dearest friend, you know. I remember Mistress Belili as having the same spit and fire as I’ve seen in Lord Belteshazzar.” He then turned to Allamu. “I’d forgotten your mother lived here. Have you seen her since you’ve been in Babylon, or has Gub—has King Darius kept you too busy?”

  Daniel cleared his throat, interrupting the impromptu reunion and hoping to keep Belili out of Darius’s court. “Of course the emperor may speak with my wife when he pleases, but she could visit anytime. You wish to interview one hundred twenty satraps—whose wives are far more likely than mine to cause tardiness with birthing pains.” He tried to chuckle, but it sounded more like a nervous groan.

  Cyrus leaned toward Allamu. “Is there a reason Lord Belteshazzar doesn’t want me to see your mother?”

  Allamu shifted uneasily on his couch. “I can’t imagine. She would be delighted to see you.”

  “It’s settled, then.” He waved his hand at Darius. “Proceed with other interviews while we wait.”

  The guards cleared the overseer’s body, and Darius began his interviews. Daniel tried to remain attentive, studying the mannerisms and cues of Babylon’s new king in order to learn his moods and responses. Would he wield his dagger again? Or had it been a shock tactic to gain their attention? If so, it had certainly worked. Daniel hadn’t looked away. At the thought, he stole a quick glance at King Cyrus and found him intently watching the large entry doors. Perhaps his motives were pure in wanting to see Belili, a woman he seemed to include in fond childhood memories. Daniel tried to relax his shoulders, hoping Darius would keep his dagger in its sheath when Belili arrived.

  After the third satrap’s interview, Darius turned to Daniel. “I believe I’ll begin your interview now, Belteshazzar. Get it out of the way before your wife arrives.”

  “As you wish, my king.” Daniel descended the dais and offered a bow. Darius began with questions of his childhood captivity, training as a Chaldean, and Nebuchadnezzar’s appointment as governor over them.

  Seemingly frustrated that too many answers led back to Daniel’s singular and focused faith in Yahweh, Cyrus scooted to the edge of his throne and leaned forward. “You talk in circles, wise man.”

  “Yes, my king. I’ve been accused of that many times.” He bowed again, awaiting the next question.

  Darius spoke again. “How is it that you’ve remained calm when others half your age complain of changes to a city they’ve lived in half as long?”

  “My peace comes from two sources, King Darius. First, I realize when I leave this earth, I’ll go to paradise, where I’ll be surrounded by the faithful and will fellowship with Father Abraham. Second, Yahweh showed me two visions during the reign of Belshazzar. Both confirmed in vivid images that a divided kingdom would conquer Babylon. We stand here today amid Yahweh’s fulfillment through your combined kingdoms. Why would I grow anxious now?”

  The courtroom door banged open. “Take your hands off me!” Belili’s voice echoed in the near-empty hall.

  Daniel whirled to see if she’d been hurt and was relieved to find her angry instead. Rushing toward his flustered wife, he realized she was more frightened than angry.

  She fell into his arms and looked beyond him to the dais. “I thought they’d hurt you or Allamu.”

  “Shhh, beloved. We need not fear. Cyrus simply wanted to see his friend’s mother again after so many years.” He dried her tears with her head covering and offered his arm to escort her. He placed his right hand over hers to steady her shaking but realized he was trembling as well. Cyrus seemed a reasonable man, but he couldn’t say the same for Darius. The words he’d said moments ago echoed in his mind. Why grow anxious now? Why grow anxious now?

  * * *

  Daniel stopped at the edge of the crimson carpet, less than a camel length from the dais, and we both bowed. My heart slammed against my chest, and I gripped his arm tighter.

  King Darius spoke first. “It is impolite in Persian court for a woman’s head to be covered, Mistress. Please remove—”

  Looking up, I avoided Cyrus completely, fixing my gaze on Darius, the Mede. “Forgive me.” I pushed my red scarf off and bowed deeply once again. When I rose, King Darius seemed transfixed by my gray curls. I hadn’t had time to plait them or even tie
them back with a leather string.

  A mischievous chuckle broke the silence, a familiar sound. Cyrus batted the Mede’s shoulder. “Stop staring, King Darius. Lord Allamu’s mother will take a strap to you.” I turned to the emperor, terrified his familiarity would draw my secret from his lips and saw kindness in his eyes. “Mistress Belili, you are lovely. As lovely as the day Auntie brought you to Susa when I was but a child. I’ve heard whispers of conspiracy regarding Nebuchadnezzar’s death, but no word reached me about Aunt Amy’s end. Do you have information to share?” Brows turned down slightly, he conveyed a gentle warning to speak only truth.

