by Mesu Andrews
Familiar grousing stole my attention, and I caught my first glimpse of Ashpenaz at the front edge of the king’s dais. Gesturing wildly toward us, he shouted at our guiding eunuch, “Off! Get those two off the camels! They’re too close to the king.”
Well, his passion for his king certainly hadn’t waned.
Gadi tapped his camel’s front shoulder and called to me, “We’ll walk from here.” He winked, a little mischief twinkling from his eyes. “That eunuch needs a lesson in manners.”
If you only knew. I, too, tapped my camel and accepted Gadi’s hand as I stepped onto Babylon’s soil for the first time in over five years.
Only twenty camel lengths separated the viewing terraces from the king’s dais; a wide staircase rose between them on both sides. I reached up to hold my veil securely fastened before taking my first step. I had no desire to reveal my identity until the moment I chose. Arioch, the king’s bodyguard, stood at the king’s right. And at the king’s left…
Daniel.
My breath caught.
Gadi gripped me as if I were a shield, looking down. “Did you see a snake?” He hated snakes.
Floundering for an explanation, my attempted deception was pathetic. “No, I just remembered the high priest warned me of King Nebuchadnezzar’s disdain of Mithra. It’s caused difficulty in his marriage, so we dare not reveal that I’m a high priestess.”
Gadi pulled me close. To any other, it would have appeared a touching embrace, but his whisper was a threat. “How could you keep this from me until now? What if Nebuchadnezzar recognizes the red robes of our high priestess?” He cast me away and climbed the stairs alone. I followed, refastening my veil.
Why did it matter if Daniel knew I was Mithra’s high priestess? My indifference lasted only until the memory of his brown eyes pierced my heart. Until the warmth of his tenderness and protection flooded my chest. Of course it mattered. The thought of his shock and sadness that I’d turned away from Yahweh after my experience in the Temple and witnessing his first vision…my stomach filled with knots. I couldn’t face him.
Gadi halted at the foot of the king’s dais, and I stood beside him, head bowed. Hopefully, the king and queen would interpret my act as honor, not rudeness.
“Lord Gadi, it’s good to see you again.” King Nebuchadnezzar’s welcome was both warm and familiar. Many in the crowd quieted, perhaps hoping the ceremonies were beginning. “I see you’ve brought a lovely companion.”
“More than a companion, King Nebuchadnezzar. I plan to marry the most beautiful woman in Achmetha.” He reached for my hand. “In fact, she has agreed to marry me this evening after the dedication.”
“We are most honored.” The queen’s voice. “I know your family is gone, Gadi, but is your wife alone as well?”
“We have each other, Queen Amyitis, and are eager to celebrate our union in your lovely city.”
“You must let us provide a wedding banquet for you after the ceremony. We’ll invite all the nobility.”
“You are too generous, Queen Amyitis.” Gadi bowed deeply and I matched his deference. “I am honored to bring you greetings from your father. Achmetha anxiously awaits your annual summer visit, my lady.”
“You’ll have your own wife now. Stop trying to take mine away,” Nebuchadnezzar teased. An uneasy silence filled me with foreboding. “Gadi, you say your bride is beautiful, but I have yet to see her face. Surely she doesn’t dress in red and then pretend to be bashful.” The king laughed, and the crowds on the platforms beside us joined him. My cheeks burned at the mocking. The hills around us echoed our voices so everyone could hear the slightest sound.
Gadi answered above the noise. “It was I who chose her wedding dress, King Nebuchadnezzar, because I want the world to notice my Belili.”
Without warning, he tugged my veil away, and I looked at the king who had so handily disposed of an eleven-year-old girl deemed unworthy to be Belteshazzar’s wife. The name Belili meant nothing to him, nor would the name Abigail, so he and his queen smiled their approval at Gadi’s betrothed. Gathering my courage, I turned to Daniel and saw his face pale with recognition. His forehead etched with the deep lines of judgment I feared as he appraised my robe, ruby necklace, and dangling earrings. Whatever was left of Abigail hid behind Belili.
