by Shlomo Kalo
They were both clapped into manacles and led to the tent where the previous encounter had taken place two weeks before.
Or-Nego and he took their places on the same high-backed chairs as before, the difference being that this time their interlocutors were grovelling tearfully at their feet. Two soldiers stood behind them, drawn swords in their hands.
He demanded that the guards of the camp and the overseers be summoned before him, and soon the tent was crowded with half-naked overseers and guards dressed in faded robes of indeterminate colour. He asked them if their superiors, the men now wallowing in the dust, had read them the King’s edict, and the answers that he received were hesitant, mumbled and sometimes self-contradictory. Until one of the overseers came forward and said that their superiors had told them something about instructions from the King, and furthermore – there was among them a man who could read and write and he was asked to read them the contents of the scroll. His name was Harvud, and he was the scion of a distinguished family, fallen on hard times. He did as he was asked, reading the portentous words and even interpreting them for the benefit of the less educated among them. And then those two – and he pointed to the camp commander and his overseer acolyte – assaulted and abused Harvud and ripped the scroll to shreds, and threw the fragments on the ground and trampled them into the dust. And Harvud waited until the two of them had calmed down, and reminded them that according to the terms of the royal edict that they had just destroyed, they were guilty of treason and their lives were in danger. And they attacked him again and beat him with their fists, and not content with this they ordered that he be flogged. It was lucky for him that there was a shortage of whips in the camp, or he might not have survived the punishment.
“Where is this Harvud?” he wanted to know.
A lean young man, with flashing eyes and upright stance, wearing a faded but clean robe, stepped forward from among the group of guards and stood before him.
“You can read and write?” he asked him.
He nodded.
He handed him the copy of the scroll that he had brought with him and ordered him to read it aloud. In a ponderous but clearly audible voice he read out all the clauses one after the other and when he had finished, offered it back to him.
“Keep it!” he commanded, “And henceforward, you are to uphold it in the letter and in the spirit!” And in a solemn tone he added: “In the name of His Majesty the King I hereby appoint you the commanding officer of the camp of the tanners on the Euphrates!” From amid the massed ranks of the guards and the overseers a murmur of assent and deference was heard.
“And what’s to become of us?” the former sword-bearer cried plaintively.
“You should lose your heads,” he declared, the wailing of jackals accompanying his words – “for defying the King and disobeying his commandments! And yet – compassionate and merciful is His Majesty King Nebuchadnezzar, and since I have been appointed by the King’s senior counsellor to do his will and judge in his name, I decree that you are to work as tanners for the remainder of your lives, and Harvud will supervise you and check the quality of your work, and if he has occasion to report the slightest infringement of the rules on your part, you will be led in chains before His Majesty and he will decide your fate!”
A nightmarish howl accompanied his last words, a kind of sound not easily identified as human, and evidently intended as an expression of gratitude for this show of leniency.
The supervisor’s curved sword, in its brass scabbard, he handed over solemnly, before the eyes of the assembled company, to young Harvud, and there and then he had him swear faithful service to the King of Babylon and obedience to his laws and ordinances.
Once this oath had been sworn, they rose and left the camp.
About a month later, the first batch of hides worked by the tanners under the new dispensation was delivered, and it was more than satisfactory in both quantity and quality.
And when the day came, he accompanied Nashdernach and his three personal bodyguards on a further visit to the camp.
They arrived towards evening, when the tanners were sitting in rows on benches at tables, their faces bright and convivial. They were eating their second meal of the day, and all were wearing freshly laundered clothes. On seeing them they rose as one man to greet them, and even surprised them with an honorific anthem of their own composition, although it took three renditions for all the words to be deciphered:
There once was an angel who looked down on the earth, and he saw the suffering endured by the tanners on the river Euphrates. And the angel turned to the all-powerful God and told Him, weeping, my Lord and Father Almighty, God the all-powerful, I can no longer bear to look down on the earth at the dreadful plight of my brothers, human beings, the tanners by the Euphrates. Send me and I shall do all I can to ease their pain, expel those who beat and chastise them, bring their agony to an end and succour to their souls. The all-powerful God was pleased by the words of his angel, by his heart, a true heart of gold, and his generous spirit. And He sent him on his way with a blessing and dressed him in human form and called him Belteshazzar, and appointed him to serve King Nebuchadnezzar, His Majesty!
And the angel in human form did not delay, and he went to Nashdernach, chief counsellor to the King, to complain at the conditions of the tanners. And Nashdernach arose, and put on his finger the ring of authority, and sent him down to the river, to the tanners working there. And Belteshazzar, the angel in human form, went down to that dark and evil place, and summoned the guards and gathered the slavedrivers, and told them of the King’s command – that they should no longer chastise his brothers, nor make their lives a misery, nor torment them with abuse and arduous labour – but should give them clothing, put food in their mouths and a roof over their heads, and payment in due time. And they tried to dupe him, swearing many an oath to obey his commandments but with other intentions. And the angel in human form knew neither rest nor sleep until he had completed his mission, returning to his human brothers, and casting in chains all those who had persecuted them, the tanners on the Euphrates, and he appointed a new chief, one with a human heart, and he turned their misery into joy and their pain into delight!
