THE CHOSEN : The Youth: Historical Fiction (The Chosen Trilogy Book 1)

by Shlomo Kalo

  At the front of the hall, opposite the stage, were one hundred seats for the dignitaries in the service of the King, and behind these were movable stools, the precise number unknown, for the use of the populace. Some spoke of five thousand, some of ten thousand and even more. Around the walls soldiers of the royal horse-guard took up their positions, swords sheathed but with clubs in their hands.

  In honour of the occasion, twenty-five stools had been set up at the front of the stage, for the foreign youths whom the King was about to appraise.

  The dignitaries knew their places. Other invitees, representing all strata of Chaldean society: craftsmen, merchants, agricultural labourers and clerics – needed the help of stewards to find the stools set aside for them. By the time the dignitaries began to arrive, the hall was already filled to overflowing.

  The first to go up on the stage were the young men. After them came the scribes, the magicians, the sorcerers and the astrologers. A full hour passed before the trumpeters outside blew a short, ceremonial fanfare, heralding the arrival of the King.

  The King himself entered from behind the stage, accompanied by his ten senior counsellors and seventy armed bodyguards.

  Immediately the King had mounted the stage, all those present rose to their feet with deafening cries of “Hurrah!” and “Long live the King!” The cries echoed and re-echoed around the hall incessantly, and for a moment it seemed they would go on forever.

  The King stood at the foot of his throne, facing the cheering crowd, bowed lightly, and when the hubbub did not stop but went on and even grew in volume, he bowed again, slowly and deliberately and raised his arm in a gesture of imperious authority, and the cries of adulation, which it had seemed would never end, were immediately silenced. The King turned and climbed the three steps to the throne, and took his seat, while a pair of dark-skinned slaves in white livery, armed with daggers, stepped forward with a footstool for the royal feet, and once the King had placed his bejewelled shoes there, they squatted on either side of the footstool, daggers at the ready.

  For the first time since his arrival in Babylon he looked upon the face of King Nebuchadnezzar the Conqueror, attired in splendour and mighty in power. One snatched glimpse was enough – and already flickering in his mind, as if self-explanatory, were two words which expressed all that could be said, or needed to be said, about the King: “fearful majesty”. If Nebuchadnezzar had been dubbed “fearful majesty”, the title would have fitted absolutely his appearance of aggressive authority, his bronzed, uncovered features and his piercing, awesome gaze.

  The King was wearing a red gown, and over it a blue mantle with gold embroidery, reaching to the floor, its fringe of white linen studded with precious stones. At his neck he wore a gold chain, with a pendant in the shape of a hand clutching a star, symbol of the god Bel. In his hand was a sceptre, a massive sapphire at its tip, and all of it pure gold inlaid with pearls and gems of various colours. A short two-edged sword in a gold scabbard, its hilt solid silver, glittered beneath the gown.

  On his head the King wore one of his lighter gold crowns, encrusted with jewels. His long face, his shining, ample beard, neatly combed, wavy and black as night, with a ribbon of silvery threads, the high forehead, wide open eyes untouched by fear or trepidation, the straight, symmetrical nose – all spoke of might and impulsive dominion. The look in his eyes left no room for doubt: the King would not forgive anyone who tried, however innocently, to mislead him. The firmly crafted lips testified to an uncompromising devotion to the truth.

  To a certain degree, the King reminded him of his father, the minister Naimel, but the differences were striking too: the aggressive honesty, the fearlessness, the might and the authority – were impetuous in the King, wild and intemperate, without Naimel’s restraining qualities. King Nebuchadnezzar was incapable of forgiving; the minister was capable of looking deep into the soul of a man dependent on his mercy and always finding something there, something which, however minuscule it might be, was to the other’s credit. King Nebuchadnezzar knew how to draw conclusions, to take decisions and implement them, with the force and the speed of lightning; the minister knew how to assess a situation in a fraction of a second, draw conclusions and act upon them – only when he was assured that such action would cause no harm to any innocent man. King Nebuchadnezzar was like a proud lion that has just emerged from his cage. He stands on a crag, raising his fearful and majestic head, shaking his mane and with his ferocious roar sending all the creatures in the land scurrying for cover. The minister Naimel was like an angel of God who comes down among mortals, his gleaming sword drawn in his hand, all eagerness to do the bidding of the one who sent him, and to do it thoroughly and flawlessly.

  The face of King Nebuchadnezzar, with its strong lines, and the two deep furrows scoring his forehead, looked as if it had been sculpted from bronze, and it was the colour of gleaming bronze. He sat on the throne with such natural ease, it seemed that from the day of his birth he had been schooled and trained to accede to a royal throne – as if all the royal thrones in all the world had been designed for his exclusive use.

  “Let the ministers ask their questions!” Nebuchadnezzar decreed in a voice that was not loud, but firm and resonant, as if uttered from a throat lined with metal. His words commanded respect, and instilled an obscure fear in the hearts of all present.

