Of Fire and Lions

by Mesu Andrews

  Kezia’s expression grew wistful. “He’s always done it.”

  I let my silence inform them both what his faithfulness would cost us all.

  Realization hardened Mert’s features first. Kezia, though slower to understand, was quicker to react. “But he can’t! Not during Hidati, Ima.”

  I found myself fidgeting again. Daniel usually settled me. I laced my fingers together and curled my hands into a white-knuckled ball. “Your abba continues his daily routine, and since he’s missed the last two days of council meetings, his prayers at our open window have drawn quite a crowd.”

  My throat tightened. And every moment of his faithfulness condemns my choices in Achmetha. How did I think I could save my life by denying Yahweh?

  “He must stop, Ima, if only for a few days!” Panic launched Kezia from her pillow. “You must convince him. He could do so much good for our people as the king’s chief administrator. And what about the vision and Jeremiah’s prophecy? He can’t return to Jerusalem or help others do so if he’s executed for praying to Yahweh! Why not mumble a few meaningless prayers to Darius if it can save his life?”

  Shaking, I stood to meet her fury. “Because uttering meaningless words to a false god shriveled my soul.”

  My daughter looked as if I’d slapped her. “When did you pray to a false god, Ima?”

  The secret became a living thing within me, now clawing, shrieking, ranting to come into the light. I shot a panicked glance at Mert.

  “Tell her, Belili. She needs to know.”

  “Someone, tell me.” Kezia looked from Mert to me.

  Feeling light-headed, I returned to my cushion. The decision I faced now was different than in Achmetha. Then I’d feared for my life. Now I feared my family’s rejection and Daniel’s hatred. In Achmetha, I’d chosen to survive by my own wits and will but lost the living breath of my soul. Wouldn’t Yahweh provide if my family rejected me? Hadn’t He proven His power and mercy again and again?

  I looked up at my daughter still towering over me. “When I was exiled to Achmetha, I became high priestess of Mithra.”

  Her face lost all color, and she collapsed onto her cushion.

  “Your abba doesn’t know.”

  “No. No, you couldn’t. You…How…” She looked away. Shook her head. Then looked at Mert. “You knew.” My friend nodded. Kezia’s face clouded with unspoken sorrow, and then she broke into sobs.

  “Kezia, let me explain.” I knelt beside her.

  She continued shaking her head, silent no after no. Mert rubbed her back and fought her own emotions. Though I felt lighter, cleaner, free of the beast that had stained me for most of my life, I was tortured by the pain I’d inflicted on my daughter.

  My own tears began to flow, a stream at first that gushed into waves of confession and repentance to the only One who could save me from myself. Yahweh, forgive me for bending a knee or offering worship to an idol that can’t see or know me. Forgive my anger and doubt when You showed me mercy. Give me courage now to love You above all others and be forthright and true—even if it costs me Daniel and my family.

  A tender touch on my hand startled me, and I lifted my head. Mert and I were alone. I scanned the empty courtyard. “Where is she?” And the consquences of my confession began to churn in my gut. “Why did I tell Kezia first? What if she tells Daniel? Or the other children? She’ll tell her friends at the market. The whole city will know before the evening meal, Mert.” Wild with regret and fear, I couldn’t breathe.

  “Look at me, Belili. Look at me!” She grabbed my arms and shook me. “Kezia won’t tell anyone.” My friend’s eyes were red rimmed, but her tone was even. “Kezia needs time to process what you’ve told her. She loves you. She’ll be all right—as will you. I’m proud of you.” A tender smile graced her lips. “Do you want me to go with you to tell Daniel?”

  With the single question, the beast returned to wrap its chains around my heart again. “I…I can’t…”

  Mert dropped her hands. “You have to tell him.”

  “I will, but not right now. How could I add to his pain? And he could be arrested any day.”

  “All the more reason to leave nothing unspoken between you.”

  I turned away. How could Mert know what was at stake? She’d never known a love like mine and Daniel’s. Yahweh, forgive me. I can’t risk losing the one who led me back to You.

