Army of God

by Dennis Bailey

Chapter 35

  Noah slipped from his horse and onto his knees, his forehead touching the ground. Although he could hear the sound of his family gathering a few cubits away, he was too deep in prayer to allow himself to be distracted.

  “Father,” Japheth said. “Are you all right?”

  “Ssh,” Miryam said.

  Fifty-four parts later, Noah rose to face Ham and Shiphrah, who were standing side by side with their arms around each other.

  “I’m sorry, daughter, that the occasion of your reunion had to be spoiled by the sight of such malice. But I see you found the answer to your question.”

  “All of them,” Shiphrah said, pulling herself into Ham’s chest.

  He turned to his oldest son, whose upper lip was split and his forehead bruised. “Japheth. What happened?”

  “About a week after you left to find Shiphrah, all of the onlookers disappeared.”

  “Disappeared?”

  “Yes. One morning we came out here, and they were gone. We thought maybe they’d gotten bored not having anything to see since we started working inside. A week later it rained for three days, heavy at times. During the storm, Ham checked on the stock and found all the sheep and goats missing from the pasture.”

  “How?”

  “We’re not sure. A good-sized section of the east wall had washed away. We figured they got out through there. Shem and Ham asked Mother, Elisheva, and Ariel to go with them to find the sheep, while I stayed behind to stand guard. Even with their help, it took more than a day to track them all down and round them up. And when they returned—”

  “The ark was in ruins.” His stomach tightened, an uncomfortable reminder of the hunger pangs he’d experienced during his ordeal with the soldiers. “And your face?”

  “The rain was really coming down, and I guess I didn’t hear the seven or eight men sent in to jump me. I put up a good fight, but they still managed to overpower me and tie me up.”

  Elisheva leaned forward. “You’re lucky that’s all they did.”

  Noah pointed to hundreds of animal hoof prints tracked along both sides of the hill. “Someone was using teams of oxen to pull down the ark.”

  Japheth picked up one of several waterlogged torches scattered among the debris. “The rains kept them from kindling a fire, so they decided to pull it down instead. I’m sorry, Father. I know you were counting on me to take care of things while you were gone.”

  He took the torch from his son’s hand. “You should have sent the women to retrieve the herd while the three of you stayed here.”

  “That’s not fair,” Ham said.

  Noah felt his cheeks flush. “Fair.” He slammed the torch down against the closest beam. “I’ll tell you what’s not fair. This entire family working forty years on this ark, only to have it torn down in a day because you and your brothers got careless.”

  The mouths of his entire family, Miryam included, fell open. Ham threw his jaw forward. His eyes bulged. “Careless.”

  “Yes.” His gaze moved from son to son.

  “Father, it was pouring down rain,” Shem said. “The six of us talked it over and made the decision to go after the sheep.” He gestured toward the deconstructed ark. “Looking at the damage, it’s easy to say now we were wrong. But we only did what we thought you’d do. Anyway, I don’t see what difference it makes now. The ark is finished.”

  Noah scanned the wreckage. Whatever plans God had, some other force was working against them. Was this simply a test, or had the Lord changed His mind about sparing him and his family? Had he somehow displeased the Lord, prompting Him to revoke His covenant? Noah had been given no insight into the Lord’s timetable for the coming flood. But if the sundial was already moving, they couldn’t possibly complete the ark in time after this. “Perhaps you’re right. It doesn’t make any difference.”

  “So what are we going to do now?” Japheth said.

  His father let out a huge sigh while the weight of depression settled on him like a yoke of bricks. “Nothing. What’s done can’t be undone.”

  “Father, you’re not serious?” Elisheva said.

  “Yes—I am. And I’m tired.” He mounted his horse.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To have a drink that’s long overdue.”

