by Brian Godawa
But Nimrod watched her with lifeless eyes, daring her to keep going.
So she did.
She finally stripped off all her garments and poured oil on her body to create a glistening accent. She rubbed it around with self-eroticism.
Nimrod was awakening.
She smiled with pleasure and entered the water completely naked. The water shimmered off the oil on her still smooth skin. Her voluptuous curves cut through the water with grace.
She eased herself down and went below the waterline. Nimrod moaned with pleasure and held her head below until she was losing her breath. He pulled her up sputtering to fill her lungs with air.
Then he assaulted her.
He could no longer have normal sexual relations. His descent into depravity had stolen any ability to enter into beauty, love, or normal sensuality. He had to treat his sexual partners as victims with force. He had to rape or he would not find satisfaction. If they were too submissive, he would beat them and force them to fight back.
He nearly drowned her several times. Bringing her to the edge of death is what excited him the most. He would have preferred killing her at his moment of climax, which he often did with servants. But of course, she was the queen, and he needed her to administer the kingdom in his lack of interest in petty bureaucracy.
She had become devious and controlling in her ruling. He knew what she was doing, but he did not care. He knew she wanted power and was desperate to get their son Mardon on the throne as her puppet. But he had his spies. And as soon as he caught wind of a planned coup or assassination, he would immediately execute her. Until that time, she was of use to him because he did not want to handle the day-to-day vagaries of ruling over people. And he certainly could not trust anyone else either.
And if she thought Mardon would do her bidding, she was only fooling herself. Nimrod figured that he would not kill Mardon because should Nimrod fail to achieve his satisfaction against El Shaddai for taking away his kingdom, Mardon was his final dice to play. Nimrod would find some final pleasure in his own passing, knowing that he was unleashing hell on earth with the ascent of Mardon to the throne.
He lay in the bloody water recovering his own breath. Semiramis limped over to him and laid her head with a blackened eye on his chest. She raised her bruised arm and stroked the hair on his chest. She coughed some of the water up from her lungs. She knew she had to get out of the water soon to bandage her wounds or she would die from loss of blood. But for just this minute, she wanted to submit to her king, her husband.
She had silent tears that blended with the water going down her purple bruised cheeks. She wheezed with the pain of a couple of broken ribs.
Nimrod looked out into the distance and said, “If you are going to ask me to install Mardon as co-regent, you are going to be sorely displeased.”
She pulled back and looked at him with surprise. He knew why she was there today and it made her boil.
But she kept her cool.
“Nimrod, I cannot handle the administration of the kingdom by myself any longer. I am getting old and it is overwhelming me.”
“You will have to make do,” he said.
“You are never here,” she said.
“Precisely why I do not want him as co-regent,” he said. “I do not trust him in my absence.”
“Then why have you bothered to father him and train him all these years?”
“He will have his day. Right now, I am more concerned about building my armed forces. I have the numbers, but they are untrained. Mostly captured slaves and civilians.”
She stood up and looked down on him. “Do you really think you will achieve your former glory? Will you continue to your dying hour in this obsessive pursuit of the impossible?”
He looked up at her, and said simply, “Yes.”
“We are cursed of El Shaddai. What do you hope to achieve?”
He grabbed her throat and drew her close.
He answered, “But one thing: To vanquish his Chosen Seed.”
He shoved her away like an unwanted pet.
She stormed out of the bath, grabbing her clothes.
He watched her with cold unfeeling eyes as she limped out of the bathhouse.
Semiramis had given up planning a coup. She knew that Nimrod was too paranoid and would see it coming. He had too many spies. There was only one way she would ever see him overthrown and that would be in battle with a king mightier than he. Before the Dispersion that would have been impossible, but now, he was just another king in a world of kings fighting for dominance.
It gave her some satisfaction to know that he was descending into the rage of madness in the face of his humiliating loss of power.
In her private drawing room, Semiramis sat down and composed a letter on a clay tablet. She placed it in its clay envelope and sealed it with the Queen’s seal. Death awaited anyone who opened it other than its intended recipient.
That intended recipient was King Chedorlaomer of Elam, Nimrod’s most feared nemesis.
Chapter 38
Within the last year, Lot had moved his tent near Sodom, learned the rudiments of their language, sold his entire stock and herd and moved into the city. He released his household to find their own way in their new urban lifestyle. He found a woman named Ado, who had no family, married her, and their first child was on its way.
He had moved quickly because he had known what he wanted. He had been dreaming of this for so long and he did not want to wait any longer.
At first, it was exciting. Life in a big city was bustling and energetic. People seemed more progressive than in the rural areas. They were more open-minded about things. They did not judge you for being different because everyone was different. Yet everyone was united by a common vision: The city-state.
