CHAPTER 1

The Gathering Storm

"Gobryas!" cried Belshazzar, stumbling down the steps of the throne. "How do you know? I thought Cyrus led the Persian army."

"And s-so did the general." The frightened page fell back in terror, for the king's son had absolute power in Nabonidus' absence. "But the Gutiumite b-banner waves above the commander's ch-chariot."

Belshazzar turned pale. He feared the Governor of Gutium (Elam) more than anyone else on earth. Without another word he dashed from the throne room, called for his horse, and galloped through the Ishtar Gate toward the north outer wall. His guards stumbled all over themselves in their efforts to keep up.

Taking the steps two at a time, he soon scanned the approaching enemy horde. Cavalry led, over-spreading the road, steeds prancing, riders sitting bolt upright. Behind them rumbled hundreds of battle chariots, drawn by two or four horses—each vehicle carrying a driver and from one to four archer/spear men. The infantry followed in battle armor, with shields of leather stretched over light-weight thongs—some overlaid with thin sheets of polished brass or copper. Last came the supply wagons, and a multitude of camp followers—cooks, attendants, wives and female servants.

Power emanated from the immensity of the army and the arrogance of well-organized fighting men. Brilliant banners flickered above proud platoons, suspended from spears held aloft by elite corpsmen.

But Belshazzar's eyes focused on the gold-plated chariot near the center of the multitude. Dwarfing all others and pulled by six white stallions, the vehicle had a fringed canopy and displayed carvings of cult symbols and previous victorious battles. Gobryas, in colorful battle dress, stood ram-rod straight—with dozens of guards, servants, and pages riding nearby.

The king's son had no doubts now. His personal enemy approached with an army capable of taking any city. Retribution had come, and he trembled with terror.

Seeking to hide his fright, Belshazzar began to laugh. "Who do the Persians think they are?" he roared. "Babylon has unscalable walls, unbreakable gates. They couldn't conquer us in 20 years."

"General!" he called as he turned to leave. "Don't get bored watching that exercise in futility. Ha! They'll never get in here." With that he returned to the palace and lost himself in a bottle of wine.

Babylon's strength didn't lie in its walls or well-trained-and-equipped army, but in the caliber of its leaders. The city had lived more than a thousand years, and in most of that time had been the pawn of other powerful nations.

Nebuchadnezzar lifted Babylon to a height she had never known before and had conquered or controlled most of the eastern world. He ruled with an iron hand, and yet his citizens profited from his justice and benevolence.

Nebuchadnezzar had defeated the Jews and transported them—along with many other conquered peoples—to Babylonia. Most of them had better conditions in the land of their exile than they'd had in their own countries. They bought land and businesses, and prospered during their captivity.

After Nebuchadnezzar died his son Amel-Marduk took the throne. He showed kindness to the Jews by freeing King Jehoiachin. The now-graying monarch had spent 37 years in prison. The new king provided him with a house for his family, and issued him food and clothing to meet his needs.

For all his kindness, Nebuchadnezzar's son lacked wisdom and administrative skill. Babylonians seldom forgave inefficiency in their kings, and unrest brewed. After only two years he died at the hands of his brother-in-law Neriglisser.

The Jews trembled when Neriglisser took the throne, for he had commanded Nebuchadnezzar's armies at the final battle against Jerusalem. He had no love for the Hebrews, and their social position suffered during his reign.

An old man when he took the throne, Neriglisser's health soon began to deteriorate. His only son, Labashi-Marduk—young and immature—showed neither wisdom nor the ability to rule. The old king feared that the empire might collapse if the boy became king, so he appointed his brother-in-law Nabonidus to follow him.

Nabonidus had good parentage, but he hadn't descended from royal blood He had no relationship to Neriglisser either—except that the two had married daughters of Nebuchadnezzar.

In spite of Neriglisser's efforts, his foolish son took the throne anyway. Labashi-Marduk exulted that he had over-ruled his father's will, and he proudly claimed every royal privilege for himself.

He knew nothing of administration or justice, and his supporters soon realized their mistake. Within a year of his coronation, his "friends" took control of the palace guard, arrested the king as a malefactor, and tortured him until he died. Having saved the throne from mindless tyranny, they formed a select committee and appointed Nabonidus to take his place.

