Army of God

by Dennis Bailey

  He noticed the fly alighting on the wall next to the bed and reached over, smashing it with his hand. “A fly. I would think after all these years you’d be used to them buzzing around you.” He winked at Malluch.

  Bohar spit wine and cursed again.

  Chapter 22

  In the 540th year of Noah . . .

  Noah paused for a moment, gratified at the sight of his whole family working together on the ark. Now that the major framing and sheathing had been completed, it was safe enough to allow the women to help with the construction of the lower deck.

  Shiphrah first expressed an interest in having the women work on the ark, pointing out how much an additional four sets of hands would increase efficiency. The idea had drawn instant resistance from Ariel. “Maybe you’re for ruining your hands with more calluses and splinters, but not me,” she said.

  Less than a day of being alone in the house had changed her mind. Shortly after midday, Ariel arrived at the ark site on the pretense of asking Miryam what to prepare for the evening meal. She never left. Once Shem showed her how to use some of the hand tools, she seemed to take to the work. And watching her try to manipulate the tools with her hands wrapped in cloth brought a sense of comic relief to the work site.

  Elisheva had become an exceptional carpenter, learning to handle a saw, hammer, and chisel with near the deftness of the men. Her skills proved particularly beneficial on those days when Ham was incapacitated, showing herself an adequate replacement for all but the most strenuous tasks.

  Today it was warm, and the men were working without tunics. Noah caught Shiphrah looking at Ham, his arm and back muscles bulging while lifting a plank. Not that she didn’t have good reason. Ham had completed his transition to manhood some time ago and by almost any standard would be considered handsome. He wasn’t as tall or broad in the shoulders as Japheth, nor did he have Shem’s haunting eyes. But he had a square jaw and a slight wave in his deep brown hair neither of his brothers possessed.

  Ham glanced up to see Shiphrah on the other side of the deck near one of the water buckets. “Bring me some water, will you?” Ham said, his voice curt and demanding.

  Noah chuckled, sensing more than a twinge of anger beneath Shiphrah’s exterior.

  She frowned and took the water to him. When Ham bent over to set the plank, she dipped a cup of water and poured it over his back.

  He shot upright, arching his back at the shock of the cold water against his skin. He wheeled around. “What’s that for?”

  “For being rude.”

  “How is asking for a drink of water rude?”

  “Bring . . . me . . . some . . . water!” Shiphrah lowered her voice and placed emphasis on each word to imitate Ham’s insistent tone.

  Shock faded into a smile, then a hearty laugh. “Not a bad imitation. Did I really sound that bad?”

  A frown returned to Shiphrah’s face. “You did.”

  “Then allow me to apologize, my lady.” Ham placed his palm on his stomach and executed a short bow.

  “Now you’re patronizing me.” She shook the last few drops of water onto his head and chest.

  He raised a brow, then looked down at the water bucket.

  She backed away. “Oh no.”

  He moved toward the bucket, and she turned and ran across the deck.

  He picked up the bucket and raced after her, but she leapt onto a deck beam heading in the opposite direction. She probably figured he would have difficulty chasing her across the beams carrying a bucket of water. He did. She managed to increase her lead each time Ham crossed onto another beam until finally they were on opposite sides of the deck.

  Staring at each other huffing and puffing, she put her hands on her hips. “What now, brother?”

  He looked down at the bucket, then back up with a wide stare like an epiphany had come to him. He set the bucket down on the beam. “I just realized I’ve been going about this all wrong.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Instead of bringing the bucket to you, I should bring you to the bucket.” He started back across the beam, and now it was Shiphrah’s eyes that widened. Without the weight of the bucket to slow him, he’d easily catch up to her. She moved quickly along the hull toward the front of the ark while Ham skipped diagonally across the beams in an effort to catch up. Even so, Shiphrah still managed to reach the deck ahead of him.

