Army of God

by Dennis Bailey

  Maybe their relationship would return to normal now that they were in their new home. And if something was going on, maybe it would be curtailed with so many watchful eyes around the palace. For the first time in years, he saw real hope for a renewal of their marriage.

  He took a last drink of wine and set the cup on the table next to his wife’s chalice. He called to her.

  No answer.

  He called a second time, again receiving no response. He walked into their bedroom. His wife was asleep on the bed, still in her celebration gown.

  Chapter 17

  Noah had a great vantage point to see the commotion racing toward them from their house below. He and Shem were standing on shores twenty-five cubits high, preparing to fasten a longitudinal segment of framing between two rib sections at the front of the ark. Shiphrah chased Ham up the hill, chalky clouds of dust billowing from her hair as she ran.

  “Get back here, you little aardvark!” Shiphrah said.

  Ham was filling out as a young man, and even though he was just fifteen, he was fast enough to stay several steps in front of his adopted sister. When he reached the top of the hill, he peered over his shoulder where Shiphrah was gaining on him, then bore down to reach the ark’s skeleton.

  Once inside the structure, Ham increased his lead, nimbly weaving in and out of the transverse ribs along the left side while Shiphrah struggled to keep up. Passing beneath Noah and Shem, Ham climbed through the timbers like a monkey in a tree. He stopped several cubits above Noah and Shem, huffing and puffing to catch his breath.

  “Come down here,” Shiphrah said.

  “How about you come get me,” Ham said in a slightly effeminate voice.

  Shiphrah shook her fist “I’m going to pound you.”

  “Not from down there you’re not.”

  “Father, make him come down.”

  “What happened, daughter?” Noah said.

  “What happened? Look at my hair. Ham dumped a bowl of flour on my head.”

  Biting his lip to restrain a smile, he looked to Ham.

  “I just wanted to see how she would look as an old woman,” Ham said.

  “That wasn’t a nice thing to do, son. And it was a waste of food.”

  Shem and Ham snickered.

  Shiphrah reached to her waist to grab a handful of hair, lifting it in the air. Flakes of flour fell to the ground. “How can you joke about it?” Shiphrah said.

  Noah hadn’t really meant to be humorous, even though it had come out that way. “It will come out.” The men turned to the sound of Miryam’s voice wafting up the hill, calling for Shiphrah. Now there’s an answer to unspoken prayer if ever there was one. “Your mother is calling you.”

  “Good thing for him.” Shiphrah pointed up at Ham. “Because I intended to wait right here until he came down.” She exited the ark then bent to shake the flour from her dangling hair in front of an approaching Japheth.

  “Trying for an older look, Shiphrah?” he said.

  She swung her hair in his direction, showering him with flour. Japheth coughed and brushed himself with both hands. “No, I thought I’d use my hair to sift the flour we’re using to make your meal.” She peered at him through narrowed eyes, forcing from him a sheepish grin.

  “Shiphrah,” Miryam called again.

  “Coming.” She looked up at Ham. “But he still has a pounding coming.” She headed down the hill.

  As the top of her white-streaked head vanished from sight, Japheth continued to brush himself off. “I’d stay out of her way for a while if I were you, little brother.”

  “If you’re through playing around,” Shem said to Ham. “How about helping us set the other end of this section.”

  Ham climbed down next to Noah. “Father,” Ham said. “Why does Shiphrah have no husband?”

  He’d been expecting this question for a long time. Ham had grown up in a house where all the women were married. It only made sense he would eventually come to wonder about Shiphrah, more so now that he’d entered adolescence. “You remember the story I told you of how she came to us?”

  Ham nodded.

  “Shiphrah’s warning made her a fugitive as well and sacrificed her chance for a husband.”

  “That’s not fair.” Ham’s brow furrowed.

  “We not only owe her our lives, but a whole lot more. You might want to remember that the next time you think about throwing flour in her hair.”

  Ham dipped his chin.

