Army of God

by Dennis Bailey

  “What are you doing, Preacher?” one of the soldiers left to guard him said. “Sit down.”

  He obeyed, then noticed the old woman shuffling toward them. He reached for the cup and drank, slowly this time to savor every swallow.

  “Hurry up,” the other soldier said.

  He raised his shackled hands to the old woman, who leaned over to retrieve the cup. When she did, something fine and dry sprinkled onto his skin.

  “Thank you for your kindness, sister,” he said.

  The woman nodded without speaking and walked away, disappearing up the street. Noah glanced at his shackles. Tiny flecks of a milky powder spotted his hands.

  Several hours later, he tried to sleep over the sound of a growling stomach. How could he get word to the melon merchant? Would he see him in the morning?

  * * *

  Noah awoke to a soft thud against his side while he lay chained to the stock post. Dazed from sleep, it took him a few parts for his senses to arouse. The streets were empty, and most of the lights had been doused. Several soldiers snored around him, and he estimated it was well past midnight.

  On the ground in front of his belly rested a fist-sized hunk of bread.

  He grabbed it, but before he’d swallowed the first bite, another hunk of bread came flying through the darkness and landed at his knees. Then a third. He couldn’t tell from what direction the bread had come, nor did he see anyone. Still, he looked around to make sure his captors remained asleep. Their snoring, and the song of the night’s arthropods were all that disturbed the peace of early morning.

  That, and the sound of teeth grinding bread inside his own head.

  * * *

  “I want these rebels caught and punished, do you hear?” Malluch said from the saddle of his horse, face red with rage.

  He, Bohar, Shechem, and thirty soldiers gathered at the bottom of a hill just after sunrise, looking down at the broken remains of Eden’s first idol. The cracked, bronze human body was partially embedded in the earth, the lion’s head separated from the torso.

  Shechem picked up a piece of shattered bronze. “Yes, my lord.”

  “How dare they profane a god of Eden? An attack on our god is an attack against this government.”

  “Blasphemous,” Bohar said.

  “And they need to be found and dealt with quickly, Commander.”

  Shechem nodded.

  “To discourage this kind of behavior.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Malluch paused for a moment, as if changing thoughts. “There’s been a lull in the killings?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes,” Bohar said. “Our commander here hasn’t allowed anyone to be killed in two weeks. We were thinking of giving him an award.” He laughed.

  “Good,” Malluch said. “Then you can concentrate on finding these rebels. They shouldn’t be hard to find. I’m sure they’re somehow acquainted with the elders of this city. Or at least sympathetic of their opposition to this government.”

  “And if they are?”

  “Tell me, Commander. What do you think Ramalech would do to someone he caught defacing one of Enoch’s gods?”

  “Throw them to the lions?”

  “And whatever was left in the fire. Find them, Commander, while there’s a respite from these killings. And have the metal artisans get to work on repairing the statue.”

  “Immediately, my lord.”

  Just before pulling away, a slight breeze blowing from the direction of Bohar’s horse brought a familiar odor to Shechem’s nostrils. So much for the baths.

  He feared the consequences of Malluch’s order should he discover a link tying the patriarchs to the destruction of the idol. Lamech was no friend of the government that’d usurped him, but his willingness to assist in helping to find the killers had proven invaluable—at least in Shechem’s eyes. Until now, the governor had shown a reluctance to take direct action against the patriarchs. But would their involvement in this vandalism give him a change of heart?

  Chapter 33

  A day’s journey east of Cainan, Noah tried to conceal his increase in strength by allowing himself to be pulled occasionally. The coming of autumn and the coolness of evening aided his rejuvenation.

  His shackles rattled when he stretched out on the grass to join the majority of sleeping soldiers. Sixty cubits away, a group of five squatted around a fire built in a small clearing a short distance from the road. Just beyond, their horses stood tied to trees at the wood’s edge.

  Something stirred in the trees, but Noah couldn’t be sure what it was because of the voices of the soldiers talking around the fire. A few moments later, another rustling sound resonated from the woods. He lifted his head, but couldn’t see anything. There it was again.

  This time, one of the soldiers reacted, questioning his companions. “Did you hear that?”

  “What?” another said.

  “That rustling sound? In the trees?”

  “Just some animal,” a third said. “Probably attracted to the fire.”

  More movement in the trees, followed by the horses stirring and whinnying. At this, the soldiers around the fire rose to their feet and examined the woods.

  “What is it?” the first soldier said.

  “Shush!” the second said.

  A twig snapped.

  Then another.

  Twenty-five to thirty men sprung from the woods, their heads and faces covered, charging into the encampment with raised swords. Several soldiers cried out to warn their companions, but they were quickly engaged by their attackers. Clanging swords filled the air. One of the soldiers, impaled by an attacker’s sword, fell into the fire. Others were outnumbered two and sometimes three to one.

  When the soldier guarding him rose to respond to the attack, Noah wrapped the chain of his shackle around the soldier’s neck, choking him from behind. He grasped the man’s sword and thrust him through the back, then killed another soldier nearby.

