“In truth,” Ham said, “my eyesight could be better. I’m debating having Odin fashion me a spear and begging Beor for a suit of armor.”
“You never change,” Shem said. “I remember how you practiced diligently before facing Ymir. Do you remember that night?”
“This time we don’t face giants. Just men like us.”
“Where’s Odin?” Assur asked.
“I want to talk to you about something,” Ham said. “It occurred to me while I practiced and it concerns the coming battle.”
“Maybe Nimrod won’t come,” Shem said.
“You’re the one who prophesied it,” Ham said. “Have you lost faith in what you saw?”
“I meant he might not come this year.”
“That’s right,” Assur said. “I still don’t understand your certainty about this year, Uncle. Wouldn’t Jehovah have given us the prophecy with enough time to get ready? Just like He warned Noah about the Flood in time to build the Ark?”
“Maybe Jehovah means for you to take advantage of Odin’s idea,” Ham said. “The Earth is vast and devoid of people. Why not gather our clans and march far from here?”
“We’ll do well enough in a fight,” Assur said.
“You don’t train together,” Ham said. “You don’t armor yourselves and you lack a real chariot arm.”
“Perhaps,” Assur said. “But Shem seeks the mind of Jehovah. There lies our true strength, a foil to Nimrod’s deceptions.”
Ham bit his lip. He didn’t like arguing spirituality. But today— “I’ve wondered about that, too.”
“Oh?”
“Jehovah said to spread out, to fill the Earth,” Ham said. “So what have you done? Why, come in clans and clan groupings to the plain of Nineveh. That’s practically as disobedient as my children. You know what Jehovah wants and yet you don’t do it. Why then do you think Jehovah will protect you?”
“I disagree that we’ve been like Nimrod,” Assur said. “If people now did as Jehovah commanded, each family or clan would be at Nimrod’s mercy. We settled the plain of Nineveh as a counterweight to Babel.”
“Weren’t you listening?” Ham asked. “The world is vast. Trek far enough away and Nimrod won’t ever find you. Your argument is that since King Nimrod and his people have disobeyed, you’re forced to disobey for your own protection.”
“Assur knows how I feel about his thinking,” Shem said. “It’s sheer sophistry.”
Assur’s shoulders tightened.
“Why do you think you’ll win?” Ham asked.
“We’ll be fighting for our homes,” Assur said, “like bears in a cave. It will make us ferocious.”
Odin walked up and sat on a nearby bale.
“Nimrod outnumbers you.” Ham said. “And he has more trained fighters. Who can face the Mighty Men? Surely not Beor’s handful or your mob.”
“The Mighty Men are just like us,” Assur said. “They’re prey to the same fears.”
“That’s why Nimrod has trained them these long years,” Ham said, “why these seek dangerous beasts.”
“We’ve hunted the same beasts,” Assur said.
“Your people have driven off the occasional wolf or stray lion. That’s another thing entirely from remorselessly hunting them day after day, challenging them in order to build your courage. Why do you acclaim Beor such a valiant warrior? Because he sought out and slew a great sloth in single combat. Who else has done that?”
Assur frowned.
“Farmers and shepherds cannot face warriors in the open,” Ham said.
“So we should hide behind walls?” Assur asked. “Or forge more armor suits?”
“What you need is something else entirely.”
“Brimstone balls?” Assur asked.
“Let him finish,” Shem said.
Assur dipped his head. “I’m sorry, Uncle Ham.”
Ham waved aside the apology. “I’ve thought about this a long time, and it may already be too late. But you need a new mode of war that counters Nimrod’s plan. I’m devising a method of long-distance battle, to harry them and to make life miserable on the march. I propose that a band diligently search for horses. Once we train them, you must construct new style chariots to my specification.”
“Chariots like Kedorlaomer once had?” Shem asked.
“Exactly,” Ham said. “And new archery and slinger tactics.”
Assur threw up his hands. “Why not ask for the moon? If Nimrod marches soon, as you keep predicting, we don’t have time for that.”
“So send an emissary to Babel and ask for terms,” Ham said. “Beg if you have to and let them send out governors. Meanwhile, you send out searchers, train in these new ways and once you’re ready, throw off Nimrod’s yoke.”
“You’re full of trickery,” Shem said.
