The Hidden Prince Read online

  PRAISE FOR TESSA AFSHAR

  JEWEL OF THE NILE

  “Afshar’s excellent latest follows a young mixed-race woman in the first century CE as she embarks on a quest to find a father she thought long dead. . . . Exquisite plotting and outstanding historical details set this apart. Afshar’s fans will be overjoyed with this tale of love lost and found.”

  PUBLISHERS WEEKLY, STARRED REVIEW

  “Tessa Afshar’s novels are well worth waiting for and Jewel of the Nile is certainly no exception! What a lovely book and what a beautiful message.”

  CHRISTIAN NOVEL REVIEW

  DAUGHTER OF ROME

  “With meticulous research and a vividly detailed narrative style, Daughter of Rome . . . is both an emotive biblical love story and an inherently fascinating journey through the world of first-century Rome and the city of Corinth.”

  MIDWEST BOOK REVIEW

  “This is a lovely slow-burning, faith-filled exploration about overcoming trials and accepting past mistakes.”

  HISTORICAL NOVELS REVIEW

  “Afshar brings in a thoughtful consideration of whether or not there are behaviors that cannot ever be forgiven, and her intricate biblical setting will engross readers. This is [her] strongest, most complex scripture-based story yet.”

  PUBLISHERS WEEKLY

  “Tessa Afshar inhabits the world of early Christians with refreshing clarity. From life under the threat of persecution to domestic details and her characters’ innermost thoughts, she makes early Christianity spark.”

  FOREWORD REVIEWS

  “Tessa Afshar has the rare gift of seamlessly blending impeccable historical research and theological depth with lyrical prose and engaging characters.”

  SHARON GARLOUGH BROWN, author of the Sensible Shoes series

  “Tessa Afshar’s ability to transport readers into the culture and characters of the biblical novels is extraordinary. . . . Daughter of Rome is a feast for your imagination as well as balm for your soul.”

  ROBIN JONES GUNN, bestselling author of Becoming Us

  THIEF OF CORINTH

  “Afshar again shows her amazing talent for packing action and intrigue into the biblical setting for modern readers.”

  PUBLISHERS WEEKLY, starred review

  “Lyrical . . . [with] superb momentum, exhilarating scenes, and moving themes of love and determination. . . . Afshar brings to life the gripping tale of one woman’s struggle to choose between rebellion and love.”

  BOOKLIST

  “Afshar’s well-drawn characters and lushly detailed setting vividly bring to life the ancient world of the Bible. A solid choice for fans of Francine Rivers and Bodie and Brock Thoene.”

  LIBRARY JOURNAL

  BREAD OF ANGELS

  “Afshar continues to demonstrate an exquisite ability to bring the women of the Bible to life, this time shining a light on Lydia, the seller of purple, and skillfully balancing fact with imagination.”

  ROMANTIC TIMES

  “Afshar has created an unforgettable story of dedication, betrayal, and redemption that culminates in a rich testament to God’s mercies and miracles.”

  PUBLISHERS WEEKLY

  “With sublime writing and solid research, [Afshar] captures the distinctive experience of living at a time when Christianity was in its fledgling stages.”

  LIBRARY JOURNAL

  “Readers who enjoy Francine Rivers’s Lineage of Grace series will love this stand-alone book.”

  CHRISTIAN MARKET

  “With its resourceful, resilient heroine and vibrant narrative, Bread of Angels offers an engrossing new look at a mysterious woman of faith.”

  FOREWORD MAGAZINE

  LAND OF SILENCE

  “Readers will be moved by Elianna’s faith, and Afshar’s elegant evocation of biblical life will keep them spellbound. An excellent choice for fans of Francine Rivers’s historical fiction and those who read for character.”

  LIBRARY JOURNAL

  “Fans of biblical fiction will enjoy an absorbing and well-researched chariot ride.”

  PUBLISHERS WEEKLY

  “In perhaps her best novel to date, Afshar . . . grants a familiar [biblical] character not only a name, but also a poignant history to which many modern readers can relate. The wit, the romance, and the humanity make Elianna’s journey uplifting as well as soul touching.”

  ROMANTIC TIMES, TOP PICK REVIEW

  “Heartache and healing blend beautifully in this gem among Christian fiction.”

  CBA RETAILERS + RESOURCES

  “An impressively crafted, inherently appealing, consistently engaging, and compelling read from first page to last, Land of Silence is enthusiastically recommended for community library historical fiction collections.”

  MIDWEST BOOK REVIEWS

  “This captivating story of love, loss, faith, and hope gives a realistic glimpse of what life might have been like in ancient Palestine.”

