If Bel-Marduk, “father of the gods,” reigned supreme in his temple
opposite the royal palace, he was not without rival. Older than the
“Lofty House” of Bel rose the venerable _ziggurat_ “_E-Zida_,” the
“Eternal House” of Nabu of Borsippa, “god of wisdom.” Time was when
Nabu had been the guardian god of all Babylonia, and his priests still
refused to yield to the supplanting Bel more than a nominal concession
of supremacy. Unlike the great city sanctuary, this temple in the quiet
southern suburb sprang out of a great grove of nodding shade trees,
girded about with pleasant gardens. A sluggish canal crept under the
shadow of the terraces of the sacred tower, and mirrored the rambling
brick buildings and leaf-hung walks of the temple college. For here
at Borsippa was the most famous, as well as the oldest, university in
all the fair land of the Chaldees. From time immemorial students had
listened here to lectures on astrology, the science of omens, and the
interpretation of dreams. Vainly had Avil-Marduk striven to raise his
own temple-school to an equality with that of Borsippa. Were not these
paths beside the canal hallowed by three thousand years of academic
tradition? Had not every famous demon-caster, for more generations than
could be told, learned his art under the shadow of this _ziggurat_? Then
again, while Bel was fanatical, Nabu was tolerant. Avil moved heaven
and earth to ruin the Hebrews, while Imbi-Ilu, pontiff of Borsippa, was
Daniel’s bosom friend, and his under priests openly declared that they
hated Bel-Marduk quite as much as they did Jehovah. Of late the coldness
between the two pontiffs had almost turned to open hostility; the king
and court paid homage to Marduk, the city at large sent most of their
gifts to Nabu. And within recent days Imbi-Ilu had more than once given
offence even to the king by harbouring inside the temple precinct persons
whose arrest had been urgently commanded; Belshazzar had fumed, and
muttered threats, but Imbi was obdurate. There was the law,—graven on
two stone tablets, by King Sargon I., a potentate three thousand years
departed,—denouncing curses upon the body, goods, kinsfolk, and soul
of the man or king who should dare to molest a suppliant that had once
passed the boundary stones, which were set one furlong on every side of
the enclosure of Nabu. The king had raged, but was helpless; not even the
“son of Bel-Marduk,” as he boasted himself, could abolish a privilege
like that.
But on the afternoon in question, none would have dreamed that aught
save studious repose brooded over quiet Borsippa. The lectures were
ended. The boys in the lower school had flung away the tablets on which
they had been copying the old dead language of the Akkadian classics.[3]
Teachers and pupils had wandered forth to enjoy the cool of the evening.
From the crest of the great temple-tower drifted the chant of the litany
to Nabu:—
“Lord of Borsippa,
Thy command is unchangeable like the firmanent.
In the high heavens thy commandment is supreme!”
So the chant had risen for four thousand years, each evening; so it
would be repeated, unless all omens were profitless, for as many more.
Dynasties might come and go,—the worship of Nabu endured forever!
* * * * *
Upon the housetop of one of the larger buildings, close by the gate of
the wall enclosing the sacred precinct, two men in deep discussion were
seated. The roof-tiles were covered with soft carpet, a yellow canopy
stretched overhead, there were cushioned stools and divans—a cool and
pleasant spot to lounge and rest.
But the two were not lounging; their talk had lasted long. The one,
Daniel, had drawn his stool close beside the couch of the other, and was
speaking earnestly.
“We have debated before, we debate again,—to little profit. You have been
a true friend, Imbi-Ilu; the difference in our faith has never stood
betwixt us. You have done what you could to abate the persecution of my
unfortunate people,—in vain, but I thank you.”
The high priest looked concernedly upon his friend. He was an
eagle-visaged, majestic man, who bore his years lightly, and whose white
locks sprang out all around his forehead, like the mane of a lion.
“It is as you say,” he answered soberly, “yet I deserve no praise.
Avil-Marduk urges on Belshazzar against the servants of Jehovah, as being
the weakest of the gods opposed to the supremacy of Marduk. Soon he will
try to crush Nabu himself. I have acted in self-protection. But this is
old chaff; all the wheat was long since winnowed out of it.”
“Well do I know that,” replied the Hebrew, bitterly; “we are being pushed
to bay, you Babylonians as well as I. Avil-Marduk has made the king
entirely his tool; almost I think he seeks the throne himself, nought
less.”