  * * *

  A dense fog floated into my bedchamber window on the Borsippa estate, and the lavender glow signaled time to help Hasina and Amyitis start our morning meal. I hurried through the kitchen and outside to rob the ducks’ nests of eggs. While running across the barnyard, I tripped over something.

  “Daniel!” He was kneeling, praying. I tugged at his arm, trying to interrupt. “Daniel, get up!” But when I looked behind me, a lion lunged at us both. “Noooo!” I flailed in the grip of the giant beast, but its claws pinned me to the ground.

  Lifting its head to the sky, it let out a roar that sounded like Daniel.

  “Belili! Belili, my love, wake up!”

  I bolted upright in bed, clutching the husband I’d loved since my youth. “I can’t lose you, Daniel.” I couldn’t stop trembling. “Please, please don’t leave me.”

  “If I must leave you, it will be for only a blink of eternity.”

  I squeezed him tighter and realized the room in my dream was the same lavender in which we now sat. Dawn had come on the day of Darius’s ridiculous feast, and my husband was already dressed. He was ready to kneel at our window. “No!” Panic clutched at my throat, and I clutched at Daniel.

  “Shhh. Shhh.” He held me, smoothing my hair. “Yahweh rules over kings and kingdoms, Belili. He sets rulers in place and knew the number of my days before I was born.” He kissed my forehead and winked. “I don’t think this is my last day.”

  “Well, that would have been good to hear three days ago.” I pulled him into a ferocious hug. “Did you receive a vision? A dream? Are you sure?”

  “No, I’m not sure.”

  All my relief was shattered by another wave of fear, but I couldn’t let him see it when I released him. “Well, we can be sure of this. Yahweh is good.”

  The sweetest smile brightened his features. I kissed him, hoping to be steadied by our love and cleansed by his purity.

  “I’m going to pray now,” he said when we parted. I simply nodded, my throat too tight to speak.

  Daniel stood on painful feet and walked with the regal air of a king to kneel humbly before our God. He opened the shutters and invited in the cool morning air.

  Voices below our window sounded low and rumbling.

  “Who—” I started to ask.

  Daniel turned to me with lifted hand and a stern gaze. I was to remain in our bed. He’d told me last night, “Even though you pray near me each day, there’s no need for you to be seen through the window now.”

  Protecting me. It’s what he’d done since the day we met. And I’d told him half truths for just as long. How could I ever tell him the whole truth now, on a day that could be his last?

  My Daniel braced himself against the windowsill as he knelt. With eyes closed, he lifted his hands and then his voice:

  Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one. Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.

  He continued the Shema and sang two psalms before ending his worship with supplication for King Darius and the prosperity of the empire that would return a remnant of Israel’s faithful to their home in Jerusalem.

  I did as he’d asked of me, sat on our bed and prayed with him. Silently but fervently. I prayed for his safety, for Darius’s
leniency, for Allamu’s realization of Yahweh’s truth. I prayed for Kezia’s mercy on an ima who had failed her again. And last of all, I prayed Yahweh could somehow forgive me for surrendering my whole heart and then snatching it up again.

  When Daniel rose from his knees and closed the shutters, I patted the mattress beside me. He sat down and laid his head back, sighing as if he’d done a full day’s work.

  “Do you know how it pained me to stay in this bed?” I asked.

  “I know. You wouldn’t have wanted to see.”

  “How many were outside our window?”

  He paused two heartbeats. “Many.”

  I thought about the lion in my dream and closed my eyes, trying to unsee the image. “Are you hungry?” I was hoping he’d say yes so I could go downstairs and busy myself with something.

  “No. Would you stay with me awhile?”

  I turned on my side and curled my body around his. “I’ll stay until you tell me to go.”

  He snuggled his head against mine, and in a short time I heard the slow, steady breathing of sleep.

  When I opened my eyes next, the air was warm and sticky. The shutters on the window were open, and my husband was on his knees once more.