Assur began to pace. “Nimrod may or may not march this year. If he does, we’ll fight harder than he expects, harder than you believe. Beor and his band will practice their harrying tactics while the hill-fort will act as a breakwater against which they must either storm or siege. Then our massed might shall fall upon them in surprise.”
“What if they bring the onager and use brimstone?” Odin asked. “Your hill fort’s walls are made of wood.”
“What if Beor drives one of his three foot shafts through Nimrod’s chest?” Assur asked.
Odin nodded sagely. “Kill Nimrod and you win. That’s the best strategy.”
Assur turned to his father. “It’s time we headed for Uz’s settlement. I want to inspect their arrow supply.”
Shem and Assur said their goodbyes and soon mounted the donkeys.
“How did it go with Hilda?” Ham asked.
Odin brooded. “Do you really think there are horses somewhere?”
“Of course.”
“Why doesn’t Nimrod search for them?”
“Searching for horses would send out wandering teams everywhere. It might give his Mighty Men the wrong idea.”
“I didn’t see any horses in the Far North.”
“So we know where not to look.” Ham shrugged. “It’s just an idea. Anything to give us hope of victory.”
“That hope died when Japheth and Gomer migrated to Babel.”
Ham rolled his shoulder, testing his sore muscles. “Do you think you can fashion me a spear like Gungnir?”
Odin shook his head. “Stick to what you know this summer. If Nimrod still hasn’t shown by fall, I’ll think about it.”
Ham stretched, and that made his eyes splotch again. He hoped he wasn’t going blind. That was all he needed.
15.
Summer passed, and in Shinar and on the plain of Nineveh, men and women harvested the crops. Then Nimrod summoned his warriors.
On donkey back came Gilgamesh, Enlil and Erech’s two other champions. Opis also came. She rode on donkey back, wrapped in a white cloak and an impenetrable reserve. The peak of her beauty had vanished, and there was a haunted cast to her eyes. Already a slight woman, she had grown thinner, gaunter. She no longer smiled, although at times, a kitten or a puppy wagging its tail brought a faint upturn of her lips. Whenever she looked at Gilgamesh, and he wasn’t watching, a longing came over her. She yearned to hold him, to have him know her as of old. But whenever he touched her, her skin crawled. It was an involuntary reaction.
“Not yet,” she would whisper.
Now he no longer tried. It made her ache and her heart wilt.
A day’s journey from Babel, as he slept on a mat beside her, she rolled over and gazed at him in the moonlight. She reached out, willing herself to touch his handsome face. She fought herself, moving her hand closer, closer.
His eyes opened. He had an almost preternatural sense of danger.
“I hear something,” she whispered, as she drew her hand back.
He looked into her eyes, and then he rose, picking up his lance, striding into the darkness. When he lay back down later, she pretended to be asleep, even as she damned herself for being a coward.
<
br /> Later, in another week, she told herself, she would be better, and she truly believed her lie.
The next day, the city rose before them. It was so much bigger than Erech. The Tower, with the fifth level completed, dominated the skyline. Babel seemed to seethe with people.
Gilgamesh took her to Menes’s two-story house. He spoke pleasantries with her grandfather and then asked if Opis could remain here during the campaign. A pause before the “of course” and “we’d be delighted to have her” made Opis squirm. In a few more minutes, Gilgamesh rose, saying he had to report to the palace. Opis felt as if he wanted to flee her presence, as if he couldn’t wait to get away.
Because the others watched, she endured his kiss. His smile was pained. Then he turned and marched away, Enlil forced to jog to keep up with him.
“He’ll be back before you know it,” her grandmother said, placing a hand on her shoulder.
Opis flinched. Then she smiled apologetically. “You startled me.”
Her grandmother patted her shoulder, a slight frown on her face.
Opis caught a last glimpse of Gilgamesh, with the swirl of his military cloak and his loping stride. A terrible feeling of doom filled her, and she wondered if Gilgamesh would ever return to her.
16.
Uruk stood in the throne room as Gilgamesh entered. Heat flushed across Gilgamesh’s face. His knife-hand twitched and there was a roaring sound in his ears. All his secret plans vanished as a snarl of rage came from deep within his throat.
Only when powerful hands grasped his arms did Gilgamesh regain his senses.
Nimrod stood before his throne, with his face flushed and rage in his eyes.
Gilgamesh blinked repeatedly, trying to work out what had happened. He saw that he held a knife. He let go with surprise. The clatter of bronze on tiles was loud in the silent room.
