by Shlomo Kalo
“Those noises could raise the dead from their graves!” – was Gabriel’s comment, and Matthew added:
“I think that’s the intention!”
“It’s their way of reminding visitors to the palace how privileged they are to be admitted, and how much deference is due to King Nebuchadnezzar, the wise and the valiant!” Uziel interposed.
“And I tell you this,” – Hananiah joined in the conversation – “these sounds are nothing compared with the music of the Levites in the Temple! This racket resembles the barking of mad dogs, or the blood-curdling wail of a pack of hungry jackals!”
Meanwhile the trumpeters and the other musicians, having finished their recital, turned and disappeared among the buildings of the palace.
The wagons passed through the main gate, Or-Nego leading the way flanked by two senior officers, and the rest following behind.
In the extensive compound the soldiers and the wagons halted, and the young men alighted from their wagon along with the exiles from the other two wagons. On the instructions of a dark-skinned flunkey, the carters moved their empty vehicles to the eastern side of the square and disappeared behind an internal gate. The Chaldean cavalrymen dismounted and entrusted their horses to the care of nimble ostlers, who appeared from some hidden corner, and came in haste, taking the reins with an ostentatious display of deference.
A Chaldean officer summoned the group of older exiles and ordered them to accompany him. At a steady pace they turned in the direction of the western gate, its bronze doors seeming to open by themselves, without a sound, at their approach, and closing again once they had crossed the threshold, just as silently.
Left in the yard were the young men and the remaining Chaldean soldiers under Or-Nego’s command. With a friendly smile Or-Nego invited the youths to accompany him and turned eastward, towards a big gate, both of its doors consisting of eight panels of beaten silver, the panels separated by cast gold, and in the centre of each panel, a flower with pearls for petals and an ingot of pure gold for a carpel. These doors also swung open silently before the guests.
The young men found themselves in a broad, high-ceilinged hall, furnished with chairs and tables and statues, all of them made of alabaster, and high, narrow windows, curtained with a white, transparent fabric, clean and lustrous. On entering the hall, they noticed two slaves wearing green loin-cloths, standing by the doors and opening and closing them as required, peering out into the courtyard through a spy-hole drilled into one of the panels.
“So much for Chaldean ingenuity!” commented Gabriel, relieved, on discovering the secret of the door-mechanism, which had bemused him at first.
“And what is to become of those who disappeared behind the bronze doors?” – Hananiah’s question was addressed to no one in particular, but it was answered nonetheless.
Or-Nego turned to the inquirer and with the same friendly smile, replied:
“They have been assigned to serve the king as bakers and cooks and stewards, unlike you…”
“And how are we to serve the greatest king in all the world?” asked Adoniah, a tone of strange servility creeping into his voice, a tone emanating from confusion, distaste and fear.
And Or-Nego answered him:
“With your wisdom!”
From the eastern corner of the room a very tall man entered, in ceremonial attire: an elegant robe and a blue shawl, a white sash around his waist, and on his head – a purple turban. Gold embroidery fringed the robe and the shawl, the sash was studded with pearls and three diamonds sparkled on the turban. A long dagger, in a scabbard of stiff black leather encrusted with emeralds, a large red ruby set into the pommel, hung from the sash. The man wore shoes of thick soft linen, coloured bright green and with gold buckles. Hard on his heels came his seven minions, tall young men of fleshy build, wearing white sashes and turbans, red smocks and plain green britches, shoes of coarse material. Hanging from their sashes were curved swords in black leather scabbards.
The minions, who despite their youthful age were endowed with generous paunches, lined up behind their gaudily dressed master, silent and grim-faced. Their master bowed to Or-Nego, who returned his bow.
“In the name of the great God Marduk, defender of Babylon the fair and in the name of His Majesty King Nebuchadnezzar, the valiant and the wise, conqueror of the world, I welcome you, most highly esteemed Or-Nego!”
“On my behalf and on behalf of the soldiers under my command, all praise be to the great God Marduk, defender of Babylon the fair, and all glory and majesty to King Nebuchadnezzar, the valiant and the wise, conqueror of the world, and greetings and felicitations to Narazan the chief steward of the King’s eunuchs, whose reputation goes before him!”
The two men bowed low to one another once more.
“These are the young men,” Or-Nego resumed his speech, after a brief silence, serving to add weight to his greetings – “whom Ashpenaz chose from the remnant that was left in Judah! They are outstanding in wisdom and in knowledge of sciences, and in understanding. And they are greatly favoured by their God, who has endowed them with the faculty of seeing visions and interpreting dreams, and healing the sick, everyone according to the portion of divine grace allotted to him!”
“Blessings and salutations be upon you, most highly esteemed Or-Nego, and upon the soldiers under your command! I see the children and I receive them from your hand and from this moment onward they will be my responsibility, and your task is done. In due course the King himself will no doubt express his gratitude to you, and his appreciation!”
