Army of God

by Dennis Bailey

  More cheers and clapping erupted.

  Noah approached him and took from the cart the sword brandished by his rival. He scanned the weapon. “Malluch, you boast of the prowess of the metal artisans of Enoch, and indeed, you boast rightly, for their skill in fashioning with the hammer is without equal. And it cannot be denied their weapons are of the highest caliber. But for what purpose are they crafted? So the men of Enoch can arm themselves for an attack on their neighbors? Was it not the Enochites who carried out a raid just last year on one of the northern villages?”

  “I heard that was no raid, but retribution for a wrong committed by one of the villagers against a Lord of Enoch,” Shechem said.

  Noah slammed the sword back into the cart. “And what wrong committed by one man against another could justify the destruction of an entire village?”

  By now, some in the crowd fidgeted as if being bitten by fleas. Others gathered their supplies and left the square. Bohar signaled to his cohorts, who furtively reached to the ground for stones. He backed into the crowd and circled outside of Noah’s view.

  “Were you there?’ Malluch said. “Did you see what happened?”

  Noah moved forward but remained silent.

  “These seven generations, you and our fathers have taught us to fear a God who hasn’t revealed Himself since the time of Adam. If the Enochites felt the need to defend themselves, who are we to judge?”

  “You do not have to be a judge to recognize the injustice of punishing many for the sins of one.” He motioned toward the caravans. “And what about these women? Do they know why they were brought here?”

  “To find husbands.”

  “Whose husbands? Do you mean the husbands of Eden who frequent the tents encamped just outside the city?”

  Malluch glared, and Noah caught sight of Bohar attempting to flank him between two of the carts. Inching closer, the man whose reputation with a knife was well known, appeared to conceal something beneath his tunic.

  Japheth, one of Noah’s sons, stopped Bohar’s advance by grabbing him from behind and immobilizing the hidden forearm with a strong squeezing grip. The would-be assailant twisted to see the huge man wearing a brown chagowr and sling towering over him by nearly half a cubit, but otherwise couldn’t move. Noah exhaled in relief and threw an approving nod to the son whose power and strength he’d come to depend on but never took for granted.

  At the same time, Noah’s younger son, Shem, passed through the crowd and stood beside his father. “It’s time to leave,” he whispered.

  “Would you have me leave before my message is complete? Can truth be deferred until tomorrow?”

  Shem examined Noah through deep-set cocoa eyes fixed above a softly-chiseled, tanned face. “Father, we need to go … Now.”

  He furrowed his brow. “Son, why do you show such disrespect for me in public?”

  “Father, please. Look in their hands.”

  Roughly one hundred-twenty men remained in the city gate following the others’ departure. Most, including Malluch, had withdrawn from the center of the square leaving Noah and his son alone.

  Bohar’s allies appeared to look to him for a signal, but he remained locked in Japheth’s grasp. He walked him to join his father and Shem. Together the four exited the square and moved along a side street lined with flat-roofed houses of stone and mortar. Once out of sight of the crowd, they stopped, and Japheth pulled Bohar’s hand—and the span-length knife it held—from beneath his tunic.

  He sneered, exposing a mouthful of green-encrusted teeth. “You know, one day I’m going to be the one coming up behind you.”

  “Maybe.” Japheth said. “If you tread lightly enough and the wind is right?” He squeezed his wrist until the knife dropped, then retrieved it and slowly turned it over in his palm. Dried blood stained both sides of the blade.

  Bohar’s eyelids froze and he slowly backed away toward the city gate, as though fearful Japheth might use the knife on him.

  Noah thanked his son for the timely intervention but mourned his inability to reach his countrymen. Many in the crowd had been loyal to his father, Lamech, until deceived by the riches of Enoch. It was probably his final opportunity to reach those whose hearts were being led away from God. He feared the beginning of the end of a culture dating back to the creation.

  “Did you see how red Malluch’s face got back there?” Shem said. “Father, I’m afraid this will only make him more determined to have you killed.”