Nabonidus thanked his lucky stars. He had never dreamed of becoming king of Babylon, but now he enjoyed the privileges of the highest human in the empire. His people worshiped him as god, and he commanded absolute power over the lives of all his subjects.

"It's enough to turn the head of a lesser man," he confided in Nitocris, his wife. "And I'll bet you never thought you'd be queen."

"No," replied the mature, but still beautiful woman as her maid arranged her hair. "Mother was an Egyptian princess before she married Nebuchadnezzar, but he never considered her more than a secondary wife. I'm sure he'd have never married me off to you had he felt otherwise." She laughed at the irony.

Nabonidus grinned. "I suppose not." He ambled over to an ornately carved cupboard built into the wall, retrieved a bottle of fine Babylonian wine, and poured a small portion into a goblet. Then he paced the floor lost in thought, sipping wine at intervals.

"That poem you recited at the coronation was beautiful," the maid interrupted his thoughts. An older woman, she had lived in their household for many years, and had become almost a daughter to them. "Would you say it again?"

Nabonidus' resonant voice echoed through the room. *

"Bravo!" The maid cried as she bowed before her master, her forehead touching the floor. "May my lord rule long and prosper."

Nabonidus smiled at her, and stopped in front of the window, staring into the garden. He watched as an elderly man bent over to sniff the rose blossoms. That's Daniel, he thought. He must still be a member of the royal advisors.

Years ago he had watched from this same window while Nebuchadnezzar ate grass like an ox. He and Nitocris had marveled at the kindness of this Jewish captive, and the power of his God in humbling the god-king of Babylon.

The king's mind wandered. What lies ahead? he wondered. Why did they choose me? One of the generals could have ruled with a strong hand. Why did they pick me?

He glanced again at his wife, and at once he knew. They chose me because of her. She's the daughter of Nebuchadnezzar, and her son—our son—is the direct heir to the throne.

The thought both pleased him and unsettled him. Pleased to be king; unsettled that it hadn't been because of his own merits. Embarrassment swept over him as he wondered how many people knew that he'd been selected only to preserve the kingdom for his first-born son—Belshazzar.

Nitocris guessed the reason for his silence, and rose from her vanity. "Don't fret about our relationship to Nebuchadnezzar," she whispered as she stroked his beard. "Your father was a noble prince, and your mother the most revered priestess of the moon-god Sin." She stepped between him and the window. "The nobles chose you because you're the most respected man in the kingdom. Remember your diplomatic mission to Lydia?"

How could he forget? Thirty years ago Media's armies had been fighting warlike tribes from Lydia for five years. They'd begun to fret because the battle had come to a stalemate, so they asked Babylon to help them settle the dispute by mediation. Nebuchadnezzar sent Nabonidus, and the young man had been so successful that the two countries formed an alliance. They sealed their agreement by the marriage of the daughter of Alyattes the Lydian to Astyages the Mede.

"Everyone knows about your part in that agreement," Nitocris continued. "And through the years you've been one of the highest officials in the kingdom."

She clasped her hands behind his neck. "You're not the first to call yourself 'Father of the land'."

He looked at her in surprise.

"It's true," she went on. "I've heard others call you that. You have no equal, Nabonidus my love." She stood on her toes to kiss his cheek above his curly beard. "For many years you've been so influential in Babylon that people feel you're the most capable leader they have. That's why they chose you to rule at this critical time."

Nabonidus hugged her so tight she squealed. "Nitocris," he mumbled as he scooped her up and carried her into their bed-chamber, "you know how to stroke an old man's fur."

The maid smiled, closed the curtains, and turned to busy herself in another room.

The envoys who stood before Nabonidus had come from a small country called Persia, north and east of Babylon—a subject state of the great Median empire. The king scrutinized them for several minutes before granting them audience. He'd heard that a powerful chieftain had been gathering personal support from the various tribes in that area.

Persians had few diplomatic dealings with Babylon, and Nabonidus wondered why Cyrus sought to change that now. At last he gave the signal and the men came forward. They moved into position, bowed to the floor, and then rose when Nabonidus extended his scepter toward them.