I returned my attention to the king, stiffening my resolve and hardening my heart. “In answer to your question, King Nebuchadnezzar…” I swept my hand in an exaggerated bow. “I am not bashful.”
The king laughed aloud, and the queen sprang from her throne, applauding my boldness and speaking to those gathered on the plain below. “Meet a true daughter of the Medes! Belili, bride of Gadi.”
The crowd applauded, and my bridegroom lifted our hands like victors. “You are remarkable, my dear,” he said to me quietly. “Utterly remarkable.”
A eunuch approached us, indicating where Gadi and I should stand on the terraces. We took our places among other men of high rank, some with their wives—or other companions. Once settled, I scanned the nobles on the platform opposite us, mostly representatives from other nations. No one I knew. What had happened to Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego? What about the other Judean youths who lived in our villa? My eyes flitted to the royal dais again, careful to avoid Daniel. I found Ashpenaz staring at me, his lips quirked in an appreciative grin—and then he bowed. I inclined my head as a noblewoman would, but the victory felt hollow.
Without permission, my attention wandered to Daniel, who stared at me, his features dark and brooding. When he turned his head away, it felt like a blade to my heart, regret seeping out like blood. So many if onlys separated us. The queen’s promised wedding banquet came to mind, and I almost groaned aloud. Daniel would no doubt be invited.
Trumpets sounded, and the king’s guard lined the edge of his dais, partly obscuring my view of the thrones—and Daniel. Hadn’t Ashpenaz and his eunuchs always come between us? The eunuchs! Every man serving in Nebuchadnezzar’s court was either married or a eunuch. But Daniel didn’t wear a eunuch’s collar. I worked to keep my expression placid, refusing to show the emotions roiling inside. He’d probably forgotten me within days of my kidnapping. Lord Laqip probably convinced him to marry Rubati, and they now had a villa full of little Laqips. The thought sickened me.
“I am feeling unwell,” I whispered to my nobleman. “I can’t manage a large wedding banquet after such a long journey.”
He gathered me under his arm. “You’re nervous, my dove. It’s to be expected. But the queen adores you.” Nodding toward the dais, he shushed me.
The king’s herald cleared his throat. All grew still. His words carried across the bowl-shaped setting like the voice of God. “Nations and peoples of every language, by the decree of the great and mighty King Nebuchadnezzar, when you hear the sound of horn, flute, zither, lyre, harp, pipe, and all kinds of music, you will fall down and worship the image before you. Whoever does not fall down and worship will immediately be thrown into a blazing furnace.” Stepping back, he allowed the royal guard to close ranks, forming an impenetrable shield across the front edge of King Nebuchadnezzar’s elevated dais.
Sparks flew heavenward from the crackling flames in the furnace. I shivered despite the heat and began to search the crowded plain. Were Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego among the thousands of satraps, prefects, governors, advisers, treasurers, judges, magistrates, and other provincial officials gathered there? Surely my Hebrew friends would bow. It was only a giant lump of metal. It meant nothing. Would Daniel kneel to an image of gold? Daniel would never, but would Belteshazzar? Had he become Babylonian—submitting to all that required—as I’d become a Mede?
When music rent the air, I glanced at the dais to see the man at the king’s left. Please, Daniel, bow!
I heard my sleeve rip before my knees landed smartly on the limestone platform. A grip of iron had pulled me down. “Has your head co
vering made you deaf, Belili? Now, worship!” Gadi released my arm, but the sting of his rebuke remained. Hands raised to the image, my bridegroom spoke adorations to the image as if it could hear him.
As for me, I lifted my head slightly to peer over the crowd, thinking how ridiculous everyone looked. I’d given up on Yahweh long ago, sure He’d given up on me. But while others complimented and cajoled, begged and bargained with a mammoth piece of metal, I remembered the day I’d hidden beside the Ark in Jerusalem’s Temple and I vowed to never worship a god who was too weak to save the men who created it. Long ago, I’d seen Yahweh protect my four boys when Nebuchadnezzar’s dream threatened their lives. Perhaps He would still answer if I prayed for them and not for myself.