  “Here they come,” Shem said. Noah and his two other sons looked downhill to where a group of fourteen people approached along a road from the east. Eight were mounted on donkeys, with a half dozen more—two girls, four boys—riding in an ox-drawn cart. They stopped on the road along the base of the hill.

  Noah’s prediction about the ark becoming a local attraction had come to pass. Their visit from a neighbor ten years ago was just the beginning. Now he, and dozens of people from nearby farms and villages, made almost daily pilgrimages to the ark site. Some were merely passersby, curious types who altered their travel route to see the construction. Others brought a meal, sat down in the grass, and made a day of it. One industrious farmer even set up a stand to sell bread, fresh vegetables, and water. “Dependable as the sunrise.”

  A man he recognized as the neighbor who’d first visited the ark waved when he dismounted.

  “You boys planning to work all day?” he said, looking to the sky. “I think we’re going to get some rain.”

  The sky was nearly cloudless. Shem shook his head.

  How many times had they heard the same chides? Over the years, their neighbor had become predictable to the point of boredom. If he only knew what was coming, he’d choose another subject to deride them about. Yet for all his ignorant jesting, at least this neighbor had remained good natured about it. Not so with so many of the others.

  “As long as we have light to see,” Noah said for the hundredth time.

  A man driving the oxen stood up in the cart. “Shipbuilder. My wife did laundry this morning with no place to dry it. Mind if I hang it on some of your boat timbers?” The crowd burst into laughter.

  “I wonder if he’d be laughing if I hung him from one of the timbers,” Japheth said.

  “Shipbuilder, I hear you’re looking to put a bunch of animals aboard this boat. I’ll give you a good deal on a couple of donkeys.” More laughter from the onlookers.

  “Only if they’re better looking than you, donkey face,” Ham hollered back. The four boys in the cart, who Noah suspected were sons of the driver, jumped out and searched along the ground for something.

  “Ham!” His father was concerned about more than the propriety of his son’s outburst. They had enough to worry about without antagonizing the onlookers into more than name-calling.

  “But Father, how long must we take these insults?”

  “Did his words hurt you?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “Show me your bruises.”

  “Bruises?”

  “Bruises, cuts, scrapes.”

  “Ham quickly scanned his torso and both sides of his hands. “I—”

  “The only thing injured is your pride. And believe me, it will heal.”

  A loud cracking sound against the ark’s frame drew their attention back down the hill. About halfway up the incline, the four boys threw rocks.

  Japheth started toward them, but a rock glanced off one of the beams, striking Ham in the forehead and sending him backwards off the shoring. Noah ducked under a timber and dove to the edge of the support to catch Ham by the forearm.

  His youngest hung suspended twenty-five cubits above the ground.

  Shem rushed to help Noah, but his older son was quicker, scaling the ark’s frame in a matter of parts. He came up beneath Ham and grabbed him about the waste with one arm, while holding onto a crossbeam with the other. “Got him.”

  Noah released his grip and Japheth started back down with his unconscious brother cradled against his hip. Meanwhile, at the b
ase of the hill, the sounds of squeaking wheels and galloping feet hinted at what they would see. Dust hung in the air while his family’s tormenters headed back up the road from which they came.

  * * *

  Noah stood watching over Ham until his eyelids began to flutter. Miryam pulled a cloth soaked in cool water from his forehead, revealing a nasty crease above his right eyebrow.

  Relief washed over him upon his son’s return to consciousness. “Welcome back, son.”

  “How do you feel?” Miryam said.

  “Stupid,” Ham said. “I heard the rocks hitting the ark and didn’t do a thing to move out of the way.”

  “I mean how does your head feel?”

  “It hurts.”

  “It will, for a while. But I want you to take it easy the rest of the day.”

  “And leave Japheth and Shem to carry my load? Not a chance.”

  Japheth touched Ham’s shoulder. “It’s all right, little brother. Shem and I have it.” Ham turned to Shem, who winked and nodded.

