Daniel the civil-minister had been arrested on the charge of committing
murder by sorcery. All Babylon had rung with the news. Even though the
accusers were vouched for by Avil-Marduk himself, the city had received
the tale with indignant incredulity. When Sirusur went with a “hundred”
of lancers to make the arrest, the burghers would have rescued the
prisoner by sheer force, had not Daniel leaned from the chariot in which
they were bearing him to the palace, and entreated the citizens to shed
no blood. Even those closest to the king shook their heads, and expressed
the hope that no ill would brew from the high priest’s doings.
But Daniel had spent the night in the palace guard-house, and the rage
of the city folk had in a measure subsided. Nevertheless, when the doors
were thrown open to the “Hall of Judgment,” the wand-bearers had no
slight ado to control the multitudes that pressed for entrance. There on
the ivory throne sat Belshazzar, in the robes of state, splendid as on
the night of the feast in the Hanging Gardens; behind the king stood
the parasol bearer and the fan bearers; at his right hand, in his white
mantle of office, was the high justiciar of the realm; on his left, in
resplendent scarlet livery, was Khatin, statuesque, impassive, save as
at rare intervals he stole a sly glance at the ponderous naked sword at
his side. On the three broad steps of the throne were arrayed the royal
officials, each in due order of precedence, they likewise in glittering
array; down the walls the sunlight flashed on the enamelled pictures, the
great cedar beams of the ceiling shone with their gilding. The pathway to
the foot of the throne was marked by a costly rug. If Daniel was to be
tried, it was not to be without due state!
As the old Jew entered, escorted by Bilsandan the vizier, there had
occurred something that made Avil-Marduk, as he stood at the accuser’s
station before the king’s right hand, swell with hidden rage. Of all the
huge company that thronged the lower hall, scarce a head failed to bow in
salutation to Daniel; and not a few were bold enough to shout a “Heaven
prosper you!” after him. “Silence! or I clear the hall!” Belshazzar
ordered angrily, and the noise ceased; but there was no need to tell on
which side was arrayed the people.
Unmoved by all, Daniel, ushered by the vizier, advanced to the foot of
the throne, and there, as etiquette demanded, remained kneeling, until,
after long silence, a barely perceptible nod from Belshazzar told him to
rise. Bilsandan salaamed, and stepped beside the justiciar, at the right
of the king, leaving Daniel confronting the monarch.
More silence, and then Belshazzar began abruptly:
“Daniel, otherwise named Belteshazzar, answer: Did you, or did you not,
commit murder of late, by spells and witchcraft?”
The Jew, who seemed as composed as the king himself, in the face of that
peering company, answered mildly, but without the least hesitation, “that
if his Majesty pleased, he would not plead until his accusers had stated
their charges.”
“And if I do not please?” demanded the king, ominously.
“Then, your Majesty, I shall be constrained to recite to you the
law, honoured by all your royal predecessors since its decreeing by
Khammurabi, two thousand years ago, ‘Let no man be condemned, except
he be first accused, and his guilt proven out of the mouths of two
unperjured witnesses.’”
“Have a care, Jew! have a care!” warned Belshazzar; “it ill becomes a
leopard of your spots to teach the law to the king of Babylon.”
“I ask only justice, your Majesty.”
“And, by Bel, you shall have it!” swore the king. “Advance, Avil, and
produce your witnesses!”
The high priest appeared before the throne, at his back three men and a
woman, who bowed themselves most awkwardly in the presence of royalty.
“The wise Gudea,” muttered Khatin in his beard, “and Binit his dear wife
have scarcely learned courtly graces at the beer-house of Nur-Samas.”
But, leaving his myrmidons to gape around the hall, Avil commenced a
fiery invective. If his arguments were faulty, his epithets were strong.
Daniel, the most impudent blasphemer of Bel in all Babylon, had, he
explained, at last carried his impiety so far as to accomplish the
death of the most excellent Saruch, simply because the latter forsook
his impotent Jewish demon, Jehovah. If the king failed to punish the
murderer, the outraged gods would haste to blast Babylon with fire and
brimstone.