  His foot slipped on the last beam, and he teetered on the edge of the decking while fighting to right himself. Just before losing his balance, he lunged for Shiphrah’s outstretched hands. She pulled hard. The weight of his body rocketed back over the edge, and the two tumbled onto the deck. Shiphrah ended up on top of Ham.

  “Thanks,” he said breathlessly.

  “You should really be more careful.”

  “I’ll try to remember that the next time I find myself chasing you across beams ten cubits off the ground.”

  “You were the one bent on giving me a bucket bath.”

  “I still can, you know.” A few parts of uncomfortable quiet passed between them. “You want to get up now?”

  “Oh—sorry.” She stood and straightened her garment.

  “Not that I minded. I’ve had less comfortable things land on me.”

  She blushed and didn’t make eye contact with the other family members. “I’d better go and see about our meal.” She headed for the house.

  Miryam whispered to her husband. “Was that what I thought it was?”

  “I hope so.”

  Once Shiphrah disappeared, Ariel stomped over to confront the two parents, head leaning forward. “Did you see what happened?”

  “With all the commotion, it would have been hard not to,” Noah said.

  “And you’re not going to do anything about it?”

  Ariel had never hidden her mistrust of Shiphrah, but he wasn’t about to allow her petty jealousies to interfere with a prospective romance so long in the making. “What would you have us do?”

  “Well, put a stop to it, naturally. Do you really want Ham getting involved with an outcast from Enoch?”

  “After forty years as a part of this family, I hardly think Shiphrah could be considered an outcast,” Miryam said.

  “Tell me, Ariel,” Noah said. “After all this time, how is it you still show contempt for your sister? Can’t you see something beautiful is blossoming between them?”

  Ariel’s head snapped back. “She’s not my sister. And whatever may be blossoming between them could only serve to poison our bloodline. Or have you forgotten the warnings you yourself gave us concerning the Enochites, Father?”

  “I haven’t forgotten them. Shiphrah may have been born in Enoch, but she is hardly an Enochite any longer. Did she not spurn her own heritage when she left her homeland to seek a husband in Eden? And was her allegiance to a new race not demonstrated when she risked her life to warn us?”

  “She will always be an Enochite in my eyes.”

  “Then my pity is for you, not her.”

  Ariel crossed her arms over her chest. “He’s your son.”

  “Yes—he is,” Miryam said behind a firmly set jaw.

  Chapter 23

  Noah rose on his elbows to the soft sound of feet shuffling inside the ark. In the darkness, his ears followed the rustling as it moved across the deck to where a female silhouette slipped out through one of the hull openings. Since the women had joined the men to work on the ark during the day, Miryam had suggested they sleep there during the night for safety. He lit a torch and went to investigate.

  Outside, the glow from his lamp illuminated the figure scurrying along the hull toward the prow. Shiphrah turned to face the light. Seeing what looked like a roll of clothing under her arm, he made the assumption she wasn’t answering a call of nature. “Late for a stroll, don’t you think?” he said.

  “Not a stroll, Father. A journey.”

  “A journey? At this hour? Pray tell child, wherever to?”

  “Away.”

  His response cau
ght in his throat. “You’re leaving?”

  “It’s time for me to get out on my own. Maybe even find a husband. That is, after all, why I came to Eden forty years ago.”

  “Kind of sudden, isn’t it?”

  “Forty years is sudden?”

  “Not the forty years, just that after all this time you chose to act upon it tonight.”

  “I’ve been thinking about it for awhile. I’m not happy here.”

  “I don’t think any of us can say we’re happy to have been driven from our home to live in this wilderness.”

  “It’s not even this place. It’s the circumstances.”

  Noah raised the torch, prompting her to drop her gaze. “Shiphrah, I’ve never known you to be dishonest with me.”

  “And I’m not now. I am unhappy.”

  “Is it Ham?”

  “Yes . . . No.” She twisted away, the clothing dropping to the ground. “I don’t know.” Her voice cracked. “All I know is something’s happening that shouldn’t be happening.”