Imbi nodded gloomily. “I believe you;” then, a shade more lightly, “but
you, O Daniel, are under some greater constraint than distant anxiety for
your people. By your own god, whom I much reverence, tell me truly, what
brings you now to Borsippa? Since you saved my life, with those of the
other wise men, because we could not reveal to Nebuchadnezzar his dream,
have we not been sworn comrades, in good and in ill? Speak freely. Your
wish?”
“Your friendship may be indeed tested,” quoth the other, still soberly;
“the king is none too much your friend to-day. If you grant my wish, he
will neglect no occasion against you.”
“By Nabu!” cried the pontiff, affecting carelessness he did not feel,
“you interest me. Tell it out. But not yet.” He snapped his fingers
loudly; a white-robed servitor appeared. “This way, boy! Bring my Lord
Daniel the oldest and coolest of the wine that came yesterday from
Larsam, and a platter of honey cakes. He has driven far, and is weary.”
Then to Daniel, “No excuses. No sorrow is doubled by a cup from my own
vineyard.”
“Another time,” remonstrated the minister. “I have not come hither to
make merry; I must be back to Babylon with all haste.”
“Not sleep in Borsippa? Your little goddess Ruth will not weep her sight
away in your absence?”
“Ruth!” Daniel had started at the name; but, as if there were an omen in
the word, there sounded a sudden rumbling and jarring in the brick-paved
road outside the temple precinct, the noise of a heavy carriage at a
headlong speed, the cracking of a whip, shoutings and cursings, all
rising together. When before had a like din roused the peaceful suburb?
Imbi sprang to the parapet and stared across in wonder.
“God of Borsippa,” he swore, “have we a chariot charge!”
The clamour swept nearer, broken now by a yell of keenest pain, followed
by a great shout from the younger priests and students watching from
below.
“Nabu save him! The wheel has crossed his body!”
“Eunuchs! The king’s eunuchs! They violate the sanctuary!” bawled many
more, with a scamper of feet through the gateway.
“In Jehovah’s name, what is this!” cried Daniel, leaping up beside Imbi;
but the pontiff had just time to clutch at his friend, as he tottered
almost in a swoon. The noise below grew sevenfold.
“Down! He has smitten Mermaza!”
Imbi was again at his post. A closed carriage had lumbered in at the
gateway, the horses panting and steaming. The pontiff started in turn,
when he saw a young man leaping from the driver’s platform, still
clutching tightly his long whip.
“Isaiah the son of Shadrach, and lifting Ruth the Jewess from the
carriage! Why this tumult? Some fearful deed!”
The minister had recovered and stood at the pontiff’s side. He was again
self-possessed. “Let me know with what the Lord God has visited me,” was
all he said, and waited silently, as a breathless young priest rushed up
to his superior, never so much as salaaming.
“Master! a frightful outrage. The royal eunuchs have pursued these
fugitives past the boundary stones to our very gates. They attempted
violence, and now clamour without, demanding their prey!”
Imbi turned very deliberately, took his white peaked tiara from the
divan, and set it on his head.
“Gross sacrilege, indeed, Merdovah; impossible that his Majesty should
authorize such violence!”
More priests and students were howling in the yard below: “Away with the
eunuchs! To the canal with them! Avenge the insult!”
“Master,” remonstrated the messenger, “except you quiet the temple folk,
expect a riot. They are maddened and furious.”
Imbi leaped upon the divan beside the balcony. “Below there, silence!
What is this tumult?” The voice of the superior produced instant
stillness.
“You there, Hasba, speak for all. Why is this carriage here, and these
eunuchs?”
The priest addressed, a gaunt, athletic man, stepped forth from the crowd
of fellows clustered around the gate.
“Why it is here, I know not, but I saw this,—the carriage approaching at
topmost speed from Babylon, and many of the royal eunuchs pursuing on
foot, crying loudly and calling to passers-by to aid. When they passed
the boundary stone, the carriage slackened, as being in safety; and we
looked to see the eunuchs halt. Not so,—they impiously followed after,
and two snatched at the heads of the horses. Isaiah the Jew flogged them
with his whip. The wheel passed over one; nor did my Lord Mermaza escape
the mire. They are without the gate and still threatening.”
“They may well threaten,” spoke Daniel, hoarsely, at the pontiff’s
side, “for the king seeks Ruth for his harem. I came to Borsippa to ask
sanctuary in her behalf. Be your god Jehovah or Nabu, fail not now!”
The civil-minister was very pale, but Imbi-Ilu flashed back proudly,
“If I yield to Mermaza and his vermin, let the ‘Eternal House’ find
other master.” Then he turned again to those below. “This is no common
sacrilege. Who is this crying so shrilly, ‘Entrance’?”
