Of Fire and Lions

by Mesu Andrews

  4

  The LORD sent Babylonian, Aramean, Moabite and Ammonite raiders against him to destroy Judah, in accordance with the word of the LORD proclaimed by his servants the prophets.

  —2 KINGS 24:2

  Ashpenaz delivered me to a soldier on the other side of the Temple’s dividing curtain, and I cast a betrayed glance at the chief eunuch. He was far from kind, but he’d promised to protect me. The eunuch ordered three other soldiers to accompany us, while my new captor, a skinny and surly teenager, cut my rope belt and tied my wrists with it. Legs shaking, I followed Babylon’s chief eunuch out of the Temple, with the other four soldiers surrounding me. Was a nine-year-old girl so dangerous that she required five grown men to escort her?

  The moment I stepped into the Temple courts, I realized Ashpenaz had kept his promise and recruited the other men for my protection. Yanking the rope around my wrists, he pulled me closer. “Don’t lag behind. The Arameans, Moabites, and Ammonites are hired armies and here only to fill their pockets. They’ll see your slave value as worth a fight.”

  The hired soldiers’ savagery was beyond imagining; they killed who they wished and stole what they wanted. Curved swords drawn, my saviors led me through the chaos of foreign tongues and grisly celebration. The smell of blood and waste caught in my throat, and I braced my hands on my knees, retching in the street.

  Ashpenaz paused our escape, towering over me. “It was your king who opened the city gates, Wildcat. He offered up his guards in exchange for his own life.” He lifted a thin-plucked brow. “Survival is a strong instinct. You’ll need it.”

  We resumed our hurried pace past a Judean soldier whose lifeless eyes stared up at me, testifying to his misplaced loyalty, reminding me to award my trust wisely. Over my shoulder, I glimpsed Yahweh’s Temple.

  Do You see all this death from atop Your golden box?

  “Eyes forward.” One of the soldiers shoved me through the Horse Gate. Would I ever return to Jerusalem again? Could I worship Yahweh in a foreign land? Would I ever again hear King David’s psalms?

  The prophet Jeremiah had predicted doom for Judah’s sins for as long as I could remember. Captivity. Exile to foreign lands. But there were just as many prophets—more, really—who said Yahweh would never destroy us.

  I turned once more to look at my city, but one of the black-eyed monsters poked the blunt end of his spear into my back. I cried out and then gritted my teeth. Was this what Ima meant when she said Judah was Yahweh’s chosen people? Chosen to be captives? What good was it to be chosen if armies could destroy your home, your family, your life?

  “Where are you taking me, Lord Ashpenaz?”

  No answer. I chanced a look at the four soldiers. Each one marched without expression, eyes forward, jaws clenched. I dared not ask again.

  We walked through the Kidron Valley and crested the hill east of the city, pausing while Ashpenaz pointed at a large encampment three hills away. “That will be your home until we depart for Babylon. It’s a difficult trek, but we’ll make it before dusk.” His hard expression brooked no argument.

  I lowered my head. “Yes, my lord.”

  The eunuch released his grip on the rope around my wrists as we descended the first hill, and I was grateful for the small mercy. The sun beat down, and hunger gnawed at my stomach. I caressed the loaf of bread, wondering if I dared eat it or if it had become sacred since Yahweh mended it. By afternoon, I was too hungry to care and nibbled at the loaf. Without yeast, it was firmer than Ima’s brown bread, but it had a hint of sweetness I’d never tasted before. I received every bite as a gift from Yahweh.

  The soldiers shared their water, and the eunuch led us with a resolve that left me breathless. When we finally reached the encampment, dusty, tired, and starving, the guard on duty bowed to Ashpenaz as if he were Babylon’s king. The words he spoke were foreign, but they were offered with the deference of a servant to his master.

  Ashpenaz acknowledged him with a nod and shoved me forward, answering in broken Hebrew. “This girl will serve the royal boys we take to Babylon. You will show the same care to her you’ve been ordered to give the boys. If she ends our journey with a single mark, you die.”

  The guard bowed and answered in the language I didn’t understand. Ashpenaz strode away with the four soldiers, and I was left in the care of the stranger, who nudged me in the back with his spear, jabbering his foreign words and pointing toward a cook fire.

