By the Waters of Babylon

by Mesu Andrews

  I considered the goddess with renewed wonder, all doubts of her deity erased. As a boy, our shaman taught young warriors to be kind to animals because Tabiti protected them, but I’d never seen proof of it—until now.

  I prostrated myself before her. “O pure and powerful Tabiti! I vow to you my willing service. Protect the men in my company, and in return receive my devotion as the first of many gifts—” My words lost in the raucous cheering of one hundred Scythian warriors, I lifted my head and found the goddess’ face covered with both hands.

  I crawled to her and lifted her hands away. She was crying. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “I am not this goddess you seek!” she shouted.

  My men didn’t hear, and my heart wouldn’t believe. Perhaps her denials were a test—a test I would pass. May Tabiti live forever.

  Chapter 7

  Merari

  “Even the stork in the sky knows her appointed seasons, and the dove,

  the swift and the thrush observe the time of their migration.

  But my people do not know the requirements of the Lord.”

  -Jeremiah 8:7

  Have men no sense? Don’t they know birds migrate in the winter? We simply happened upon an area where an extraordinary number of birds decided to migrate at this moment.

  Or did You do this, Yahweh? But why would El-Shaddai send a flock of birds to frighten away jackals, saving a band of heathens and a worthless woman from Judah? None of it made sense. In my fear of the stalking jackals, I’d released the loudest sound my body could produce in its weakened state. I’d used the ululating only when calling Neriah home. It was a sound precious to me. A sound I hadn’t made since the siege began. Why did I remember it now? Yahweh, are You still with me?

  The noise around me was deafening. Warriors clanged their weapons against shields, some shouting, some laughing. All of them stood too close, eyes focused on me. I covered my head and pulled my knees to my chest, wishing I could disappear. Was I the only one who knew I wasn’t a Scythian goddess?

  Idan’s presence overshadowed me, and the warmth of his breath tickled my ear. “Azat has set up our tent. Come, lovely Tabiti.” Without waiting for my response, he lifted me as if I were a sack of grain.

  A cheer rose from the soldiers, and I winced, my head pounding with the noise. “Please, tell them to celebrate quietly.”

  “It will be as you say, Tabiti.” The brightness in his voice spurred a new thought. How far could I press his favor?

  Locking his cheeks between my hands, I forced him to meet my gaze. “Tabiti refuses to meet Nebuchadnezzar at Riblah,” I blurted. “We will go directly to Babylon. I must find someone there.”

  He stopped walking and stared at me for three heartbeats. “We must go to Riblah.” He ducked into the dark tent before I could argue. “Nebuchadnezzar must see my goddess and know I’m favored above my father. Then he’ll award me with gold and troops to take back to Scythia so I can take my father’s throne.”

  “But I must find someone in Babylon.” I tried not to sound petulant, but my patience was consumed by my fevered mind.

  Idan folded his legs beneath him and cradled me in his lap. Though I couldn’t see his face, I sensed increased tension in his arms. Why wasn’t he answering me?

  “Well? Are we going to Babylon?”

  “Babylon is a large country in Nebuchadnezzar’s vast empire. Who does Tabiti wish to find there?”

  “I . . . I . . .” I couldn’t tell him I wanted to find my husband.

  “The one you seek could live in Syria, Cilicia, Arabia, or Media. These, too, submit to Nebuchadnezzar’s authority. Where should we look first?”

  “I don’t know,” came out in a whisper, and I buried my face against his chest.

  He began rocking me, fiddling with something at his waist while I lay like a dead fish in the bend of his arm. I closed my eyes, hoping sleep would claim me, but I heard that awful boing, boinging sound and my head shot up.

  Holding a small, three-pronged instrument in his mouth with one hand, his abdomen heaved in and out as he played a lively tune. Mesmerized, I forgot to hate him for a moment and admired his talent. It couldn’t be easy to change tone and rhythm with breath and tongue on a carved piece of wood.

  The distraction worked only for a while. “Tabiti still refuses to meet King Nebuchadnezzar,” I said over the music and then closed my eyes.

  “Aaagh!” He transferred me to the reed mat and scuttled out of the tent.