Yahweh, I’m too stained to expect an answer, but please protect my friends in this dangerous land.
Amid the inane mumbling around me, the loudest voice was the one that rumbled in my chest. Was Daniel kneeling? Gadi pulled me to my knees before I’d glimpsed the king’s platform. Why did it matter to me? Daniel was Nebuchadnezzar’s governor of Chaldeans. Probably married. But I had to know.
Turning my head slightly, I still could not see him, and my heart skipped. Had Yahweh given Daniel power and position, removing him from the need to choose? The idea that Yahweh might save him felt completely true and settled in my deepest parts.
But why would Yahweh save Daniel from such a decision and not me? I found the answer in the droning worship of those who joined me on our knees. I’d never been worthy of Yahweh’s blessing. I’d been useful for a time and cast away when no longer needed. I slipped my hand into Gadi’s and felt his fingers tighten around mine.
* * *
At the herald’s command, musicians throughout the plain began to blow, bang, and strum, creating such a cacophony that Daniel wished he could cover his ears. He refused to kneel, but dare he not? Nebuchadnezzar motioned for both he and Arioch to bend near but kept his gaze fixed on the plain. “You two will remain standing. Alert the guards to anyone who refuses to bow to my image.”
With Daniel’s relief for himself came a sinking dread for Abigail. Would she stand or kneel? Standing meant she would die in a furnace. Kneeling proved she’d died in Achmetha. Reluctantly, Daniel let his eyes wander to his right, the third terrace down…
Her vibrant red robe was easy to spot. Its matching head covering brushed the ground, while the bride-to-be knelt beside her groom. Why was he surprised at her kneeling? The Median woman Belili was nothing like the Abigail he knew. Brash and calculating, Belili had learned to manipulate royalty during her six years away. She’d drawn in Babylon’s king and queen like a spider to her web.
Yahweh, what could have changed her so profoundly? Grief and guilt pounded in his chest. “Friends help friends,” he’d promised, but he’d been helpless the night she needed him most. At times like these, the bitter taste of exile tainted even the sweetest memories and stirred his hate for the king he’d vowed to serve.
“My king, look there.” Arioch pointed to a disturbance on the plain.
Daniel shaded his eyes against the sun and saw a group of black-robed astrologers shoving three red-robed administrators. Steadying himself against the throne, Daniel felt as if the earth trembled beneath him. Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego marched with heads held high through a crowd of curious worshippers. The music dwindled to dissonant tones, and people stood as Daniel’s friends walked by.
“Burn them!” one man jeered, and like water through a hole in a dam, others on the plain erupted in vehement prodding for the violent deaths of three men unknown to the masses.
The eunuchs lining the dais drew their weapons against their brothers who had broken a vow of loyalty to the king. Daniel sucked in a breath as his friends approached the dais. Would the king’s guard kill them before they reached the throne? Of course not. That, too, would be a betrayal. They would allow the more brutal death in a furnace. The eunuchs split their line, allowing the offenders and their escort to pass through. Closing ranks and turning their backs to the crowd, they provided a private audience for judgment on the elevated dais.
The astrologers shoved Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego to their knees before the throne. One of the black-robed men bowed to the king before he spoke, his lips pinched in disdain. “May the king live forever! When the music sounded, these exiles from Judah, who neither worship our gods nor pay any heed to your commands, refused to bow down and worship the image of gold you have set up.” His voice echoed off the hill, bouncing back over the plain below. More jeers and heckling stoked the king’s rage.
“Is it true, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, that you do not serve my gods or worship the image of gold I have set up?”
They lifted their heads, looking only at the king. “It is true, my king” came Shadrach’s humble voice.
“You made a vow. Your loyalty for my protection. Yet on the day I ask you to publicly show loyalty, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, you refuse to bow down or worship my image?” The king’s voice rose on the last word, sounding incredulous.
