by Shlomo Kalo
Scared out of their wits, the men ran to tell the ministers and viziers what they had heard. And the ministers and viziers rejected the reports of the slaves and bodyguards and declared they must be out of their minds; they would believe only what they were told by the King himself. The men must be drunk, and they had better stop their mouths and hold their tongues, because the King would yet ascend his throne and sit in judgment, and words such as these were tantamount to sedition against the Crown, and everyone knew the inevitable penalty for this!
So the bodyguards and the slaves held their tongues and said no more of what they had seen and heard, much to their alarm, and did not even discuss it among themselves, partly for fear of the gallows and partly out of respect for the King, their King, whom they admired and dearly loved.
The King disappeared.
And as time passed and he was not seen in the palace, nor was he attending meetings of his council – his whereabouts were a mystery to all, though no one dared speak of it or pass comment. Finally, the sages of Babylon and the King’s ministers met to discuss the issue, and they came up with a typically Babylonian formulation: “The thoughts of a king are not like the thoughts of the common people, nor are his ways their ways!” But the state of affairs persisted, and when a whole month had passed, it was obvious that the King was not in his palace, and he had told no one where he was going or when he would return. And it was decided that an effort must be made to find him.
At first these searches were conducted discreetly, under the guise of casual tours of Babylon and its environs, but as this process failed to bear fruit, the hunt for the King became a public issue, with inquiries extending to the remotest provinces and most far-flung corners of the empire. And the more thorough and meticulous were the searches, the clearer it became to the investigators that there was no trace of their King and no prospect of finding him.
There was no alternative but to convene a plenary session of the supreme royal council.
The issue was discussed by the ministers and councillors, the viziers, governors, satraps, courtiers and dignitaries, and nothing was resolved. Some suggested that a temporary replacement for the King should be appointed; others held that such an appointment could not be considered until it was known what had become of him. Others proposed that the King’s eldest son could succeed to the throne, which would be his anyway in the fullness of time. Finally they turned to Belteshazzar and asked for his opinion.
He rose from his seat and addressed the assembled councillors:
“Let us wait – for seven seasons! And in the meantime we should do our best to rule and administer all the peoples and races and nations and tongues of the great kingdom of Babylon in a proper manner. If after seven seasons the King has not been found and he does not return to rule as before – we shall meet again and adopt one of the resolutions that has been proposed here. But this you should know,” he went on to tell the King’s attentive minions – “According to the King’s dream and its interpretation, he is required to be absent from his palace for seven seasons, so he may learn a lesson and be wiser on his return, ruling his kingdom and guiding his people in the most enlightened way!”
“But where is the King?” asked one of the ministers impatiently. And he answered him:
“He is where God has sent him and He, God, is watching over him.”
“And perhaps he has been killed, and we know nothing of it, and we are making no effort to hunt down and punish his killers! We shall be a laughing-stock throughout the kingdom!” another minister protested, prompting a measured reply from Nashdernach:
“If he had been killed in an accident, or murdered, we would have found his body. We have conducted the most thorough search that Babylon has ever known and no nook or cranny, no dark corner has been left unexplored – and nothing has been found! And there is something else,” Nashdernach continued, looking keenly at the other members of the council, a strange spark igniting in his eyes. “Not long ago we heard the strange story of a certain farmer who went to the forest to cut wood, and suddenly a frightening figure leapt out of a thicket, his hair and beard unkempt and covering the whole of his body, which was horribly dirty and had the most vile stench, his fingernails long and crooked like the talons of a bird of prey. And this strange creature attacked the unfortunate farmer and snatched from him the meal that he had prepared for himself, bread and cheese and onion, and while bolting it down in the most revolting fashion imaginable, he was shouting over and over again, with the glazed eyes of a drunkard or a maniac: ‘I am King Nebuchadnezzar, the valiant, the wise and the terrible! I am the mighty King, Nebuchadnezzar! I am King Nebuchadnezzar!’ And swallowing the last mouthful the creature shouted yet again in the ears of the farmer, who was scared out of his wits – ‘I am the King!’ and he beat his hairy, filthy chest and exclaimed: ‘Heaven and earth shall serve me! All shall obey my command!” And at that moment the lightning flashed, the sky was lit by a blinding light, thunder rolled and the rain came down in torrents, and the creature fled for his life into the thickets, wailing and whimpering with fear.
“That is the story,” Nashdernach sighed, and his oily eyes scanning once more the faces of the assembled company, he concluded:
“I support Belteshazzar’s proposal, and I call upon all of you to join me in supporting it!”
The resolution was accepted unanimously.
