by Brian Godawa
Chapter 5
The marketplace of Erech buzzed with celebration. Citizens lined the streets cooking food on grills and drinking too much beer. Men were bare-chested with sheepskin skirts wrapped around their waists. Women wore fabric tunics with embroidered adornments. Everyone stayed out of the street in eager anticipation of the triumphal procession.
In the early days of the cities, when gods and kings conquered an adversary, they commonly paraded the captured leaders, dead or alive, along with the plundered booty, through the city streets in a procession of victory over their enemies. It commanded respect from the populace for their leaders and engaged them in the victory and complete humiliation of the vanquished foes. It was a time of state pride and unity.
The trumpets blew, announcing the arrival of the parade. The people interrupted their banter and play to settle in for the entertainment. Everyone lined the Processional Way, a long wide paved road that ran from one of the main gates all the way through the city and up to the gates of the priest-king’s palace.
Lugalanu led the procession in a four-wheel chariot drawn by horses, which had recently replaced his onagers. He felt that the horse was much more powerful and regal. It was stronger, swifter, and far more pliable for domestication. They had only recently been bred and introduced into royalty and military use. Lugalanu liked the authoritative feeling he had riding horses. Glorious in his royal robes, he waved to the masses with a proud arm of power.
A wave of awe rolled through the crowds, keeping pace with him. What helped to breed that awe was the squad of giant Nephilim escorting him through the streets. They marched in complete coordination and created a wake of fear in their path. The ground shuddered beneath their feet. Apart from their sheer height, their tattoos, strange armor and weapons proclaimed them as the demigods they were.
Following the Nephilim, a herald shouted, “Behold, the victory of Anu and his spoils of war! The human tribe who would live as rebels without law and without the gods!”
The cart with Noah tied to a stake, stripped naked and beaten bloody, followed behind the herald. The people jeered and threw rotten vegetables at him. Some of the missiles hit their mark, stinging him and covering his body with a sticky putrid scum.
After Noah, a train of carts carrying the bodies of Lemuel and the other elders of Noah’s tribe rolled along. The corpses hung from their stakes like gutted carcasses, surrounded by kindling wood that would be set ablaze when they reached the town square. The people cheered with bloodlust.
The sun settled on the horizon of the cityscape. Inside the royal palace throne room, Anu and Inanna contemplated the dead goat lying on the stone altar before them, its throat freshly cut. They would soon suck it dry of every drop. Inanna worried about getting blood on her elaborate makeup and ornate costume of satin and wild ostrich feathers She set those thoughts aside. The first matter at hand was before them: Noah.
Three armed guards held him, but Noah was in no condition to be a threat. He could not see through his left eye, a black bulge of pus. He had lost a few teeth. So much of his blood had spilled that the court physician had to care for him to make sure he would not die on them.
Lugalanu stood beside the prisoner. He remained judiciously silent.
“So, this is the mighty tent-dweller of the human tribes, Noah ben Lamech, a son of Enoch,” mocked Anu. The term “tent-dweller” was a word of scorn to urbanites. It reeked of primitive ignorance.
Noah could barely focus on the deities. He was too dizzy.
Anu continued, “We are familiar with the revelation of Enoch. Are you the Chosen Seed to end the rule of the gods?”
Noah did not respond.
Inanna exploded, “SPEAK, MORTAL! ARE YOU THE CHOSEN SEED?!!”
Noah coughed. He made them wait.
And then he laughed.
The act confused Anu and almost set off Inanna.
When Noah spoke, his voice burned slowly. “All I value is dead. My God, my tribe, my family. You murdered them. And you now have the power to end my life. What power do I have to end anything?”
Noah had given up the fight. Elohim was nowhere in sight. What was the difference between a God who existed and did nothing, and a God who did not exist at all? He resigned himself to obliteration. He truly did not care what happened anymore. “Just execute me and choose another for your foolish prophecy.”
“That, my dear captive, is why I will not execute you,” countered Anu. Inanna and Lugalanu both looked at Anu with surprise.
“If you are the Chosen Seed, and I kill you, then Elohim will simply raise up a new man to take your place. No, I will do the one thing that can thwart the revelation. I will keep you alive but forgotten. Erased from the history of man.” Inanna and Lugalanu listened eagerly for the pay off.
“In the slave mines,” Anu finished with a treacherous grin. He nodded to Lugalanu.
“Yes, my Lord and god,” said Lugalanu. He gestured for the guards to carry Noah back to the dungeon, to ready him for his transfer.
“Oh, you are diabolically clever,” quipped Inanna.
“Thank you,” Anu replied. “I must display my superior nature every once in a while.”