  Sleep came slowly, amid dark images of lurking jackals and tattooed barbarians dancing to the strange sounds of odd instruments. I jerked awake, finding myself cocooned in Idan’s arms.

  He breathed against my ear. “You’re safe. I’m here.”

  His words filled me with both peace and dread. “Where are you taking me?” I whispered, desperate for him to say Babylon.

  He paused before answering, and I wondered if he was still sleeping. He pointed a thick finger at the slit in the tent flaps. “Sunrise is near. See how the sky is purple, not black.”

  I looked to the amethyst glow outside and knew better than to press him.

  After a few more heartbeats, he added, “Today, we travel to Dan.”

  I squeezed my eyes closed with a measure of relief. At least Dan was a tribe of Israel and had once been Yahweh’s land. Though now in the northern reaches of Canaan, I would still celebrate this day. It would be the last time I breathed the air, touched the soil, and drank the water in the land Yahweh promised to Abraham.

  Helpless to change my fate, I watched the sky turn from amethyst to red to pink, while a Scythian’s heavy breaths warmed my cheek and his arms held me. Even a goddess was captive to the will of men.

  Chapter 8

  “Charm can be misleading, and beauty is vain and so quickly fades,

  but this virtuous woman lives in the wonder, awe, and fear of the Lord.

  She will be praised throughout eternity.”

  -Proverbs 31:30

  By the time we stopped to refresh at midday, I wanted to die. My body screamed in pain, my head pounded, and my heart felt like an iron ball in my chest.

  “Drink.” Idan held out a cup of water from a roadside spring. He had propped me against a rock. I had just enough strength to turn away.

  “You must drink, Tabiti.” He moved the cup to my lips, and I turned my head again. “Is this a test of my patience? I will force you to drink if I must.”

  Tears fought my shackled emotions. I’d been awake since dawn and rode behind my captor, arms wrapped around his middle. But my arms had begun shaking, and I’d nearly fallen to the ground. My weakness was the reason for our stop.

  Idan dropped the cup and cradled my face. “Tabiti, I won’t force you to drink. Please don’t cry.”

  If I’d known tears would bend him, I’d have cried days ago. “I’m too weak to ride behind you, but I don’t want you to hold me like . . .” I felt heat rise in my cheeks and saw his understanding dawn.

  He wiped my tears with his thumbs, a horribly tender thing. “Of course. Tabiti is pure and the goddess of fidelity. You sensed my longing for Zoya.” His sadness almost made me pity him. “Forgive me. I miss my wife.” He lifted the water cup to my lips again.

  A wife? This time I drank, letting the coolness of the water slip down my throat. I rested my head against the rock again, trying to imagine his wife. Was she beautiful? No doubt. How would she feel about another woman lying in her husband’s arms?

  The thought spurred me to consider travel alternatives. Could I ride one of the supply donkeys? My limp arms mocked the idea. How could I ride alone when I’d been rendered helpless from a single morning leaning on my captor?

  “We’ll buy a camel with a sedan for you in Dan.” His comment startled me from my thoughts.

  “A camel? You mean, I’ll ride alone?”

  An impish grin made him less fierce. “I’m certain you won’t flee to Babylon without me.”

  In that moment, I could have lik
ed him. But I could never forgive him. I could never forget what he and Nebuchadnezzar’s siege did to my sister and my son.

  I commanded my hand to take the cup from him and gulped down the rest of the water. He offered me a piece of cured meat, and I took it. I had to eat. It was my only chance to see Elon again. The Scythian stared at me in silence, and I returned his gaze without flinching—but my heart wavered. Should I insist he see the truth, that I wasn’t his precious goddess? He worshiped Tabiti. Would he kill Merari? The blood-stained tunics testified to the Scythians’ violent lives, but I’d seen nothing but compassion from them.

  “We must go,” he said finally.

  I nodded, keeping my eyes locked on his. “I’m ready.”

  He brushed my cheek and grinned. “You are a stubborn one, Tabiti, but I like the human goddess even better than the wooden one.” He scooped me up, and I spent the rest of our journey to Dan in his arms, trying to avoid his gaze.

