Rising Darkness

by D. Brian Shafer

  Tinius and the others laughed.

  “There are some, majesty, who may not bow to Marduk,” said Drezzan.

  “You speak of Daniel, of course,” said Pellecus. “I wouldn’t worry about him.”

  “There is another name I hear thrown about,” said Tinius. “A man who now lives in exile on the Chebar…”

  “Ah, Ezekiel,” said Pellecus. Tinius looked at Pellecus in surprise. “As you see, I am well-informed in my domain. That is why Kara failed in Egypt and Rugio lost Assyria. They did not respect the knowledge that was available to them. Remember that, my brothers—knowledge is the key to ruling with authority!”

  “And Ezekiel?” prompted Tinius.

  “Another holy man without a country,” speculated Pellecus. “He too shall disappear, Tinius. I promise that once Jerusalem is destroyed, and its temple gone, the holy men shall become obsolete, their message forgotten.”

  “And what happens to the Seed?” asked Tinius.

  “The Seed?” repeated Pellecus. “The Seed shall be stillborn. It shall die before it is ever given a chance for life.”

  Nebuchadnezzar sipped his wine. He always enjoyed the sweet wine that came from the region near where he was raised as a child. Now he was king, awaiting his advisor’s counsel on this most recent and disturbing message from the gods. Ashpenaz looked at the dead bird, which the king had ordered brought in from the roof.

  “Majesty, it is obviously an indication of a kingdom in peril,” he began.

  “Whose kingdom?” asked Nebuchadnezzar, as he poured himself more wine and offered a cup to Ashpenaz. “I have done all for Marduk, bless his name. Why should my kingdom be in peril?”

  “Perhaps, majesty, it is not your kingdom that is in peril,” offered Ashpenaz. “Perhaps this bird speaks to another kingdom that is in peril…one that is in its death throes even now…”

  “You mean Judah,” said Nebuchadnezzar. “I was wondering when you would get to that.” He shook his head. “It is no secret that you have, as a matter of principle, determined that Judah should be completely destroyed. I will not have you turning every omen into an excuse to invade Jerusalem again. Twice I have been to Jerusalem. I believe its people are sufficiently humbled.”

  Ashpenaz produced a scroll that bore the seal of Nebuchadnezzar along with that of the Babylonian governor of Syria. He looked at the king, who returned his look with a skeptical glare.

  “Well?” asked the king. “You are obviously anxious to read me something else about Judah, no doubt.”

  “Anxious, no,” said Ashpenaz. “But quite troubled. And yes, the news concerns Judah.”

  Nebuchadnezzar snatched the scroll from the chief of his court officials and as he read, Ashpenaz continued speaking. “It seems, majesty, that Zedekiah has withheld tribute from our collectors. His counselors have even gone so far as to insult our officials. To their shame, they have even spoken against you, O king…”

  As he read, Nebuchadnezzar was becoming visibly more and more angry. He looked up from the scroll when he was finished and handed it back to Ashpenaz.

  “So you see, majesty, these people are by nature stiff-necked and rebellious,” Ashpenaz continued. “I have ordered arrests of many of the Jews whom we have exiled into our own country. I believe we should imprison them…”

  “No!” said Nebuchadnezzar loudly. “I told you that I want to bring them into our empire and use their skills. These are a very capable people, Ashpenaz. They are noble, spiritual people. I want you to take from the most recent exiles—those who are fast learners and handsome—and bring them to the palace and let them have a taste of real culture. I tell you—once these Hebrews begin to see what we have to offer, they will enter into our service; and all thoughts of rebellion will be crushed!”

  “I will see to it,” said Ashpenaz reluctantly. “And as to Zedekiah?”

  “I sought your wisdom,” said the king. “You are a great counselor. Now I shall seek the wisdom of Marduk himself. He will give us indication. In the meantime—I want you to personally recruit from the Jews men as I have described and bring them to the palace. This shall prove to all my subject peoples the benefit of being a part of the greatest empire on earth!”