It was as if the city was itself one big family of communal existence, with the king as the father or midwife taking care of his children. This made real families less needed as everyone was equal with one another and all were citizens of the state, which protected as many aspects of life as was possible, from the wages of the workers to the welfare of those who could not work. It took the pressure off of immediate families to shoulder each other’s burdens because the king would take care of them. They would simply ship off their aged and infirm to government facilities so they could get back to maximizing their service for the collective.
The city was something bigger than the individual, something higher than one’s self to live for, and it was in that higher cause that they found their meaning and purpose. The individual would die and go to Sheol, but the city that they had invested their lives in would go on forever.
But after his initial excitement wore down, Lot began to see that all was not well in the “Cities of Love.” The government promoted tolerance of all religious devotion. They maintained shrines for gods from all over Canaan. Ashtart was the supreme goddess of the pentapolis and resided in Sodom, entertaining visiting deities like Molech, Asherah, and Dagon.
There was tolerance for all the gods — except one: El Shaddai, the Creator God of all things, the god that Lot worshipped. El Shaddai was burned in effigy, mocked and criticized as being, ironically, an intolerant tyrant who demanded exclusive devotion and was thus unworthy of anything but ridicule. If anyone was discovered to have any kind of personal devotion to El Shaddai, they were imprisoned, tortured, and made an example of.
Needless to say, Lot kept his faith to himself. He told no one of his family background for fear of them discovering his religion. He never told anyone who he really was.
He also saw that the society that touted itself as the “Cities of Love” was actually quite inhospitable to strangers and visitors. Traveling merchants who came to sell their wares in the cities were usually beat up and run out of town because they were considered greedy. But really it was because their prices were so cheap and the local workers were greedy for controlling the marketplace. The city was taking so much of the workers’ income that they barely had enough to
live on, so they did not want anyone else to have what they could not.
There was a circle of rape chairs in the marketplace for the citizens to take the traveling merchants to before they sent them off without their destroyed caravan of goods.
There were no weapons in the city because of the weapons control laws. Yet, Lot had seen more murders in this city than he had in any of the cities of Mesopotamia that had no such laws. He wondered what would be causing such strife and violence if not the implements of violence. But he knew better. He knew evil was bound up in the heart of mankind and that if you took away swords from good men, then only evil men would find a way to have swords and end up killing the good.
But the depth of depravity that shook his soul was the sexual perversity that saturated the cities. There was no respect for persons, animals or even things, as they engaged in rampant carnal excess. Regardless of the abortifacient herbs and potions, there was an explosion of births that the citizens had no desire to take responsibility for. This epidemic of unwanted infants became a source for human sacrifice to Molech the underworld deity. Others just left their infants in the wilderness to die of exposure to the elements and wild animals. It was called a “necessary evil.” Everyone claimed it was a tragedy so many babies had to be sacrificed, but they had to fight for mother’s right to sacrifice their offspring or the gods would curse them with oppression, which was ironically what Lot constantly felt living there as a citizen.
As an elder in the city gates, he had the undesirable privilege of seeing some of the darkest secrets behind the curtains of the ruling class of Ashtart. He had discovered that she was breeding giants through the line of Canaan and sending them to different parts of the country. But it was increasingly apparent that she also engaged in the Sacred Marriage rite of copulation with the daughters of men. Such violation of the heavenly earthly divide had been a strictly forbidden behavior since the Flood. Though she had made a commitment to Mastema to avoid these excesses that brought down such judgment, she could not help herself. She could not keep away from her taste for the strange flesh of humans. She was addicted to it, and she was getting more strident about her carnal defiance. Word was getting out.
Lot was grieved to his soul. But he could not pack up and leave. He had released most of his servants and household and had sold everything. He was invested. He figured that the only way he might have a positive influence on his society was to get involved with the political process, to try to bring change from within. Maybe he could make a difference by becoming an elder of the city. These were the men who acted as judges over the disputes of the people. They would sit in the city gates and render decisions that became binding under the authority of the king.
So he continued to hide his religious devotion to El Shaddai, and joined the government to try to make a difference.
He had no idea what was coming.
Chapter 39
Good and Mighty King Chedorlaomer, I write this letter to you with a sad and grieved heart. Nimrod, the king of Shinar has gone mad. He is no longer competent to reign in this region. He is wantonly executing random citizens, he is causing starvation of his people, and he is planning to reconquer his lost territory to recreate a new slave empire.
But as of yet, his armed forces are weak and untrained. He is a prime target for victory over this region and I plead on behalf of the people of Shinar that you come and liberate us from this tyranny.
I can assure you that his son, Mardon, would be a fair ruler and obedient devoted vassal of your lordship if he should be allowed to ascend to the throne in your good graces.
Please make haste before Nimrod discovers my loyalty to you. And make sure to execute the bearer of this letter.
Forever in your debt,
Queen Semiramis of Shinar.
Chedorlaomer looked up from reading the clay tablet. He gazed at the messenger who waited for a command or reply to be sent. He nodded to the guard behind the messenger who promptly drew his dagger and slit the messenger’s throat, dropping him to the floor.