  We arrived at the city after dark, greeted by well-lit gates and a festival in the streets. I shouted over the revelry, “Why wasn’t Dan burned like Hazor?”

  “Its citizens had been oppressed by Assyria for years, so they welcomed Nebuchadnezzar’s army.”

  The captain, Azat, rode up beside Idan from his place at rear guard. Though much shorter than his commander, he was stocky, extremely muscular, and his eyes were fiercer than a lion’s. “We’ve attracted some attention.”

  Azat nodded at guards on Dan’s city’s wall, who were now pointing at the Scythian regiment. Idan lifted his shield, as did his men, and the city’s guards returned the gesture. I noted Babylon’s lion on every defensive weapon. Dan’s guardians resumed their watch, satisfied it seemed.

  “Tomorrow, you will buy a camel for the goddess.” Idan’s command was like a clanging symbol on a quiet morning.

  Azat stared at him and then glared at me. “If we wait for the market to open, we’ll lose valuable—”

  “We’ll rest tomorrow and set out for Riblah the next day.”

  The captain’s jaw muscle danced, and I could see his frustration growing. Keeping his voice low, he spoke barely loud enough to hear. “The men grow anxious to reach Riblah and receive their payment from Nebuchadnezzar. If you’re tired of carrying the goddess, others can help.”

  “Make sure the camel has a sedan, not just a saddle. Tabiti must have room to lie down for the journey to Riblah.”

  “We have barely enough gold to buy food.” Azat’s voice rose in volume and fervor. “What do I use for a camel with a sedan?”

  Idan’s silence increased the tension, but when he removed a gold band from his arm, Azat’s features softened. “I’ll find another way, Idan.”

  “No. This will pay for the camel, meals, and lodging in the inn tonight. Make it happen, my friend.” Eyes forward, Idan pressed farther into the city’s chaos.

  Azat glared at me while accepting the gold band. “Will there be anything else, Commander?”

  “Yes.” Idan finally glanced at his grouchy friend. “Find a woman to ease your foul humor.” The man growled curses and reined his horse away, shouting instructions to his men.

  I lifted my head from Idan’s chest. “Does Azat hate the goddess, or is he jealous that you’re talking more to me than to him?”

  His grin widened. “Azat always does what’s best for me and our men, but he’s never had a wife or child whose needs he must consider before his own.” Loud shrieks behind us stole my attention, but Idan chuckled. “That would be my men approving the decision to stay at an inn tonight and have a leisurely day tomorrow. Sometimes Azat worries too much.”

  The chaos of the city swelled around me, causing my grip to tighten around Idan’s waist. He pulled me closer, leaning over to kiss my forehead, while holding his shield and reins in front of me. “Don’t worry, my goddess. You’re safe in my arms. Tonight we’ll shelter under a real roof.” The timbre of his voice and the idea of sharing a bed made me feel anything but safe.

  The noise around us lessened, and when he reined the stallion to a halt, I lifted my head to see a three-story, stone building towering over us. Lamplight glowed from a few downstairs windows, but most rooms were dark.

  We waited on the stallion only a few moments before Azat walked out of the inn and appeared at Idan’s side. “I’ve purchased all the rooms—and a single room for her.” He slid his arms under me, lifting me from my protector. “I’ll carry her to a room on the third level. You and I can take turns sleeping outside her door.”

  Without waiting for an answer, he walked toward the inn, steps jarring and arms like iron bars beneath me. He looked down, a cold glint in his eyes. “You will break whatever spell you’ve cast over my friend, or I’ll send you to the realm of the dead—goddess or not.”

  Chapter 9

  Idan

  “Judah’s sin is engraved with an iron tool, inscribed with a flint point,

  on the tablets of their hearts and . . . beside the spreading trees

  and on the high hills.”

  -Jeremiah 17:1–2

  I woke before dawn to the sound of six snoring soldiers, wishing for the tenth time I’d guarded Tabiti’s door instead of Azat. He had insisted on taking first watch outside her chamber after I brought her evening meal. Why? Tabiti made him tense. Angry. Something about her unnerved him. I suggested he enjoy one of Dan’s prostitutes while I guarded Tabiti’s chamber, but his agitation only grew. My friend could be moodier than a woman.

