by Shlomo Kalo
“And peace be with you, gentle master, my teacher and my mentor Denur-Shag!” – and he turned and left the room, took his cloak from the trembling hands of the elderly slave and returned to his lodging.
The ten days of the experiment were over, and Narazan appeared in the hall as his charges were eating their first meal of the day. Accompanied by the waiter he approached Daniel and his three companions. The four of them rose to their feet and Narazan gestured to them to sit, surveying them with a keen glance that gradually softened, and ultimately expressed nothing other than plain satisfaction.
“Your faces are so fresh and robust, so full of health and strength,” Narazan declared, in a jocular tone – “anyone would think you’ve been gorging yourselves on the wild ox that’s been served to the others!”
The waiter failed to appreciate the joke, and he hastily intervened:
“Heaven forbid, esteemed minister Narazan! All this time these youths have tasted neither meat nor wine and their diet has been only vegetables and fruit and sweetened water. I have kept a close watch on them!”
“There was no need to keep a close watch on them! None of these youths would ever tell a lie – they would sooner die!” – declared Narazan, steward of the eunuchs in the palace of King Nebuchadnezzar, and he concluded: “Serve them whatever food they ask for, from henceforward until their studies are completed!” – and he turned away and disappeared through the door of the dining hall, a genial smile on his face.
One day Denur-Shag appeared in the classroom in ebullient mood, bursting with eager enthusiasm. He put aside his tablets and parchment scrolls and began telling them, with characteristic verbosity, about peoples in distant lands, and especially those on the further shores of the great ocean, somewhere to the north-west, who invented the science of numbers, and who try to explain all the phenomena of the world, including the dispositions of the human mind and body and the greatness of God – in terms of numbers. And not content with adding one number to another, a simple enough process, and subtracting one number from another, which is equally simple – through copious study of numbers they have touched upon a new discovery or invention which they call “multiplication”. And this word, which until now has served to signify the kind of vision typical to one who has imbibed a substantial quantity of the fermented juice of the vine, is now used to denote this remarkable and new-fangled invention.
They multiply number by number, and arrive at astonishing totals which could not have been foreseen at the outset. And in order that the process of multiplication may be understood by a broader spectrum of the populace, and diffused in the wider world, these inventive geniuses have recourse to two eminently simple concepts: “place” or “places” and “thing” or “things”. “If there are four places” they say, “and in each one of them there are five things – the process of multiplication produces the number twenty.” Indeed, logic tells us that this conclusion is correct. Anyone can prove it for himself. And they go on to claim, these inventors, that the art of multiplication applies to all cases and places and circumstances and times and occasions. And here, by chance or not by chance, they arrive at the miraculous number “zero”, meaning – nothing at all. If in no place five things are located, according to their system, the system of multiplication, and of course such a thing does not accord with the healthy intellect, to say nothing of logic – the result is – zero… It emerges that in the process of multiplication, the “zero” is a lethal creature, like a great whale, consuming everything coming into its proximity, without distinction or consideration. The inventors have a remarkable formula at their disposal, as they express it: five times zero equals zero, and therefore, five equals a fifth part of zero, or – five equals zero; and here they plumb the utter depths of absurdity, but are incapable of admitting it!
Briefly, Denur-Shag taught them the numerical symbols and went on to say:
“What these clever people fail to realise is that here, before them, there is a warning signal; Heaven is telling them to revert to their humility before it is too late, since, and this my dear pupils you should inscribe firmly in your young minds – if they don’t stop in time, they will finally bring this wonderful world crashing down in ruins and wreck utter destruction upon the human race. And even if this process continues for a thousand years, two thousand or three, this will be the final and inevitable consequence of “multiplication” for those who have recourse to it: it will set up a barrier between mankind and?...” – he turned with a question to his pupils, some of whom were listening attentively, some trying with varying degrees of success to make sense of what he was saying, and others staring blankly at the whitewashed walls of the classroom, thoroughly baffled.