  Pellecus awaited the king inside the shrine of Marduk. Tinius was with him, noting the human love for gold. The image itself glimmered from the strategically positioned mirrors that reflected light from behind, casting an eerie iridescence in the room. Tinius looked at Pellecus, who was seated atop the idol.

  “How disturbing it must be to the Most High to be portrayed so grotesquely,” he said, patting the image’s head. “After all, He made it the second most offensive point of His commandments.”

  “Why does He not want to be portrayed?” asked Tinius. “I should think it would honor Him.”

  “Because, Tinius, part of His power lies in His anonymity,” came a voice.

  “Ah my prince, welcome to Babylon,” said Pellecus to Lucifer.

  “I have just returned from Zedekiah’s court,” said Lucifer. “Kara has those fools actually believing that they can oppose Nebuchadnezzar!” He laughed. “They will be slaughtered, of course.”

  “The king is about to hear from Marduk,” said Pellecus. “I prophesy it shall be a very destructive meeting.”

  Lucifer looked intently at Pellecus.

  “There is much at stake here, Pellecus,” he said gravely. “We must destroy not only the nation; we must destroy the reason for the nation.”

  “The reason?” asked Tinius.

  “Yes, of course,” agreed Pellecus. “With the cream of Jewish society in exile, we must make Jerusalem become a place so desolate that there will be no reason ever to return—thus nullifying the Seed’s relevance. Correct?”

  “I see you have worked it all out,” said Lucifer. “Yes, that is correct. Two times Nebuchadnezzar has entered the city. This time there must not be a city left to reenter. This includes everything—the palaces, the walls…and the temple.”

  “The temple?” said Tinius nervously. “You would destroy the temple? The Most High’s seat of Presence upon earth?”

  “The Lord’s Presence left that hollow sanctuary years ago,” said Lucifer. “We are merely expediting the symbol. Once the temple is gone the faith will follow. All former covenant with the Lord shall be obliterated. The exiles will either become alien residents and disappear into the history of other nations, or they shall be pressed into service by the king, and thus lose their position of authority. Either way, the nation will cease and the threat to us will be gone.”

  “And then?” asked Tinius.

  “And then we will negotiate this war to an agreeable close,” said Lucifer.

  CHAPTER 14

  “I can protect you only to a point.”

  Nebuchadnezzar took the golden censer and placed it before the image of Marduk. With him was the high priest of the temple, who chanted the necessary oblations that would conjure the god. Bending down on his knees and touching the floor with his head, Nebuchadnezzar began to cry out to the god who had thus far guided him into so many great victories.

  “Great Marduk,” he began, “dread god of Sumer and Babylon, chief ruler and exalted deity from on high, I beg you to come into my unworthy presence and give me the wisdom I need to deal with your enemies…”

  Pellecus had remained upon the image. Near him stood Lucifer and Tinius, watching the episode in amusement.

  “Well, he’s waiting,” said Lucifer. “Lead this fool.”

  “Nebuchadnezzar.”

  The king looked at the high priest, wondering if he had spoken, and if not, whether he had heard the voice. The high priest was lost in his low chanting and didn’t even realize the king was looking at him.

  “Nebuchadnezzar, hear me…”

  “Yes my lord,” said the king, barely able to get the words out of his mouth.

  “You seek from me direction and I have spoken to you clearly…”

  “The eagle, my lord?” he asked.
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  “The rebellion,” came the answer. “You have allowed your enemies to become an offense to me. They have insulted the gods of Babylon. They have trusted their god to deliver them in their temple. They are an offense and therefore you must deal with them harshly lest your kingdom be taken from you…”

  “Yes, lord,” said Nebuchadnezzar. “I will see to it at once.”

  “You must see to it that not one stone is left of the temple in Jerusalem,” Pellecus said, glancing at Lucifer’s nodding approval. “You must tear down the walls so that it shall never again be an offense to Chaldea. And you must humble yourself for allowing such offense to happen by declaring a fast to my name.”

  “That’s a bit much, isn’t it?” said Lucifer, smiling.