“Do you still deny the accusation?” questioned Belshazzar, when Avil
concluded, and the Jew, all unmoved by the fierce harangue, answered
steadily, “Utterly, my lord; my whole life lived in this city denies it.”
“Present, then, your witnesses,” commanded Belshazzar of Avil, who
proceeded to hale Gudea to the front, with a muttered injunction in his
ear to “tell a well-welded story, or the ‘Earth-Fiends’ would have him by
night!”
Therefore the exorcist, with smooth countenance and glib tongue, rattled
off the tale of the death of Saruch, adding that if the man did not
meet his end by foul enchantment, he was willing to bare his back for a
thousand stripes.
Khatin had rolled his eyes more than once during this recital, and did
so again when Binit was thrust forward after her husband. The good
woman’s examination was the more brief because the lardy ointment she had
smeared on her hair was so pungent that even the king could hardly regard
her steadily. She avowed that early on the day of the alleged murder
she had sold a quantity of magic wood and magic wax to two men whom she
identified as the remaining pair of witnesses. There was an audible
titter when she ended.
“Will you cross-examine these witnesses?” asked the justiciar of Daniel.
“My lord,” the prisoner smiled quietly, “I can ask these worthy people
many things, but since neither have connected me in the least with the
death of Saruch, I will only reserve my right to examine them later.”
“Come forward, then, Tabni,” commanded Avil, confidently; “tell the king
the rest of the story, that he may see how the testimony of the most
pious Gudea tends to convict the accused.”
A more partial judge than Belshazzar, even, might well have looked
askance at the personage who now faced Daniel. A squalid dress, an
unkempt beard, and a single eye with a most snakelike twinkle, made it
difficult for Khatin to swallow his guffaw. Avil examined his witness
sharply, and Tabni answered with the readiness of a well-drilled
pupil. He was a “charmer,” of a profession akin to Gudea’s, only he
made the spells which the other counteracted. He would supply good
crops, profitable investments, or successful love-making as promptly
and cheaply as any in the city. On the day of Saruch’s death, Daniel
had summoned him very early, and told him he needed his services to
“wither” a mortal enemy. Tabni had hesitated, and Daniel raised the fee.
Therefore, as the witness put it, since it seemed a mere “overcasting,”
with no impiety involved, he consented, for business had been slack of
late, and one must live. He had gone with Daniel’s servant Shaphat to buy
the needful conjuring material of Binit. Then Daniel took him, in company
with Shaphat, into a secret chamber. They made a waxen image; named it
Saruch; thrust three red-hot needles through it; and Tabni had pronounced
the infallible spell over it,—
“We entwine you with ropes,
We catch you in a cage,
We twist you in a sling,
We drown you in filthy water,
We fling you down from a high wall.”
That afternoon Tabni heard that Saruch was dead. He had reflected, and
became convinced that he had been privy to a fearful deed. His conscience
had troubled him, and he had conferred with Gudea, who advised him to
make a public confession.
“And will you examine this man also?” asked the justiciar again, to which
Daniel, still composedly, made answer, “May your lordship first deign to
hear the other witness.”
“It is your right,” responded the justiciar; to which Belshazzar added
viciously, “I have sworn it, you shall have full justice, Jew; but take
notice, your guilt is established out of the mouth of one witness. Let
a second swear to his tale, and the case is proved. I give you this
opportunity. Confess now, and I will see if I can relax the just penalty
of the law.”
“I demand the other accuser,” answered Daniel, almost haughtily; and
Belshazzar nodded to Avil.
“Shaphat, former servant of Daniel, advance!” commanded Avil,
peremptorily.
And now there was a rustle and a flutter in the hall indeed. “One of the
minister’s servants will betray him,—and one who is a Jew, at that!” ran
the whisper, while an ill-favoured young man was thrust before the king.