  “It seems twenty years has done nothing to temper his desire for revenge.” News of the slaughter at the garden had traveled through Eden like the wind. Malluch made no attempt to conceal his feelings, vowing on his father’s and brother’s graves to repay Lamech and his son for their betrayal. Soon thereafter, he traveled to the land of Nod, allegedly to lay blame against them for the death of the sons of Enoch. For his part, Noah took no satisfaction in having been proven right. He and his family mourned the loss of life but, of course, could do nothing else to lessen his foe’s suffering. He’d been warned.

  “So, what do we do?”

  “Well, the fact he tried to have Bohar’s men stone me in the open means he’s afraid to get his own hands bloody. And that could work to our advantage.” At the top of the street, thirty to forty supporters gathered round an animated Bohar, who kept pointing to the four men. “But for now, we should get off the street.”

  As the four men moved between the houses, rocks fell around them, one glancing off Shem’s left leg. The large group of men charged toward them. Shem and Japheth drew their swords, but their father touched them both on the shoulder. “Wait.”

  He reached for a palm-size rock, one hurled by their attackers. He threw it, striking Bohar in the center of his forehead and knocking him backwards off his feet. When the others saw their companion felled, they stopped and surrounded his unmoving body.

  “Now we can walk home,” he said.

  Chapter 2

  Noah stood next to Miryam at a table in the food preparation area of their home hoping to distract her. The aroma of fresh-baked bread filled the room. Four and a half centuries of marriage hadn’t tempered his affection for her, and with good reason. Except for a few gray hairs, she hadn’t aged, her thin lips soft and moist, her olive skin still smooth and without flaw. He wrapped an arm around the waist of her maroon tunic and drew himself in, burying his nose in her hair. The smell of lilac mixed with the yeast made for an enticing fragrance.

  “Trouble in the square today?” Miryam batted his hand away from the bread.

  “What makes you think that?”

  She looked up from the table where she pitted some dates. “Those two.”

  Across the room, Shem stared out the window of their home just outside the city, while Japheth paced the room.

  “Some men wanted to stone me.”

  “Oh, is that all?” Miryam smirked and raised her eyebrows before returning her attention to the dates.

  He understood his wife well enough to recognize her attempt to make light of it was just a masquerade. She’d be worried, especially if she knew how close he’d come to really being stoned.

  Japheth joined Shem at the window. “What are you watching for? If they were coming, they’d have been here by now.”

  “Your brother’s right, son.” Noah joined them. “Malluch is no fool. He knows it would be unwise to molest us so soon after the incident at the square today.”

  Inside, he agreed with his second born about their opponent’s failure to incite the crowd against them. Malluch had his sight fixed on the governorship and wasn’t about to allow today’s setback to interfere with his plans. With Lamech ageing, Noah remained the only thing standing in the way of his rise to power in Eden.

  “That’s what bothers me,” Shem said. “What his next move is going to be.”

  For twenty years, they’d expected an attempt on their father’s life, for Malluch wasn’t the type of man to threaten idly. But being the son of the governor still afforded th
e heir a certain degree of authority and respect. Until today.

  Miryam’s penetrating chestnut brown eyes told him she knew his thoughts exactly. “Are the three of you going to stand there looking out the window all night? Husband, sons. Come and eat.”

  With his family seated on the floor around an area where they gathered for meals, Noah bowed his head. “Blessed be the Lord our God, who brings forth this bread from the earth—”

  A light knocking interrupted the prayer. Shem started to stand but Noah grabbed an arm to restrain him. “Malluch’s men wouldn’t knock.” He regarded Japheth’s wife, Elisheva, a beauty of medium height whose face featured full lips and an even fuller set of eyebrows. “See who it is, daughter.”

  She rose to open the door, her thick and wavy dark brown hair swinging as she walked. “Father, it’s a young woman—and a beautiful one at that.”