  As we neared, I saw three women crouched low at the fire. Though their backs were toward me, their dingy-brown woolen robes were a familiar Judean weave. The sight pierced me afresh with grief. None of them were my ima. Would I ever see her again?

  My captor shoved me, and I stumbled on a rock, falling hard against one of the women. She grabbed her side, and I began an apology, but the words caught in my throat at the sight of her. Glancing quickly at all three, I saw their bruised and swollen faces and was glad Ima wasn’t among them. Each wore a bronze ankle shackle with a heavy chain as long as my arm that linked her to the next. One kneaded bread. Another prepared mounds of fresh fruits and vegetables, likely harvested from Judah’s rich lands. The third woman turned a deer on the spit over the fire.

  The bread woman spoke, her hands in constant rhythm, kneading the dough. “You’d better stop ogling us and get to work, or they’ll do the same to you.” Her voice broke, but she cleared her throat and continued. “You’re young, but these animals don’t care. You’re too beautiful to leave alone.”

  “Stop it. Can’t you see she’s frightened enough?” The woman I’d fallen into scowled and patted the dirt beside her. “Come. Tell us your name, little one. We’ll plot how to poison their food.” A wicked grin lifted the corners of her lips, but she winced and touched a freshly open cut before reaching for another cucumber.

  I liked her immediately and sat down by her. “My name is Abigail.” Glancing left and right, I conspired with a whisper, “Can we really poison them?” Embittered silence replaced fleeting grins, but I’d earned their trust by my willingness to hate.

  I snuck dates and cheese and offered them bites from my sacred loaf while we worked. I was sure Yahweh wouldn’t mind.

  The camp swelled with returning soldiers and their captives as the sun sank into the western hills. We worked long into the night, chopping vegetables, shelling pistachios, and baking bread. The Babylonians didn’t care that our Sabbath had begun.

  When I ate the last bite of sacred bread, I closed my eyes, laid my head on a rock, and thought of Ima. Was she safe inside our chamber? I couldn’t bear to consider anything else. Then I remembered the Ark, the broken piece of bread, and the loaf that fed me and the beaten women.

  Thank You, Yahweh. If You never show me Your presence again, at least I know You’re real. The thought made me smile, and I don’t remember falling asleep.

  5

  Then the king ordered Ashpenaz, chief of his court officials, to bring into the king’s service some of the Israelites from the royal family and the nobility—young men without any physical defect, handsome, showing aptitude for every kind of learning…to serve in the king’s palace. He was to teach them the language and literature of the Babylonians.

  —DANIEL 1:3–4

  “Wildcat.” Someone kicked my side. “Wildcat!”

  I jumped to my feet and looked up at the giant, Ashpenaz. Memories of yesterday’s horrors rushed back like a flooding wadi in a desert rain, and I swallowed back instant tears. Breathless, speechless, I could do nothing but stare into his sharp black eyes.

  “Follow me.” He turned quickly and strode away. Had his smug expression softened, or had my yearning for kindness tricked me?

  I followed him past gawking soldiers and weary women. I kept my eyes averted and walked a pace behind my protector. Weaving through an inner circle of blazing-white tents, I tried not to stare at the finery. Tapestries li
ned the dusty ground. Two Babylonian soldiers guarded the occupants of each dwelling, and a golden image of a strange-looking creature stood outside every tent.

  “What’s that?” I pointed at the dragon-snake-lion-eagle statue at the tent before us.

  The chief eunuch eyed me as if I were a mosquito. “That is Sirrush.” He bowed to the image as he spoke. “The earthly representation of our god Marduk.” He clapped twice, and four Hebrew boys immediately emerged from the tent, eyes wide and fearful. Two boys appeared to have reached manhood. The younger two were about my age, faces mirroring each other identically but height and hair color quite different.

  Ashpenaz stepped aside to introduce them. “You will tend to the needs of these four princes. They must arrive in Babylon with no scratches or bruises, or you will die. They must be well fed, or you will die. Give them whatever they want, or—”

  “Or I will die?”