“Blessings be upon you, Narazan the minister and steward of the eunuchs in the court of King Nebuchadnezzar, the wise and the valiant, conqueror of the world!” – and so saying Or-Nego turned and strode towards the heavy doors, with their panels of beaten silver and trimmings of gold and precious stones. Without a word spoken, one by one, the soldiers followed him and disappeared from view, whereupon the minister Narazan, chief steward of the eunuchs in the court of Nebuchadnezzar, turned to the youths with a smile of surprising tenderness on his round face, with its drooping jowls:
“Welcome to the court of the King of Babylon, the wise and the valiant, conqueror of the world!” – he greeted them, with a slight bow in their direction.
“And greetings to Narazan, most resourceful of ministers! All honour to the wise and the valiant King Nebuchadnezzar, conqueror of the world!” – Adoniah hastened to reply on behalf of them all, bowing in his turn. His companions followed his example.
“And now,” the minister Narazan addressed them, his smile still broad and benevolent – “you shall tell me your names and I shall give you new names, as is the custom in the court of King Nebuchadnezzar!”
He approached Adoniah, bowed to him slightly and asked him:
“Your name?”
“Adoniah!” the youth replied with exaggerated readiness, and returned his bow.
“Adeshech you will be called! And your name?” – he asked Uziel, and when he gave his name, the minister changed it to “Uzen”. Uziel bowed somewhat reluctantly, not much caring for his new name. Matthew was called “Marduk”, and Gabriel’s name was changed to “Bel”. Gabriel liked his new name so much he almost prostrated himself at Narazan’s feet.
The minister turned and fixed on him his dark and watchful eyes, peering from the depths of their fleshy sockets – with a hint of good-natured mockery which faltered and turned into amazement when he met that calm gaze.
“Belteshazzar!” – he cried, having barely heard the name of “Daniel”, uttered by the young man, and he bowed low to the ground before him.
“Belteshazzar, the name of a God that is given to Kings alone! Will my Lord and my King forgive me?” Narazan asked himself. “He cannot now be called by any other name!” – he replied to the question that he assumed the King would ask. “The name came of itself, it echoed in my mind and lit up my heart, and left no room for any other name! This has been the name of this youth since the creation of the worl
d!”
He was somewhat perplexed by that surprising look, the look of a born master, and yet despite this, deep in his soul Narazan felt a kind of strange pleasure – the eyes of the boy had touched the fringe of the edge of something over which the flesh has no dominion. And to complete his task of giving names, he called Mishael – “Meshach”, Azariah – “Abed-Nego”, and Hananiah – “Shadrach”.
“And now,” he addressed the young men again – “you are to scrub your bodies and remove the grime of the journey in the King’s bathhouse, and then you will each receive three sets of formal clothing, as you are to resemble courtiers in every respect, and my men will conduct you to the quarters allocated to you in the precincts of the royal household!”
Uziel and Hananiah almost took a step forward, but thought better of it when they realised that Narazan, the minister responsible for King Nebuchadnezzar’s eunuchs, was standing his ground, not making a move and showing no inclination to move, a clear sign that he had more to say before allowing them to leave the room.
“I am required to bring another matter to your attention,” – Narazan spoke now in a louder voice and smiled broadly, although for some reason he had lost that air of good-natured mockery. In its place, a kind of stiffness showed in his flabby-jowled face, a look eloquent of authority and unmistakable superiority. “And this matter,” Narazan continued, slowly and emphatically – “you are to register well in your young minds, and inscribe it on the clean tablet of your memories: you are nothing other than captives of war, sons of a foreign race that dared to rise up and resist the King of the Chaldeans, the great and awesome warrior, the conqueror of the world and he, the greatest King in the universe and the wisest of them all, has consented in his magnanimity to accept you in his court. You are the personal property of the King of Babylon, his indentured slaves, slaves in every respect. He will do with you just as the fancy takes him: raise you as high as the sky if he so pleases, or cast you down into the dust if he so pleases. Your young lives are in his hands – for better or for worse, for your benefit or to your disadvantage. You are destined, according to the will of His Majesty the King, to study the literature and language of the Chaldees, and all the wisdom and sciences of the Chaldees. And when your studies are completed, you will stand before him, before His Majesty the King and he will test you and decide your fate – honourable service as a retainer in the royal household, or the life of a serf in the royal copper mines.”
The chief steward of the eunuchs took a deep breath, a substantial breath that was clearly audible, wiped the expression of domineering superiority from his face, and reverted to his jovial, benevolent style:
“I sincerely hope that you will all succeed in earning the grace and the favour of my sovereign, His Majesty King Nebuchadnezzar, the wise and the valiant!” – he concluded his peroration with felicitations that may well have come from the heart, but did little to cheer the hearts of his audience.
The young men stood motionless, stunned. For the first time since leaving their homeland, bitter reality had struck them in the face. This was a cruel blow, and it was real, not an illusion. No longer free men but prisoners of war, slaves in every respect, their fate surrendered, for better or worse, into the hands of a ruler not known for his compassion or his patience, rather for his severity and cruelty, for his petulant and vengeful personality.
For a moment it seemed to them they had been deceived and betrayed, led astray and cast into a cunning trap set before their feet, the next moment – they realised that what had been laid before them was nothing but the truth in all its painful ugliness. This was no goodwill visit and they were not welcome guests invited to honour the Chaldean King with their presence, but boys seized by force, without any consultation, without any consideration of their own or their families’ feelings, and taken away by royal command to Babylon, to serve the King in ways and in roles that he would assign to them, according to his caprice or as Narazan had expressed it so neatly – “just as the fancy takes him”.