  * * *

  Four hours of darkness had covered the land by the time Shechem arrived at the city gate to meet Malluch, Bohar, and twenty of their followers. Lamps long extinguished cooled inside the surrounding houses, while outside the moon offered just enough light to see without torches. “Lamech isn’t going to like this,” Shechem said. “Killing his heir.”

  “And which of you is going to tell him?” Malluch strained to make out the faces of the men gathered in front of him.

  “No one is going to have to tell him. When Noah and his family turn up dead, Lamech will be suspicious. He may be old, but he’s not senile. He knows what happened at the square today.”

  “Turn up dead, you said.”

  “Right.”

  “Suppose they don’t turn up at all.”

  “That will make him even more suspicious.”

  “Will it? After today, he’ll simply figure the Preacher took his family and fled the city rather than risk being stoned.”

  Bohar pulled out another knife. “Malluch, why don’t you just let me sneak in there and slit their throats? It’s my specialty.”

  “They’d smell you before you got halfway through the door,” Shechem said. Muffled laughter erupted from the raiding party. In the subdued lighting, Bohar shot him a scowl. “And if you get caught, Japheth will do more than take your knife away this time. He’ll stick it in a place where sitting becomes a problem.”

  Bohar manipulated the knife through his fingers. “We’ll see.”

  “Forget this wrangling.” Malluch waved a dismissive hand in front of them. “I didn’t bring all these men so you could slit a few throats. Didn’t I just say I didn’t want them to turn up at all?” He glared at his two subordinates. “Which means they have to disappear. Without evidence of their bodies, it will be much easier for Lamech to accept they chose to flee the city on their own. Especially when a few of you witnessed it.” Several men nodded. “But no one’s going to believe they fled on their own if you transform their home into a sacrificial altar.”

  Shechem stepped forward “All right, what’s your plan?”

  “We’ve got twenty-three men here, right?” And there are only three of them, not including the women.” More heads bobbed. “Well, with those odds, if we can’t move in and subdue six sleeping people, maybe I should have recruited some real soldiers. Like maybe half a dozen children.” Some of the men scoffed.

  “What about Japheth? He’s a powerful man.”

  “I thought about that. Bohar, this is where you come in. Somebody get a torch lit the moment you’ve laid hands on the Preacher’s family. Then you and three others put knives to the women’s throats fast. The men will be less likely to resist if they see their women vulnerable.”

  “Then what?” Shechem said out of more than mere skepticism. Many years before, he’d confided to him his childhood love for Elisheva, Japheth’s wife, a decision he hoped he wouldn’t now come to regret.

  “We bound and gag them, load them into carts, and transport them out of town along with some of their livestock so it appears they left on their own.” Malluch eyed Shechem. “Then we take them to a remote location, burn them, and bury their bodies in a place where they will never be found.

  “Burn them?” His heart melted, and he hoped the darkness concealed the shock on his face. Not Elisheva.

  “Yes, burn them. Any questions?” No one responded. As they departed, Malluch turned to Bohar. “Remember what I said. Don’t get overzealous with that knife now. If you don’t mess this up, I may let you use it later. I may even let you have one of the women. I know about that specialty too.”

  Bohar’s scowl morphed into a broad grin.

  * * *

  Twenty-three figures crept from the roadway leading two furlongs north to Eden and the modest stone house where Noah and his family lived. During their approach, Shechem’s long-held opinion—that it wasn’t much of a house for the son of a governor— confounded him again. Only now, he had more important things to focus on than the size and opulence of his enemy’s home, chief of these being Japheth’s might. Provoked, he possessed the strength to take half their company by himself. And what about Elisheva? Would he be able to stand by and let the love of his youth be murdered?

  The three-quarter moon painted the slight rise of grass leading from the road to the house in a grayish-blue tint. Stone fencing built to contain livestock ran perpendicular to the left side of the house, while the sound of lowing cattle came from pastures in the rear. To the right grew vegetables and herbs cultivated in expansive gardens.

  Halfway to the house, the sound of horses coming from the south prompted Malluch to raise his hand. “Get down.”