In the ensuing silence, Daniel silently cheered his friends’ courage. But could he have made the same choice? When the music began, he’d hesitated. Even now, when they needed help from the chief wise man in Babylon, true wisdom eluded him.
Still, none of them glanced in his direction. All three eunuchs focused only on their king. “Because of your vow,” Nebuchadnezzar said, voice trembling with rage, “I offer one more chance. One. The next time you hear the instruments, you will fall down and worship. If you do not, you’ll be thrown immediately into a blazing furnace. Then what god will be able to rescue you from my hand?”
Shadrach spoke, remaining calm and respectful. “My king, we do not need to defend ourselves before you in this matter. If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it, and He will deliver us from Your Majesty’s hand.”
“But even if Yahweh chooses not to deliver us,” Abednego added, “we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set before us.”
The collective gasp sounded like a wind sweeping the plain. Shock threatened to send Daniel to his knees. Nebuchadnezzar’s fury shook him back to awareness. “Stoke the furnaces seven times hotter!”
“But, my king,” Daniel pleaded. “The fires will consum—”
“Bind them!” he shouted. “And throw them into the fire immediately!”
Daniel’s friends finally lifted their eyes to meet his gaze as their brother eunuchs wrenched their arms behind them and tied leather straps around their wrists. Three princes of Judah, trained as Chaldeans of Babylon, to be burned in a brick kiln at the whims of a maniacal king.
“Get them out of my sight!” King Nebuchadnezzar screeched. His queen laid a gentle hand on his arm and nodded toward the furnace. Absolute power need only whisper to show its strength.
Yahweh, let the increased heat be a mercy to my friends. Take them quickly, Lord. Walk with them into paradise.
The king watched as the procession of eunuchs neared the furnace at the far end of the hill’s slope. Slaves stoked the flames with small chunks of wood to quickly raise the temperature. Daniel could feel the increase in heat where he stood more than half a city block away. In that moment, he wished he’d been forced to choose and could die with his friends rather than serve the evil king.
“Throw them in!” someone shouted from the plain, and Daniel’s attention snapped toward the furnace.
Flames rose as tall as an oak tree from a huge hole on top of the furnace. The royal guards paused ten camel lengths away, glancing back at the king for direction. Even standing on the dais, Daniel’s cheeks were flushed from the intense heat. How could the guards carry out this execution?
King Nebuchadnezzar waved his arm toward the furnace and bellowed, “Throw them in! Burn them!”
“Yahweh, please stop this,” Daniel whispered as the first set of eunuchs, obedient without flinching, led Shadrach toward the flames.
The guards lifted their hands over their faces in an attempt to shield themselves from the heat. But Shadrach, hands tied behind him, walked undaunted and without slowing. Barely two paces from the furnace, the guards’ clothes and hair burst into flames. In final screaming obedience, both guards shoved their prisoner into the fiery abyss.
“The other two,” the king demanded, having backed up several steps. “Now!”
True to their vows of loyalty, the second and third sets of eunuchs led Daniel’s friends to the furnace entry. They, too, gave their lives for their king while shoving the twin brothers into the flames as the smoke carried the stench over the plain.
Unable to bear the swirl of stink, sorrow, and horror, Daniel ran to the back of the dais and retched on the hillside. He braced his hands against his knees, waiting for the agonizing screams to die with his friends. How could he continue to serve as governor of Chaldeans? What could he teach young minds under his instruction about an empire led by such a perverse king? Yahweh, how could You…
“My king! My king! Come quickly!” Panicked voices from the plain below drew King Nebuchadnezzar to the front edge of his dais. Daniel cared nothing about the newest crisis in this vile kingdom. He wiped his mouth and beard and stood with a weary sigh.
“Lord Belteshazzar! Come immediately!” Nebuchadnezzar shouted. He jumped from the dais and ran down the steps toward the furnace where it opened to the plain. Daniel and Arioch followed, only a few steps behind. Daniel strained to see why a crowd gathered at the ground-level arched opening of the furnace, but too many people blocked his view.