The stage erupts into absolute decadence. Towering red-and-gold tapestries drop. The COURTIERS reappear, heavily intoxicated, draped over low couches. Servants haul in platters of meat and flagons of wine. BELSHAZZAR takes the center table, crown tilted, a wife on each arm, the terror buried now under spectacle. BELSHAZZAR. (slamming the table, gloriously drunk) More wine! Is this the great Babylon, mistress of nations — and we drink from common clay? No! Bring out the real treasure! Bring out the golden vessels my grandfather Nebuchadnezzar carried home from the temple of Jerusalem! (the court roars) Let us drink from the cups of their dead god and see if His wine tastes any better than ours! SERVANTS carry in the sacred golden chalices, looted from the temple. The courtiers snatch them, slosh them full, toast obscenely. DANIEL, at the edge of the firelight now, goes rigid with horror. DANIEL. (low, to no one, to everyone) Those are the vessels of the House. The holy cups. (he cannot stop it) He means to drink from the cups of God. BELSHAZZAR's bleary eye finds AVIVA at the edge of the hall, still in her palace silk. BELSHAZZAR. Ah! The little delta bird! (he lurches up, seizes her wrist, drags her to the center) You've been too quiet, songbird. I want amusement. I want a song — and not one of our victory hymns. No. I want one of those famous, mournful, tear-soaked songs of Zion. (he forces one of the stolen temple cups into her hand, wine spilling over the sacred engraving) Sing for your god, girl. Sing to Him using His own cup. Let the whole court hear the music of the defeated. The court falls into a mocking, expectant hush. From the orchestra wing, NABU watches white-faced, shaking his head — no, no, remember, sing the gold, not the river. AVIVA looks down at the sacred cup in her hand. At the wine fouling the engraving. At Daniel's steady eyes across the hall. And something in her, something that has been bending her whole life, finally sets like iron. AVIVA. (quiet, then ringing through the hall) You want a song of Zion, King of Babylon? BELSHAZZAR. (grinning, spreading his arms) Enlighten us, little bird. AVIVA. (she sets the sacred cup down on a pedestal — deliberately, reverently — turns to face him, and does not give him the lullaby he expects. She gives him judgment.)