Chedorlaomer grinned with satisfaction. He had been waiting for just this opportunity. In the past he had been the fiercest of Nimrod’s vassal rulers. He was used by the mighty hunter king to subdue Sodom and Gomorrah and the cities of the plain in Canaan and to secure the King’s Highway for safe trade. He had done Nimrod’s bidding with clenched teeth just waiting for the fall of the cruel despot.
That fall came with the Confusion of Tongues and the great Dispersion when Babel was demolished and abandoned. But he had thought Nimrod was gone, vanished into Sheol. He had after all lost everything from his invincible golem army to his mighty cosmic mountain to his guardian storm god.
It was delightful just to remember the glorious downfall. And even more satisfying that Chedorlaomer had gained Nimrod’s most valued advantage.
He considered it outrageous that Nimrod was on the rise again. Fallen kings were never so obstinate as to think they could regain their former glory. But then again, Nimrod was not the usual fallen king. He was a Naphil giant, born of exalted pride, and his obsession was blinding of all reason.
He handed the tablet to his guardian counselor and asked, “What say you? Shall I muster my forces for the final slaughter of King Nimrod?”
The guardian counselor took the tablet and read it. He crushed it into dust in his huge muscular hands and said, “I have a better plan.”
The guardian counselor was the mighty storm god Marduk, king of the gods.
Chapter 40
The village of Kiriath-Arba rested on the side of a large hill overlooking a valley rich with springs and wells. It was a prime location for defense. They could see the valley all around them for miles. The backside of the hill was virtually inaccessible. They were a clan of only a few hundred giants, but were well-trained warriors between eight and eleven feet tall. They were a fair-skinned people with blonde and red hair, a sixth finger and toe on each hand and foot, and unusually long muscular necks that gave them a look of fierceness in battle. They seemed to be built for war.
King Arba had plans to expand his territory when he had the numbers. He actually had designs on the whole of Canaan. It was quite ambitious and Queen Naqiya would often tease him by calling him “King of Canaan.”
They used regular humans as servants and lived in stone built homes. They built a circular religious site at the top of the hill with megalithic stones that were aligned with the stars to create an astronomical microcosm of the universe. They believed that by aligning themselves with the stars, they would be aligned with the gods.
In the center of the megalithic circles was an upraised altar for excarnation, the practice of leaving the dead out to be de-fleshed by vultures before having the bones placed in ossuaries for burial.
A giant was out amongst the megaliths tending to a recently dead relative when he saw the approach of the caravan of donkeys in the distance. He ran and told the King, who came out to meet the caravan arriving at the village.
The caravan consisted of twenty mules carrying loads of gold, silver, copper, and gemstones. It had come from the Oaks of Mamre, or more accurately, was returning from the Oaks of Mamre.
When Arba saw the payload of precious metals and jewels, he screamed with anger at the top of his lungs. He stomped back to his stone palace and began demolishing things. He crushed two human servants to death before Queen Naqiya arrived to try to calm him down.
She was newly pregnant.
When she arrived, she was disgusted at the sight.
“You are pathetic,” she said to him.
He was weeping with tears of anger. He looked up at her, breathing hard. His eyes filled with hatred.
But she did not stop.
“How dare you ransom our village wealth to satisfy your juvenile fantasies of that bitch whore.”
He stared at her. She was referring to Sarai of course, and he did not hide it from her. Naqiya had what she wanted in carrying the royal seedline. His physical desires were unq
uenchable and he required more than she could give him.
“Look at you. You are like a little child throwing a tantrum because Abram does not want your toys, but you want his. And he has more moral character than you to send back your bribe, which makes you look even more inferior and pathetic.”
It was true. He could not deny it. Arba had been obsessing over Sarai the entire year since he had first seen her in that feast in her Egyptian finery. He could not get her out of his mind. He would fantasize about her while spilling his seed on the ground; he would picture her when he had sexual relations with his wife and concubines. He wanted her and he could not have her. And he was going mad because of it. He was sending spies to report to him her every whereabouts. He was losing his concentration on ruling and taking risks with the community.
This latest was the most foolhardy. He thought that by sending a caravan of half his riches with trust to Abram, it might impress him and tempt him to consider the offer as never before. These were riches accumulated from around the world. Exotic ornamentation and rare gems that would appeal to any man’s greed. Or so Arba thought.
But he was wrong about Abram. And it made him flush with rage.
“You are ruled by your little head, and have endangered this village with your piggish slavery to your lust. What kind of king would give away half his kingdom for the momentary pleasure of violating a dried up old slut?”
Arba stood up and walked up to Naqiya — and punched her hard in the face with his fist. She grunted and fell down to the floor with a gushing bleed from her broken nose.
She tried to get up in an irrational shocked response to the violence. He stomped down on her hand and crushed it with his heel, breaking it with a crunching sound. She screamed in pain. He kicked her in the face and she crashed back down to the floor.