  “Preacher!” the commander said rushing toward him with weapon in hand. Noah fended off the first few blows, but his shackles restrained him. The captain followed with five vicious overhead strikes, driving him to one knee. When the commander raised his sword again, a petite figure dashed across the clearing and ran him through from behind. He took one step and fell at his prisoner’s feet.

  The attack was over in thirty-six parts.

  Noah examined the clearing. All fifteen soldiers lay dead on the ground, except for the one whose body smoldered in the fire. The thirty Marauders, their identities still masked, looked to the smallest among them for direction. The petite figure walked to the fire and motioned for two of them to pull the body from the flames and another two to fetch Noah. The leader whispered in the ear of one of the stoutest men, who retrieved a large flat rock and some tools.

  How surprising to find so notorious a group of fighters being led by someone so slight of build. But after fifty parts of observing them, it was clear who was in charge.

  The man with the tools told Noah to sit facing him next to the fire. While he worked pounding his shackles, the leader watched. Noah strained to see through the slight opening of his mask, hoping to gain some insight into what kind of man held his destiny. In the dark, the light of the fire offered only limited illumination, occasionally flickering off the whites of his eyes. Still, he found something familiar about them, about their shape, the way they were set in his face.

  With a final strike of the hammer, the second shackle cuff fell from the captive’s wrist. He thanked the man and rose to his feet, looking down at the leader.

  Something about those eyes.

  The leader took two paces back, turned his back to him, and unwrapped the scarf covering his head. He pulled off his hood, allowing a long mane of dark hair to tumble out.

  A lump rose in his throat as Shiphrah turned, threw the hood to the ground, and hurried to embrace him. Together they cried.

  “I found your donkey in the gully and feared the worst, child,�
�� he said, so relieved he wanted to laugh.

  “It was all my fault,” Shiphrah said. “I was pushing him to catch the caravan and got too close to the edge of the ravine. He lost his footing, and we both fell down. He must have broken a leg because he couldn’t get up. I hurt my ankle in the fall and wasn’t much better off.”

  “What happened?”

  Shiphrah addressed the man who’d removed Noah’s shackles, motioning for him to remove his hood. “Father, this is Rogan. He and his men found me.”

  “I’m grateful, Rogan.”

  “We are the grateful ones.” Rogan drew his sword and motioned for the other Marauders to do likewise. Each took his sword by the blade, extending the handle toward the fire. Every sword had embedded in its hilt a single date-sized transparent green stone.

  “Emeralds.”

  “Many years ago, we found a collection of these stones in the mountains east of Enoch. Since then, good fortune has followed us, and we have remained undefeated in battle.”

  “I see. But what does this have to do with my daughter?”

  “As her father, I’m surprised you hadn’t long ago taken notice.”

  Noah turned to Shiphrah, then back to Rogan. “You’re talking about the color of her eyes.”

  “Does not the brilliance of these stones rest within them?”

  Noah suspected he was in the presence of a vastly superstitious culture, but didn’t want to risk offending them. “They do, indeed.”

  “Since the beginning, there has been not a son or daughter born to us with eyes such as hers. Neither have we seen such splendor in those of any of our enemies.”

  “So you believe they portend of some divine nature?”

  “Why else would the gods have caused her donkey to go lame where and when it did, that we might come upon her? Could it be they have chosen her to lead our people?”

  Noah studied Shiphrah, who shrugged. He worked to suppress a smile, realizing he had to come up with an effective challenge and quickly. Perhaps he could use to his advantage the Marauders’ sense of duty and order. He also hoped Shiphrah would follow his lead. “Rogan, suppose your gods had another reason for crippling her donkey?”

  “What could that be?”

  “To stop her from running away?”

  Rogan glanced at Shiphrah then her adopted father.

  “Ah, I see she didn’t tell you,” Noah said. “I didn’t think she would. At home, my daughter was a rebellious young woman. She would often sneak away, unchaperoned, to see a young man in the village of whom her mother and I did not approve. Eventually, she chose to run away.”

  Rogan stared at Shiphrah wide-eyed, in apparent disbelief. “Is this true?”

  Shiphrah dropped her chin but did not answer.

  “So, I believe your gods simply chose to intervene because of her disobedience,” Noah said.

  Several groups of three and four Marauders standing around the fire mumbled among themselves.

  “Hmm.” Rogan rubbed his chin while pacing in front of the fire. “If this woman has been chosen to lead us, do we not curse ourselves by sending her away? But if, as this man says, the gods have intervened on her parents’ behalf, would we not be foolish to oppose them?”

  “You still have the stones.” Noah scanned the fifteen bodies littering the clearing. “And by the look of things, they still maintain their power.” Rogan and many of the Marauders nodded. “I have but one daughter. Until a few moments ago, I feared her dead. But her mother mourns her. “Would you save my life, only to have me return without her?”

  Rogan moved several paces away, motioning for his companions to gather around. They spoke for over eighteen parts in hushed whispers before Rogan returned. “You must go with your father.”

  “Do I have to?” Shiphrah said, lifting those pleading emerald jewels.

  “A woman not bound to a husband must remain obedient to her father.”

  “I understand.” She reached up to Rogan’s shoulder. “I will miss you, my friend.”