  Ashpenaz raised his hand to strike me but halted when I flinched. “Interrupt me again, and you will die.”

  I bowed, my heart pounding, and he walked away. “Give them whatever they want…”

  “You’re very brave.” The oldest-looking boy stepped toward me.

  Another boy raised his eyebrows. “Very brave or very stupid.”

  The first boy elbowed him and then nodded respectfully. “I’m Daniel, and my rude friend is Hananiah. What’s your name?”

  “I’m Abigail, my lord.” I bowed, noticing the younger two boys nudging Hananiah.

  “These are my twin brothers,” Hananiah said, pointing to the obvious resemblance, “and we will all be careful not to scratch ourselves or get bruised.” There was a gleam of mischief in his eyes that unsettled me.

  Daniel looked past me, and I turned to see what was so interesting. But he appeared to simply be observing the camp. “How old are you, Abigail?” he asked, still calculating our surroundings.

  I hesitated. What if he thought I was too young and rejected me? Perhaps avoiding an answer was safer. “How old are you?”

  His attention snapped back to me, a grin curving his lips. He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Old enough to find a way to escape.”

  Fear tightened like a rope around my neck. “They’ll kill us all if you attempt to escape. You’re in the very center of their camp, surrounded by trained soldiers.”

  Daniel exchanged a glance with Hananiah and then studied me. His thoughts shone through his eyes, windows to his mind. I could see him sorting through possibilities, and I knew when he’d reached a conclusion. With a sigh, he said, “Hananiah, it’s too risky with Mishael and Azariah—and now Abigail’s life is at risk too. If we fail…”

  Hananiah kneaded the back of his neck. “I know you’re right, but we can’t leave Jerusalem.” He looked up, tears in his eyes. “It will be forever, Daniel. If we can’t find a way to escape, we’ll never see Jerusalem again.”

  Daniel grabbed his friend’s robe. “Not forever. Jeremiah said a remnant would return from captivity in seventy years. We could come back, Hananiah.” He looked at the twins. “You believe, don’t you? We could come back.”

  “Seventy years?” My interruption startled them. “A king or prince may live seventy years, but you’re captives now. Servants and slaves don’t reach that age.” My candor washed the color from the twins’ faces.

  “Slaves?” A frightened squeak came from the one with golden curls. “I don’t want to be a slave.”

  “We aren’t slaves, Mishael.” Hananiah shot a dark look my way.

  “Of course we’re slaves,” I said, wondering at his intelligence. “Haven’t you heard them calling us captives?”

  Hananiah, leaving me seared from his burning glare, turned to brace his brother’s shoulders. “Yes, we’re captives, but they’re choosing the best princes and nobility of Judah to join young nobility from other nations to attend school in Babylon. The best minds from every culture in the empire are being invited to the capital, where we’ll study for three years and then be assigned roles in government.” He shrugged and aimed a defeated look at Daniel. “I suppose if we stayed in Jerusalem, we’d learn less, live in fear of invasion, and be assigned roles in Jehoiakim’s court.”

  “Yes, a puppet government,” Daniel said, “that obeys the same king we’re following to Babylon. We’d be more captive here than in Babylon.”

  Regretting my harsh words to these would-be officials, I bowed before the four princes. “Forgive me, my lords. Perhaps royal families live longer.” I didn’t believe it, but maybe the simple apology would save me from a beating when Ashpenaz returned.

  Daniel lifted me to my feet and stared at me with a grief so raw, it startled me. “My abba was killed in battle four years ago. My ima was killed yesterday while I watched. Royal families die too, Abigail.”

  “I didn’t mean…I only meant…” Mouth dry as a desert, I couldn’t escape his gaze. Pain washed with compassion met me. Please, Yahweh, God on top of the Ark, let all our suffering be over.

  My ima’s sad face appeared before me. She told me suffering lasted a lifetime. “I don’t mean to be harsh, but it’s better to be honest with Mishael than let his hopes be dashed by bronze shackles.”

  “Do you see shackles?” Hananiah held out his wrists, shaking them in frustration.

  I remembered Ashpenaz’s instructions not to scratch or bruise them. Of course they wouldn’t be shackled. So how had the eunuch escorted them to camp without a fight? And how would they be forced to walk to Babylon?