  The incessant snoring rattled my nerves and launched me from my straw-stuffed mattress, a comfortable privilege I’d won in last night’s wrestling match. I poured my leftover wine on the loser’s snoring form. He woke cursing me.

  I threw the rest of the wine in his face. “You can have the bed now, you old jackal.”

  Moonlight allowed me to step over the stinking bodies on my way to the door. I opened and closed it quietly behind me, then walked toward a single torch in the narrow corridor. Its flame fluttered with a cool draft coming from a window at the far end.

  Azat was not lying on the reed mat beside Tabiti’s chamber.

  My walk turned into a run as dread snaked up my spine. I burst into the chamber. “Tabiti!”

  She was gone. Her bed empty.

  Hurried footsteps behind me triggered my reflexes. I whirled, drawing my dagger. Azat stood in the doorway with a basketful of food.

  I ran at him, pinning him by the throat to the wall. “Where is she?”

  His eyes, as wild as mine, peered over my shoulder. “I was gone for less than ten heartbeats. She can’t be far.” He lifted the basket on his arm. “I went to the kitchen so she could break her fast.”

  “Aaahhh!” I released my frustration and my friend. “You search the back. I’ll go out the front.”

  We ran down the back stairway toward the kitchen, and I headed toward the inn’s main stairs. I nearly barreled over a frail figure, halfway down the first flight. “By the gods, woman, what are you doing?”

  Tabiti fell against the wall and glanced over her shoulder at me. Her face was pale but defiant. “I’m going to see the sunrise. Alone.” Pressing herself against the wall to stand again, she nearly tumbled down the stairs.

  I lifted her into my arms. “You can’t simply leave whenever you please. Shall I have Azat purchase chains so you won’t run away?” Marching back up the stairs, I pondered the consequences of shackling a goddess.

  “I wasn’t running away.” She laid her head against my chest. “Please. I need to see the sunrise one last time in Yahweh’s land.”

  Her words landed like stones in my belly. Why would my goddess care about the Hebrew god or his land?

  Azat met me at the top step, fire in his eyes. He’d heard her too. “She’s not Tabiti.”

  Could I have made such a grievous mistake? The consequences were too grave to consider. I took the basket of food from him. “Tabiti is testing my compassion. She’s not strong enough to leave the city and see a sunrise. I’m going to—”
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  “Idan! She’s not—”

  “Captain!” I stared, waiting for his submission. His back stiffened like a rod, and I calmed myself. “Please, go to the market today and buy a camel with a sedan. We’ll return by midday.”

  He nodded a curt bow and left without a salute or backward glance. Anyone else, I would have punished—especially, for leaving his post—even if it was only for a few moments to gather the morning’s meal.

  I resumed the descent down the stairs, and Tabiti looked up at me. “I don’t need you to carry me.”

  But I needed to feel her in my arms. “You’re too weak.”

  “I’m not weak.” She laid her head against my shoulder, and my heart beat in rhythm for the first time since leaving her last night.

  I hurried through the city as the wine-colored eastern sky lightened to the color of grapes on the vine. Discarded clothing and empty wineskins littered the streets from last night’s festival. I shouted at the watchmen to open the gate and let us pass. When he refused to open until after dawn, I persuaded him with only a small bribe of my carved leather wristband. Pink rays now glowed beyond the eastern hills as I rushed up the nearest hill to get the best view for my goddess. At the top stood a spreading terebinth, the perfect spot for morning worship. A statue stood at its right and an intricately-carved pole to its left. Incense still glowed in braziers on both sides from last night’s offerings.

  I propped Tabiti against the sacred tree and fell to my knees. “Lovely Tabiti, goddess of hearth and wealth, hear my petition—”

  “Stop it.” Her voice was flat, her eyes focused on the glowing horizon.

  Had I displeased her? My eyes wandered to the hundreds of vows and prayers carved into the trunk behind her. “To show my devotion, I’ll carve your virtues into the Elon tree.”

  “No!” She gasped as if I’d struck her. “It’s called Elah in Hebrew, terebinth, not Elon, which means oak. Never say Elon to me again!” She hid her face against her knees, suddenly unconcerned with the glowing orb rising in the east.