  “Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one. Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength…”

  Again after his prayer, he refused to tell me how many people stood outside our window, but at least this time he ate a meal. Mert coaxed him downstairs to enjoy the shade of the courtyard before his evening prayer. But when the sun touched the western horizon, my husband made his trek upstairs to kneel before our open window once more. This time I didn’t go with him. I spoke from our courtyard to Yahweh, the great God who sees all, knows all, and is sovereign over all. This time I prayed only for my husband’s deliverance.

  Daniel emerged from our chamber after his evening prayer. “I’m not hungry, and I’d like to spend some time alone in prayer.” He grinned. “With the shutters closed.”

  I tried not to be concerned, but I could tell he was troubled.

  Mert was good company. She asked if I’d spoken with Kezia. I changed the subject. We finished our meal sharing stories about my grandchildren and what a joy they’d become in our lives.

  Our words were light, but my thoughts were heavy. If Kezia revealed my secret, would I be cut off from my family? Would the children and grandchildren who had finally accepted me now send me into an exile of the heart? I winced inwardly. Where was the courage that prodded me to tell Kezia in the first place? Where was my faith?

  “Where is Lord Belteshazzar?” Allamu stormed through the courtyard gate.

  I’d endured enough heartache for one day. “You will call him Daniel in this house. He is resting upstairs, and you will not disturb him.”

  “The whole council saw him, Mother. All of them. I’ve come from a meeting in which they unanimously agreed to accuse Lord—Daniel—before the king’s court.”

  I had expected to feel the same panic I’d experienced after confessing to Kezia, but a surprising peace settled over me. I looked up at my tall and handsome son. “I’m sad to hear it was unanimous. I’d hoped you would have spoken in his defense.” Patting his arm, I left him standing sullenly in Mert’s care.

  Our bedchamber was lit by a single lamp, flickering on a small table near Daniel’s side of the bed. The shutters were closed, the bed empty, yet I heard a faint whisper. I took three steps closer to the bed and saw Daniel lying facedown on the floor, his arms outstretched. I’d entered holy ground without realizing it and bent to remove my sandals.

  Kneeling beside my husband’s prone body, I began my own silent vigil. Sometime during the night, I woke with a start, lying in a ball on the floor. My bones creaked as I unfolded, stretching sore and weary muscles.

  “Nebuchadnezzar’s story in his own writing.” Daniel’s voice startled me. Sitting on the couch beside the bed, he lifted a scroll he was reading. “Quite valuable, but don’t ever sell it, Belili. Amyitis’s crown, yes, but even if they take the villa after I’m arrested, don’t sell this. Yahweh will provide for you and the family. This scroll must be kept for future genera—”

  “Allamu said the council will present their charges as the first order of business in the morning.”

  He nodded once. “They’ll come by midday.” Sighing, he turned toward the shuttered windows. “Perhaps I can pray twice more by then.” He looked at me and winked. There was still fight left in him.

  Pushing to my feet, I groaned a little and started toward the door. “I’m hungry. Do you want something?”

  He snagged my hand as I walked past him, opened it, and kissed my palm. “You are braver than any warrior.”

  I bent to kiss the top of his gray head and fled before my tears proved him a liar.

  42

  Then they said to the king, “Daniel, who is one of the exiles from Judah, pays no attention to you, Your Majesty, or to the decree you put in writing. He still prays three times a day.”

  —DANIEL 6:13

  Daniel opened his eyes after morning prayers and glanced down at the council members. The group was small, and Orchamus wasn’t among them. A few satraps from the Palestine group came and two or three from each of Syria’s and Phoenicia’s groups. He closed the shutters, wondering why any of them came. They already had plenty of eyewitnesses to testify. Yahweh, let their interest be spiritual curiosity rather than political malice.

  Making his way to the couch, he nudged Nebuchadnezzar’s scroll aside and began unwrapping the bandage from his left foot. Yahweh had answered his prayers, easing his pain enough to walk with help. He removed the right foot’s bandage as well, hoping he’d be able to stand before his accusers instead of being carried on a couch.