  “What gifts did Ashpenaz promise if you went to Babylon without a struggle?” It was more accusation than question.

  The boys averted their eyes, and I felt all the more justified in my mounting disdain. They were no different than Judah’s king. Selfish, greedy, and arrogant.

  Daniel, their self-appointed spokesman, finally lifted his eyes. “Nebuchadnezzar ordered every member of the king’s court and their families to report to the throne room, including the king’s relatives and council members. He chose young men who he determined to be ‘without physical defect, handsome, showing aptitude for learning, and quick to understand’ to answer questions. When we answered correctly, members of Judah’s royal court lived. If we answered incorrectly, someone from our family died.”

  I felt my face drain of color, realizing I’d misjudged their suffering. “How many questions did you answer correctly?”

  “All of them,” Daniel said. “But they weren’t as fortunate.” He pointed at other Judean boys, emerging from their tents after the first night of captivity. “Some of our friends saw their entire families killed.”

  I had no more words. I could only stare at the empty-eyed boys huddled together near their tent flaps.

  Azariah, the smallest twin, stepped forward with boyish determination. “If we could escape and return to the palace, we could search out Jerusalem’s secret tunnels. I know they’re real. We could access them and travel almost to Jericho with our families.” His eyes sparkled with adventure, and I marveled that a boy so close to my age could be so naive. Had he heard nothing Daniel and Hananiah said?

  When I turned to see Daniel’s response, he was studying me again. This time, his eyes were shuttered, and I couldn’t quite decipher his thoughts. Before I could ask, he met Azariah’s enthusiasm with a wan smile. “I fear the tunnels are only a boyish dream, my friend. We must live in Babylon so our families won’t die in Jerusalem. Nebuchadnezzar made it clear. We submit to his invitation, or those we love die.”

  He turned to me, challenge in his eyes. “You see, Abigail, our bronze shackles are self-imposed. By choosing integrity and honor, we will follow the Babylonians into captivity and trust Yahweh to bring us back to Jerusalem at the end of Jeremiah’s prophesied seventy years.”

  Hananiah growled his frustration at the cloudless sky. “Daniel, what are the chances we’ll live to be eighty-two years o
ld? And of Mishael and Azariah living to eighty? If we choose to save our families by going to Babylon, we need to go and not look back.”

  “Oh no, my friend.” Daniel extended his hand. “The royal court ignored Jeremiah’s warnings, but we won’t ignore his promise. Yahweh said a remnant of captives would return to Jerusalem in seventy years. Why couldn’t we be with them?” He offered his hand, and it lingered in the air, like a bleating lamb waiting to shed its blood for a covenant.

  Hananiah’s fingers twitched, his eyes searching Daniel’s so long I thought I might grip his wrist if Hananiah didn’t hurry. Finally, he grabbed Daniel’s wrist, and they locked grips, sealing their vow. Hananiah drew in his brothers with his free hand. “We trust Yahweh can bring us all back in seventy years.” Mishael and Azariah each placed a single hand atop the older boys’ grip, eyes wide with adventure.

  Their camaraderie shifted something deep inside me. Less than a day after my world had been shattered, I found myself hoping against all hope that these boys could do as they’d promised. Perhaps the God who had restored the sacred bread could keep these boys whole until the remnant returned.

  “Abigail, come!” Daniel reached for me, grasping my hand and placing it atop theirs. “You will return with us.”

  His wide smile humbled me. My throat tightened. Perhaps I could serve in one of their households when we arrived in Babylon. Maybe someone under these masters could live to return in seventy years. The tiny seed of hope dared to sprout, despite my grief and fear for the future.

  Shame for my previous assumptions drove me to my knees, and I let my dusty brown hair form a curtain to hide my tears. “Forgive me, my lords, for speaking to you with anything but the utmost respect. I will serve you faithfully my whole life.”

  An uncomfortable silence replaced the jubilant moment, and one of the younger boys whispered, “Why is she crying?”

  Feeling foolish, I swiped at my eyes and turned my back, wishing I could disappear into the sea of white tents.