Was it possible to guess in advance what would appeal, at the end of the day, to the fancy of this cruel King, who had indeed conquered the world, or substantial portions of it at least, including their homeland and their native city, Jerusalem the holy?
The tense silence that reigned in the ornate, expansive room was broken by Matthew:
“We can at least hope that the thoughts and the wishes of King Nebuchadnezzar will not be of the oppressive or the tyrannical kind, that his whims will not be too unreasonable, and that he will come to appreciate the benefits of our knowledge, the contribution that each and every one of us is capable of making to his people and his kingdom. It was for this reason after all that we were uprooted from faraway Judah and brought here!”
“And let us not forget our faith which is whole, pure and steadfast,” Daniel exhorted them, his voice even and unruffled, inspiring confidence – “and let us trust in Him, with all our hearts and all our might, all our souls and all our minds, trust in our God, the one God, the truly valiant and wise, the compassionate and the merciful, the God who will never abandon us or consign us into the hands of the cruel and the sinful!”
His words restored some spirit to the young men. Constricted hearts began to beat again and among them all there was a sense of shared destiny and partnership, of mutual support, and standing as a team to confront whatever trouble might lie ahead.
Suddenly, Adoniah approached Daniel and silently held out his hand. And when the other clasped it warmly, he said, in a strained voice:
“Can you forgive me? I haven’t always wished you all the best in the world, and I haven’t always appreciated the qualities with which you’re endowed, and I have been guilty of jealousy and malice directed towards you! Forgive me please, pardon me as a friend to a friend, as a man to his brother in destiny, gullible fool though he is!”
“Things like this happen between friends,” he answered him gently, with a smile.
“And in my mind there isn’t the slightest doubt that in your wisdom you will do your utmost to lighten this burden of ours!” – Adoniah went on to say.
“It’s all in the hands of Heaven, and God is the one who will show us the way to salvation!”
“Do well, and be well!” – the minister responsible for the King’s eunuchs waved a round, fleshy hand at them, studiously ignoring whatever comments and conversations he might have overheard and, his round face beaming benevolently once again, he left the hall.
Two of his minions approached the youths, bowing deferentially, and one of them said: “Be so kind as to accompany me!” and he set out towards the door from which Narazan had emerged and through which he had disappeared. He was joined by the other minion and they walked shoulder to shoulder, the boys following behind.
A long, lofty corridor, with light filtering through narrow slits in the walls, close to the ceiling – led them to a hall much more spacious than the previous one, its carved ceiling supported by round pillars faced with white marble. The high walls were constructed from greyish-white granite, and on the north and south walls and above the entrance there were fitted stone shelves laden with scrolls of parchment and clay tablets. Movable ladders gave access to the upper shelves. At the far end of the hall, on the west wall, there were carvings of all kinds of animals: antelopes, rabbits, foxes, snakes and especially – lions. All the creatures were crafted by a skilful hand, and shown in appropriate poses: the antelopes tense and alert, snakes lurking in crevices in the rock, foxes peering from their holes, rabbits fleeing in panic from some unseen predator, and lions – pouncing on their prey from every conceivable posture. At one end of the wall the figure of a man was carved, evidently a hunter, a sword and a dagger hanging from his belt, a spear slung on his back, a bow in his hand and the string drawn back, ready to loose an arrow at the lion that is leaping at him with the full force of his weight, claws out and eyes flashing murderous rage, mouth open and teeth exposed, chilling the heart of the viewer.
Fi
ve men sat in the hall at tiny tables, studying those tablets and scrolls. When the boys arrived, one of the readers looked up, gave them a brief, quizzical glance and returned to his studies with a somewhat resentful air. The others were either unaware of their presence, or chose to ignore them.
The youths were impressed by the carvings and especially – by the hunter taking such calm, careful aim with his bow, impervious to fear.
Hananiah turned to one of their guides and asked him if there were many hunters among the Chaldean people, and if they enjoyed hunting lions. The guide replied with dignity:
“The answer to both of those questions – is yes!”
“The Chaldeans must be brave!” – Gabriel commented, adding: “In our country there aren’t many hunters, and most of them go after deer and antelope, not lions.”
“According to the Torah, the flesh of predators is unclean,” Mishael asserted.
“I’m sure even these people don’t eat the flesh of lions!” Adoniah retorted, as if taking Mishael’s remark more literally than was intended.
“In our country we have no use for a dead lion,” Hananiah interjected, adding: “Its skin is of no commercial value and its flesh, as has been pointed out, isn’t fit for consumption! Where we live, lions are killed when they prey on sheep or cattle, or attack human beings. Our King, David son of Jesse, peace be with him, wrestled with lions when he was a young shepherd, and Samson killed a raging young lion, And he rent him as he would have rent a kid, and he had nothing in his hand – killed the lion with his bare hands, as simple as that! Whereas the Chaldean needs bow and arrow and spear, and sword and dagger!”