“They even mentioned me in their song!” Nashdernach declared, fighting back the tears – “Quite unjustly, of course…”
“With absolute justice!” he retorted, adding: “Without your consent, nothing could have been done!”
“Not my consent but His!” Nashdernach corrected him, with a reverent glance heavenwards, continuing in the same vein: “So, we shall go on trusting in Him!”
“At all times and forever!” he concluded.
“And what became of those two scoundrels, the former commander and his sidekick, the fat flogger?” Nashdernach asked Harvud, who accompanied them part of the way.
“They tried working in the kitchen at first, but they were dismissed from there on account of their laziness.”
“Who dismissed them?” he asked with interest.
“The cooks themselves, who used to be their accomplices in thieving and embezzlement.”
“And what are they doing now?”
“Beating the most rancid hides that we can find. Surprisingly, they’re not making a bad job of it!” Harvud expressed his sincere bemusement.
“You’ll make true tanners of them yet!” was Nashdernach’s jovial comment.
On Figs And Nuts
One of those glorious evenings, rare in Babylon but familiar in the homeland, when the sky is a regal cloak of velvet and the first stars are the jewels in the crowns of angels, chanting “All Hail” to the God above – one such evening the slave informed him that a gentleman named Denur-Shag was asking to see him.
When Denur-Shag entered the room he rose to meet him; the two of them shook hands warmly and exchanged affectionate slaps on the shoulder, looking into one another’s eyes with undisguised pleasure.
The teacher’s sparse beard, once blond, was flecked with threads of
grey.
“Old age creeping on!” cried Denur-Shag with that lively, vigorous voice of his, seeing the look in the other’s eyes.
“Among our people grey hair is not a sign of old age!” he commented mildly.
“What does it betoken then?” Denur-Shag asked with interest, sitting down on one side of the high, polished table, with its cloth embroidered in blue and silver stripes – an impressive combination.
“Wisdom!” he replied, taking his place on the other side of the table.
“One who is endowed with wisdom is endowed with it from birth!” declared Denur-Shag with dignity, leaning back as far as the chair would allow him. “It’s a gift of God,” he went on to say, “and it doesn’t depend on beard or hair of any style or any colour!”
“All the same,” he riposted, a smile rising to his face when he spotted a few oil-stains on the teacher’s cloak, too big for him as usual – “as one grows older, so wisdom ripens and bears fruit!”
“Always assuming,” Denur-Shag persisted – “that one was endowed with wisdom from birth in the first place!”
He made no further comment, and no attempt to challenge his guest’s conviction.
It was then that the slave came in with a tray of inlaid silver bearing dried figs, almonds and nuts, a jug of honey-water and two clay cups.
“Is this your supper?” Denur-Shag asked curiously.
He nodded.
“An interesting meal, to be sure!” exclaimed Denur-Shag. “In content and in intention!” he added, and proceeded to explain: “The meal is modest but not frugal, nourishing but not fattening, mild but not bland! It is very possible, esteemed master, assistant and right-hand man of the King’s chief counsellor as you are – that I have things to learn from you, especially where suppers are concerned, and I shall be your most avid disciple!”
“If there’s no other subject that will make you my disciple…” he began playfully, but Denur-Shag interrupted him:
“There is!” he cried eagerly, with all the enthusiasm of a pupil who has just chanced upon the right answer to a question and cannot wait to reveal it to the teacher.
“And that is?”
“Faith!” exclaimed Denur-Shag, bringing his tiny, round fist down with a resounding thump on the elegant table-cloth, as if stating an incontrovertible fact.
“Faith is the gift of God,” he declared earnestly, concluding: “And faith is the mother of all wisdom!”
“And have you received this gift?” – Denur-Shag’s eyes flashed.
“It’s a gift that is offered to every human being, and it’s up to him to decide whether to accept it or spurn it.”
“I assume that you have accepted it!”
“By the grace and the mercy of God!” he asserted, in a voice blending reverence and joyous freedom.
Denur-Shag took a shelled nut, put it to his mouth, added half a fig and while chewing, slowly and deliberately, closed his eyes with an air of contentment and remarked:
“The nut and the almond and the fig – they also originated from the Garden of Eden!” As there was no response to this he cleared his throat, held his mighty head high, shifted restlessly in his seat and finally broached the issue that was the real purpose of his visit:
“As you know, there are laws that are written and laws that are unwritten, and both kinds are of equal force, imposing obligations, usually heavy ones, on mortal creatures, while threatening penalties for those who infringe or fail to uphold these laws, whether written or unwritten.”
Again Denur-Shag took a large almond, fresh and appetising, wrapped it in half a fig before putting it in his mouth, as if this were some superstitious ritual, chewing with the same deliberation as before, closing his eyes again and adding a hedonistic smacking of the lips.
He waited for the teacher to continue, unsure where all this was leading.
Denur-Shag swallowed his mouthful, and resumed:
“Remember that the glorious kingdom of Babylon does not look kindly upon celibacy, and by remaining a bachelor you are refusing to contribute in any way to the increase and the prosperity of the population. This is a law that is not to be infringed, and there are penalties attached to it…” Denur-Shag chuckled pleasantly, adding: “This is a law that applies especially to those holding any kind of public office!”