Queen Temior
The “seven seasons” passed, and Babylon was still standing. At first, rumours of the King’s disappearance led to unrest among the populace, and crowds converged on the royal compound with shouts of “We want the King!” and “The King of Babylon lives!” and “Give us our King!” Some of the ministers demanded that the protesters be treated with a firm hand and forcibly dispersed; the royal horse guards should deal with them, men not renowned for their tolerance. Nashdernach was vehemently opposed to this, and he asked to be allowed to address the rally. The council of regency, deputising for the King, agreed, and a stage was erected for him. Nashdernach mounted the stage and stood on the red-carpeted podium, without escort and without bodyguard, alone in the seething heart of the turbulent crowd. Once the chief of the King’s senior advisers had spoken, the crowd began to drift away and finally dispersed, without any need to send in the cavalry. And this was Nashdernach’s address to the agitated throng:
“Dear citizens of Babylon! I am happy to see you, and my heart is filled with pride, knowing your concern for our wise and valiant King, Nebuchadnezzar, His Majesty, concern that is shared by me and by my fellow ministers. But I have heartening news for you, our wise and valiant King is alive and well!” And here there was a long pause, until the shouts of “Long live the King!” and “The King lives!” had subsided. Nashdernach went on to say:
“God entrusted a special mission to the King and he, our glorious monarch, took it upon himself to fulfil this mission in the spirit and in the letter. There cannot be the slightest shadow of a doubt that our wonderful King, His Majesty, will succeed in his task and bring peace and ever more prosperity to his people, enough to satisfy all their expectations. And my duty and yours, his most beloved people – is to wait patiently until the King returns in triumph!” And Nashdernach stressed in conclusion:
“Remember, dear and beloved citizens of Babylon, the freedom that His Majesty has given you, and the happiness and the security that you enjoy under his enlightened rule, and now – go back to your fields, your trades and professions, lest you incur the ire of the gods, in whose eyes idleness is the most detestable attribute of man, and who rate the lazy with less favour than grave-robbers – and may all your enterprises be blessed!” And saying this, Nashdernach raised his arm in a gesture of salute and left the improvised stage accompanied by cries of support and approval and declarations of loyalty to the King, and all dispersed and went their separate ways, without further disturbance.
With the passing of the “seven seasons”, on the anniversary of the disappearance of Nebuchadnezzar, Nashdernach
came to his office, and after a firm handshake, sat facing him in silence for a while, looking troubled, and finally said, in a hushed and furtive tone:
“The seven seasons are up!” This was not so much a statement of fact as a probing question, demanding an answer – and the answer came:
“The day is not over yet!” he said with a breezy smile.
A bemused look crept into Nashdernach’s tense features. He swallowed his saliva and went on to say:
“If by tomorrow His Majesty has not yet returned – we shall convene a plenary session of the Council.”
“So we shall,” he responded.
“I have already summoned the ministers for the third hour of the morning.”
“Excellent!”
“And you, I assume, will honour us with your presence?”
“I shall be there,” he assured him, his voice limpid and untouched by hesitation or deliberation.
Nashdernach rose, shook the other’s hand warmly, and his lips fluttered, easing into a faint smile that drove the cloud of gloom from his face.
“You’re a strange creature!” he exclaimed, but in the voice of one who has not abandoned hope.
Changes and transformations came about in his life in those seven years. Two sons were born to him; the older was named Naimel after his father, and the younger – Gamliel, after his father-in-law. Sons and daughters were born to his three friends too.
They approached Denur-Shag and asked if he was prepared to educate their children. He declined, treating them to a typically prolix and erudite sermon, consisting in the main of self-denigration and a claim of total ignorance of anything relating to the education of infants, as opposed to boys. They asked him if he could recommend an alternative candidate and he nominated Aniran, a middle-aged man from the islands in the north, who had taught young children in his homeland and, according to his own account, had been tutor to the crown prince of those islands until his detention at the hands of the Chaldeans.
Aniran proved a good choice, as was evident from the immaculate manners of five year old Naimel and four year old Gamliel, and from the moulding of their personalities. He did not see his children every day; Nejeen did her best to adjust their daily routine to his, but the latter was subject to abrupt changes, and the former was not so easily altered. In any case, before going to bed he would pass their room and see them asleep, and the sight of them filled his heart with a quiet joy and brought a prayer of thanksgiving to his lips, and he knew his sons were very dear to him but God, who gave them to him – Him he loved most of all.
At a late hour of the afternoon, one of the soldiers of the royal guard detachment burst into his office, his slaves chasing after him and threatening him with all kinds of lurid punishments for this outrageous breach of protocol, and he fell at his feet in a state of extreme agitation, every muscle of his body shaking, and when the slaves arrived, brandishing their clubs and drawn swords, he ordered them not to harm him. He told the soldier to stand and say what he had to say.
And the man rose from his knees, his forehead covered in sweat, his big black eyes bulging wide open in fright, and his voice shaking as he said:
“The King! The King is coming! Or perhaps… it isn’t the King!” The flustered soldier added: “A kind of a man, wearing a loincloth of leaves of the forest, who claims that he is Nebuchadnezzar and demands that I summon Belteshazzar. He has the voice of a leader and commander and he is standing outside the gate. My fellow sentry refuses to admit him, but he too is dumbfounded and scared to the marrow of his bones – since the voice of this stranger is so like the voice of the King, and his eyes too, are like the King’s eyes, and by what right do we refuse a King admittance to his own palace? He calls on you by name: ‘Belteshazzar,’ he says, ‘the man who revealed my first dream and interpreted the second, call him at once and do not delay, lest you arouse my anger and I have your carcases hung from this gate that you’re pretending to guard!’