  Ariel and Elisheva leaned over to speak a word of comfort to Ham before departing to another part of the house. Shiphrah sat down beside him, her long hair brushing against his arm. Ham wove his fingers through the few remaining strands of bleached hair. “I still think you’ll look good in your old age.”

  “Thanks,” Shiphrah said. “Looks like you got yourself a reprieve from a beating.”

  “Believe it or not, I’d rather have taken the pounding.”

  The whole family laughed.

  “Father.”

  “Yes, my son.”

  Ham reached up to the wound on his forehead. “This one hurts more.”

  “Hurts more than what?”

  “A wound to my pride.”

  “Don’t worry. It will heal just as quickly. Now get some rest.”

  As he turned to leave, Ham grabbed his arm. “Do you have to go just yet?”

  “Not if you don’t want me to.” Noah nodded at Shiphrah, who resumed her chores. He sat on the other side of Ham. “What is it?”

  “How about a story? Like the ones you used to tell me.”

  “A story, huh? Now let me see.” He wrapped his fingers around his chin to give Ham the impression he was deep in thought. “I think I’ve about exhausted my collection of—I’ve got it. Something different from all the others. This story is true.”

  “A true story?”

  “Yes. Has anyone ever told you the story about your great-great-grandfather?”

  “No, but I’m curious because I overheard Shem and Japheth talking about it over a year ago. But when I asked them, all they would tell me was he disappeared.”

  “He didn’t disappear, son. He was taken.”

  “Who took him?”

  “Did your brothers tell you his name?”

  “Enoch. But that’s the name of that wicked city to the northeast. Surely he wasn’t named after it?”

  “No. Cain’s firstborn was also named Enoch. The city was built long before your great-great-grandfather was born.”

  “So who took him?”

  “To my way of thinking, Enoch was the greatest of our fathers, a man so righteous in his ways it was said he walked with God. Enoch was also a mighty prophet. He was the first to warn that God would return one day to execute judgment on the wicked and on those who had spoken evil against Him. About 580 years ago, your great-grandfather and Enoch were out tending the fields together when they were surrounded by a great light radiating from heaven. So bright was this light that your great-grandfather could barely make out the form of Enoch standing only a few cubits away.”

  Ham blinked rapidly beneath ever-raising eyebrows.

  “And your great-grandfather tried calling out to him. But his voice was restrained and no sound came forth from his mouth. So he tried moving toward Enoch, but his feet were as if set in stone. Then after fifty-four parts, the brilliance of the light began to fade, and with it the image of Enoch. And when the light was gone, Enoch was gone with it.”

  “Are you saying God took him?”

  “Yes, son. Now rest.”

  “Incredible.” Ham smiled before closing his eyes.

  Noah watched him for a few dozen parts until he’d drifted off. They were lucky today. A split part later and Ham would have fallen to his death. But what about tomorrow? Surely these mockers, or others like them, would be back and then what? Would the ease with which they’d taken out Ham provoke them to even greater acts of violence? Moving to the higher levels of the ark’s construction came with its own perils, ones made worse now that Noah and his sons had become targets.

  Tomorrow, they would arm themselves.

  Chapter 18

  In the 525th year of Noah . . .

  Shechem looked in awe upon Enoch from the safety of a second story balcony in the prince’s palace. Below, a celebration akin to none he’d witnessed since his injury here twenty-five years ago spilled out into the streets with hundreds of people. Tomorrow, a sacrifice to the gods of this land would be offered, but tonight was a night for revelry.

  The scene reminded him of the marketplace at nighttime, with vendors lining both sides of the street. Only these merchants weren’t there to haggle over the price of a melon or a loaf of bread. He might as well have had a front row seat at the arena, watching while hapless victims scurry about trying to keep from being eaten alive.

  From doorways and street corners, men and women offered themselves to the many intoxicated patrons staggering by. Even those declining service often found their purses lightened by an affectionate touch to distract them from the unseen fingers slipping into their pockets.