"We represent Cyrus, king of Anshan in Persia," announced the leader. "Our king requests a treaty with you."

"Why would he want a treaty with me," asked Nabonidus. "We've never had any dealings before." The king had reigned only a few weeks, but his intimate knowledge of government affairs had already aided him in making several important decisions.

"Our lord Cyrus, King of Anshan," continued the envoy, "has a quarrel with Astyages, King of Media, and he wants to settle this argument in a fitting wa. . . ."

"We've been friends with Media for many years," interrupted Nabonidus, frowning. "Why should we make a treaty that might harm our friends?"

"Your friendship with the Medes has become somewhat fragile in recent years," countered the ambassador. "Your alliance seems more for mutual self-protection than friendship."

"You've watched us closely," observed Nabonidus.

The envoy sighed. "We find it helpful to know our neighbors. Otherwise we might be caught off guard." He crossed his arms, glared at Nabonidus, and spoke in an impatient manner. "Now, if you please, my lord. Cyrus must address a grievance with Media."

Nabonidus smiled at the man's arrogance, but ignored it. "What do you suggest?"

"His Majesty Cyrus, King of Anshan in Persia, needs your help. Should he go to war with Media, he asks pledge that you will not join the Medes to fight against us."

"I will consider your request." With that Nabonidus dismissed the delegation.

The Babylonian king pondered Cyrus' proposal. There were so many details to weigh—his relationship with Media, caravan routes through Persian territory, the effect the treaty might have on other nations outside his empire. By nightfall he hadn't yet concluded what to do. So he left it for another day.

During the night he had a dream. The great dragon-like god Marduk stood before him. "You are to restore the temple of Sin in Haran," the creature said.

"But that's impossible," objected Nabonidus. "Media controls Haran."

"The Mede of whom you are speaking," answered Marduk, "he himself, his land, and the kings who march at his side are not! When the third year comes, the gods will cause Cyrus, king of Anshan—his little slave—to advance against him with his small army. He will overthrow the wide extending Medes, he will capture Astyages, king of the Medes, and take him captive to his own land."

When he awoke, Nabonidus told his advisors of the Persian request, and of his dream.

"There's no doubt about it," breathed the chamberlain in awe. "Marduk wants you to become an ally of Cyrus." He scratched his head for a moment, thinking. "I don't see anything illegal with their request. They just want us to stay out of their argument."

"Seems reasonable to me," replied the commanding general. "We have enough to worry about without sending troops to Persia."

So Nabonidus drew up a tentative agreement, and appointed an ambassador to return with the Persians to Cyrus. Nabonidus agreed that, should Media and Persia go to war, Babylon's forces would become involved somewhere else.

Shortly afterward, Nabonidus gathered his army and advanced up the Mesopotamian valley. He had little difficulty conquering Haran and the surrounding countryside.

"It won't be long now," he boasted to his general. "Soon I'll repair the temple, and Marduk's decree will be fulfilled." He smiled as another thought graced his mind. "Soon," he added, "my mother will once again be able to carry out her duties as priestess of Sin."

The Babylonians liked their new king. As soon as he had taken the hands of Marduk, the unrest of the past six years ended and people breathed easier. Business flourished, and prices began to stabilize. Crime declined, and bureaucratic corruption—so rampant since the death of Nebuchadnezzar—sank out of sight.

Nabonidus traveled throughout Babylonia, learning the needs of his people, and making decisions about their welfare. He commanded that the priests restore the Esagila temple of Babylon to the beauty it had during Nebuchadnezzar's time. He also ordered that they rebuild other temples in the city, since they had fallen into disrepair.

He made special pilgrimages to temples throughout Babylonia, including that of Sin in Ur, Shamash in Larsa, and Ishtar in Uruk. He gave large donations from the royal treasury to support their services.

Some of the nations Nebuchadnezzar had conquered took advantage of the chaotic times since his death, and withheld their taxes. Babylon considered this a rebellion against her authority. Nebuchadnezzar would have wasted little time punishing them, but the weak kings had done nothing, and the rebellious "children" wandered at will.

Nabonidus decided he needed to bring these delinquents back under his power so their taxes would help fill his royal treasury. He needed the money now more than ever to help pay for the repair work he planned throughout the empire.