Mighty Men looked upon him in wonder. Uruk was pale.
Thebes held one of Gilgamesh’s arms. Enlil held the other.
“Well?” Nimrod asked.
Gilgamesh licked his lips. He happened to glance at Uruk, at the great ape in armor. A roar erupted from Gilgamesh’s throat and he struggled to free himself. At Nimrod’s command, Mighty Men dragged him from the room.
He panted in the antechamber.
A moment later Nimrod walked in. “Leave,” he told the others.
The warriors scattered.
The king approached as he held his baton. “Old friend, what is the meaning of this?”
Gilgamesh fought for self-control. He gave Nimrod a shaky smile. “Your Majesty—”
“No,” Nimrod said, as he swept the air with his baton. “I want no formality from you, Ghost Stalker. I want to know why you have murderous rage against my War Chief.”
Gilgamesh struggled with himself. He’d made an oath to Opis never to reveal what had happened. He also understood that if he told Nimrod about the oath, that the king might choose between Uruk and him.
“Mighty Hunter,” Gilgamesh said, “this is a private matter between Uruk and me.”
“The instant you step into my presence, you whip out your dagger and charge my War Chief. I understand the two of you don’t get along. Why, the two of you have feuded from the beginning. And that entire sordid episode over the girl…” Nimrod studied him. “What happened when Uruk came to Erech?”
Gilgamesh bowed stiffly. “Your Majesty, I beg forgiveness for my actions. I-I didn’t plan this.”
“I know you didn’t. You’ve always been the one under control. But when you set eyes on Uruk…” With the baton, Nimrod scratched his cheek, and he began to pace.
Gilgamesh swallowed painfully. He was still surprised at himself.
“I had hoped to hear your proposals, to listen to your counsel versus the others. I miss you, my friend. Believe me, I understand this feud. It was a difficult decision sending you to Erech.” Nimrod frowned. “Being king is harder than I thought. Everyone vies for my attention, wishing to sway me to his way of thinking. Soon men—and women, too—stop telling me the truth. Then I have to shift through every word in order to discover the truth. Now I find that the one man I trust, whom I’d believed could still honestly tell me what he thought, now he too has left me. Ah, Gilgamesh, it is a lonely thing to be king.”
“Nimrod,” Gilgamesh said, taking one of the king’s broad hands. “I would tell you on the instant what makes my gut boil, but I have made an oath to another, an oath that I dare not break.”
Nimrod studied him. Finally, he withdrew his hand. “It doesn’t take a Mighty Man to understand what could cause such a quarrel between you and the War Chief. I will not ask you to join the meeting tonight.”
“Please, don’t send me home.”
“You’re too important for that. Your mind is keen, your judgments swift and sound.” A smile crept onto the king’s face. “Perhaps there is another task for you. I need a herald to sound out our foes, to judge their reactions and to be courageous enough to give them my words. Are you willing to do this?”
“I am yours to command, Sire.”
Nimrod’s grin turned crafty. “Before Ymir attacked anyone, it was the Nephilim’s policy to send a herald to his foes. I have tried to understand the reason. I now believe that it was unnerving to his enemies, and I think the herald spied out their defenses and resolve. You’re the perfect choice. I want you with me on the day of battle. But I cannot have you in camp with the War Chief, or not in camp for very long. You and Uruk have become like two vicious hounds that hate one another, yet both are needed to take down a terrible lion.”
“Is this war truly necessary?”
The grin left Nimrod, and his manner changed. “The decision grieves me. It is why I wish to hold a council with all my Mighty Men. The former elders will come and Lord Japheth.” Nimrod put a hand on Gilgamesh’s shoulder. “Your question strikes close to my heart, old friend.”
Gilgamesh nodded. Nimrod had already decided on war, and as king, he now played a part. For just a moment, Nimrod had let down his guard. Now the moment had passed. How lonely indeed it must be to be king. Gilgamesh pitied his old friend, and he determined to speak honestly to Nimrod, even if he was the last man to do so.
17.
In armor, an ermine cape and with his helmet in the crook of his arm, Gilgamesh ducked and entered a large tent as raindrops drizzled against the oiled leather. Sitting on mats waited clan elders, Shem, Ham and massive Beor scowling as he stood in back. Two youths wearing wolf caps entered behind Gilgamesh, his guards.