  “And we, you.”

  One hundred eighty parts later later, Noah and Shiphrah finished packing two fresh horses with provisions for the journey home. When they turned around, thirty men, Rogan included, kneeled before them in the light of the campfire. “What’s this?” Shiphrah said.

  “May the gods watch over the green-eyed princess as she returns to the land of her fathers,” Rogan said.

  Noah faced him. “For my daughter’s life, I am in your debt.”

  Rogan offered a slight bow.

  Noah helped Shiphrah onto her horse, then climbed aboard his own.

  “You would do well to stay off the main roads, at least during the day,” Rogan said.

  “We will,” Noah said.

  Heading down the road, he joined Shiphrah for a last look back.

  In an apparent show of respect, the complete company of Marauders had moved from the camp out onto the roadway to watch their departure.

  Chapter 34

  When Noah and Shiphrah arrived within forty furlongs of home, excitement filled his heart. It meant in less than an hour the nightmare of the last seven weeks would be over.

  They’d spent the last four days consoling each other and recounting the details of their own personal trials. Shiphrah recalled how the fear and pain of the accident quickly turned to terror when she found herself surrounded by Marauders. “I was helpless. My ankle was swollen like a grapefruit, and there was no way I could walk on it, much less run.”

  “So, what did they do?”

  “For some reason they seemed fascinated by my eyes. First Rogan, then the others, in groups of two and three, came to stare at me before moving away to speak in whispers. The next thing I know, Rogan is picking me up and putting me on a horse for the ride back to their camp. One of their women mixed a poultice of herbs, spread it on my ankle, and wrapped it in some kind of tree bark. A week later, I was walking.”

  “Why did they make you their leader?”

  “I don’t think that was ever made clear to me. Something to do with my eyes and the fact I told them I was born in Enoch. All I know is one day they all started bowing and addressing me as princess. Given the circumstances, I didn’t want to argue the point.”

  “A wise choice. This Rogan, did he teach you how to use a sword?”

  “Oh, yes.” Shiphrah seemed excited to discuss her training. “He spent hours with me every day, not only teaching me how to block and thrust, but also proper footwork.”

  “So I observed.” He chuckled. “An incredible warrior, no doubt.”

  “They all are. In spite of their primitive culture, they employ some surprisingly sophisticated training techniques that emphasize speed and quickness over power and strength. As you know, I’m pretty quick on my feet.”

  “Yes, I saw the way you sprinted across that clearing. Lucky for me.”

  “They had this obstacle course set up next to their camp in the woods. Once my ankle healed, I started running it every day. Lots of trees to negotiate, rocks to climb, and holes to jump over. I bet my calves grew a finger in diameter while I was gone.”

  Noah nodded while thanking God for providing for her during her ordeal.

  “They taught me to use my quickness to advantage. You see, I could never be expected to pit my strength blade to blade against a man in a sword fight. So for a woman, it’s all about dexterity. It’s about constantly moving your feet to cause your opponent to reposition his stance in answer to your movements, then waiting for the right opening to strike.”

  “Fascinating.”

  “Of course, they had to make some adjustments for me being a woman.” Shiphrah pulled out her sword and handed it to Noah. “They made me a specially designed sword, lighter and thinner than the men carry. But I trained with a heavier sword, which allows me to wield this one with aplomb. And I can handle it proficiently in either hand.”

  Noah told her about his miraculous escape from Cainan, followed by his carelessness on the road that had
led to his capture.

  “Was that you, the old woman in the city?” he said.

  “You knew?”

  “Not until I saw the specks of flour on my wrists.”

  “Good disguise, huh?”

  “You took a big gamble one of those soldiers didn’t want to have a look under that veil.”

  “At an old woman like me?” Shiphrah used her best graveled voice impersonation.

  “Ham was right years ago when he said you’d make a good old woman.”

  Her playful look disappeared. “How is he?”

  He didn’t want to embarrass Ham by telling her he’d been sick with grief. Instead, he sought to put to rest any doubts she had about his feelings for her. “That fear you had about Ham not feeling the same?”

  “Yes.”

  “You needn’t hold onto it any longer.”

  She smiled, but was interrupted by her next thought. “You didn’t tell him?”

  “Child, did I not take an oath?”

  “Then how do you know? Did he say something?”

  “Let’s just say from his behavior while you were gone, there’s no doubt his heart belongs to you.”

  She allowed the smile to creep back and take over her whole face. It was a perfect complement to the blush rising in her cheeks.

  Now, riding together side by side, the corners of his own mouth rose in anticipation of seeing his family again. But as they crested a rise in the road, his eyes grew wide and the excitement faded. The distinctive shape of the prow of the ark they expected to see rising above the trees in the distance wasn’t there. He and Shiphrah goaded their horses to a gallop.

  Passing by the house, they continued up the hill to the ark site. When they arrived, neither seemed capable of dismounting. Instead, they sat silently in their saddles, staring at the scene stretching four hundred cubits before them.

  Every hull plank, rib frame, deck, and beam had been torn away and thrown down. Only the massive posts, positioned at the stem and stern, remained upright, still fastened to the keel now buried beneath tons of fallen timber.