  One after another the ministers began asking their questions, some of which had been prepared in advance and related to the various subjects that the pupils had studied. The King followed the questions and answers with interest, and it was evident that nothing escaped his ears and his eyes.

  When the first round of questions was finished, when every one of the King’s ministerial counsellors had asked what he had to ask, and each of the pupils had replied to the best of his ability, the King raised his arm, and the pupils huddled nervously on their seats, like defenceless chickens watching a predator approach.

  The King pointed to several of the pupils, among then Uziel and Gabriel, whose answers to the questions had been generally sound, but expressed with timidity and effort, and not always with the clarity required and announced:

  “Gardens and drains!”

  At his signal, one of the beadles summoned these pupils and led them from the stage.

  He located Denur-Shag among those seated on the movable stools, and saw him flinch as the King’s stern verdict was heard. He looked away and, unconsciously, found his eye drawn towards the western end of the front row, where the Chaldean dignitaries sat in static seats. For a brief moment he caught the eye of Or-Nego, who acknowledged him with a wave of the hand and a glowing smile. Adelain sat beside him in white festive attire, detached from all those seated around her, a blue belt at her waist fastened with a shining gold buckle, a big amethyst inlaid in the gold. Her head was held high, her alabaster face remote and aloof and of stunning beauty, her high forehead expressive of wisdom, and her deep, calm and subdued look focused – unperturbed and without a trace of timidity – on him and on him alone. Like the look of a faithful dog, always attuned to his master’s whims.

  He returned his attention to the ministers who were questioning the nine remaining youths. These were questions relating to various kinds of calculation, profit and loss and commercial transactions. He gave answers that were precise and unemotional, as did Mishael, Hananiah and Azariah, his companions, although the last-named answered some of the questions after consideration that was a little over-long. In contrast to them came the animated answers of Adoniah. He almost lost control of himself, leaping up from his seat as the questions were heard and his answers given, and he could not resist offering additional answers of his own, over and above the conventional ones. The four remaining, a Sidonian, a Phoenician and the two who were of mixed race had difficulty answering in time and struggled with the solutions.

  And again the King raised his arm, and the examiners stopped their questioning, and the royal decree reverberated through the hall, succinct and clear, leavin
g no room for comment, arousing admiration and instilling fear. The four who had found the questions too difficult, were assigned to the buildings and maintenance department, and Adoniah was sent to the trade and arbitration office. Then the King turned to those remaining and he himself asked each of them three identical questions, one after the other: What is the aim of proper government? How is this aim to be achieved? To what does each one of them aspire?

  The first to be asked these questions was Azariah, who blushed and replied that the aim of proper government was the prevention of wars, and this could be achieved through peace treaties with neighbouring countries or the payment of indemnities, and he had no personal ambitions other than to perform faithfully whatever might be required of him. Next it was the turn of Hananiah, who declared that the aim of good government ("good" he said instead of "proper") was to promote religious faith in the hearts of the populace, and this could be achieved by the provision of more buildings dedicated to the worship of God, and his personal ambition was the strengthening and consolidation of his own faith. Mishael advocated the division of land among poor peasants, to be funded by levying higher taxes on those with more property than the average, and he hoped one day to be allowed to return to his home in Jerusalem.

  King Nebuchadnezzar turned to face him directly, his dark eyes alert and penetrating as ever, and before he could answer, he recognised him and said:

  “The victorious rider!” – this being the kind of compliment that the King was not accustomed to uttering lightly. “Now let us judge your prowess in the field of wisdom!” he added eagerly, and repeating his first question – “What is the aim of proper government?” – he received the brief reply:

  “The well-being of the citizen.”

  “How is this to be attained?”

  “By a ruler who sets an example to his citizens.”

  Suddenly a look of deep satisfaction washed over the noble and bronzed features of King Nebuchadnezzar, a satisfaction that was clear to all and marked with such intensity that one of the dignitaries could not restrain himself, but leapt to his feet and cried: “Long live King Nebuchadnezzar!”

  And before anyone understood what was happening, the whole of the crowd was on its feet, chanting over and over again: “Long live King Nebuchadnezzar! Long live the King! Long life! Long life! Long life! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!”

  The King rose from his seat, his face still flushed, bowed to the ecstatic crowd and then raised his arm in that gesture of authority that is not to be disobeyed, and the tumult stopped as if cut off with a knife.

  The King returned to his ornate throne, every movement of his body expressing majesty, freedom and conscious glamour.

  During the shouting which shook the very foundations of the hall, with its hundred marble pillars, and perhaps in spite of the cries, fit to deafen the heart as well as the ears, he absorbed that constant current which knew no obstacle, of boundless admiration, of worship without measure and without limit, of adoration that had neither kin nor comparison – and all of this emanating from a source somewhere in the vicinity of the seat of Or-Nego. He turned his head.

  “What are your personal aspirations?” – the King repeated the third question.

  “To give of my best to the people among whom I live and to my own people, from whom I am removed.”