But all men noticed that the fellow hung down his head, and would not
look the prisoner in the eye. Avil’s voice was very stern.
“Now, Shaphat, you have heard all that the pious ‘charmer’ Tabni has
said. Tell the king: Were you not a Jewish servant in the house of
Daniel, and did you not quit his service because you grew to love the
gods of Babylon, while he worshipped his demon Jehovah and gave himself
over to vile sorceries?”
The witness nodded, very faintly.
“You were with Tabni when he bought the magician’s material from Binit?”
“Yes,”—the word barely audible.
“You were with him at the making of the waxen image?”
“Yes,”—the word came still fainter.
“Now is it not your oath, taken in the name both of the gods of Babylon
and of Judea, that Daniel pronounced the name of Saruch above the waxen
image?”
But at this instant the witness raised his head, and Daniel looked him
in the face. They saw Shaphat’s countenance working in agony; the words
were choking in his throat: “I cannot! I cannot!” That was all they could
understand.
“Cannot what, knave?” demanded the king, fiercely. But the wretched
fellow had cast himself before Daniel, and embraced his knees.
“O master! master!” he groaned, “I cannot lie before your face. I was
dismissed justly for my thieving, and only in your mercy did you spare me
prison. You are guiltless; Tabni’s tale is all perjury: I never saw him;
never saw Binit; you never had the ‘charmer’ in your house. Alas! that I
listened to Gudea, and took his money—”
“Silence, hound!” shouted Avil, flinging dignity to every wind, and
catching the luckless witness by the scruff; “would you be cut into
sandal-leather?”
But a fearful din was rising from the company. Not only the city folk,
but the courtiers, were thundering: “Innocent! Innocent! Away with the
false witnesses!”
“Silence!” commanded the king, his countenance darkening. “What is this,
Avil? What is this witness saying?”
“Your Majesty,” answered Avil, barely heard in the tumult, “you see with
your own eyes that Daniel is a sorcerer. While Shaphat came forward, he
muttered magic spells to force him to utter falsehood!”
The efforts of the wand-bearers had restored stillness. Belshazzar’s
frown was still very black when he addressed the prisoner.
“That the accused has dealing with demons, who come to his aid, should be
manifest to all men. Speak, Daniel; even now I give you chance to show
wherefore you should not die the death.”
“I stand upon the law, your Majesty.” The Jew seemed the soberest mortal
in all that excited company. “My past life should be a defence against
the slanders of this Tabni; and the king has heard Shaphat and his
confession. Even receiving the oath of Tabni, only one witness swears to
my guilt.”
“And let your Majesty observe,” interrupted Avil, angrily, “that the
civil-minister, being a Jew, cannot claim the protection of the law of
Babylon.”
But at this Bilsandan the vizier leaped from his station.
“Are you mad, priest?” he cried. “Deny foreigners our law, and all the
great Egyptian and Syrian merchants quit Babylon; our trade is blasted!”
“And will you presume to teach _me_ my duty to the king?” retorted Avil,
still more wrathfully. But before the tumult could rise higher, the
justiciar stepped out before the throne.
“Live forever, O king!” spoke he, salaaming. “Before your Majesty passes
judgment, hear this concerning the witness Tabni. Daniel has not yet
asked him, but I do ask, whether he was not the ‘charmer’ who was brought
before the ‘Tribunal of the Five Judges,’ in the past year, when Daniel
sat with me among the members? He is silent; he dares deny nothing.
No; nor dare he deny that he was convicted first of embezzlement, then
of perjury; and that all the judges save Daniel voted ‘death,’ but the
civil-minister persuaded us to mercy. We imposed three hundred stripes.
Behold the gratitude!”
The uproar was doubled now, the exertions of the wand-bearers utterly
futile. The luckless Tabni cowered behind the chief priest, who still
clamoured, “Execute the blasphemer! No mercy to the sorcerer!” While
Bilsandan as loudly bade the priest “make an end to his patter!” and
to remember the precept in the “Book of Maxims,” “Let the king avenge
according to the law, or swiftest destruction waiteth upon his city.”