  Everyone dove to the ground, burying their faces in the grass while trying to remain motionless. On the road below, six horses and riders slowed to a stop. Why pause here at this time of night?

  Two men dismounted and surveyed the area. Shechem slowly reached for the hilt of his sword. If detected, they’d have to kill the men. Worse, any commotion would surely arouse Noah’s family, forcing him and the others to dispose of them immediately in opposition to Malluch’s strategy.

  “Can’t it wait?” one of the men on horseback said. “We’re almost to Eden.”

  One of the two men cursed, then he and the other man stood on the far side of the road relieving themselves.

  The high-pitched whine of a blood fly buzzed in Shechem’s ear. He tried to repel it by gently wiping the side of his head in the grass but only succeeded in driving the pest to the other ear. Other members of their party quietly attempted to fend off the swarming insects targeting their head and feet.

  “Don’t move,” Malluch whispered, his voice low and threatening.

  Shechem used every bit of strength to keep from slapping at the two flies feeding simultaneously from his neck and left ear, but he was weakening.

  On the far side of the road, the two men continued to water the grass. They either had iron bladders or were returning from a long night of drinking.

  When they finished, the men mounted their horses. Just as they hit the saddle, a smacking sound came from a few cubits to the right where Malluch and Bohar lay side by side.

  “What was that?” one of the riders said, the six of them looking toward the house.

  Even in the moonlight, the tall grass should’ve been enough to conceal them. But Malluch wasn’t taking any chances. He drew his sword and slid it along the ground, laying it across Bohar’s neck.

  “Forget it,” another rider’s voice said. Let’s go.” The men turned their horses north and galloped off toward the city.

  Following their departure, Shechem joined the others in a collective sigh and the furious scratching of skin. Their leader removed his sword from Bohar’s neck, who tried hiding his face from the others.

  Malluch used the interruption to issue a final admonition. “The souls of my father and brother cry out for vengeance. Tonight, I will silence them. Don’t forget what I said about securing the women first. It will make handling Japheth much easier. Most of all, not a drop of blood spilt here.”

  Once the r
aiders reached the perimeter, he gestured for half the men to move to the rear of the house. The remaining members pressed themselves against the stone wall on either side of the front door. Blackness stared back at the group of intruders from the few window openings located in the walls. Not even a night lamp burned inside.

  Shechem readied his team for entry, and hoped his loyalty and friendship to Malluch might later serve as a bargaining chip to spare Elisheva. He cared little what happened to the Preacher or the rest of his family, even less for Japheth, whom he fully intended to kill himself. But for now, he only wanted to control him, to keep from being pushed into a fight that forced them to kill Noah’s family tonight. Everything had to take place according to the plan if he was to have the time needed to plead for his friend’s life.

  Lookouts at the corners of the house signaled the readiness of the two teams. With a whistle, the assassins entered the front and rear doors.

  Chapter 3

  Despite traveling at night, Noah and his family had put six hours between themselves and the southern bank of the Eden River. He and Miryam steered one of three carts loaded with the family’s belongings and food. Shem and Japheth, mounted on donkeys, drove the cattle. A dry summer had sapped the river of both power and depth, nullifying their father’s concern about having to cross it.

  “Father, I still don’t understand why we didn’t stay and fight,” Japheth said. “Shem and I could have easily rounded up enough men loyal to you and Grandfather.”

  “You saw the size of that crowd this afternoon. Even if Malluch had managed to recruit only half of them, would you have been able to marshal a hundred men before sunset?”

  Shem pulled ahead of his brother. “We don’t even know if this woman is telling the truth.”

  Noah watched his youngest eyeing the beautiful stranger with the gold scarf sitting next to his mother. Just hours earlier, she arrived in Eden with the hopes of finding a husband, naïve to the fact she’d be forced into a life of harlotry. But her destiny changed when she overheard a group of Malluch’s men planning to murder their family later tonight. Alone in a strange city, she managed to slip away from her procurers, locate their home, and warn them. Now, she found herself as they did, a fugitive fleeing for her life.