  WORLD MAGAZINE

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  The Hidden Prince

  Copyright © 2022 by Tessa Afshar. All rights reserved.

  Cover illustration copyright © Shane Rebenschied. All rights reserved.

  Author photo copyright © 2013 by MurphyMade. All rights reserved.

  Designed by Jennifer Phelps

  Edited by Kathryn S. Olson

  The author is represented by the literary agency of Books & Such Literary Agency, 52 Mission Circle, Suite 122, PMB 170, Santa Rosa, CA 95409.

  Jeremiah 31:12; Leviticus 24:19-20; Leviticus 19:18; Genesis 28:15; Isaiah 44:28; Isaiah 45:4; Jeremiah 30:15, 17; and Scripture quotations marked ESV are taken from The ESV® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

  Habakkuk 3:19, Jeremiah 10:20, Jeremiah 51:11, and Scripture quotations marked NLT are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.

  Scripture quotations marked NIV are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version,® NIV.® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

  The Hidden Prince is a work of fiction. Where real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales appear, they are used fictitiously. All other elements of the novel are drawn from the author’s imagination.

  For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Tyndale House Publishers at [email protected], or call 1-855-277-9400.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress.

  ISBN 978-1-4964-5821-6 (HC)

  ISBN 978-1-4964-5822-3 (SC)

  ISBN 978-1-4964-5824-7 (ePub); ISBN 978-1-4964-5823-0 (Kindle); ISBN 978-1-4964-5825-4 (Apple)

  Build: 2022-10-14 15:50:07 EPUB 3.0

  To Laurence:

  Brave. Loyal. Caring. Honest. True.

  My beloved nephew.

  You will always be a prince in my heart.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Part One: Babylon Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve
>
  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Part Two: Ecbatana Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Part Three: Anshan Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Epilogue

  A Note from the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Discussion Questions

  About the Author

  PROLOGUE

  Then the king gave Daniel high honors and many great gifts, and made him ruler over the whole province of Babylon and chief prefect over all the wise men of Babylon.

  Daniel 2:48, ESV

  The Twenty-Ninth Year of King Nebuchadnezzar’s Reign

  My father tightened his grip on my hand as we hurried past the ziggurat, the golden shrine of Marduk at its top gleaming in the morning sun. He always felt uneasy when we came too close to one of Babylon’s many temples. But this one, the most renowned and opulent, made his Jewish heart downright agitated.

  The ziggurat had occupied the center of Babylon for centuries, growing dilapidated with the passage of time. When Nebuchadnezzar ascended the throne, he spent a fortune on repairs to the famous landmark, restoring the ziggurat to a magnificent height so that fifty men could stand upon one another’s shoulders and still not touch the zenith. To stamp the monument with his personal seal of grandeur, the king had added the bejeweled shrine of the Babylonian god Marduk like a crown at the top of the lofty structure.

  I stumbled as I stared over the walls, past the veil of palm fronds and verdant tree branches, following the slow progress of a white-clad priest as he ascended the ornate staircase, carrying a burning brazier.

  “Pay attention, Keren. Stop staring at that abomination.”

  “Yes, Father,” I said, my gaze still glued to the priest.

  “You must not allow your mind to wander when you begin your service in Daniel’s household. Stay your thoughts on the tasks given you.”

  “Of course.”

  “And do not ask impertinent questions.”

  “Who? Me?” I asked, offended. “Grandfather says my questions are the sign of a quick mind.”

  “As I said. Impertinent. You must quash that tendency.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  By now, we had left the main thoroughfare by crossing a bridge over one of the canals that watered the city and found our way to a narrow, unpaved lane. Most of Babylon’s roads were made of packed dirt, though some were wide enough to accommodate two chariots.

  Without warning, Father stopped and turned to face me. I was tall for my age. But he still had to bend his head to look me in the eyes. “Keren,” he said, his voice growing faint. “You know we love you. Your mother and I.”

  “And I love you. Stop worrying about me.”

  “Daniel is a good man. You will be safe in his household.”

  I patted my father’s shoulder reassuringly. Years ago, the king had elevated Lord Daniel to the position of chief amongst all the wise men, and governor over the province of Babylon, the wealthy capital of the nation of Babylonia. In one fell swoop, Nebuchadnezzar had made a young Jew ruler over many of his own countrymen.

  Not all of us captives from Judah were so honored.

  Many of my people served as slaves. Others had been sent to live in Babylonian lands previously uninhabited. Some, like my father, occupied more menial positions in Babylon. My father’s skills had earned him the post of assistant to a scribe. Though my mother and sisters wove baskets for a merchant in the market, and my brothers worked in the docks, my father’s salary was the mainstay of our home. His meager income had to stretch eight ways and was never enough. In a moment of desperation, my father had borrowed from a money lender at an exorbitant rate. And now, he could not pay it back.