The king had no hassle rallying the army to his cause. They yearned to do something more than the police work that had occupied them for the past six years. They showed such enthusiasm that they made their preparations in less time than their leaders expected.

"I'll be back in a few months," Nabonidus consoled Nitocris. "I'm leaving state affairs in the hands of my chamberlain. Keep an eye on him. You can never tell when some official will begin to lust after my throne."

"You still have doubts, don't you?"

Nabonidus frowned. "The last six years have been terrible, my love. Two kings were murdered by their own friends. I can't help wondering, 'When will they come for me?' Perhaps my success as a military man will change all that."

"I hope it changes your feelings about yourself." She put her arms around his chest and gave him a squeeze. "But you can count on me to watch out for you." She looked up into his large brown eyes. "I'll miss you."

He smiled but didn't reply. "Better keep an eye on Belshazzar too," he added. "He's headstrong and likely to get himself into trouble if you don't watch everything he does."

"He has a lot of talent," she objected. "If you'd put him to work, maybe that'd keep him out of mischief."

"I'll think about it." The king bent over and kissed the little princess on the forehead, turned on his heals and left.

During his first campaign Nabonidus conquered the country of Hume—the homeland of iron. In the second year he warred against Hamath, the great city of northern Palestine. He brought its peoples into subjection to his rule, and collected large amounts of taxes for his treasury.

On his third campaign into Palestine he ascended into the mountains of Amananus, renowned for its fruit orchards. He had his men collect large amounts of the fruit, dried them, and sent them back to Babylon—with a special assortment for Nitocris and his harem.

When he returned from this third campaign the king had taken ill. Some thought he might die, but the physicians and enchanters ministered to him and brought him back to health.

After only a few weeks, Nabonidus returned to the wars, this time marching against Adummu and Shindini. The towns fought bravely and his army suffered many casualties because of their fierce resistance. When he finally subdued them, he executed their kings—as an example to others who might decide to follow their example.

"How is your health, mother?" Nabonidus em-braced the elderly woman.

The old priestess had passed her 100th birthday and, even before her son ascended the throne, she was one of the most famous women in the empire. "My eyesight is keen," she answered, "my hearing excellent. All forms of food and drink agree with me."

"I'm so glad," returned the son.

The king changed the subject as he led his mother into the garden of the ancient holy place. "I want to rebuild the temple of Sin, here in Haran."

"O, my son." The woman stopped and looked up at his aging but still handsome face. She ran her hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, and smiled. "That would be a most wonderful gesture. Sin will be so pleased." She stepped back and smoothed her priestess robes with her hands as she glanced around her. The broken down buildings and disfigured monuments gave only a glimpse of the glory this sacred place once enjoyed. She had dedicated her whole life to honoring the great god of the moon—and teaching her son to reverence him as well.

"I have in mind building a statue of Sin, in the form of the moon during an eclipse." The king spoke as the two entered an open place between several dilapidated structures. "While repairing the older buildings, I want to construct a new temple right here." He turned slowly as his outstretched finger drew an imaginary circle. "Then we'll erect the image of Sin in front of the new edifice."

For several minutes the two lingered, each visualizing how the holy house and its image would appear— Entranced with the thought of doing a great work for their god.

"This will be the most important project in the empire." Nabonidus broke the long silence, staring at the distant hills as he spoke. "None of the other gods will be happy until Sin inhabits his own sanctuary." The glory of the moment and the mellow sound of his own voice reacted upon himself, causing him to make an unwise proclamation. "In honor of Sin, we'll suspend all religious festivals until we complete this temple. We'll even cancel the New Year's celebration—and the Marduk ceremony for renewing the royal mandate."

The old woman glanced at her son in alarm and started to speak, but he put his finger to her lips. "Never mind, Mother," he murmured. "I am Nabonidus, King of Babylon. I will cause all Babylonia to learn the glory of Sin . . . and all mankind shall worship him."

"How can we make a treaty with the Arabians," complained the chamberlain. "They have no central government. They're just independent tribes who can't even get along among themselves."

"Right," agreed the special envoy. "I visited scores of desert chieftains trying to arrange a trade agreement. Many would rather fight than talk. If I hadn't had a sizable body guard, I might never have escaped."

