A broad smile crossed Cyrus’ face, as he extended his enormous hand to take Hab’s arm and raise him up. “Well met, good and faithful servant. You honor a most worthy divinity, who brings light to the world. Now go, fetch your master and bring him to me.”
His eyes wide and dazed from standing so close to a man whose armor shone like the sun, Hab only managed an awkward nod, before shuffling away as fast as he could.
Sitting quietly on the rug behind Daniel in the study, Hab finally remembered to avert his gaze from the King of Kings, staring intently at the knotted patterns of the fabric. Even so, he could not help but overhear a conversation between the old friends. Hab knew that the two men had written letters to each other, and that Daniel had been to the King’s court on several occasions, but the relaxed familiarity he heard in their voices was surprising.
The king stood upright, one hand on his hip, sipping beer from a chalice, still wearing his dusty, leather riding clothes.
“Thank you for joining me on such short notice,” Cyrus said to Daniel, a man at least ten years his senior.
Daniel bowed. “It is good for those who love the light of the Divine to have fellowship together. In this evil-haunted land of Babylon, there is no rest for those such as us.”
Cyrus raised his cup in salutation. “To our Heavenly Lord.”
Daniel continued, “I understand you are respectful of your conquered peoples’ ways but, my King of Kings, you must forbid these fiendish acts: the sacrifice of people must end.”
Hab was stunned to hear his master tell the most powerful man in the world what to do.
Cyrus’ eyes turned conspiratorial. “I heard you took it upon yourself to make that so. At least for one soul. Belshazzar sent an emissary to my camp asking for your head.”
Hab was curious at that last comment: Cyrus had not announced his coming to Babylon, so how had Belshazzar known where to send the messenger? Daniel knew; he had no doubt foreseen the King’s coming in a revelation from the Lord. Had Belshazzar’s mute stone idol told him, as well?
“If striking my head from my neck will end the murder of innocents fed to the demons of the earth, so be it! If it pleases Your Majesty, what say we have it done? I believe my fellow Habakkuk has a blade on him. Then Your Highness can bring your army in from outside our walls and destroy the cult of Bel!”
Hab, already overwhelmed by his present situation, was further alarmed by the offer of his dagger. Enough attempts had been made on his and Daniel’s lives to cause him to wear it at all times, but he didn’t know how the King would react to learning Hab was armed.
“Were that army to purge the blood temple of Bel’s priests, his faithful in Babylon, then Assyria, Lebanon, and Chaldea would rise in revolt, and that army—outfitted for show—would suddenly find itself behind enemy lines. A usurper to my throne could rise in the east, claiming I have defied the gods, cut off my support, and plunge our world into chaos,” Cyrus said, letting the weight of his words sink in. “I told you, this must take time.”
Daniel looked hurt. “A child, Cyrus. They were going to murder a child,” he protested.
Cyrus responded with steel in his voice. “One child of many they sacrifice each year. You would have me sacrifice a million children with no hope for victory. Do not lecture me, of all people, about the value of one child’s life.”
The two men stared at each other, each not yielding his point. Hab continued staring down with determination, even as he pondered the pregnancy of Cyrus’ last statement. Daniel had taught him to study people, to ferret out intentions and motivations, so as to better discover hidden infernalists. He heard a buried pain in Cyrus’ voice.
Cyrus spoke first, his tone lifting to a more detached, impersonal air. “As high priest of Bel and leader of his faithful in my empire, I must grant Belshazzar a hearing. When I hold court, the door will be open for all to ask me for judgment of grievances, and he will come. He has the right to petition his king for justice against the man who desecrated his temple.”
Daniel said nothing. His intense eyes blazed with the zeal of a man who lost no sleep over violating the laws of man to serve a higher law. He was not sorry for killing the guards or breaking Cyrus’ edict guaranteeing freedom of worship, even though he knew the penalty for such a high crime. Daniel made no excuses.