“Belteshazzar!” he cried finally, and he stood up and completed the sentence:
“And God!”
“This will be the final outcome!” cried Denur-Shag with passionate emphasis, continuing: “Remember this well, inscribe it in your hearts, and pass it on to the generations that are to come! The intellectual arrogance of the west, that smug obsession with the science of numbers, will ultimately destroy everything that is pleasing in the aspirant soul of mankind! The soul of mankind longs and yearns for the truth, for what is beautiful and good, meaning – God. And it may that the sages of the west are unaware of what they are doing, and it may be there are some of them who will try to stop the wheel turning, and halt the race towards ruin and destruction before it is too late. We must wish them every success! But it seems to me that in the final analysis, that tiny minority, and it may in fact be one and one alone, the single wise man of his generation – will be the butt of laughter and mockery even on the part of his disciples, and his chosen disciple will be the one who betrays him! The evil instinct in man tends towards violence and destruction; it sets up a barrier between him and life, between man and God!”
Denur-Shag took a deep breath, and then another, and went on to say, his eyes flashing as he spoke:
“And in the east there lives a quiet people, strong and as multitudinous as the stars in the skies above and the sands on the sea-shore below. These people have slanting eyes that recall those of the fox or the snake, or both of them, and they are careful to avoid contact with strangers, and they keep to themselves the secret of the silk that is spun by worms feeding on mulberry leaves, and they make all their calculations using balls of string, and they conjure their dead and make them into gods. And they bow down to these gods and worship them, and their souls yearn for them, and they bring down on their own heads and on the heads of those whom they subjugate, nothing but ruination and death. And we, standing in the middle with a wise and valiant king ruling over us, need to know which way we are facing – towards the destruction and perdition of the west, or the ruination and death of the east, or are we to escape from the claws of one and the talons of the other and make a stand in our own right, and construct for ourselves a new way towards what is beyond destruction and perdition and above death and ruination, and we shall give our era a new name,” – and Denur-Shag turned to his pupils and asked them: “What name would you give it, this new era?”
Since no one showed any inclination to answer his question, and there was silence in the hall, the teacher was forced to call on him again:
“Belteshazzar!”
He rose to his feet and declared without hesitation:
“The age of the sons of God!”
“And what are your reasons for naming it thus, the era of last hope?” – cried Denur-Shag, excitement kindled once again in his eyes.
“The Scriptures.”
“Can you elucidate?”
The dialogue proceeded with animation and firm resolve, and it seemed that for the two participants all the others had ceased to exist.
“In our ancient Book of Psalms,” he began in a tone of confident authority, his face radiant – “in the eighty-second psalm, the sixth verse reads: I have said, you are God, and all of you sons of the Most High!”
A look
of deep happiness swept across Denur-Shag’s excited features. He nodded to him in token of approbation, and added to this a deep bow of respect and appreciation, then straightened up, thinking something over. He turned to the rest of the class, his face suddenly changing expression, losing that look of keen enthusiasm and now showing nothing but exhaustion and mild dejection:
“Well,” he said – “we have an answer here, and it may well be that other, different answers exist, but we shall content ourselves with this one and leave the others aside. Meanwhile, since our time is done and you must complete your riding lessons before the evening meal is served, be off with you, go in peace!” He withdrew, disappearing into the passageway.
The pupils rose, took up their writing tablets and exchanging lively conversation on the subject of the riding lessons they left the hall.
Adoniah approached him, hissing through his teeth:
“These words of yours are nothing but incitement to rebellion, and they will put your head in the noose that hangs from the execution pillar!”
He did not have time to reply – not that he had any intention of replying – before Matthew came from behind him, spitting bile:
“How long will you put on these airs of yours, son of Naimel the traitor?”
With lightning swiftness he took a firm grip on Matthew’s shoulder.
“Take that back!” he cried, his eyes gleaming with a strange and intimidating lustre. Adoniah returned, to intervene at Matthew’s side, but Azariah, Mishael and Hananiah immediately stepped forward to block his path, keeping him away from the belligerents. Gabriel and Uziel looked on from the side, curiously.