“The master of the eunuchs himself. Shall we not buffet him to death?”
“Not so; admit him, but none other. Bring him here upon the housetop,
with Ruth the Jewess, and Isaiah. Let them answer face to face before me.”
In a moment a bevy of priests had ushered three persons before their
superior: Isaiah, with flushed face and eyes that still darted fire,
Ruth, whose cheeks were scarce less white than her dress, and the “very
supreme” chief eunuch. The last was sadly lacking in dignity, for his
purple-embroidered robe was rent and mud-splashed, and across his
forehead spread the long stripe where the lash had marked him. As Ruth
and he confronted one another, she shrank in dread behind her betrothed;
but the scowls and muttered menaces of the priests about made even the
venturesome eunuch cautious. There was an awkward silence before Imbi
spoke.
“Well, my Lord Mermaza, has it slipped your mind that there is a certain
law, old as the _ziggurat_, concerning the rights of sanctuary of the
precinct of Nabu?”
Mermaza’s perpetual smile had become a very forced grin indeed; he looked
downward, without replying.
“And is it not also true,” went on the other, haughtily, “that whosoever
transgresses the right of the god incurs the wrath of all the host of
heaven? He is ‘devoted,’ given to Namtar the plague-demon, and her
fiends; his life forfeit, his soul cast into Sheol. Is it not thus, my
lord?”
Mermaza had recovered enough wits to attempt an answer.
“Right, most reverend pontiff. But I seek no fugitive criminal. In
performance of my duties I pursue one of his Majesty’s runaway slaves,
who can claim no right of sanctuary.”
“A slave of the king? Where? We will never shelter such!” And Imbi stared
about in well-affected astonishment.
Mermaza fumbled in his bosom, and produced a small clay cylinder, which
he handed to Imbi, bestowing at the same moment a gleeful leer upon Ruth.
“His Majesty’s own seal—read.”
The pontiff read aloud deliberately:—
“_Belshazzar, ‘King of Sumer and Akkad,’ to Mermaza, ‘Master
of the Eunuchs’_: You are commanded at the first convenient
season to seize, and take to the royal harem, a certain maid,
one Ruth, the daughter of Daniel the Hebrew. And hereof do not
fail, on peril of your head.”
Imbi examined the document the second time, and handed it back to the
eunuch with a salaam of ironical reverence.
“Noble friend,” quoth he, with mock politeness, “explain, I pray you. In
what part of this warrant does his Majesty command you to set at naught
the right of sanctuary, and commit gross sacrilege?”
But Mermaza, beneath whose veneer of urbanity lay a hasty and arrogant
temper, answered with rising gorge:—
“This is no answer, priest; obey the king! Do you refuse to surrender the
wench? Think well before you reply—the king’s wrath—”
“Daniel,” remarked Imbi, turning his back on the eunuch, “is it your
desire that your daughter go to the palace?”
“By all you revere, by our bonds of friendship, no!” The Jew started
to fall on his knees, imploring. But Imbi faced Mermaza, with a lordly
gesture.
“Go back to the palace, and say that I will send Ruth the daughter of
Daniel hence, only on her father’s personal or written command. Low
indeed is Nabu sunken if at barking of hounds of your litter he were to
turn suppliants away!”
“The slave of the king—keep her at your peril!” threatened Mermaza,
growing desperate, for his position was anything but enviable.
“A slave? When before in the royal harem? Where is the bill of sale from
her father? Is she not freeborn?”
“She is a Jewess,—despiser of Nabu!” cried the eunuch, launching his last
shaft. A yell of derision from all the priests answered him.
“Friend,” answered Imbi, smoothly, “you are so dear a companion to
Avil-Marduk and _he_ reverences Nabu so exceedingly, that these words
drop indeed fitly from your lips.”
Mermaza swung about and faced Daniel and Isaiah.
“I see the pontiff is mad,” he shouted, his thick cheeks reddening. “Do
you Jews hear reason. For this resistance to the royal decree you shall
both rot in the palace dungeons unless the girl is yielded, and that
instantly.”
Ruth had started forward, outstretching her hands.
“Not that, not that, O my father! Say you are willing. I will go.”
But Imbi-Ilu sprang between the eunuch and the Hebrews.
“And I, high priest of Nabu of the ‘Eternal House,’ declare that only
as you take oath with all the gods to witness, that Daniel and Isaiah
shall be in nowise molested in this matter, will I consent to withhold a
criminal charge against you of extreme impiety and deliberate sacrilege.