  Dozens of young men banded together in packs of three or more to roam Enoch’s avenues in search of victims. After a while, even the drunks learned to stay together to keep from being robbed.

  Two women brawling in the dirt over a customer to the left of Shechem’s balcony drew only passing attention.

  One enterprising young woman overestimated her cleverness when she foolishly tried targeting one of Enoch’s soldiers. It was a mistake that would cost her more than her virtue.

  Pressing her mouth against her would-be victim’s ear, she deftly located and removed the soldier’s moneybag. Everything was going perfectly during the transfer until several coins fell out and clanged together on the ground. Alerted to the theft, the soldier grabbed her by the arm, drew his sword, and cut her hand off. With all the concern of someone reaching for a dropped scarf, he plucked the moneybag from the fingers of the severed appendage.

  On another corner, a woman bartered with a man for her young child. Only the transaction took a deadly turn when the man, possibly upset over the asking price, pulled a knife and stabbed the woman in the chest. He then seized the boy by the arm and pulled him down the street, leaving his mother to bleed out on the ground.

  For a moment, Shechem wanted to go to her aid. But the screams of a man being beaten and yanked down a side street awakened him to reality. For the next 180 parts, people walked around or over the woman’s dying body. One man, who had stepped in her blood, stooped to wipe his sandal with the hem of her garment. When she reached to grab his arm, he dragged her several dozen cubits down the street. “Get off me!” he yelled, pulling free and running away.

  As if by command, the screaming subsided and the gangs rushed to hide among the buildings. The sound of an approaching cart driven by a middle-aged couple garnered his attention. In the rear, two young women and a teenage boy sat on straw-covered floorboards. They seemed out of place when they stopped across from the balcony where Shechem watched.

  “Hello there,” the man called out to the flesh peddlers standing nearby. “Is there a place we can spend the night?” An eerie silence hung in the air, broken only by the cursing of the two harlots who continued to scrap in the street. “We’ve traveled far. Is there somewhere we can rest?”

  Like wolves approaching from four directions, no fewer than twenty howling men descended upon the family, grabbing
and pulling them from the cart. The pillagers ripped their clothes off even whilst they carried their screaming victims away, each in a different direction. Two other men climbed aboard the cart and drove it—and all evidence the family ever existed— away. It was over in less than eighteen parts.

  Once the remaining revelers returned to the street, Shechem decided he’d seen enough and turned to the equally rowdy gathering taking place inside the palace. Before entering, his eyes were drawn one last time to the macabre image of a dead body on one corner and a severed hand on the other.

  When he entered from the balcony, two men, an intoxicated guest, and a palace guard met him. He moved back to allow the drunk to stumble past down the hall. “Are you the Eden Army Commander?” the guard said.

  “Yes, I’m Shechem.”

  “Malluch would like to see you.”

  He was just a bit surprised. The governor had bid goodnight several hours ago, meaning Shechem hadn’t expected to see him again until morning.

  He followed a pace behind the soldier down a long corridor to where a pair of double doors opened to a room on the right. As they approached, two naked men holding hands ran into the hallway, saw them, and scurried back into the room. Laughter and sighs of passion spilled out into the corridor from the entrance. The guard passed by without looking in, but Shechem couldn’t control his curiosity.

  Dozens of pillows scattered the floor of the room, where forty or more men and women came together in various acts of natural and unnatural carnal knowledge. He stood mesmerized, staring into the room where the Enochites played.

  “Sir,” the palace guard said.

  He took a moment to imagine himself a participant. But he quickly dismissed it, rationalizing his brief desire a consequence of Claudia’s recent coldness. “Lead on.”

  At the end of the corridor, the guard knocked on the first door.

  “What is it?” Malluch said.

  You sent for Shechem, my lord.”

  “Send him in.”

  Malluch sat with his head down and a towel wrapped around his waist. Fifteen cubits across the room, a man and a woman, both naked, slept on a bed.