  “You’re talking about this afternoon?”

  “It’s more than just this afternoon.” She leaned against the ark and drew in a ragged breath. “But I don’t know exactly how to tell you.”

  “I’ve always found it better to let go of a sneeze quickly, rather than try to hold it back.”

  “Lately, I’ve been thinking about Ham as—as—well, as someone other than a brother.”

  Her admission only confirmed what he and Miryam suspected this afternoon. “Is that what’s bothering you?”

  “Well of course it’s bothering me. Shouldn’t it?” She drew up sniffles.

  “Not necessarily.”

  She spun back around. “He’s my brother.”

  “He’s your brother by circumstance, not blood.”

  “I’m having trouble seeing the distinction.”

  “Then maybe you should look harder.”

  “Don’t you understand? I bathed him. I changed him. I fed him. How can I be anything other than a sister to him?”

  “By not looking at him like a brother.”

  “I don’t see how I can after forty years.”

  “That’s your head talking. Try listening with your heart.”

  “My heart? How?”

  “You did it this afternoon, for a moment, when you fell into his arms.”

  “Which is why I’m leaving.”

  “No, you’re feeling guilt. And it’s misplaced. Think about what you were feeling, deep inside, when you were looking into each other’s eyes.”

  “It’s not a sin?”

  “Shiphrah, living together as brother and sister doesn’t make you brother and sister. You are from Enoch. Ham is descended from the line of Seth. There is nothing incestuous in your relationship.”

  “Ariel says otherwise.”

  “What’s she got to do with this?”

  “She saw what everyone else did this afternoon. She said it was wrong.”

  “She only wanted to hurt you. Ariel is miserable inside, and she can’t stand the thought of anyone else being happy, especially you. She’s resentful and she’s jealous. But you’ve been listening to her sniping for forty years. Why should you let it bother you now?”

  “Because it’s not only me she’s talking about, it’s Ham. She said I should leave before something sinful takes place between us—before we are overcome with lust.”

  “Nonsense. What’s happening between you and Ham is completely natural.”

  “I know, but—”

  “Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?”

  “That’s the other reason I’m leaving. After today, I realized I wouldn’t be able to hide my feelings any longer.”

  “Good. A little honesty is just what the two of you need.”

  “But suppose I reveal my feelings and Ham doesn’t feel the same. It’s not like I can say, ‘Oh, I was just joking,’ and go back to being his sister again.”

  “Daughter, the man I saw with you today isn’t likely to rebuke you.”

  “I wish I could be as certain.”

  “I’ll tell you what’s certain. If you walk away now without knowing, you could be throwing away whatever chance the two of you have to be happy.”

  “Swear.”

  “What—”

  “Swear an oath you won’t tell Ham the truth about why I’m leaving—”

  “Shiphrah.”

  “Or my feelings for him.

  “I cannot.”

  “By the God of your fathers, swear.” Shiphrah clasped her hands together over her chest. “Please.”

  They stood silent for a moment, tears welling again. “I will do as you ask.”

  “An oath.”

  Noah inhaled deeply, and let it out slowly. “As the Lord lives, Ham will not hear the truth.”

  He walked Shiphrah down the hill and put a blanket and bridle on a donkey for her to ride. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait until morning?”

  “I’m not afraid to travel at night,” she said. “Besides, seeing Ham in the morning again would only make it more difficult to leave.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “I’ll start in the small village where we get supplies. From there I should be able to join a caravan traveling west toward the Great Sea, or possibly an expedition headed south. Anything, so long as it’s far away from Enoch.”

  He knew Shiphrah well enough to know what her response would be, but he had to make one last attempt to change her mind. “What about the Lord’s judgment?”

  She looked directly into his moistened eyes and smiled. “His pardon was never intended for me.” He pursed his mouth to respond, but Shiphrah quickly put her finger to his lips. She reached up and kissed him on the cheek and embraced him tightly before allowing him to help her onto the donkey. “Good-bye, Father.”