Yet, through all the clamour and turbulence, Belshazzar sat upon the
ivory throne, impassive, implacable. The very sympathies of the company
had made his stony heart still harder. Was he not king? Should any
ancient law, from men of ages forgotten, stand betwixt _him_ and his own
royal will? At the first instant of silence his voice rang clear:—
“Hear my judgment. Daniel is a Jew, and the law does not cover him. His
guilt is sufficiently proved. Advance, Khatin; seize the prisoner!”
But it was not merely shoutings now that drowned the king’s voice. Right
before the monarch sprang Sirusur, “Master of the Host.”
“Lord,” cried he, hotly, “if your Majesty desires to put crown ministers
to death on the word of such as Tabni, let the king find another
general!” And he cast his baton of office at the royal feet; so did
the justiciar, so the “Master of the Granaries,” the “Master of the
Treasury,” and a dozen great officials more. Khatin, the boldest of the
bold, had shrunk from fulfilling the kingly order. But while Belshazzar
sat lowering and unbending in the face of every protest, Mermaza had
thrust his way through the angry officers, and salaamed before his master.
“Your Majesty,” spoke he, and his ever present smile had become dimmed in
truth, “I am commanded by the queen-mother, Tavat-Hasina, to say that she
has heard with no pleasure of the accusation against that dear servant of
her father Nebuchadnezzar, the civil-minister Daniel; that she entreats
the king her son to listen to no perjured evidence, and she warns the
minister’s accusers of her most high displeasure.” The colour was leaving
Avil’s cheek, for Tavat was still a power to be reckoned with. “And I am
also commanded,” went on Mermaza, more haltingly, “to say in behalf of
the worshipful Persian envoy, the Prince Darius, that Daniel the Jew has
become most dear to him, and he trusts the king will do nothing hastily,
if he desires to retain the ambassador’s good will.”
They saw Belshazzar’s face grow even darker, saw him lift the gold-tipped
sceptre, as if to dash it in the eunuch’s face. But fewer saw Avil’s
signal to his lord, as the priest stood close beside the dais, and the
muttered whisper, “Yield for the moment.” The staff-bearers enforced
silence at last. In profound stillness the king announced his decision:—
“In mine own eyes the guilt of Daniel is clear as the moon on a cloudless
night; but I perceive that many faithful servants are minded otherwise,
and that a question has arisen as to the veracity of the witness Tabni.
Let therefore the accused be remanded to prison until his case can be
more carefully examined into. And since nothing else is brought to my
judgment seat, let the hall be cleared.”
The assemblage dispersed. Daniel was led to the palace prison. The king
vanished in the harem. Khatin stole away to Nur-Samas’s beer-house with
very dejected countenance,—he had not taken Daniel’s head. Only Avil and
Gudea conversed together, but not amiably.
“Scorpion,” raged the priest, “what mean you by playing with me thus? To
pin half your tale on a creature like Tabni, and then to have the other
witness fail!”
“Compassion! my lord,” whined Gudea. “Hardly a man would do an ill turn
by Daniel, he is so beloved. Even Tabni and Shaphat set their prices
high.”
“And Shaphat has vanished, after having made sport of me before all
Babylon!” fumed Avil. “Better to have Daniel at large, than in prison
with so many revilings flung after me as there were to-day! You have
failed me utterly, you and your cursed wife. May you never darken my
sight again!”
“But your lordship recalls a small matter,” sniffed Gudea, as unable as
Binit to forget the money-bags,—“a promise, of two talents; merely of two
talents. A trifle amongst friends—”
“And I will pay them,” swore Avil, “when Allat has requited you in the
‘House of Torment.’ Therefore, get you gone!”
* * * * *
When Gudea returned to his home that night, he had occasion to meditate
long on the ingratitude of the mighty.
[Illustration: NABU DEFIES THE KING]