Anu rose from his throne. He bared his fangs and plunged them into the goat’s neck to drink its blood. Inanna pulled off her ostrich feather shawl, so it would not get splashed, and joined him.
Chapter 6
The train of guards pulled cloaks over their mouths to protect their lungs from the sandy wind whipping around them. The desert night made it difficult to see. The five camel-back Sumerian officers led thirty cubits ahead of the twenty bird-men foot soldiers that guarded the cart transporting the shackled Noah. It would take them three days march at this pace to reach the copper slave mines at the edge of the great desert.
A human guard, a fat ugly mug with terrible breath, sat in the cart with Noah. He muttered snidely to Noah, “You will enjoy the mines. The only place more godforsaken is Sheol.” He snickered.
Noah held his breath so he would not gag. Or your mouth, he thought.
Sheol was the underworld, the place of the dead. Hidden under the pillars of the earth below the Abyss of subterranean waters, it was the place from which no man returned. Many stories had built up around Sheol. A common saying that Noah often heard and recounted himself was, “the jaws of Sheol are never satisfied.” It was the farthest one could be from the land of the living. It was where all people, big or small, rich or poor, were forgotten. To say that the slave mines were one notch up from Sheol was not a pleasant proposition.
“HALT!” The Captain of the Guard’s voice barely penetrated to the back of the train over the howl of the wind. They could hardly hear him. The convoy stopped abruptly. The bird-men positioned themselves at the ready.
The Captain squinted his eyes in the dusty wind at the silhouette of a hooded man standing in their path about one hundred cubits in front of them. The faint moonlight shimmered through the dust and outlined the lone figure like a phantasm.
The Lieutenant piped up, “Could it be an ambush?”
“Do you see a single place for a war party to hide?” spit the Captain.
The Lieutenant looked around. The desert land lay flat for leagues in all directions in this stretch. They would not reach any rocky areas until tomorrow. Even with poor visibility, there was nowhere for a war party to hide, unless they buried themselves in the sand, waiting to rise up. The Lieutenant considered that possibility.
“Let us dispatch this annoying desert vagrant,” commanded the Captain. He led the five camel riders toward the figure.
Noah strained to see what was going on, but the dust and the fat guard both obscured too much of the path ahead.
“What fool would be out here during this contemptible weather?” squawked the guard.
The Captain and his five officers approached the lone man within a few cubits. The stranger wore a loose hooded robe, his face wrapped in shadow.
“You there, drifter!” yelled
the Captain. “Stand aside!”
The man stood like a statue, even his robe seeming oblivious to the wind and the command.
The Captain grew irritated. He would not brook insolence from a lone vagabond. “You stand in the path of the army of Anu! Stand aside!”
Still the man did not move. He showed no sign of even hearing the order. He is either deaf or stupid, thought the Captain.
The five camel riders circled him, their steeds snorting. The wind whipped up to a new frenzy, as though energized by the unfolding drama.
The Captain gave him one last chance. “What god do you serve?”
The lone man still stared silently from the hooded shadow. The Captain stared back. “Kill him for his disrespect,” he finally growled.
The Lieutenant smiled with glee. He had not had the opportunity to kill anyone in a while. He enjoyed the feeling of god-like power that came from extinguishing life. He trotted his camel over to the hooded stranger and raised his axe high to smite him down. He swung his weapon, anticipating the gruesome sound of his blade wading through flesh and bone, but the expected thud never came.
The stranger dodged the blow with preternatural timing. He caught the Lieutenant’s arm and pulled him from his camel, somehow turning the ax back against its owner and burying it in the soldier’s head. So quickly did it happen, it took a moment for the others to realize what they had seen. This gave the stranger time to stand up and slough off his cloak. A paladin warrior in strange leather armor stood revealed. He was muscular, youthful, with sandy hair and a wide jaw line.
The thought cut through the Captain’s mind, What a handsome scoundrel.
The paladin finally answered the Captain’s question. “I am a servant of Elohim, whom you are about to meet.”
The men drew their weapons, but could not hold them steady. Their camels reared up out of control, terrified by unseen forces.
The paladin pulled the axe from the dead Lieutenant’s skull and flung it through the air. The Captain’s mouth opened to shout an order, but the ax embedded in his skull before a sound could emerge. The stunned, lifeless body dropped from his camel.
The paladin drew double weapons, one in each hand, long huge daggers with a curved hook blade that might be used by a twenty-foot giant. The soldiers had never seen this kind of weapon before. These were in fact sickle swords. This sword had not yet been introduced to humanity. But this warrior was no mere human.