After a heavy silence, Cyrus continued, “Of course, I will not grant the execution he will demand, old friend. But, while you continue hacking at the roots, I must make the tree appear strong as ever. Belshazzar will have his audience, and you will accept a short exile, and no more.”
Daniel bowed again. “I am heartened to see that your short time in this wicked city has not clouded your judgment, my friend. Now … let us resume where we last left off, speaking of holy things,” he finished, with a waft of friendly feeling coming back into the room.
Small oil lamps lit Daniel’s library well enough for him to read far into the night, which is where Hab, carrying a mug of drink and a bowl of soup to his master, found him. He had neglected supper for his research again.
As Hab entered the room and placed the food down on his master’s table, he recognized the text Daniel was reading, and the memory of the place they had brought it from sent a cold shiver down his spine. Hab hoped his master was reading this out of idle curiosity, not using it to plan their next expedition.
“Your dinner, master.”
Daniel continued tracing along the text with an outstretched, bony finger. He did not appear to notice the attempted interruption.
“Master!” Hab shouted.
Looking in either direction over his shoulders and swiftly pulling a knife from his robes, Daniel was startled, but ready for an ambush, his reflexes as good as ever. When the need to swing his blade did not present itself, Daniel’s eyes fixed on Hab.
“Oh! Did I forget dinner again?”
“Yes, but you were studying. And as you taught me, studying is never a bad substitute for some base needs, even one as important as not starving,” Hab said, in jest.
Daniel smiled and reached out for the food. “Barley soup again? I thought this was the night for lamb stew.”
Hab remained standing until Daniel noticed that he was hovering there, and the older man motioned for him to sit.
Relaxing, Hab explained, “I did not have time to go market, as I was required at King Cyrus’ court until just before nightfall.”
Daniel smiled. “Ah, so it was. What did you think of Cyrus the Persian?”
“I did not know my eyes could behold such glory. Even covered in dust and sand, the blessing of the Lord was clearly upon him. It was as though one of the great statues of the gods had come to life and was kind to me.”
Daniel replied, “He thought well of you. When he rode into court and all of the Babylonians and Persians fell on their stomachs to humble themselves before him, you knelt like one of his cavalry squires, ready for whatever was to come. He was quite amused, my young student.”
As Daniel began spooning up his dinner, Hab asked, “When you spoke with the King, you spoke of many things, and of much that I do not know. May I ask you about them?”
Daniel smiled, bemused that the boy to whom he had taught so much for so long would still be so hesitant to ask questions. “Of course, Hab. I suspected that you would not be familiar with many of the things of which we spoke. Cyrus is …” Daniel hesitated, searching for the right words to answer the question without revealing more than was prudent to his student, “… a profound initiate into many orders of mysteries. To keep the peace between the many nations over which he rules, he accepted initiation into many of their religious rites, so that he may be a fellow believer in addition to their king. His has deep knowledge of the myriad ways in which man has sought out, found, and lost knowledge of the hidden mysteries of the world. But he is most wise. He has found the light of Our Lord to be the true light for which all men should seek. He has been a dedicated student.”
&nb
sp; This engendered a question Hab had not anticipated asking. “Why would a gentile, a Persian, be taught our ways? Is that even allowed?”
“The rabbis say no, but the Lord told me a great prince of the East would ride after the light of the sun with a strong heart, and his glittering crown would reflect that light as he rode across the face of the Earth. I felt my answer to his request for instruction had to be yes. Cyrus calls our Lord by different names, such as the Divine, Heavenly Father, and other high and noble honorifics. I know that in his heart, he worships the same God we do.”
His surprise abated, Hab recalled his more serious question. “Why did the King rebuke you over the worth of one child’s life?”
Daniel set his bowl down, his face pensive. After staring off for a moment, he looked Hab in the eyes. “Cyrus’ first son. He was a fine young man, perhaps eight summers old when he died. My friend lost him in a … terrible way. Cyrus feels that loss still.”
“I am saddened for the King,” Hab said, crestfallen to hear of King Cyrus’ loss. While Hab had only just met the King, Cyrus walked with grace and ease, and it was hard to imagine someone so seemingly perfect could suffer as common people do. Hab realized there must be shadows on even the brightest day.
