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TITLE: Daniel of Babylon By Rick DeMille 01/28/07 |
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Chapter 1
I am Bel-Mushazib-iddin, High Priest of the great god Sin in the city of Babylon, and I am ready to die.
From the innocent age of twelve, more than seventy years past, I have been both friend and foe to the great Belteshazzar. Once know by the Hebrew name Daniel, Belteshazzar is finally dead, and I can follow him to eternal slumber knowing my sacred oath has been fulfilled.
Belteshazzar – Daniel - wrote down his story; I know for I have read much of it. Having read the history he left for his people, honor compels me to impart this history to mine. To the extent that my feeble hands permit, I will provide by my own hand the recollections of those seventy years, the better part of a century, when the Hebrew Daniel and I were close friends and the best of enemies.
The Daniel I first met was small; strong but not imposing, with the clear, intelligent eyes of a hawk. He walked with a simple confidence devoid of pretense. I recall clearly the first time I saw him, and how I swore that instant and solemn oath to see him dead.
Actually, I wanted to see all of the Hebrews dead; those ‘children of Abraham.’ They were the cursed sons of a miserable father, Abram the apostate. He was the traitor who took secrets and special knowledge of the Moon God and spread them across Hatti land, home of the Jews and others, to the river Nile itself. The treachery of Abram will reveal itself as my account progresses, but that sin against my patron god was the tinder which fueled the hatred I felt for the Jews as they walked into Babylon.
The relationship between Daniel and myself changed greatly over these many years. Our first true meeting was when I beat him to within the breadth of a camel’s hair from extinction. His irresistible refusal to deny the Hebrew faith was all that kept me from seeing that oath fulfilled these seven decades past. From my almost becoming his executioner, our relationship has evolved from one of curiosity and mutual suspicion, to grudging respect, and ending in one of enduring friendship and total trust.
I am now the only man living who knows the story of Daniel, Belteshazzar of Babylon. He wrote the story of his God and his people; I will write the story of the man. Belteshazzar wrote of great and noble deeds, I will reveal the struggle and pain required to see those deeds accomplished. He wrote of the fall of kingdoms and the rise of empires; I will reveal how the hand and faith of this humble man preserved his people through those dangerous and troubling times.
I witnessed his grief and understand how pain and guilt prevented him from describing the destruction of his nation. He never forgave or understood the rebellion that forced his people into exile. Likewise, he neglected to disclose how his tireless efforts allowed the Jews of Babylon to survive then flourish. He also failed to reveal his private sacrifice. He neglects to disclose that his willingness to face death was the condition which enabled his people to reclaim their nation. Many of the Jews who return by his efforts still think him a traitor.
He rose to greatness and power, honors he never sought and did not want. Others, however, did strive for the glory he could not avoid. They became his bitter enemies, and none were as vicious or committed to his destruction as Usar-napishti-Marduk. Usar was the eldest son to the High Priest of Marduk in Babylon. I could never understand the deep and consuming hatred he held for Daniel, but I know it resulted in a long life of undeniable madness. Usar’s obsession ended in his own vicious death, that same brutal climax he had prepared for my friend.
He had neither wealth nor glory in battle to secure his preeminence. Honor and faith were the simple foundations of his greatness.
My ancient body demands I now lay down my stylus, for this will not be the work of nameless scribes. I will write this account with my own hands; Belteshazzar of Babylon deserves no less.
Chapter 2
The Jews were easy to recognize. I must admit in advance that my early feelings were a result of a thousand years of resentment, but it was then my opinion that never had there been a people with such colossal pride, and less of a justification for having it. While the other group from Hatti land had already begun to adopt the dress and mannerisms of Babylon, the Jews retained the coarse and simple clothing, grooming and manners of their people.
As I watched them enter the school, I would not have been surprised to find them accompanied by the sheep and goats that provisioned the existence of their backwards nation.
The school I speak of, known as The School of the Chaldeans, had been created several years before to help govern an empire. The late King Nabopolassar not only destroyed the vicious Assyrian Empire, but learned from its mistakes as well. While Assurbanipal, one of the ruthless Kings of Assyria, had yoked the conquered princes of Elam to his chariot like beasts, Nabopolassar instead chose the strongest and wisest princes from throughout the empire to be trained as leaders in Babylon. Nebuchadnezzar, the son of Nabopolassar, embraced and continued this wise practice.
Most of the students were from Babylon or its neighbors, but representatives came from all over the empire. Some journeyed from the old kingdom of the Assyrians, from cities like Assur and Harran. Other nations such as the Elamites and the descendants of the Kennites were represented amongst us as well. I, however, was the youngest student and only true Chaldean at the School of the Chaldeans, both conditions I resented terribly.
I arrived there from Ur, the heart of Chaldea and city of the Moon God Sin. As youngest son to the High Priest of Sin’s main temple there, I had already received the finest education in the empire. When my father learned that young men from the nation of the Hebrew’s were to be taught at the school, however, I was sent to Babylon to observe if not to learn.