“I haven’t been approached about this yet.”
“You will be!” Denur-Shag assured him, “And then you’ll be in something of a predicament. You’ll be made a generous offer that you simply can’t refuse.”
“Things don’t seem to be as serious as all that!” he declared.
“I don’t know what yardstick you use to judge the seriousness of things,” Denur-Shag retorted, “but what I’ve just told you is what is going to happen, and is bound to happen – and happen soon!” And seeing the questioning look in his eyes he explained: “If you don’t take the initiative yourself, it will be taken by your friends or those who consider themselves your friends. And you’ll get a proposal that you can’t reject and you can’t ignore.”
“I’ve already turned down one such proposal and I refused to discuss it, but in such a way as to leave no hard feelings behind.”
“I can well believe it!” Denur-Shag concurred, adding: “But the next offer that you receive – and it’s coming soon – is one that you can’t afford to refuse or reject under any circumstances whatsoever.”
“And who is the man whose offer, whatever it may be, I can’t refuse or reject?” he demanded to know, sounding almost indignant.
“His Majesty the King!”
He weighed these words, astounded to the roots of his soul, and finally responded:
“Are my personal affairs discussed at such a high level?”
“In a tightly regulated state, like Babylon, citizens have no privacy and no personal affairs. The citizens of the kingdom of Babylon are loyal to their King and seek his approval, and they worship and revere him above any god or image of a god, and they hide nothing from him. In fact, they consider themselves honoured to keep no secrets from him. At any rate, that’s the theory, and it explains why the citizens of Babylon are the most smug people on the earth! And if it is ever revealed that any subject, through negligence or forgetfulness, to say nothing of malice, has concealed any detail of his private life, this will arouse the justified anger of the King, and his fate will not be a good one, not by any means”
Changing the subject abruptly he asked:
“Aren’t you going to join me in this agreeable meal?”
“I’m accustomed to praying before I eat.”
“Go ahead then!” the balding, middle-aged man urged him genially.
“May the food that comes from Your hand sustain our hearts and purify us on our way to You! Amen and Amen!” – and immediately after the blessing he took a nut from the tray, wrapped it in half a fig and put it into his mouth, chewing steadily.
“You’ve been named as a candidate for several marriages,” Denur-Shag went on to say. “The charming daughter of one of the King’s senior officers has been mentioned, but if that idea doesn’t appeal to you for reasons best known to yourself, then you will be offered one of thirty-seven beautiful princesses, daughters of the King himself, and whichever she is you cannot reject her without causing offence to her father, the King. You know perfectly well that such a refusal would be seen as a crude and premeditated insult to the honour of the Crown, and you know the penalty for that…” Denur-Shag drew his finger across his throat, a meaningful gesture.
“How can it be?” – he expressed his sincere bemusement – “How is it that so much priority is being given to such a peripheral, essentially pointless issue, as my future wedding?”
“In the royal palace, there is endless, unremitting activity,” Denur-Shag sighed as he split the kernel of a walnut into two equal parts, with intense concentration. “A living, vibrant body is the palace of His Majesty King Nebuchadnezzar, and his courtiers never sleep, never take a moment’s rest.
They are pushing forward the affairs of state, and advancing their own interests and the interests of others, in the best possible way of course, according to their acute perceptions and clarity of thought. It may well be that somebody is anxious on your behalf, concerned at your bachelor status and afraid lest you fall into the embrace of the wrong woman, and is preparing for you, secretly and in a spirit of true friendship and fellowship worthy of the name – your future bride. Something which you would never regret, and which you might even find impossible to regret, and most important of all, as has already been made clear to you – something which you cannot under any circumstances reject or refuse. But if you have other ideas,” Denur-Shag reverted to his equable tone of voice, assessing him with a quick glance and then turning away before continuing: “Move quickly and establish facts on the ground, anticipate, put the remedy in place before trouble strikes! And as far as my knowledge extends, and if my memory is not misleading me,” the guest looked up and glanced at his host with an air of innocence – “this expression ‘putting the remedy before the trouble’ is a good old-fashioned Hebrew phrase, or I should say, it isn’t a part of the new, ‘progressive’ language, or ‘Jewish Hebrew’ as it is currently called.”
A warm glow filled his heart. He gazed at Denur-Shag, who had gone back to the choice nuts and the almonds and the figs, the lines of his face tensed as he studiously ignored his radiant look, expressing warmth, friendship and gratitude.
“It happens occasionally that someone has the opportunity to act as an envoy of Providence!” commented Denur-Shag, uncomfortable with the tide of gratitude flowing in his direction.
“Not everyone is endowed with that special grace, to be the redeeming envoy of Providence!” he retorted.
“You can be sure that these special people aren’t balding teachers, who have to deal with artisans of all descriptions as well as ignorant dolts!” said Denur-Shag evasively, returning his attention to the almonds and nuts. He carefully poured himself a cup of honey-water, and drank it all down in one long gulp.