  * * *

  After four days, Shechem hadn’t made any progress in his investigation of the idol’s destruction. As expected, there’d been no witnesses, and his usual sources of information, the harlots and street peddlers, had proven unreliable. He’d instructed the metal artisans to work extra hours to repair the idol, hoping to appease Malluch’s fury.

  Now, a few hours after sunrise, he watched from the rear balcony of the palace the handsome silk merchant knock upon the door of his house. Claudia answered and invited him in, along with two servants, each loaded down with bundles of silk in a variety of scarlets, purples, and golds.

  He couldn’t help wondering about the silk merchant. With coal black hair, a straight nose, and full lips surrounded by a neatly-trimmed beard, he was a man of exceptional good looks. Shechem suspected a great many women had desired to be his consort.

  But for now, he could do little more than speculate. Good looks alone weren’t proof of anything. Even while his wife closed the door behind the merchant and his servants, there was little chance her fidelity would be tested. Not this morning. Not with spectators.

  From behind, the sound of running footsteps distracted him when several soldiers rushed down the hall to the front of the palace. “Commander,” one of them shouted. “You may want to see this.”

  He jogged through the palace and out onto the front porch. Below, more soldiers and several groups of citizens moved briskly through the streets. He stopped a soldier exiting the palace. “Bring my horse. Now!”

  Shechem followed the line of onlookers through the city to a place just off the road 650 cubits outside the south gate. A group had gathered around an ox-driven cart while the animal, in utter indifference to the attention, continued to graze in an adjacent field.

  In the road, a man in his early hundreds stretched face down, blood soaked into the dirt beneath his head and neck in a near perfect circle. Across from him in the field, his wife lay on her back, flies swarming the torn flesh of a yawning neck wound. But this sickening sight couldn’t compare to what he and the others found inside the cart.

  Two girls and a boy—the youngest, a girl no more than eight years—rested on a bed of straw cold and stiff, their throats slashed identical to their parents.

  Seeing his own daughters in the death agonies of the young girls, he fought to remain composed.

  “What on earth is going on, Commander?” a soldier on the ground said.

  “I don’t know. But I’d give a year’s pay to find out.” He searched the crowd. “Anyone know this family?”

  “The father’s name is Jachin, son of Azriel,” a man in the crowd said.

  “Azriel’s son? Are you sure?”

  “Oh yes.”

  Another son of an elder. I should have known the lull wouldn’t last.

  Chapter 36

  Noah leaned against a collection of ark timbers that had come to rest in a perfect configuration for sitting, gazing up at the host of heaven. An hour ago, it was just a stagnant, jewel-encrusted black canvas covering the sky. Now that canvas and its collection of bright lights were spinning, He reached for another wineskin and took two big swallows.

  A week after he and Shiphrah returned home, Noah was spending his sixth straight night mourning the loss of the ark. Unable to sleep that first evening, he decided to give nature a hand in making him drowsy. Each night, he grabbed two full wineskins and headed to the ark site where he would sit and drink himself to sleep. Sooner or later—he wasn’t always sure when—Japheth and Shem would come and take him down to bed.

  The light of a torch bouncing up the hill distracted his stargazing. Here they come now.

  But when the flame drew near, even in his current state, h
e could tell it wasn’t the reflection of a man who carried the torch. “You’ve not come up here to scold me, have you, Elisheva?” he said.

  “Not at all.” She set the handle of the torch between some planks and sat on a perch next to him.

  “I was afraid your mother-in-law was using you as an emissary to get me to curtail my drinking.”

  “No. As a matter of fact, I thought I’d join you.” She extended her arm.

  He was stunned. Outside of a meal, he’d never seen her take a drink of wine. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course, I’m sure.” She opened and closed her forefingers in rapid succession.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t have a cup for you.” He was slurring his words.

  “Who said I needed one?” Elisheva continued to manipulate her fingers until Noah handed her the wineskin. She turned it up to her lips and drank like a man.

  “Better go easy with that. You’re not used to it.”