  Pellecus looked back. “I was going to have him build another temple but I thought it might distract his work in Jerusalem!” He looked at Lucifer and Tinius. “And now the finish…”

  Pellecus touched the censer and made it flare up into a smoky greenish light that filled the shrine. The high priest opened his eyes, and together the king and the priest saw in the strange fog the figure of a man-beast—who looked like the image of Marduk.

  “Go now!” the figure ordered. “And leave nothing undone!”

  “As you command, O lord,” said Nebuchadnezzar, who hurriedly left the room. The high priest was still peering into the smoky haze, wondering why the god had never appeared to him so dramatically.

  “My prince, I give you Solomon’s temple,” said Pellecus proudly.

  “You mean what is left of it,” said Lucifer.

  Chronicles of the Host

  Jerusalem, Jerusalem

  The unthinkable did in fact happen—Nebuchadnezzar came into Jerusalem for the third time. The Host watched in horror and shame as piece by piece, stone by stone, the temple of Solomon was dismantled, its holy emblems taken to Babylon, and its altars profaned by lovers of Marduk.

  How could this be, we asked? Howling numbers of the enemy gloated in the city’s despair, feeling closer to winning the war than they ever had. The king and the remaining nobles and priests were put in chains and led off into ignominious exile. We could only hope that somewhere in the midst of the people who were led off in darkness was the Seed who would one day bring them back into the light….

  Babylon, 585 B.C.

  The assignment given to Ashpenaz was one that he neither relished nor approved of. He thought it a mistake to try to train up aliens in the ways of Chaldea—especially these hardheaded Jews! But he figured that in time the king would see the error of his ways and dispose of them in more practical, if not brutal, ways.

  He entered the large receiving room that was covered in deep azure tiles with the famous Babylonian lion in relief everywhere. Hundreds of young men of the best families of Judah awaited him. They were fine looking young men, dressed in simple Babylonian tunics and standing at attention as if this were a military inspection. He looked them over, then stood upon a platform to address them.

  “I am Ashpenaz,” he began, “the king’s chief administrator. You have been selected by our great king as the best of your nation. You shall be schooled in the wisdom of Babylon, taught its language and history, schooled in its culture, taught our literature. In time, some of you shall enter into the king’s service. You will serve him.”

  Some of the men began to relax, looking about at each other. One gave a scornful look to his friend who had predicted that they all were about to be executed.

  “You will eat the same food as the king eats and have the benefit of living in and around the royal palace. You shall receive special treatment and will be trained for three years. After that you will be assigned permanently. Follow the stewards, receive your new names, and begin your training.

  “New names?” a few people muttered.

  “And,” Ashpenaz added with a hint of menace, “serve the king well.”

  “I was sure we were to be executed,” said a young man, as they left the hall. “Instead, we are to serve in the greatest empire in the world!”

  “And eat at the king’s table,” said another.

  “Think of it, Daniel,” said a young man named Joseph. “Our families will be well taken care of!”

  “Will they?” asked Daniel, a young man who as a child had been carried to Babylon a few years before the most recent destruction. “Are they taking care of us—or are they buying us?”

  “What difference?” asked Joseph, also relieved that they were to be spared. “This is Babylon. The greatest city in the world. Lead city in the arts and sciences. It’s massive. Why, you can even ride a four-horse chariot on top of the city walls, they are so thick!”

  “Jerusalem had walls,” said Daniel in an almost melancholy tone. “Once.”

  “Leave Daniel alone, Joseph,” said Anath. “He will never become a servant of the king of Babylon. His kind can only cause us more grief. Best stay away from him.”

  The young men pulled away from Daniel lest they be associated with him by some of Ashpenaz’s agents. Daniel watched as his friends, many of whom he had grown up with in Judah, turned away from him and regrouped on the other side of the room.

  “Don’t mind them, Daniel,” came a voice. It was Hananiah. With him were Mishael and Azariah. The three were inseparable friends and had lately befriended Daniel, sharing his special love for the Lord God of Judah.