“So here I am, Excellency, Lord Belteshazzar, viceroy of the King, and in the name of Bel and the name of great Marduk, save us from this dreadful predicament of ours!”
And sure enough, this was Nebuchadnezzar, his hair grown and his beard awry, his fingernails long and crooked and most of them broken, his eyes still bright, but their wild impetuosity gone for good. He no longer resembled a lion or a volcano, but rather a stately horse, powerful and attractive to the eye, yet knowing full well that he has a master, and it is the master who holds the reins.
He fell at his feet, bowing down to the ground before him, and he ordered that the gates be opened and the King be admitted with all due ceremony. He was to be bathed, and dressed in his full regal attire.
The rumour of the King’s return brought the ministers scurrying from their offices and all came running to see him, although not all of them believed their eyes. Some whispered that caution and vigilance were required here, lest this were some charlatan seeking to exploit the situation and deceive them, while others kept their doubts in their hearts and dared not express them aloud. Daniel and Nashdernach knew for a fact that it was the King, back from the exile imposed on him by Heaven. And it was then that the most extraordinary thing happened, something entirely unexpected which stunned them all.
The King strode down the long corridors, so familiar to him, passing the offices, as ministers and slaves followed and his bodyguard cleared the way for him, but instead of repairing to his private apartments, he climbed the steps to the roof of his palace.
He stood on the roof, and in full view of all, knelt and prostrated himself on the ground and kissed the marble tiles, and then raised his tousled head towards Heaven and cried out in a loud voice:
“Your name be magnified O God, creator of Heaven and Earth and all that is in them, may It be praised and glorified for ever and ever. You are the one Almighty God and there is none like you! You are the one who crowns kings on this earth, who gives them their kingdoms and takes their kingdoms away.
“And I, Nebuchadnezzar, returning to my palace by your grace and with your consent, praise and extol the King of kings of kings whose every act is truth and all his ways are just. The one who exalts himself he casts down, and the one who humbles himself, he lifts up!”
Seven days and seven nights Babylon celebrated the return of the King to his palace, and on the eighth day, when the festivities were ended and the streets of the greatest city in the universe were empty, as its inhabitants returned to their trades and vocations, seven ornate carriages, each one harnessed to six horses, passed through the gate of the walled city, the highest and grandest of them all, the Gate of Orash and turned in the direction of the royal palace.
When the carriages halted at the palace gates, from the largest and most ornate of all, with horses white as snow – a woman emerged who seemed hardly mortal; dressed in blue and white trimmed with gold and bedecked with pearls, a gleaming and slender coronet on her head, surmounted by a flawless sapphire, her brown eyes deep as a forest from some fable of long ago, her face as fair as the dawn and her rosy lips smiling. Nothing about her resembled flesh and blood; she was like moon light in tangible form.
All the doors of the palace were opened before her, until she arrived in the innermost chamber where the King sat enthroned, perusing a scroll, his ministers and courtiers and bodyguards around him. When he saw her he rose and took a step towards her. And Temior, the Median princess, fell at her husband’s feet and cried:
“I wish to live no longer in the palace in my homeland, and never again shall I be parted from you. I was grieved to hear what had befallen you, and these seven seasons my eyes have not ceased shedding tears, and my heart never tired of reproving me for my conduct. And I know it is only you I long for, only you I desire, and King Nebuchadnezzar is my King and my lord, always and for ever!”
And the King stooped, and raised his queen to her feet, and as all his servants and slaves and ministers looked on, the eyes of the wise and valiant King – in which storms used to rage, whic
h used to flash with volcanic fire – filled with tears. He broke down and sobbed, his shoulders shaking.
And all the King’s servants and slaves and ministers opted at this moment for discreet departure from the inner chamber, and the King was left alone with Temior, his beloved, for whom he had built the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, and for whose sake he had filled the grounds of the palace with lawns and trees and fountains and flowers in bloom at all times of the year, for whom he longed all the days of his life and whom he saw in his dreams at night, tormented by her absence but keeping it all a closely guarded secret.
The joyful news of Temior’s return to the bosom of her husband was the pretext for yet more celebrations, a pretext which Babylon, like any other city in the world, was quick to exploit. The King himself joined in the festivities, and ordered the slaughter of seven hundred fatted cows and innumerable sheep and fowls – their meat to be distributed among the poor of Babylon. And tables were set up in the streets, each with space for a thousand diners, and as if this were not enough, the King went on to give orders for the distribution of clothes to the needy, the building of accommodation for the homeless, and the provision of work for the unemployed; half of the gold and silver stored in the royal coffers was to be shared out among the poorest citizens.
And the indigent and down-trodden of society, enjoying these unexpected bounties and eating and drinking as the guests of the King, were unstinting in their praise of Nebuchadnezzar, as they were transformed overnight into respectable citizens freed from the indignity of poverty, and no longer forced to go barefoot and sleep in the streets or the fields, or to search in vain for employment.