  Kezia’s and Shesh’s voices filtered up the stairs, and he closed his eyes, speaking aloud to the Giver of joy and peace. “Thank You, Lord, for surrounding me with family today.”

  Footsteps on the stairs tightened his shoulders, but he remembered Allamu’s report. No arrest until later. Belili appeared at the door with a smile. “Shesh is here with news you’ll want to hear.” She looked at the uncoiled bandages on the floor. “Your feet look better.”

  “They feel a little better.”

  Nodding, she came near to offer her arm as support. “This is becoming a surprisingly good day.” He accepted her help, then walked arm in arm with her down the stairs and to the open courtyard, where all four of their girls waited with their husbands. Mert poured something from a pitcher into silver goblets.

  “Wine at this hour?” Daniel knew he sounded like a prude.

  Mert kept pouring. “It’s watered, and you should hear Shesh’s news before you judge.”

  Their son-in-law’s smile nearly swallowed his face. “We’ve found more sacred items from Yahweh’s Temple in other temples in Babylon.”

  Daniel hugged him. “Praise be to Yahweh! What did you find?”

  Shesh helped Daniel to a cushion, where he sat down beside him. “We discovered more lampstands, wick trimmers, and gold and silver bowls.” His enthusiasm dimmed. “The lampstand was the only thing of significant size. We found most of the treasure in the two main temples, the Esagila and Nabu’s temple.”

  Daniel scratched his chin, contemplating both the thrill of discovery and the dread of finding only small items. Would Nebuchadnezzar dared to have destroyed the Ark of the Covenant? Shaking the thought from his head, he reached for a goblet of wine and lifted it toward heaven. “We praise You, Yahweh, for Your faithfulness. We asked for Your help, and You answered. Now we ask for continued guidance to prepare the remnant of Your people to rebuild and restore Your holy city.” He took a sip of sweet nectar, allowing the taste to satisfy both body and soul.

  His family drank a quick sip, but their jabbing elbows and poin
ting turned Daniel’s attention toward Shesh. “What are you up to?”

  Without a word, his son-in-law stepped aside, revealing a small pile of dusty leather scrolls hidden behind him. He pulled one out, blew off some dust, and sneezed as he delivered it into Daniel’s hands. “Pardon me, Abba.”

  “Of course, but what are they?”

  “Nabu’s priests found all of them beside the lampstand,” Shesh explained while Daniel unwound the leather tie. “I don’t know why they were there, but I’m grateful they were.”

  Daniel read the first lines aloud. “The words of Jeremiah son of Hilkiah, one of the priests at Anathoth…in the thirteenth year of the reign of Josiah…” The dawning understanding of the significance began in his belly. “Are these the remainder of Jeremiah’s writings?”

  Shesh nodded. “As well as sacred words of other prophets.”

  Daniel dropped the scroll to his lap and wept with joy. Belili cradled his head against her chest and began singing the song of Miriam. “I will sing to the LORD, for He is highly exalted…” Her voice carried him into a private place of worship. “The LORD is my strength and my defense; He has become my salvation—”

  “How can you celebrate?” Allamu’s voice raked against the melody and wrenched Daniel from God’s presence. The man stood at the courtyard gate with Zerubbabel, and joy vanished like grass in summer’s heat.

  Daniel stood, wincing at his still-tender feet. “If you were here to arrest me, you would have brought more than our Hebrew friend. What news from court?”

  But he knew by Allamu’s and Zerubbabel’s faces the news wasn’t good. Zerubbabel lagged behind, and Allamu braced Daniel’s shoulders. “Orchamus and the satraps presented their accusations this morning, reminding the king that you are a captive from Judah, that your slave name is Daniel, and that your first loyalty is to your native god. But your open rebellion—praying to your god beside an open window during the Hidati festival—is the only charge that matters. The council demanded your immediate arrest and execution.”