  Daniel reached for my hand between the folds of our robes. “King Cyrus, though we have no proof of Nebuchadnezzar’s assasination, we believe the rumors of conspiracy. His young heir was on the throne only two years when Neriglissar, the man who had co-reigned peaceably during Nebuchadnezzar’s absence, usurped the throne in a violent coup. It was then that the faithful chief eunuch, Ashpenaz, secretly conveyed Queen Amyitis from the palace to our home in a meat cart—”

  “A meat cart?” Cyrus’s eyes went wide. “I can’t imagine Auntie riding in a meat cart.”

  I grinned at his interest. “Your aunt was the toughest Mede that ever lived, Cyru—my king.” Realizing I’d nearly called an emperor by his first name, I relinquished the telling to my husband.

  “We hid Amyitis in our family’s villa through the turbulent years of change in the palace,” Daniel said. “She enjoyed our grandchildren and lived well until lung sickness cut short her sixty-third year.”

  Cyrus rested his elbow on the armrest. “I owe you two much. She was dear to me. I must ask. Was she alive when I—” He cleared his throat and shifted nervously on his throne. “Did she know I conquered Achmetha?”

  “Amyitis died before you killed her father,” I said. Daniel squeezed my hand hard, but what was I to do? The words were said.

  Cyrus glared at me. “I didn’t kill my grandfather. I conquered King Astyages, the man who exiled my mother and me only days after my birth because of a silly dream.”

  “Might I ask about that, King Cyrus?” Daniel drew his attention from me, and I was both relieved and terrified. “Was it not the Magoi who interpreted your grandfather Astyages’s dream that resulted in your exile? Yet Allamu is chief magus and now sits at your right hand. How is it that you’ve remained friends all these years?”

  Cyrus leaned back on his throne, eyes narrowed at my husband. “You are as tactful and wise as Allamu boasted, Lord Belteshazzar, to divert my annoyance from your wife. Long before I met Allamu, his father, Gadi, was the faithful friend who revealed my grandfather’s ill intentions to my mother and sent us fleeing to safety. It’s why Auntie wanted Allamu and me to meet. It’s why I will always trust Lord Allamu.”

  Daniel bowed deeply, and when he rose, there was a glint of mischief in his eyes. “It would appear the Most High God was at work in your life as well, my king. When Gadi alerted your mother, he also sent a messenger to me with a scroll detailing the Magoi’s conspiracy with King Astyages and his part in helping your mother and you escape. In the message, he also asked me to care for his wife and son if anything ever happened to him.” Daniel wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “As you see, my king, Yahweh has given me the privilege of fulfilling Gadi’s wishes.”

  Cyrus laughed and clapped his hands. “You have found a way to bring the matter back to your god again, you old dog.” My husband beamed at the emperor’s congratulations. I bathed in the peace I saw on Daniel’s face, feeling as if we’d walked through a field of vipers without being bitten.

  39

  Now Daniel so distinguished himself among the [overseers] and the satraps by his exceptional qualities that the king planned to set him over the whole kingdom.

  —DANIEL 6:3

  Six Months Later

  The fifth day in a row, Lord? Daniel heard no clear answer but knew from his medical training that his red, swollen, and painful feet were likely related to the rich food he’d been eating since his appointment to the royal council.

  He stared at the ceiling, watching dawn’s glow brighten their bedchamber as the aroma of myrrh stung his eyes. Or was it frustration that caused him to swipe at tears before they rolled into his ears? He’d tried to get out of bed at the rooster’s first crow but fell back to the mattress in pain when his feet bore the slightest weight. Belili had awakened when he landed hard on the mattress.

  “I’ll get my herb basket.” She kept clean bandages and a small pot of myrrh-and-coriander unguent in the table at her bedside. Grabbing the basket, she hurried to his side and knelt. “Do you know the cause?”

  His legs hung over the side while she applied ointment to bandages. “We only see the condition among nobility who eat meat more than three times a week.” He chuckled, trying to lighten his dreary mood. “Perhaps I should return to the diet Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego, and I ate when we first came to Babylon.”