  She pulled the skin away and used a finger to catch a drop of wine rolling down her chin. “What for? Who says you and Ham are the only ones in the family entitled to assault their senses?” She took another drink, only this time she leaned forward and spit some out.

  Noah tried to stifle a laugh, but couldn’t hold it when some of the wine ran out her nose. Elisheva coughed several times, and he slapped her gently on the back. “Are you all right? Here, you’d better let me have that.” He took the wineskin.

  “Sure, sure. I just wasn’t ready for how fast it came out.”

  “Of course. Now do you want to tell me why you came up here—besides the drink?”

  “I was hoping you might want to share with your favorite daughter-in-law what it is that’s troubling you. Other than the ark being destroyed.”

  “You mean you were hoping I was drunk enough?”

  “That, too.”

  “Good. I’m still sober enough to appreciate honesty. But who says anything else is troubling me?”

  “I’ve been in this family for well over three hundred years, and this is the first time I’ve known you to have more than two cups of wine in a single day.”

  Noah sorted through the fog of drunkenness. For nearly forty years, he’d been unable to share his deepest fears concerning the Lord’s proclamation with his own wife. Could he now disclose them to Elisheva? Something told him it was all right, that nothing he said would change her perception of him. He trusted her. “I never told this to your mother-in-law, and I don’t imagine I’d be telling you were it not for the effects of the wine. But do you remember the night of the Lord’s judgment?”

  “How could any of us ever forget?”

  “Believe it or not, I laid awake half the night thinking He’d made a mistake.

  “Who? The Lord?”

  “Yes. Even though I knew it would cost all our lives, I found myself wishing He had chosen someone else. Someone braver, wiser, or more noble. I’m a farmer not a builder.”

  “That’s the wine controlling your tongue. You don’t really mean that.”

  “Oh, but I do. Why should He choose me to be the one through which He’d save mankind? A man slow of wit and devoid of cleverness.”

  She placed an arm around him. “But rich in character.”

  Noah snorted. “Not that rich.”

  Elisheva twisted her mouth.

  “I kept wondering why He hadn’t chosen someone like my father.” he said. “Here was a man who’d already proven himself a great leader, a man better suited to the task of guiding humanity in the new world.”

  “But a man also great in years. Could it be the Lord wanted someone young enough to be able to complete the long and arduous task of building the ark?”

  “He didn’t need to choose me for that.”

  “Oh, so now you’re wanting to give advice to God?”

  Noah took another drink and shook his head. “I’d never presume to be qualified to do that. But take the ark. Why didn’t He pick someone with at least a fundamental understanding of shipbuilding? I mean, before it was destroyed, I had followed exactly the Lord’s instructions regarding the construction. And yet, I had no idea whether the ark would even float, much less be able to withstand the rigors of a long sea voyage.”

  “I feel silly reminding you of this, but isn’t that what you’re always telling us faith is all about—trusting God to handle the unknown?”

  He nodded. “You’re right.” Slowly, and with difficulty, he lifted himself from his seat and stood swaying in the night. She grabbed his arm to steady him. “Anyway,” he said. “It doesn’t matter any more. The ark’s gone.”

  “It may be down, but it’s hardly gone.”

  “Unfortunately, my level of inebriation makes it difficult to discern the difference.”

  “Give it a few more days. You may come to see things in a different light.”

  Noah leaned his head back for another glimpse of the heavens. “Tell me, Elisheva. What do you think God sees when he looks down here?”

  “Right now? A servant who’s had too much to drink. Let’s get you home.”

  She escorted Noah down the hill and into the house, where she and Japheth gently lowered him into a seated position on his bed. She kneeled to remove his sandals. “You’re wrong, you know.”

  He lay on the bed. The room spun. “Wrong about what?”

  She kissed him on the forehead. “God did make the right choice.”