“So why does it seem that the King is helping you against the cult of Bel? He did not ask you to justify what we did, nor for your repentance, nor anything of the sort. He was informed of your crime against Belshazzar’s infernal temple and yet tries to protect you? He would surely kill another man for the same crime!”
Daniel withdrew his hands from around the half-eaten bowl of soup, his eyes heavy with thought. “Cyrus is of the same purpose as we are when it comes to the demon Bel and his wretched slaves. It is true, what Cyrus said. He provides me with the shield we need to hunt down and wipe out the worst of the demon cults in his land, but he wishes to see the reign of Bel destroyed worldwide. You see … his uncle, the previous king … he was a secret devotee of Bel, hiding it from his kinsmen. As his moral strength failed him, it was replaced by unnatural hunger and corruption, he … ”
“Go on,” Hab prompted, rapt with attention.
“Cyrus’ uncle, in a fit of religious ecstasy, murdered Cyrus’ son while Cyrus was out hunting. He butchered him like a beast, baked the meat into a pie, then fed it to Cyrus upon his return.”
Part of Hab wished he could be shocked by such a demonic revelation anymore.
Daniel pursed his lips and finished the story. “When Cyrus had finished the meal, his uncle roared with laughter and gloated over what he had done. Cyrus, a mere noble at the time, flew at his uncle, but was overwhelmed, beaten, and thrown into prison. He escaped and raised an army to destroy the monster his uncle had become and, in a great battle, he triumphed. The troubling thing is that, when Cyrus ran his uncle through, even when he cut off the old devil’s head, he would not die. Locked in the darkest cellar beneath a forgotten tower in the Zagros Mountains is his uncle’s head, still gibbering with the most blasphemous secrets and curses of blackest Hell.”
The night wind whistled through the open window, causing the oil lamps’ flames to dance. Hab had enough answers for tonight.
The next morning before dawn, Hab escorted Daniel through the dust-covered streets, past a small army of slaves, furiously sweeping so as to remove the sand from the mud brick pavement, for the King of Kings’ parade through the city. A grand procession was soon to begin to impress upon the mind of Babylonians the glory and power of Cyrus, their lord and master. Daniel was to await the arrival of the King at the procession’s end, on a platform among the highest nobles of the land. The King’s favorites were to stand far above the assembled throng on the platform of an enormous ziggurat erected for Sin, the moon god.
Hab knew that he could not join his master with the court, as he was not Daniel’s kin. He often wondered why Daniel had never adopted him, as the rabbis encouraged be done with orphans. No, instead, Daniel had raised him with the same level of interest a teacher has for a student: he was deeply concerned that Hab learn the mystic and occult teachings Daniel placed before him, but not much beyond that. Hab was too nervous to ask why, for fear that Daniel might realize what a burden he had been and send him out to fend for himself, alone in a cruel world. He did not ask the rabbis or elders because he knew they didn’t like him. At the synagogue, he had heard the other young men talk about work—making shoes or sewing leather, simple, important tasks done with their hands. Hab knew that none of them would understand his day’s work, following his master into Stygian pits and burning out demon-worshipping necrophiles. He and Daniel lived lonely lives.
His self-defeating thoughts were interrupted by his master’s voice. “Regardless of what happens, trust the King. He will not betray us to Belshazzar’s direst wish. We may be exiled for a time, but we will live. Our faith in Cyrus will prove well-placed,” Daniel said, answering questions Hab hadn’t asked, in a tone better suited to convincing himself than others.
Hab’s ears perked up, catching the nervousness of his master. Living with someone who confidently spoke of God’s will almost every day, this was odd. He wondered if God had been silent for this day’s trial.
Daniel spoke again. “You will keep everything we discussed between us,” Daniel paused and turned to look Hab in the eyes. “Of course you will.”
Hab stopped walking abruptly, surprised by the sudden change in his master’s demeanor.