  “YAH go with you,” He watched until Shiphrah’s donkey faded into the darkness.

  What would he tell Ham in the morning?

  Chapter 24

  A banging on their door roused Shechem in the middle of the night. He threw on a robe and opened it to a distraught woman he recognized as the governor’s wife. “Come quickly,” she said. “Malluch’s in trouble.”

  “Is he sick?” He slipped on sandals and closed the door behind him.

  “It’s more than that.”

  “Did you notify one of the palace physicians?”

  “I didn’t want anyone to see him like this.”

  The woman led Shechem through the rear of the palace, up a staircase, down a short corridor, and into their sleep chamber.

  Malluch stood shivering with his face in a corner. He was wearing two layers of clothing. As Shechem approached, beads of sweat poured from his friend’s head and neck. “Malluch.” Within three cubits he could hear the sound of chattering teeth. “Malluch. It’s Shechem.”

  Malluch spun around and grabbed him by the throat. “Burning,” he whispered. “I was burning.”

  “It’s all right now.”

  “No. I could really feel it this time—feel the fire burning my legs, my back.” Shechem tried to pull away, but his friend jerked him back. “Don’t go. Not yet.”

  “I’m right here.”

  “We’re both here, my love,” his wife said.

  Malluch loosened the grip on Shechem’s throat and stared at his own scarred palm. “The flames, they’re alive.”

  “Alive?” Shechem said.

  “Yes. They jumped from the guardian’s sword to my father’s, then from the handle onto his arm?”

  Shechem nodded.

  “They were alive,” Malluch said.

  Shechem glanced at Malluch’s wife, who had both hands covering her mouth, then back to his friend. “They’re not alive now.”

  The governor closed his eyes and bowed his head, as though in prayer. After a few moments of silence, a single tear fell from beneath his closed eyelid and streamed down his cheek. “We were—” He cleared his throat. “We were so close,
my brother and I. Growing up, I mean.”

  “And your father?”

  “Not when we were young. Our father spent a lot of time away in those years, and when he got home, he stayed drunk most of the time. Then after our mother died, the two of us joined together to help Father get over the loss. It drew us all closer.”

  “I’m sorry, my lord.”

  “It took our mother dying for us to have the kind of relationship the two of us had always wanted with our father. That’s why it was so hard for me to watch them die.”

  “I understand.”

  “No, you don’t. Not yet. You see, my brother and I had been in Enoch for a couple of weeks when our mother, who was sick, passed away. By the time we got home, she’d been buried three days, and we were spared the heartbreak of seeing her dead.”

  “Something you couldn’t avoid at the garden with your father and brother.”

  “Exactly.” Malluch released his remaining grip and brushed the wrinkles he’d made from the front of Shechem’s robe. He drew up a sniffle. “You are, indeed, my good friend. You saved my life then, and here you are helping me face my demons now.” He took a step back. “But I think . . . I think the time has come to exorcise those demons.” He had that same calculating expression sixty years ago at the garden.

  “How?” What was he up to? Surely he was scheming.

  “I have a plan. It’s risky, and it could damage me politically. But in the end, I think it will give me the peace I’ve been seeking to put an end to these nightmares.”

  “What can I do to help?”

  Malluch shook his head. “No, my friend. What I have in mind is not for you. The commander of Eden’s army must remain above the fray—and above suspicion. This calls for someone with a special talent.”

  * * *

  Noah’s shoulders drooped when looking to the empty space on the floor where Shiphrah usually sat. Behind him, Ariel hummed a soft melody while she, Miryam, and Elisheva served a meal of bread, cheese, and tomatoes to him and his sons. Although they’d taken up sleeping in the ark, Miryam insisted they return to the house for meals.

  He bowed his head. “Blessed be the Lord our God, by Whose word this bread springs forth from the earth. May Your merciful hand guide and protect our daughter and sister on her journey to wherever You will lead.”