As I mentioned above, the final two groups came from Hatti land; those barren kingdoms between the Euphrates and the western sea. Besides the Hebrews were the Syrians, Aramean princes of Damascus. While crude and wild by nature, their culture had at least provided the language we used. An old and formal dialect of their speech, Imperial Aramaic, had become the language of government and trade throughout the entire world. Long ago it became our language also and was now the only one permitted at our school.
These are the groups, but there was one other student to be mentioned. Gubaru, the Mede. He was special, and for a number of reasons. The Medes were great allies to the Chaldeans. Without their aid, the defeat of the Assyrians would have been impossible. They were fierce warriors and able administrators, and we overlooked the fact that their troops had remained in Harran and other northern cities of the old Assyrian Empire.
Gubaru was nephew of Cyaxares, king of Media, and a younger cousin to his daughter Amytis. This is important because after the capture of the Assyrian home city of Assur, the kings of Babylon and Media formalized their alliance with a royal marriage. Nebuchadnezzar married Amytis, and contrary to what one expects from a royal marriage, they appeared to be in love. Gubaru was a guest of the king; a small link to her family and reminder of home for the queen.
The school was located on the west side of the Euphrates, across from the King’s Palace. The western section of the old city was surrounded by a wall so thick that chariots could drive around the entire battlement. The inner city, on both sides of the river, held the ancient palaces and temples. The smell of incense and the sounds of prayers animated the very air with energy, greatness and beauty.
Not always greatness and beauty, at least not at the school. I remember vividly a procession of bedraggled wanderers penetrating our sanctum of learning; issuing clouds of noxious road dust from their cloths and the stench of travel from the bodies underneath. The group which staggered through the doors that first day of class was led by Lord Ashpenaz, Chamberlain to King Nebuchadnezzar and chancellor over the school itself. I was very upset to find an undersized boy of the Hebrews walking amicably at his side, chatting as if they were lifelong friends.
The youth was Daniel and his presence, the presence of all of the Jews, seemed to pollute the air more than the filth and stench from their journey. This was the precise point in time when our lives became destined to entwine, for that was when I vowed to my patron god Sin that I would see him dead.
Daniel stood apart from the other students, in the company of the Babylonian nobles and soldiers. My distress was magnified when I saw the obvious affection that all of the lords had for him. They had spent more than half a year as a group, returning from Jerusalem. Several months passed idly while they wintered in Damascus, completing the final part of their journey in the spring.
I soon learned that Daniel spent time with the Babylonians because none of the others would have anything to do with him. He was considered an odd boy, and two of the other Jewish boys actually blamed him for their ‘captivity;’ as if receiving the best training in the grandest city in the world were such a heavy burden to bear.
There were four boys from the Hebrews, all between twelve and fourteen years of age. The first was Daniel, a ward of the Jewish King Jehoiakim. His father had been a minor noble and friend to Jehoiakim and had been killed by the Egyptians.
The others were Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego. Shadrach was a large and powerful youth, with fine and elegant features. His black hair was longer than the others, a youth clearly accustomed to the deference of his peers. He was the eldest son of Joshua, High Priest of their only Temple, and destined to replace him.
This made him a perfect candidate for the school, a perfect hostage. If the High Priest of Jerusalem decided their God supported freedom from Babylon, his son would be the first to pay for that rebellion. If Shadrach did live to replace his father, then the High Priest of Jerusalem would be a friend of the Empire – for there is no doubt that if he failed to become a friend of Babylon he would fail to live long enough to return.
Next was the King’s nephew, Meshach, the son of Jehoiakim’s youngest sister. Meshach was as tall as Shadrach, but thin to the point of frailty. His hair was light and his nose seemed as large and full as a pomegranate. Despite a snout that appeared constantly on the verge of exploding he was bright and eager, but totally devoid of the initiative of leadership. He was also a wise choice for the school. He had the skill and desire to succeed here, and once separated from the others of his kind would easily slip into life in the royal court.
The final youth was Abednego, a true and alien mystery of a lad. He was almost as short as Daniel, but slender without being frail. Far from weak, he moved with the lithe grace of a hunting leopard in constant search of its prey. He was not from Jerusalem but from Lachish, a small city in the lowlands southeast of the capital. It was a prosperous town that hosted a major fort and garrison, including soldiers from the cities of the Ionic Greeks, whom the Jews call the Kittim.
Abednego was chosen by Arioch, military advisor to the King and captain of his personal guard. Abednego’s father was commander of the fort at Lachish. Arioch desired both information regarding Jewish army, and leverage over one of its principal commanders. As the son of a soldier, Abednego had been raised for combat. His manner was open and friendly, but his body warned forcefully of danger should that ever change.
These were the Jews, four boys, a fragmented and pathetic lot. They seemed destined to go their separate ways, separate from each other and their heritage, soon to become willing participants in Babylon’s grand program for building an empire. But destiny often finds its own way, and things went terribly wrong – terribly fast.
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