The crime is notorious—twenty witnesses. Let Belshazzar himself save
you, if I sow this tale of the outrage done the god, through Babylon.”
There was a stern menace in the pontiff’s voice that sent all Mermaza’s
bravado trickling out through his finger-tips. The unfriendly ring of
faces about added nothing to his courage. Twice he faltered, while speech
choked in his throat. His face was swollen with mortification at his
blunder. “Will you swear, toad?” croaked Hasba, at his side; and Mermaza
gasped out thickly, “I will swear.”
“Good, then,” was Imbi’s dry comment; “but let us go down to the ‘holy
room’ of the temple. There you shall lay your hands on the ark of the
god, and take your oath. I spare no precaution, in taking a pledge of
such as you.”
The priests swept their victim down the stairs. The three Hebrews were
left alone on the housetop, looking one upon another—at first in silence;
then a great and grievous cry arose from Daniel:—
“Ah! Lord God of my fathers—must I, who have served Thee so long, see my
one child brought to this!”
He opened his arms wide; and Ruth fled into them, there to be locked
fast. It was a moment when Isaiah knew he might do and say nothing.
He stared vacantly across the parapet, counting the herd of dun-brown
sheep a countryman was driving past the temple gate. The sheep would be
butchered to-morrow, but they shambled on with never a thought save
for the little patches of grass that thrust through the chinks in the
pavement. The sheep were happy, but he, Isaiah, the young man, whose
heart was thrilled with high and holy things, with visions of the Great
King and of His awful throne,—he was beyond words miserable! Darker,
darker grew his thoughts; but the voice of Daniel recalled him.
“Isaiah, my weakness is passed. The Lord who saved your father and
Meshach and Abed-nego from the flame of Nebuchadnezzar’s furnace,—He is
our refuge still. We must trust and bear. And not bear only. There is a
deed for you to do this night. You have risked much to-day: will you face
peril yet again?”
“You know I will walk through death at your least bidding, O my father!”
Daniel put Ruth gently away, and taking Isaiah by the arm, led him beyond
her hearing.
“I told you before, I had one last weapon against Belshazzar; but
scruples of loyalty restrained me. After _this_,” with a weary smile,
“all fealty truly ends. Hearken now to each word. You must be all
resources to-night. You know the king gives a betrothal feast in the
Hanging Gardens, in honour of the Persian princess. All the ministers and
captains are invited saving myself—sure sign of the royal disfavour. You
must contrive to enter the Gardens after the drinking has made the guards
negligent, when you can shun discovery. After the wine has set the feast
in confusion, seek out Darius the Persian envoy. God must aid you to have
words with him alone. You must act to-night; for though Mermaza’s oath
may delay his revenge a little, none can tell when the stroke may fall,
and we be helpless in prison or as fugitives. Tell Darius that I, Daniel,
who know all the king’s secrets, though they think it not, say that the
treaty he makes with Belshazzar is a snare for the feet of Cyrus. The
hand of Atossa was asked to lull him into security. Belshazzar negotiates
with Amasis the Egyptian for a league against Persia, and Babylonish
agents scatter sedition in Media and Carmania. Belshazzar is collecting
troops and munitions. His bolt will fall as lightning from a smiling sky.”
The younger Jew was startled indeed. “Jehovah Omnipotent! I did not dream
this, that Belshazzar’s and Avil’s perfidy could sink so deep!”
Daniel laughed aloud at his simplicity.
“When you have my years, O Isaiah, you will have sounded the depths of
many seas of guile, and never marvel. You are young and trustful. Alas,
that you must grow wise! But go now, before Mermaza returns to the
palace. Our persons are safe for the moment: and Ruth can find shelter
so long as Imbi-Ilu is our friend. But for true deliverance, Cyrus’s
gratitude and the Persians’ might,—the Persians who worship the one God
like ourselves,—these are the only hopes.”
Isaiah drove away from the temple that evening in a strange mingling of
terror, yet of hopefulness. The warm touch of Ruth upon his cheek was
still thrilling him, the sweetness of her kiss was on his lips. Was all
lost while he was strong and free? And with the fate of his people and of
those he loved resting upon him, where was the moment in which to dare
to dream of failure? Darius had declared himself his friend; Darius, he
felt, he scarce knew why, was already Belshazzar’s foe. Why might not
Jehovah raise up this prince as a second Moses, to lead His people out of
their new and more grievous bondage?
[Illustration: GLORY OF CHALDEES]