Daniel smiled, the wrinkles furrowing his face. “Of course, I can trust you. I have taught you secrets I trusted to no one else, and I have trusted you with my life. You have always proven true.” Daniel finished, beaming with pride at Hab.
Hab was at a loss for words; he knew that Daniel was pleased with his studies and knew that Hab was strong enough to survive any encounter they had faced, but to say such a thing so directly confounded him. But this time, that felt okay.
Still smiling, Daniel turned and continued walking toward the ziggurat, now only a few paces away.
The spectacle of Cyrus the Persian’s processional through Babylon overwhelmed Hab: dancers, musicians, priests, and retinues of soldiers from the hundred nations loyal to the King of Kings marched before him. The King Himself was the greatest spectacle: seated on his ivory throne wearing a robe of fine-spun gold, shining like a second sun in the sky, riding on a great platform borne aloft by a company of sacred bulls, and wreathed in garlands of flowers.
Upon reaching the ziggurat, King Cyrus turned to the crowd and raised his hand for silence. His voice boomed through the city from on high. “People of Babylon, my people, my flesh, my blood! You have shown great honor and love to Your King, and know that Your King’s heart is filled with love and kindness for you! Together, we have shown our obedience to all the gods, and so prepare yourselves for the bounteous feast we will share together!”
Hab wildly cheered and clapped, as did the horde of spectators.
Raising his hand to silence his subjects once more, Cyrus continued. “It is my greatest concern for all of my peoples and nations that they receive justice from their King, as they receive the blessings from the gods. Come to me, my people, tell me your woes! We will soon enjoy good cheer and a blessed feast together, so let Us first relieve you, Our very family, of all worry. Tell Your King, Your Father, what sorrows have burdened your heart, so that He may relieve your wont and woe!”
While the commoners rushed to be the first to be recognized by the King, Belshazzar moved from his place to the right of the throne. Belshazzar wore a horned skull taken from an unknown beast, with tusks and sharp fangs. The leather straps that crossed his chest were augmented with a harness to support a pair of skeletal wings that spread from his back, like butchered angel wings.
In a voice filled with mock reverence to conceal his disdain, the high priest of Bel spoke. “My lord, King of Kings! Cyrus the Great, Victor of Persia, Ruler of the World, hear my supplication, as your most base and unworthy servant!”
Ha
b saw the game was to be joined swiftly. His eyes darted from the foul, deathly Belshazzar to the glimmering King.
“Speak, faithful Belshazzar, honored high priest of Bel, the Great Devourer. Tell Your King what trouble rests in your heart.”
Belshazzar tore at his garment in a bit of cheap theatrics and then wailed, “King of Kings! The house of Bel, the All-Devouring Maw, his sacred temple in this very city, august Babylon, has been desecrated and his sacred rites defiled by the Israelite Daniel. This man, this disobedient servant of the King of Kings,” he charged, pointing accusatorily toward the white-haired Daniel, standing there calmly. “This man has many times assailed our faith in his intolerance, directly defying the law set by our Gloried King! We seek to worship our god and receive his blessings for our families and our crops in the freedom promised us by the great King of Persia. We have suffered patiently while Daniel has committed outrage after outrage upon us, but this law-breaker went too far in stealing our prized offering from Bel’s very temple! To this man who violates the King’s own laws, justice must come from the King! For Daniel’s repeated, outrageous crimes against the gods, he must pay with his life!”
A great applause sounded from the crowd, sending chills down Hab’s spine. He was surrounded by those cheering on the protests of this child murderer. The prophets of old had been right in decrying the wickedness of Babylon, he thought.
Daniel protested. “I have pleased the one true God with my deeds!”
A stern flash of the hand from the royal governor silenced the Israelite.
The King of Kings sat still, unmoved as a mountain blown by the wind. “Daniel, honored member of the nation of Israel. What say you to these charges? Are you innocent of this crime, brought to Us by the most esteemed Belshazzar?”
In the Beginning (Anthology) Page 2