The golden cup I’d been given felt cool and heavy in my hand.  Into its otherwise silky-smooth surface were etched strange pictures of what looked like humans with wings and several faces.  There was writing too, but it was in a script that I couldn’t recognise – I guess that it must have been Hebrew.  From all I had heard about Yahweh, these cups wouldn’t have been used in a feast like this one before.  Belshazzar himself had a particularly large cup, and it was being refilled often.  I didn’t notice it at the time, but in thinking back now, I can see that his attitude showed no respect towards the cup or thought for its origin.  In fact, some of the things he did were obviously specifically intended to belittle the temple it came from.

By that time, the feast had reached a stage where quite a few of us were a little worse for wear.  Voices were growing loud and arguments were springing up all around the enormous banqueting hall.  One of the king’s wives had to be told firmly to be quiet after her alternating laughter and tears became too much for the king to tolerate.  Two concubines were spitting at each other and had to be separated.  Other concubines were doing all they could to get the king (and everyone else) to notice them.  No surprise really – isn’t that what they’re there for?  Everyone knows that, and I believe they even teach them such things in the harem.

All that I’m trying to say here is that, even at that stage, nothing unusual was happening – except that those golden cups were being used in ways they had never been used before.

Then came the incident that seemed to spark the trouble.

Belshazzar seemed to feel some deep-seated inner need to sneer at Yahweh, the god of Israel.  The banquet hall has images of many of our gods around the perimeter, and the king’s massive chair is covered with carvings of gods as well.  He often mentions them in his conversation, and his stories are littered with how the various gods have helped him and his family.

On this occasion, though, he decided to go a bit further, and called the steward in again.  Incidentally, I’m glad I don’t have his job!  Belshazzar wanted some more statues and idols brought in, and he kept laughing as he gave the man his instructions.

Since I was beginning to feel a little sleepy, I was happy to sit back and quietly watch what was going on.  I was warm and relaxed, half-reclining with my golden cup resting on my tummy, sipping a little wine from time to time.  It would have been an ideal end to my memories of the feast if only my wife hadn’t seen that I was comfortable and started hectoring me.  She can’t bear to see me happy, and likes to take advantage of me when I’m not myself and can’t argue with her.

Well, it woke me up enough to be able to pointedly ignore her, watching the king’s table instead, where the steward was directing some of his men as they laid out beautiful and elegant statues of various gods around Belshazzar.  From small, magnificently crafted golden statuettes to squat, roughly carved lumps of stone, the gods of Babylon were on show, and Belshazzar had encouraged us all to honour them.

So I touched my forehead as we do and inclined my head in acknowledgement of the gods.  Looking down made me notice that beautiful golden cup again, and I took a quick swig before looking up again.  Belshazzar was pushing back his chair and standing up slowly with the help of his attendants.

He was a little shaky on his feet as he began to speak, “Our gods have blesshed us wonder… wonder-fully.”  He carries his wine well, but there are limits!

“Ea made the world.  ‘E made it and makes the grants to plough so that we… ah, the plants to grow so that we have food to eat…”  He hesitated a little as he began to sway and had to grab at his chair.  His balance restored, he smiled, held up his goblet and continued, “And wine to drink, as well.  Wine and worship are good.  Wine and worship and women… and wealth.”  He might have continued with his alliteration had not he lost his balance again and reached desperately for the back of his chair, dropping the goblet as he did so.  Wine sprayed over one of his concubines who was sitting near him on the floor for some reason I couldn’t work out.  I suppose she was drunk.

Belshazzar staggered around for a few moments before finding his balance again.  He was laughing as he lurched about, and the laughter spread through the hall amongst those who were still able to join in.

“Wine and women,” he repeated, “…and worship.  Banquets, too.  Of course, the great Nergal gives us hangovers, and the only solution is more wine, more women and more worship.”  Belshazzar giggled and called for a new goblet.

He continued with a rambling verbal dissertation on the glories of our gods.  By the time he finished, many of those in the hall were completely inebriated, and I wasn’t much better myself.  But I was awake, so I saw what happened next.  

The next part of Belshazzar’s speech had obviously been part of his plan from the beginning.  Having finished his comments on our gods, he began an attack on Yahweh, the god of Judah.  Based on the strange things that have happened since, I think it is best not to repeat what he said.

I may still be drunk, but I can tell you, I’m worried.

Well, Belshazzar was doing his drunken best to show the superiority of our gods over Yahweh when suddenly the fingers of a human hand appeared.

Disembodied fingers.

Moving purposefully, they approached the wall in the full light of the candlestick.

Then they started to write on the plaster of the wall.  I saw them – and so did Belshazzar.

When I’m in a comfortable haze of alcohol, I don’t get upset easily, but I remember blinking several times before my brain could accept what my eyes were seeing.

Belshazzar stopped talking immediately, and he was blinking too.  Then he started to shake.  His face had been its usual uneven reddish hue, but suddenly it was white, or maybe even a pale greyish-green.  He tried speaking again, but he couldn’t.