He squeezed Matthew’s shoulder and went on squeezing, knowing he was inflicting pain, while the other howled like a beast led to the slaughter:
“I take it back, I take it back! Let me go!”
Slowly he removed his hand, allowing Matthew to flee, tears streaming down his face, to the long corridor, now almost empty. Mishael, Azariah and Hananiah came and stood beside him.
“Insolent boy!” hissed Hananiah.
“Denur-Shag admires you. Your answers really cheered him up, we saw his face!” Azariah saw fit to comment, intending to change the subject and encourage him.
“We are proud of you!” Mishael gave expression to his exultation, which had not yet abated.
“It’s all by the grace and mercy of God!” he answered them and, a smile lighting up his face, walked with them down the corridor.
The Race
At the outset, lessons in riding were not included in the programme of studies. It was none other than the King himself who instituted them, saying it was not enough for his scribes and favoured servants to be skilled in the lore of tongues, in fine craftsmanship and the science of numbers – they must prove themselves valiant as well. He insisted that they be trained in equestrianism and stipulated that at the end of the course all the pupils were to compete in a horse race, according to the strict rules of ancient Chaldean tradition. And he, the King, would preside over this event.
A lean and nimble Numidian slave was their riding instructor. His name was Tabin and he treated them with the same respect and deference he would have shown to members of the aristocracy. Sometimes he compromised, deviating from the rigid requirements of the curriculum and not insisting that all the complicated manoeuvres be performed. He contented himself with demonstration, and with reminding the young gentlemen that in the final analysis, carelessness could cost them their lives.
Each of the pupils was given charge of a gelding or a mare, well fed and well groomed, and these were to be their mounts throughout the course, and afterwards.
He was allocated a young mare, alert and attractive, sharp-eyed and of quick intelligence, responsive to him and adept at sensing his mood, interpreting his wishes and fulfilling them. She was white and her name was Orelian, and the empathy between them grew stronger from one lesson to the next. No surprise, then, that no one was his peer in horsemanship. Even Tabin, their instructor, could not conceal his admiration. Matthew distinguished himself as well, although his technique consisted in goading his horse into a frantic gallop, the animal picking up speed in a desperate effort to rid himself of the troublesome rider and his vicious spurs. Despite this, in the practice races that the novices held from time to time, he never prevailed. He would whip and spur his horse into such a state of exhaustion that he stumbled on the turns and veered from the track, often rearing on his hind legs in a futile attempt to unseat his impetuous, brutal jockey.
Daniel’s riding was characterised by a restraint which underlined his total control of his beast, winning the hearts of the spectators with his graceful movements and that rare understanding between horse and rider. The high-spirited Orelian needed no encouragement from whip or spur, from yelled commands or affectionate words whispered in the ear. She could read all her master’s thoughts, and complied with absolute precision. She knew how to control herself and how to maintain speed on the turns, leaning slightly to one side. Her undulating, harmonious gait delighted the spectators and she invariably came in first, barely breaking into a sweat and as well tempered as ever, thus faithfully reflecting the personality of her rider.
As the course proceeded, the novices came to understand the meaning of the expression “according to the strict rules of ancient Chaldean tradition.” In a special lesson, reticent as ever, out of respect and appreciation for his pupils, Tabin informed them that they would be required to jump over a ditch with deep, fast-flowing water at the bottom, which would sweep anyone who misjudged the jump into the foaming Euphrates. Many a rider, Tabin warned them, had either neglected his lessons or had panicked at the crucial moment, falling into the ditch instead of clearing it, bringing his young life to an end that was ignominious and highly regrettable by any standards. Not only this but King Nebuchadnezzar, the valiant and the wise, conqueror of the world, was demanding that the course of training be cut short, to finish the next month, with the full moon, twenty-seven or twenty-eight days hence, and on the day following the conclusion of training, a race was to be held; all riders to run the course which was to include jumping over the ditch three times, one after another, those who would live, to live, and those who would die – to die! This was the gist of Tabin’s emotional address, and having spoken the Numidian slave led the group on a tour of inspection of the ditch, covered for the moment with heavy panels of brass.