One of the wolf-capped guards said, “This is Gilgamesh, the governor of—”
“We know very well who he is,” Ham said.
The youth with the wolf cap blushed.
“You may go,” Shem told them.
The two youths hurried out the tent.
“Won’t you sit, Gilgamesh,” Shem said.
“Thank you,” Gilgamesh said, spotting the mat reserved for him. Despite his uneasiness, he unpinned his cloak, with water droplets falling from it. He hooked it to a nearby stand, placing his helmet at the foot of the stand.
“You look very martial,” Shem said. “You look indeed like the herald of Babel.”
As Gilgamesh sat, he noted faces. Beor looked hostile. Not that he blamed the big man, but Beor’s presence made him uneasy. Many of the sons of Shem seemed to hold their judgment about him. What Ham and Shem thought, he couldn’t tell.
“I journeyed here to bring you the king’s words.”
“Just get on with it,” growled Beor. “Give us Nimrod’s lies.”
Gilgamesh’s mouth turned dry. For a brief moment, he wondered if Nimrod hoped to solve his problem with Uruk and him by having the enemies of Babel slay him.
“Before I relay the message, I want you to realize that these aren’t my words,” Gilgamesh said. “Some of them, perhaps, might seem…well, I don’t want to get into what the words might seem like to you. I represent the King of Babel, but I am not the king.”
“Do you
claim then the Antediluvian sanctity of herald?” Ham asked.
“Exactly,” Gilgamesh said.
“Shall we grant him that immunity, brother?”
“Of course,” Shem said.
Ham nodded to Gilgamesh. “You may rest easily among us, Herald.”
“Thank you.”
“It took courage to come alone,” Ham said. “The least we can do is respect it.”
“You are kind,” Gilgamesh said.
“I’m afraid,” Shem said, “that what you have to tell us won’t be so kind.”
“They’re not my words,” Gilgamesh said.
“Yes, yes, we know,” Beor said, from the back, still standing. “These are Nimrod’s words. Please spout them, so we can end this farce.”
Ham turned toward the back. “Don’t you think it was brave of Gilgamesh to come alone among us?”
Beor scowled. Then he seemed to consider. After a moment, he said, “Yes. It was brave.”
“Then give him the honor due a brave man.”
Beor nodded stiffly. “I ask your pardon, Gilgamesh.”
“I freely give it,” Gilgamesh said. “And I want you to know that I hold no ill will against you for the time you held me prisoner.”
Beor grunted.
“This is all very seemly,” Assur said. “But perhaps we could get to the matter of this meeting.”
Gilgamesh sat straighter. Nimrod had coached him on the message, and he had insisted that Gilgamesh uphold the majesty of the King of Babel. First clearing his throat, Gilgamesh began to speak.
“These are King Nimrod’s words: ‘I ask for tokens of your good will, men of Nineveh. Send us Ham and Rahab and Shem and Ruth, and bind Beor with stout cords. Then you must send his daughter Hilda to Babel. I wish as well that Odin, a traitor to the Mighty Men, be strongly bound and sent to me. In return, I, Nimrod the First of Babel, Erech, Akkad and Calneh, will give you political unity and delivery from want. Mankind, as you know, faces many dangers. Drought and famine are a constant worry. Wolves, lions, leopards and the dreaded dragon prey upon humanity. In uncounted numbers, these beasts roam where they will. Pestilence and disease threaten the weary, and fear in its many guises only heightens these dangers. Together, however, in an empire spreading across the Earth, we may act in one accord and bring relief to each other. Warriors of note even now journey to you and will help you exterminate these terrible monsters. With the warriors are wagons full of food and drink and precious gems and rare perfumes. I bring the bounty of Babel to all that embrace mankind’s empire. And I bring the sword and the spear to those whose evil and treachery plot disunity, disharmony and therefore destruction upon the embryonic civilization built upon the sweat and labor of those who so recently escaped the awful doom of Jehovah. Some of you will come to Babel to help finish the Tower unto Heaven; some will stay on the plain of Nineveh to help build glorious cities with protective walls of stone. I, King Nimrod the First, march to you and hope to find a peaceful and loving embrace. Yet in my hand, I also hold the sword. Choose wisely, sons of Shem and those of Japheth, and a long and fruitful life will be yours.”
People of the Tower (Ark Chronicles 4) Page 15