  “Which of them do you prefer? Babylon over Judah or the contrary?”

  Without hesitation and with astonishing clarity he replied:

  “Judah over Babylon!”

  There was silence in the hall. And the silence deepened and the whispers that arose in distant corners only served to emphasise it. The King’s seventy bodyguards seemed to stiffen at their posts, hands firmly gripping the hilts of their swords, as if danger threatened the Chaldean King.

  “Is this your answer to the King?” – the King’s chief counsellor addressed him sternly.

  “It is the answer of a nobleman!” – the King declared, sincerely impressed, thus putting an end to the whispering in the hall and allowing the members of his bodyguard to relax. The chief counsellor smiled faintly, both surprised and gratified.

  “There is no clearer sign of noble birth than the telling of the truth!” the King added and turning to his chief counsellor he concluded:

  “Be so good as to take into your service this young man, who in spite of his declared preference will be required first and foremost to contribute his remarkable talents to the service of the Chaldean people!”

  Mishael, Azariah and Hananiah he divided among the other counsellors.

  As Nebuchadnezzar rose from his high throne, concealed trumpeters blew a resounding fanfare in his honour, and all those seated in the hall rose as one and cheered their King, leaving the hall accompanied by his retinue and to the sound of loud and prolonged applause.

  The Shrine of Bel

  Outside it was spring.

  The moment he left the hall, one of the dusky slaves dressed only in a loin-cloth hurried to fetch Orelian from the stable, receiving a gold coin in return. The slave muttered innumerable words of gratitude, bowed low to the ground and retreated backwards, his black, bony hand clutching the generous windfall.

  He had barely touched the bridle of the proud mare when he sensed Adelain approaching from behind, and finally standing beside him. She raised her deep eyes, which had suddenly changed expression and taken on a look of childish innocence, and for a moment they reminded him again of fresh wild flowers.

  “All that I have to say,” she began with dignity – “is pale and feeble and could not even come close to touching the emotion that fills my heart and perhaps – silence is the best expression of it!” She looked at him again and continued: “The truth is that for as long as I can remember, never have such words of refined wisdom been heard in Babylon as were heard today, and the way they were expressed, I mean – so concise, so conclusive! And as my father made the very same observation, and he is an authority on the history of Babylon, it’s very unlikely that those two short sentences, summing up the whole science of enlightened government, have ever been heard in Babylon since its foundation, they or anything like them!”

  “Let’s not exaggerate!” He turned to her and suddenly realised that it was not a girl standing beside him but a woman, a young woman in her full bloom.

  He did not so much as glance at her body, lithe and curvaceous as it had become, and despite an intense awareness that she wanted this, wanted him to take a look, longed for it, almost demanded it. Enough for him was the change in her eyes and her face: her eyes expressing charm and restraint combined, her face leaner and more finely sculpted.

  “My father asked me to give you his regards. As I said before, he too was much moved by your audience with the King, and if before you enjoyed his admiration, from this time on he’s close to worshipping you – and perhaps that’s more than just a figure of speech. After all, worship is the natural successor to a certain brand of intense admiration. My father asked me if I appreciated the great good fortune that has befallen Babylon, with the presence of ‘this miraculous Jewish boy’. Those were his precise words. I answered him that ‘this miraculous Jewish boy’ was no longer a boy, not even a youth. We were discussing a young man who had gained the favour of his God, and who richly deserved that favour!”

  “No creature of flesh and blood is worthy of the favour of God, it is given through His manifold mercies!” he declared earnestly, and then noticed that the young black filly at her side – thin-limbed, of graceful profile – was stamping restlessly.

  “Shall we ride?” he suggested.

  Without another word said she put her foot in the stirrup, and with a single, light movement, hoisted herself into the saddle. He noticed that her robe was folded into pleats, forming britches convenient for riding. Smoothly, effortlessly, he mounted Orelian.

  “Anyway,” she said before they set off – “my father wanted to express his heartfelt admiration to you himself, in person, and I persuaded him to let me do it for
him, and now I’m not sure that I’ve done it right! Have I passed the message on properly?” she asked

  “Properly and very thoroughly!” he declared with a warm, sincere and reassuring smile. “Where shall we ride to?” he asked.

  “Have you ever gone walking at the foot of the great wall of Babylon?”

  “No,” he admitted.

  “Perhaps this is the day to do it together. Strange though it may sound, I’ve never done a tour like that either. I know nothing of the most famous wall in the world, much to my shame!”

  “What makes this wall different from all other walls in the world?” he asked with genuine interest.

  “Sensational things are said about its height and the way it was constructed!”

  They rode on serenely side by side, and he noticed that her mare was docile and obedient to her, a sure sign of an experienced rider with an understanding of horses.

  They were close to one end of the wall, rising to a height of more than forty cubits, where steps had been constructed, giving access to the many archery-embrasures. Soldiers posted there acknowledged them with a raised hand, and they returned their greetings.