This was a defensive moat of the old style, surrounding the royal palace and filling with the surging waters of the Euphrates whenever the sluice-gate was raised. In the course of time it was realised that the value of the ditch as a defensive measure was limited; having penetrated the Chaldean capital thus far, a potential enemy was unlikely to be deterred by it. Despite this, the ditch was not neglected and the sluice regulating the flow of water from the Euphrates was kept clear, in preparation for races such as this, the risk to the lives of the participants invariably attracting a large and variegated crowd of spectators, from the King himself and his courtiers to the lowliest of apprentices from the artisans’ quarter.
So the days passed, and the quickened pace of the training began to bear fruit – the novices sat confidently in their saddles, and understood their mounts as far as their level of competence permitted, and preparations began for the fateful race.
The last week Tabin devoted to practising the technique of jumping the ditch. It was still dry at this stage and covered by those heavy brass panels, but by peering through the gaps between the panels one could gain an impression of the depth – an unnerving experience for the novices, who suddenly began paying more attention to their instructor, and carrying out the exercises required of them with all the thoroughness they were capable of. And so it was that by the middle of the week the horses were accustomed to jumping the ditch with its brass panels, no longer needing the encouragement of whip or spur as they approached the edge.
“When the panels are removed,” Tabin used to warn them in his deep, hoarse voi
ce – “the sight will be even less reassuring! Fear will definitely be a factor, and we must practise and practise until we could jump the ditch with our eyes closed!” Tabin bared two rows of gleaming white teeth in a rather awkward smile, and since nobody responded to the smile he continued in more earnest vein, warning that otherwise, one of them at least was bound to lose his young life, before getting to meet the King face to face and receiving the assignment he had set his heart on. “As for me,” he went on to say – “I took part in this race some four years ago and I finished in third place. As a reward for this, the King took me out of the stables, and instead of shovelling horse dung from dawn till dusk, I became a riding instructor. Now, pay attention! The winners among you won’t be given the most respectable assignments immediately, because you are still children, but the King will remember you, and when the time comes he will know how to reward the victor! King Nebuchadnezzar is valiant and wise, wise especially – and he won’t forget to reward any man according to his deserts. The honest and the talented will find him a generous patron, the villain and the loser – he tramples into the dust!”
The young men listened to Tabin, the former stable-boy and took his peroration to heart, doing what was required of them with renewed vigour, omitting nothing, until they succeeded in putting the smile back on his face, a broad and radiant smile this time, a look of supreme satisfaction.
Two days before the day of the race, when the labourers were already busy erecting the stand for the King and his entourage, Tabin addressed the novices again and told them that he considered the jumps had been practised enough, and it was time to concentrate again on the issue of speed, or “acceleration” as he called it. He admitted he was not an expert in this field, and could only give the benefit of his own meagre experience; experience had taught him that the perfect matching of rider and mount was the key to acceleration, meaning – the horse should not feel insulted or degraded by rough treatment on the part of his rider, but on the contrary, should feel proud and appreciative of the one on his back, as eager as he to be first at the winning-post and exerting every effort to achieve this. “You need to be calm and considerate,” he told them – “controlling yourself and not attacking the horse or riding in an abusive manner, which does no good at all but only harm. Excessive use of spurs is to be avoided too, as the only effect is to drive the animal out of its mind, meaning that both horse and rider are doomed to a sudden and unpleasant end.” And here Tabin made it clear that his advice was intended for Matthew in particular, and he hoped Matthew would appreciate the importance of what he had said. Unlike him, Tabin, young Matthew was credited with some intelligence and could work things out rationally, and if he would only apply his talents to his riding, he would not only enjoy it, he could expect a successful outcome in the race, if not in first place, then in second or at least in third – like Tabin in his time.