  “I don’t care about them, Hananiah,” said Daniel, as they were ordered to disrobe and put on the new uniforms that designated them as wards of the king. “It is Jerusalem that I am thinking about. Do you suppose it is true? The temple, I mean?”

  “That is what the new arrivals are saying, Daniel,” said Azariah. “They were taking it down stone by stone. The walls too are being broken in places.”

  “Daniel!”

  “Yes, sir,” Daniel responded.

  The steward, an older man who didn’t enjoy being saddled with these young Jews, handed Daniel his new clothing. He looked at the writing on the ledger.

  “Your new name is Belteshazzar,” he said gruffly.

  “Belteshazzar? What does it mean?” asked Daniel.

  “Belteshazzar! It means ‘may the god Bel protect you,’ ” said the man.

  The boys laughed at Daniel’s new name. They stopped laughing when they all received their names: Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah became Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. Each name evoked the name of a Babylonian god, imploring his protection.

  “We are in a profane land,” said Daniel, after the man showed them to their rooms in the palace. “We have been given profane names. We are in the land of our enemies, not our benefactors. And now we must trust the Lord God of our fathers to help us through this difficult time.” He placed his hand in the middle of the group and added, “We must pledge that we shall never compromise and bow our knee to this devil god they worship—this Marduk!”

  The three men looked at Daniel and at each other. Ashpenaz seemed quite definite that they were expected to serve the king with utmost loyalty. Some of the Jews seemed ready to give in completely. Others were troubled by the thought of serving a foreign god in a foreign land. And yet all they knew was now destroyed. And had not their father Abraham begun his journey from Ur in this very land? Perhaps they were only returning to the true land of their fathers….

  “Agreed,” said Hanaiah, who was now called Shadrach. They all took hold of Daniel’s hand in pledge. “We will never compromise, though it cost us everything.”

  “Except our names,” said Abednego resignedly.

  Ashpenaz had been thinking about his mission to subvert the Jews by lulling them into the king’s guardianship. How often in his own political career had he seen men coerced into compromise by offers of something better, something brighter, something safer. And now he was in charge of seeing these youths from a conquered land brought into service of the greatest empire in the world. Such irony, he thought.

  Yet among these men who seemed overly eager to cater to their
conquerors, there were a few exceptions who still held on to their faith. Even though the house of their God had been destroyed; even though their city had been ravaged; even though they had been taken captive to a strange land they remained true, preferring their own faith to the king’s luxurious fare! Of all those who withstood the king’s offer of food, drink, and accommodation, the most headstrong of the lot was Belteshazzar, formerly known as Daniel.

  How strange to call Daniel by this new name which honored the god Bel, also called Marduk, who had the greatest temple in Babylon dedicated to him. The other young men readily overthrew their old gods in exchange for the new ones. But Daniel continued to call upon the God of his fathers.

  Ashpenaz liked the young man. In spite of his subtle defiance, it was refreshing to find someone so true to his convictions that he would deny himself rather than dishonor his God. So much of the religious fervor in Babylon was contrived, if not simply political. Here was a true man of faith!

  As the young men walked by on their way to a class on Babylonian history, a palace official tapped Daniel on the shoulder. He indicated for the young man to follow him. Daniel’s friends looked back as they moved on, wondering what was happening.

  “Looks like he’s finally getting reprimanded,” said one of the young men.

  “He will get us all killed,” said another.

  The official, one of those assigned to training the young Jewish nobles, led Daniel down a side corridor and onto a small balcony that overlooked the city. Ashpenaz stood at the golden railing, looking at the great ziggurat. He turned when he heard Daniel and the servant approaching.

  “Here is the young Hebrew,” said the man.

  Ashpenaz nodded and indicated that the servant could leave them alone. Daniel studied the man who had been Nebuchadnezzar’s chief minister for years. He had a hard look about him, as one who had survived as well as been a part of many palace intrigues. His eyes were cold and his mouth severe. And yet at the same time there was something oddly gentle about the man.