"We've got to find some way to guarantee that our merchants can travel safely to Egypt." The treasurer scratched his head. "They can go up through Hattiland (Palestine), of course, but that takes many days longer."

"Some merchants enjoy the effortless journey around Arabia by ship," suggested the admiral.

"That has a lot to recommend it," agreed the financial advisor. "But it takes even longer. The longer it takes, the higher the prices— And the higher the prices. . . ."

"The fewer goods people will buy," put in Nabonidus, "and the lower our economy sinks." He rose and descended the steps, pacing around the room, his counselors in tow. He visualized camel caravans moving relentlessly across the deserts, carrying everything of value upon which his kingdom depended.

"But we're not just talking about Egyptian trade here." He stopped to face his council. "We need to trade with the Arabs ourselves."

"True," chorused the group.

The western half of the Arabian peninsula held extensive gold deposits, often called "the gold of Ophir." Equally important were the spices— frankincense, myrrh, cassia, cinnamon, resinous gum, balsam, and other aromatic products found only in that arid land. Many a traveler had described how the atmosphere seemed to be laden with perfume.

The mountains of central Arabia also yielded precious stones—some found nowhere else in the world. These were in great demand for use in Babylonian temples and palaces.

"One of our leading merchants once told me that Tema commands a central position in 'the island of the Arabs'." The army commander crossed his arms, and raised his nose into the air as he talked, much like a dog sniffing the wind. "Its about half-way to Egypt, you know. If we conquered Tema, we'd control all Arabia."

"And all the caravan routes as well," added the treasurer, pointing his finger at the military man. "Good thinking."

"Hmmm." Nabonidus eyed the two men. "No one has ever campaigned against Arabia," he thought out loud. "Nebuchadnezzar dashed across the peninsula once to guarantee his throne. I've heard him tell how dry and forbidding the country can be." He stroked his beard, and squinted at one man, then another, lost in thought. "How could a major army survive?" He spoke to the general, but the military man knew he hadn't finished. "There's so little water— Only oases a day apart. Caravan's use camels, but what about a hundred thousand men and all their horses?"

"My lord." The small man had been on the council for years, but seldom spoke. "When I was young I lived with desert robbers. They had horses; they needed water and found it." He shuffled his feet and looked at the stone pavement. "I say there's enough water for your hundred thousand men— And their horses."

"My father crossed the desert with Nebuchadnezzar," added the general. "Many times he told me how they found the water they needed. I think we can do it."

"Sounds good to me," agreed the chamberlain.

"Then lets do it," smiled Nabonidus. "Gentlemen, soon we shall control the most important caravan routes in the world. Soon we'll own earth's finest source of gold."

"O Sin," prayed Nabonidus as he knelt with Nitocris and Belshazzar in the moon god's temple at Ur. "Save me from sinning against thy great divinity and grant life unto distant days as a gift." He placed his hand on Belshazzar's shoulder. "Furthermore, as for Belshazzar, the first son proceeding from my loins, place in his heart fear of thy great divinity and let him not turn to sinning; let him be satisfied with fullness of life."

As the three rose from their worship, Nabonidus spoke to his oldest son. "I'm entrusting you with the kingship of Babylon. You will have command of the home guard soldiers everywhere in the country. I adjure you to keep the peace, execute justice, and provide for the sustenance of my army in the field."

"Yes, Father."

"Your mother will be your counselor, and my chamberlain will help you in the affairs of state." Nabonidus hesitated. He didn't trust his son. He remembered the young man's crime against Gobryas and knew the perversity of his heart. He hoped that the weight of national responsibility would mature him and make a real man out of him.

"You are to obey all my decrees," continued the older man, "and from time to time I'll send you instructions from the field. I don't expect. . ."

He paused as his eyes fell on Nitocris. How beautiful she is! he thought. I wish I could take her with me. He looked back at Belshazzar and continued: "I don't expect to be gone more than a few months. When I return, I want to find the kingdom as prosperous as when I placed it into your hands."

"Yes, my lord." Belshazzar smiled as he bowed to his father. Inside he gloated with expectation at the power placed in his hands, and the opportunities he'd have to advance his social and financial position in Babylon. Yet he felt a nameless dread at the tight reins his father placed upon him.