  Chapter 37

  Noah sat alone on the floor at his place in the dining area while his children tended to chores outside. In the next room, the sound of clanging plates pounded like a hammer on anvil inside his head. The wine had done its job in helping him to sleep each night, but it had come at the expense of a sixth consecutive morning headache. He massaged his temples.

  “Does that help?” Miryam said, entering the room.

  “Not much,” Noah said.

  “Then unless you can find a remedy that does, I’d give up the wine for a few days.”

  “It’s the only thing that helps me to sleep.”

  “Strange. Until a week ago you didn’t have any trouble.”

  He stared out the window. “A week ago, we had an ark standing out there on the hill.”

  She placed her hands on her hips. “How long are you going to feel sorry for yourself?”

  “Who says I am?”

  “Why else would you drink a half season’s worth of wine if you weren’t blaming yourself for the ark being destroyed? I bet you think if you hadn’t gone after Shiphrah, none of this would have happened, right?”

  “Something like that.”

  “You don’t know, any more than you know your being here could have prevented the ark’s destruction.

  “But if I hadn’t left—”

  “If you hadn’t left, Shiphrah would have been lost forever and Ham heartbroken beyond consoling. And from where I stand, no partially completed ark is worth that.”

  “So how do I overcome the guilt?”

  “You act as if this is the first trial we’ve faced since we left Eden. Is this the same man who deferred the commandment of YAH Himself to go after Shiphrah? Or the man who was captured, tortured, and nearly killed by Malluch’s soldiers? You didn’t give up then. Why are you so eager to give up now?”

  He slammed his fist on the floor, squinting when the shock of the blow shot pain through his temples. “Don’t you understand? I can’t do it.” He took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Not another forty years.”

  “That’s the selfish part talking.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you still believe the Lord’s proclamation?”

  “Of course.”

  “So what you’re saying is you’re willing to give up, and in the process sacrifice all our lives, is that it?”

  “That’s not—”

  “Don’t you see? You’re using the destruction of the ark as an excuse to shirk your responsibility to the Lord.”

  “I didn’t ask to become the sav
ior of the world.”

  “No, you didn’t. God asked you. Or, rather, He commanded you. And in all our years together, I’ve never known you to disobey His will. So tell me, when did He release you from His decree to build the ark?”

  Noah rubbed his temples again. “He didn’t.”

  “Or when did He tell you He’d rescinded His promise to flood the earth?”

  Noah had completely surrendered himself to doubt. He’d allowed it to cloud his reason and sap his will. Miryam was right. He was exploiting the tragedy to justify abdicating his responsibilities to God and to his family. He’d fallen into a mire of self-pity.

  He clenched his jaw, forced himself to stand, and headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To recruit some help.”

  Four hundred fifty parts later, Noah’s family gathered around the stem post and fallen debris that once made up the prow of the ark. He circled behind each family member like an army commander inspecting his troops, but with an entirely different perspective than he had seven days ago. Despite the ruin at their feet, the reality was they’d been fortunate. Were it not for the rain, instead of a pile of broken timbers, they’d be looking at a mound of blackened ashes.

  “So why are we meeting here?” Ham said when his father passed by. “I thought we were finished with the ark.”

  “We’re going back to work.”

  “What?” Ham’s voice rose. “Didn’t you say just a week ago none of this could be undone?”

  “The words of a man who’d given up, one who thought he could absolve himself of responsibility by using wine to numb his feelings. But since then I was reminded this isn’t about me. It’s not even about us as a family. It’s about God’s plan for the future of mankind on earth.” Noah smiled at Miryam and Shiphrah.

  “After what’s happened, do you really think it’s worth it?”

  “Tell me, what has changed because of what was done here?”

  “What has changed?” Ham climbed onto the heap. “Look at this!” He picked up a plank and threw it. “And this!” He tossed another, then kicked a larger beam causing it to tumble down the mound a few cubits. “And this!” He spread his hands. “Father, this pile of rubble represents forty years of work and you ask, ‘What has changed!’”