  He had wept when he had approached his kinsman Daniel. Wept with sorrow and, I suspect, no little shame. Though he had my blessing, offering to sell his youngest daughter to his wealthy cousin nearly broke my father’s heart. Of course, we all hoped that my family would save enough to redeem me within the year. But I suspected our hope to be more of a vain dream than a realistic plan. In all the years we had lived in Babylon, my family had yet to save a single silver shekel.

  To our relief, Daniel had graciously offered to buy me from my father. Only to return me to my family, immediately, as a kinsman-redeemer would.

  My father had hung his head. “We cannot afford to feed her, you see. We simply do not have enough. Would you allow her to work for you? She will earn her bread, I promise. Send her home to us every Sabbath so we can see her and rejoice.”

  Lord Daniel had agreed. He might have been a cousin to us, but he was as many times removed from my father’s bloodlines as my fraying tunic was from the sheep that had been shorn to weave its fabric. Daniel did not have to act as my redeemer by Law, nor did he have to multiply his generosity by feeding and housing me at his own expense.

  I understood how important it was that I repay my master’s generosity with useful labor. I patted my father’s shoulder again. “I will work hard, Father. You need not worry. I will not shame you and Mother.”

  He laid his warm hand on my cheek. “We never worry about that.”

  Lord Daniel’s house was everything you might expect in a nobleman’s residence. Years ago, he had lived at the palace, but he received permission from the king to move into his own house when his sons were born. Three stories tall, the building had walls of expensive oven-baked bricks, whitewashed to battle the brutal heat of Babylonian summers.

  This palatial dwelling had little in common with our tiny rectangular reed home and its reed-mat doors. The front door of Daniel’s sumptuous home, along with its frame and lintels, was made of sturdy timber, a commodity Babylonia had to import at great expense.

  “Cedars from Lebanon,” my father breathed, probably remembering another door from a home long since lost.

  I had few such memories. My mother had barely weaned me when the siege of Jerusalem began. I had just turned four when it ended in a tide of fire and blood. Sometimes I fancied I could still hear the echo of hideous wailing in my dreams, the kind of grim, animal howls only a war can squeeze out of human throats.

  I had come along when my mother had believed herself too old to bear more children. She named me Keren-happuch, after Job’s youngest daughter. I suppose everyone in Jerusalem had felt a little like Job by then. But, rather too hopefully as it turned out, she had chosen the name of a daughter conceived after Job’s troubles had ended. Ours were only about to begin.

  Our family was one of the blessed. Save for my eldest brother, the rest of us had survived the butchery of angry Babylonian soldiers who were fed up with Judah’s repeated treachery. We had survived Nebuchadnezz
ar’s sword, the fires of war, the gnaw of famine, the waves of pestilence.

  Only to be carried to Babylon as captives.

  Ten years had passed since the day my family sat by the waters of the Euphrates, exhausted by their long, merciless march, and wept for the home they would never see again. Some wounds cannot be healed by the passing of time. They fade, only to gape and bleed again at some unexpected provocation. Which was why my father would stand and stare at strange times, eyes welling up abruptly as they did now, coming face-to-face with memories trapped in a door made of rare cedars.

  I pressed his hand in comfort. He smiled, trying to steady his quivering chin, and raised his knuckles to rap reverently upon the amber-colored planks. A slave dressed in a neat, short tunic invited us in. “The master is expecting you,” he said with a bow of his head.

  Though he spent most of his time at the palace, Lord Daniel had a whole chamber set aside for his work at home. Bent over a pile of clay documents on his otherwise neat table, he was so deep in thought that our entrance did not rouse him. We stood quietly near the door, waiting to be acknowledged. Behind him, a partitioned case housing numerous clay tablets and cylinders spanned the full length of the wall. In one corner of it, he had stacked scrolls of papyrus, which were not as popular in Babylonia as clay documents.

  My fingers itched to look at those tablets, to try and decipher them and see how well Grandfather’s teaching had served me. In Babylonia, girls were usually not taught how to read and write. But my grandfather had other notions.

  By the time I started to toddle, Grandfather had become afflicted with the start of his shaking disease and could no longer serve as a scribe. For the first time in his life, he had the luxury of free time. And he was bored. He discovered quickly that I found his stylus and tablets fascinating and began to teach me. We bonded together over what we both liked best. The knowledge and power of words. I would miss him, living away from home.

  My new master lifted his head and blinked as if awakening from a dream. “Asa! Forgive me. I did not hear you come in.” He rose from his seat, the folds of his long sea-green tunic falling about him in an orderly wave.