What if my father becomes dissatisfied with my work, he wondered. Will he then pass over me, and choose instead my little brother Nebuchadnezzar? He made a mental note to "take care of" the younger son of Nabonidus. He wanted no rival to his throne. He knew just how to do it too. He'd been successful before in that sort of scheme.

Young Nebuchadnezzar sensed the hatred in his brother's heart. Within hours after Nabonidus marched toward Arabia, the lad fled for his life, disappearing forever from the pages of history.

Arabia's arid terrain did not pose an impenetrable waste between Babylonia and Egypt, and its people had not committed themselves to total isolation. They played a real part in the world.

Arabia's geography, racial mix, and economy closely matched that of Babylonia. Of all the countries of the Westland it alone bordered on Mesopotamia. Many points of similarity drew the two lands together, and there had been some intermarriage of their peoples.

When Nabonidus launched his campaign to annex Arabia, he knew the story of his efforts would go down in history. The size of his quest staggered him. If successful, he would add a piece of land many times larger than the combined area of the whole Babylonian empire.

The army moved slowly across the vastness of the desert, stopping at each oasis to replenish its water supply. The men stored the life-sustaining liquid in large sealable pots, and in goatskin bags. Soldiers carried their own goatskin "canteens" slung by leather thongs over their shoulders. The army also took many camels to assure a means of trans-porting supplies in an emergency.

After many weeks of slogging through the hot sand, the great Babylonian war machine rumbled into the wide Tema valley. At an elevation of 3400 ft., the valley extended from southeast to northwest—about two miles long and four or five hundred yards wide.

Nabonidus gasped and reigned up his horse. For many minutes he sat in the saddle, spellbound by the beauty of the countryside, and the ornate workmanship of the town's walls. Flourishing gardens and groves surrounded the tiny city. He could identify peaches, figs, oranges, lemons, barley, and wheat. Myriads of palms throughout the valley suggested dates as the main course on Tema's tables.

"What a beautiful place," exclaimed Nabonidus. "And the air here is so pure."

"I know," agreed his general, who rode beside the king. "What a contrast to the miasmatic atmosphere of Babylonia,"

The monarch drew in a long whistle. "I think I could live here forever."

The Temites turned out to be Arameans, not Arabs, and seemed to resemble the Syrians in their speech and culture. Their scouts had spotted the monstrous army approaching, and they had prepared well to defend their city. Walls and turrets bristled with fighting men, who fought fiercely, inflicting enormous casualties upon the attacking army. But the Temites couldn't hold out against Nabonidus' seasoned veterans, and the city soon fell.

As Nabonidus directed the onslaught and saw the savagery of the city's defenders, he felt an anger mushroom up within his heart. The long, dry march from Babylon, the sudden beauty of the Tema valley, the unrelenting energy of the defenders, and the more than average losses in the attack all combined to distort his sense of mission and justice.

He forgot his purpose to establish allies to protect the trading routes. He forgot his desire to form treaties with the Arabs in order to buy gold and spices for Babylon. His sudden lust to have Tema all for himself merged with his burgeoning rage at the Temites' desperate efforts to keep it. His now-unbalanced mind began to devise a sinister course of action. He wanted no tribute this time: he wanted everything.

Barking commands to right and left, Nabonidus wasted the entire population. From the king on the throne to the most miserable beggar in the street, he had them all herded out of the city—men, women, and children. He selected the most beautiful women for his own harem, and to give as concubines to the wealthy nobles who accompanied him.

Then he set his army on the rest, and watched with satisfaction as an entire civilization perished amidst the screams of the terrified and the dying. Within minutes the deadly thrusts of Babylonish swords had done their work. Tema's children had become extinct, and their lifeless bodies gathered into heaps for an enormous cremation.

Nabonidus smiled. Now the city belonged to him. Bursting with the pride of personal power, the Babylonian king rode his favorite horse before his cheering troops and through the gates of the now deserted city—his city.

This will be my base of operation, he thought. From here I'll gain control of the entire peninsula. Arabia will become the crowning jewel of my empire.

^*Prayer of Nabonidus from a cuneiform tablet found in Ur.

CHAPTER 2