“Just describe it.”
“It … it was wide. With many branches spreading out.”
“And the leaves?”
“Dark green. Oval.”
“Did it have fruit? Lemons, perhaps? Or apples?”
“Yes, yes. Perhaps they were lemons.”
“Thank you.”
Released, the merchant retreated from the dais. Darius called the second forward. Daniel guided him, so the two merchants could not exchange words.
When asked what tree it had been, the second merchant said, “Why, I’m sure it was a date palm.”
The most common tree in all of Babylon, of course.
“Tall?” Daniel said.
“Yes, yes. Very tall.”
“And the leaves?”
“Fronds, high off the ground. You know what a palm looks like.”
“Thank you.”
As the second merchant retreated, Daniel said to the king and the other advisers, “Sire, they are lying.”
Darius nodded and announced his verdict. “Their story is invention. They have witnessed falsely against an innocent woman.”
Then came an uproar, because the punishment for false witnessing was death. Darius ordered guards to come, the advisers shuffled and grumbled among themselves, and the courtiers sighed in wonder. The husband ran to his wife. When she lifted her face to him, tears covered her cheeks. They embraced, abased themselves before the king, and begged leave to return to their home.
Daniel stood out of the way, smiling wryly at the havoc he’d created.
“That was well done, Daniel, my friend.” He looked behind him to find Suza leaning on a marble pillar, her arms crossed, grinning. “But you make enemies. The sycophants hate it when you make them look bad.” She nodded at the advisers who huddled in conversation. Occasionally one glanced at him. Daniel could almost taste their envy of the attention he garnered from the king. It was like sand, dry and coarse.
King Darius eyed him as the advisers whispered around him.
“They make themselves look bad. I don’t have to do anything.”
“They’re jealous of your wisdom.”
He shook his head. “It is not my wisdom, but God’s.”
“You always say that.” She touched his arm. “Have supper with me at the bazaar tonight.”
“I’ll be there.”
She drifted away, her footsteps ringing.
Pavilions and awnings in a hundred colors spread across the marketplace. Beneath them, merchants sold wares from across the empire: the gold of Egypt, the silk of the far eastern lands, horses from Anatolia, coral and pearls from the coast. A dozen different languages clashed and made music, cheers went up as an acrobat finished a series of backflips in the plaza, a camel brayed across the street. Meat roasted and wine spilled, turning the air heady.
This was truly the most wondrous city in the world. This was truly a wondrous time to be alive. This was the height of civilization. Except for the cruelty of empires and conquerors.
The sensations would have overwhelmed Daniel, if he hadn’t been used to them. He could hear conversations a block away, smell a dozen different scents on the air. He’d grown used to the complex barrage of information. It was a part of the curse he’d learned to use.
On the steps leading from one level of houses to the next, he leaned against the wall, eating a handful of dates one by one. He smiled when he saw Suza running toward him, weaving around market crowds and crates of pottery.
He might have guessed Suza was a dancer, even when she wore a loose-fitting tunic the color of dust and hid her hair and striking face under a wrap and veil. She moved with the grace of mist rising from a pool of water, effortless and peaceful.
In the same movement, she stopped and sat beside him. “You’ve started without me.”
“Nonsense. I was saving this one for you,” he said, and offered her the last date. She laughed.
They wandered the marketplace in search of delicacies. Suza bought her supper from a woman who roasted spiced pork on a skewer. She offered some to Daniel, who shook his head.
“There’s a booth on the next row that’s run by a Hebrew family. I’ll find food there.”
She smirked. “You and your Hebrew law. You understand, I had to offer you some out of politeness, even though I knew you wouldn’t accept.”
“I know.”
They rested at a terrace overlooking the marketplace and watched the sun set over the palace gardens. Suza leaned on the wall, her mood turning somber.
“The full moon rises tomorrow.”
And they’d been having such a lovely evening. “Do you think I don’t know that?”
“Come with me. I hate for you to be alone on those nights.”
“I will stay at home and pray, like always.”
“You always
“I will pray.”
“Your devotion to your Hebrew God—it makes you both a hero and a fool. Everyone says so. You’re admired for it—but because of it you’ll never belong here.”
“I
“There is another tribe you belong to.”
More angrily than he intended he said, “It’s not a tribe, it’s a curse.”
She touched his cheek, a fleeting gesture that he barely felt. “I will pray for you to Ishtar. The lion is her beast. So you are hers, whether you like it or not.”
She left him. He almost called after her, wanting to explain, to make her understand. But he remained silent.
Persia, Babylon before it, venerable Egypt, and all the kingdoms in the world were empires built on false idols. But what glorious idols.
Bulls with wings and the heads of men, full-bearded and wearing tall headdresses. Human bodies with the heads of cats and jackals, cows and ibis. And lions. Lions with the heads of men. Powerful, animal bodies governed by human reason. They recalled a time when men and animals lived more closely than they did now, when men were known to run as animals in the wilderness and each knew the other’s language. Those times were gone, but signs of them lingered.
Some of the offspring, the spawn of mortals and these animal gods, beings who were both and neither, lingered.
The Ishtar Gate opened north from the palace to the road outside the city. Tall enough to block out the sun, the walls, glazed blue and gleaming, marked the Processional Way, wide enough for a pair of chariots to travel abreast. Along the walls, gold lions prowled on blue tiles, row after row of them.
At twilight, Daniel had every intention of staying in his room and praying to God for protection, for self- control, for freedom from the curse. At first dark, but before the full moon had risen, he was walking past the lions stalking around the walls, through the Ishtar Gate and out of the city. Suza was waiting for him.
“I knew you’d come,” she said, falling into step beside him.
They did not speak for the next two hours as they walked away from the city to a forest near the Euphrates River. Smells of the city—cooking and crowds—gave way to hot winds and rich vegetation, alive and rotting. They took a wild path that disappeared in a ravine near a village, so they would not be followed. Others came. Daniel recognized some: a palace guard, a priest of Marduk, a prostitute from the bazaar. Those were other lives. Here,