  She paused her ministrations and looked up without a shred of amusement. “A change in diet would be good, but a man your age can’t work from dawn till the moon’s zenith every day. Must I go to court myself and tell King Darius you need rest?” She applied the bandage gently to his left foot, and he sucked in a breath. Even the slightest touch felt like the stabs of a thousand daggers. He counted heartbeats until the tingle of myrrh provided some pain relief. “Yahweh ordained a Sabbath for our benefit,” she added, “not His.”

  Her words treated the true illness. Daniel had been so meticulous in teaching and obeying other commands in this foreign land, yet he’d completely ignored the fourth of God’s ten commandments. “You’re beautiful when you speak for Yahweh.” Daniel brushed the feathery-soft wrinkles on her cheek.

  “Phssst.” She waved away his compliment, busy wrapping his feet with her blue-veined hands. Her fragile, translucent skin bruised easily when she bumped a table corner or stumbled into a doorway.

  “How did we get so old?” he mused.

  She looked up, a spark of mischief dancing in her eyes. “We didn’t die.”

  Laughter draining his strength, he helped her off her knees and guided her back into bed. She lay in the bend of his arm, their bodies molded into the same shape, and suddenly Daniel didn’t feel so old anymore. This felt right, the way they were meant to be. Her nearness, her love had never gotten old or tired.

  “I want you to tell Darius you need more rest.”

  “I know you do, love.” But how could he demand a Sabbath from a king who executed satraps for tardiness? Surely Yahweh understood his added responsibilities. “Darius has divided supervisory responsibilities of the one hundred twenty satraps among himself, Allamu, Orchamus, and me. Darius oversees the satraps of Babylon, Allamu the ones assigned to Syria, Orchamus those bound for Phoenicia, and I’m training those going to—”

  “Palestine?” Belili raised up on one elbow. “Oh, Daniel, it must be part of Yahweh’s plan to restore the remnant to Jerusalem.” The spark in her eyes dimmed as understanding dawned. “That’s why you can’t rest. You feel responsible. To King Darius but also to train the satraps who will rule our people in Palestine.”

  “I know Yahweh will care for His people, but I must also serve faithfully. Shesh continues his search for the Ark, so I must train satraps who understand its significance in our culture.”

  She raised one corner of a lopsided grin. “Have your satraps realized that you’re teaching them about Yahweh, not just culture?”

  “Hebrew culture sounds less offensive to Medes and Persians. No one has complained yet.” They laughed together, and he pulled her into a tender kiss, enjoying their first leisurely morning in months. The trumpet’s call interrupted his warming passion, and he offered his wife an apologetic shrug. “I’ll wake you when I get home.”

  “You’d better,” she said as he scooted off the bed. “And make sure Orc
hamus does his share of the work—the little whelp.”

  “I’ll likely leave off that last comment. You’ve been spending too much time with Mert.” Daniel reached for his robe, chuckling. Oh, how he loved his wife. One more kiss, and he was dressed and on his way to the palace before the second trumpet warned of the king’s impatience.

  Allamu met him at the palace entrance, their relationship becoming easier each day they spent together. How Daniel wished it could be so between Allamu and his mother.

  “You look like walking death.” Allamu laid his arm around Daniel’s shoulder. “Perhaps you should ask King Darius for a day to rest.”

  “Did your mother pay you to say that?”

  Orchamus, the overseer appointed after Darius stabbed the tardy young father, waited for them at the entrance. Having heard their banter, he fell in step beside Allamu. “Maybe King Darius should declare a day of rest since he canceled the Akita festival. The whole city is ill tempered. Already this morning, I’ve dealt with two merchants, a physician, and an oarsman for my quffa who would have benefited from a New Year’s festival to regain their good humor.”

  “I’m sure King Darius will make the right decision.” Allamu cast a warning glance in Daniel’s direction, but he’d already determined to keep silent. Orchamus was ten years younger than Allamu, and only his ambition surpassed his energy. Allamu and Daniel knew better than to offer a word that could later be twisted by their counterpart into betrayal or treason.

  They approached the large double doors of the throne room, and Daniel looked for Zerubbabel. The Scythian guard was on duty instead. Tattooed and always wearing his ornate bow and quiver strapped across his back, the stone-faced warrior was so imposing no one dared mock him. He opened the door without command, and Daniel patted his shoulder as he passed.

  The overseers had arrived before most of the satraps. Those already present gathered in small huddles, faces weary and grim. Allamu, who walked between Orchamus and Daniel, lowered his voice. “I think we three can agree that the whole city needs a break, but it makes no sense to hold a festival that worships Marduk and Nabu, patron gods of Babylon and Borsippa, when our king and emperor worship Mithra.”