He couldn’t take his eyes off those fingers as they etched strange symbols into the wall of his palace.  Then his legs gave way and he collapsed into his chair.

“What’s going on?” he cried, but his voice was shrill and cracked.  “Where are those fingers from?  Who’s playing a trick on me?”

He tried to stand again, but he couldn’t.  Instead, he watched transfixed as those fingers gouged with irresistible force into the brightly-coloured surface of his wall, leaving behind strange symbols in the stark white of the plaster.

It really didn’t take long, and when they had finished writing, the fingers disappeared.

After a few moments, Belshazzar regained some of his composure and demanded loudly, “Bring in the enchanters, the Chaldeans, and the astrologers!”  The chief of the army left immediately, and it wasn’t long before a crowd of these experts stood around the king’s table, staring in amazement at the writing on the wall.

“Whoever reads this writing, and shows me its interpretation, will be clothed with purple,” Belshazzar announced.  “And he’ll have a chain of gold around his neck and shall be the third ruler in the kingdom.”

It was a tempting offer, and the wise men were all eager to help the king – or at least, to gain the reward!  But none of them could read the strange symbols on the wall, let alone interpret what they meant.  If possible, Belshazzar looked even more worried than before.  I’m not sure, but I think that he already suspected that these events had been sparked by his ridiculing of Yahweh, the god of Israel.

As the last of the wise men excused himself, the queen[1] came in.  Nobody else would have had the confidence to come in uninvited – and nobody else would have dared to speak to the king as she did.  Her words were polite, but she spoke as if to a child.  Maybe I’m a bit sensitive because of the way my wife speaks to me, but she certainly sounded confident, and Belshazzar looked helpless.

The queen declared, “O king, live forever! Don’t be alarmed.  You don’t need to be so pale, either, because there is a man in your kingdom in whom is the spirit of the holy gods.”  She went on to explain that this man, called Daniel, was able to explain riddles and solve problems that no-one else could.  The name was familiar to me; he was one of the old fuddy-duddies who had worked for Nebuchadnezzar back in the days when everyone seemed to take everything far too seriously.  I got the feeling that all that mattered to them was discipline.  We have far more fun now – though I must admit that nobody seemed to be having fun tonight once that hand appeared!

Anyway, Belshazzar took her advice and had Daniel called into the banquet hall.

I have to say that this Daniel is an amazing old man.  He must be in his 80s or 90s and obviously doesn’t attend late-night parties very often.  Yet he stood straight and strong before the wobbling mass of fear that was Belshazzar, and showed that he wasn’t look pleased with what he saw.  The king went through a grand introduction, spelling out the terms of his generous offer of fame and wealth, but Daniel wasn’t impressed.

He said to the king, “You can keep your gifts for yourself, and give your rewards to someone else.  But I will read the writing to the king and make known its interpretation.”

Daniel then showed his extra-serious attitude by lecturing the king about how Yahweh – he called him “the Most High God”, as a putdown to our gods – had worked hard to teach King Nebuchadnezzar his requirements, and claiming that Belshazzar should have learned from that.  He condemned Belshazzar for honouring gods of gold and silver, wood and stone, but failing to honour the god who had given him life.  Oh, it was a stinging lecture, and I wondered if Belshazzar would have the old man hung from the rafters, but he was still too afraid.

Then Daniel read the words from the wall – something about counting and weights and stuff.  He interpreted them too – but his interpretation was even more damning than his earlier words!  Daniel said that it meant that Belshazzar was not good enough and that Yahweh had brought his kingdom to an end!  Imagine that: the defeated local god of a subject nation like Judah claiming that he could interfere in the kingdom of Babylon!

But then again, maybe he can.  Who sent those fingers?

I don’t know: could that god really bring Belshazzar’s kingdom to an end?  And does that mean that the glorious kingdom of Babylon with all of its splendour is finished?  Could that really happen?  Won’t Babylon go on forever?

As I have been writing this account, I have heard noises spreading through the city.  Worrying noises.  Coming nearer.  Something is afoot, I’m sure, but I’m too afraid to go out and look.

Anyway, to wrap up, Belshazzar saw to it that Daniel was clothed with purple and a chain of gold was put around his neck, as promised.  The man endured it, but I thought he looked as if he would prefer to go back to bed!

Belshazzar also made a proclamation that Daniel should be the third ruler in the kingdom.  I wouldn’t have minded that myself – but then, if Daniel’s interpretation is right, the kingdom is finished, so maybe it’s a poisonous cup.

Now I can hear noises right outside the house.  Men shouting; women screaming; the clash of weapons.  Do I dare to go outside – or should I try to hide?

 

 

[1] We don’t know exactly who “the queen” is.  The account states that Belshazzar’s wives and concubines were included in the feast, yet the queen enters later.  Her words also suggest that she knew more of Daniel’s background than Belshazzar did, which suggests that she was probably older.  She may have been his mother or even his grandmother.  In fact, some translations translate this as “queen mother” or something similar.