The paladin cut down each of the remaining four officers in four swift moves. Then, with purposeful strides, he closed in on the prisoner convoy.
Noah could hear the pandemonium, but still could see nothing. Dust obscured everything.
The fat guard could not see much either. He belted out, “What is going on?!”
Someone yelped back, “It’s a fight! Prepare for battle!”
The bird-men responded with military precision, lining up to receive the intruder. The stranger was almost upon them at a running gait.
The fat guard complained, “It’s only one man! What could one man possibly do?”
But it was not one man. Unfortunately, none of them knew that.
The paladin hit the first guard and cut him down without losing stride. The next human screamed, “Enemy upon us!” But he was on the ground before he could finish his breath.
The bird-men were another matter altogether. They were in battle mode and they were ready.
They just were not ready for a superhuman warrior to slice through them like animal fat.
The stranger swiftly cut through to the middle of the last of the soldiers, surrounded on every side. They squeezed in for the kill. He held his sickle swords out to the sides. Then with a supernatural strangeness, he began to spin like a human cyclone. The blades became a twirling death trap that cut down every last bird-man in seconds. It was over before anyone knew it had begun.
The paladin looked up at Noah on the cart.
For the first time, Noah could see the source of the commotion. His jaw dropped, and he finally grasped the situation. The stranger was here to rescue him – or kill him.
The fat guard’s mind leapt to a keen sense of self-preservation. He drew his dagger and placed it at Noah’s throat. “Stop, or the prisoner dies!”
The fat guard had calculated correctly. The stranger was here for rescue.
The paladin did not take his eyes off the fat guard, though he would have liked to because the guard was rather ugly. Slowly, the rescuer set his blades down on the ground.
The fat guard smiled smugly and began to calculate his next move. He relaxed his hold on Noah ever so slightly.
It was just enough. His mind was no match for the stranger’s unearthly speed. The paladin grabbed two daggers from his belt, one in each hand, and threw them with perfect timing and accuracy. They hit their marks, one buried in each eye of the fat guard. Anu’s servant was dead before he hit the ground.
Noah had been speechless the entire time, in awe of this creature. He could not believe his eyes as the paladin sheathed his strange weapons. Noah had never seen their like before. The rescuer hacked at Noah’s shackles. Noah’s mind raced. Who was this mysterious warrior that could do such things? he thought.
“Who are you?” Noah asked, his voice quivering from fear. “What are you?”
The stranger answered him, “I am Uriel, your guardian.”
“My guardian?”
“Yes, your guardian. Elohim sent me to protect you and help you accomplish your calling.”
In the chaos of the moment, Noah floundered. “What calling?”
Uriel looked at him impatiently. “Have you forgotten already?”
Indeed, Noah had forgotten.
“The box?” Uriel reminded him. He shook his head, thinking, This one is just as obstinate as his grandfather.
Noah’s sarcastic tongue returned like a flood tide at the ludicrous suggestion. “Right! The box! How could I forget the ridiculously large box?” he sputtered.
Uriel frowned at his ward. “Sometimes I am vexed why Elohim chooses people like you.”
The insult took Noah aback. He paused to reflect. He responded, “On that, you and I agree. Though I would think your attitude is not properly befitting a guardian sent by Elohim.”
Uriel rolled his eyes.
Noah caught a camel wandering near him and mounted it. “Well, Uriel, I thank you for your”–what should he call it?–guardianship. But I have more pressing concerns.”
“You do not get off that easily,” Uriel said.
Noah whipped his camel and bolted off into the night.
Uriel looked upwards to heaven with frustration. “Lord, why me?” After a moment of thought, he added, “Why him?”
Noah rode his camel hard to the cedar forest. Though the attack had happened only days before, he could see smoke still lazily drifting up into the sky from the desolation. He did not want to see the ruin of the encampment, but he knew he had to. He had to face his past head on and let it fuel his thirst for revenge in the future.
As he approached the edge of the camp, the destruction engulfed his senses. His eyes clouded and his throat choked up. Why? Why would Elohim allow this to happen? If there was any thought of him being this Chosen Seed, it was thoroughly put to rest, vanished into the underworld with his family.
Everything had been razed to the ground. The animals all lay slaughtered, or they had escaped. The destruction scattered debris everywhere. The only movement came from surviving children, still picking through the wreckage to find anything to eat or to use. Rather than mercifully killing the children, Lugalanu let them survive to be starved or ravaged by wolves and other predators.
But Noah’s mind did not stay on the waifs now gathering around him. He barely saw them. He came to the origin of the rising smoke.
He fell off his camel. His hold on reality began to slide away.
The dark vapors rose from the smoldering aftermath of a great bonfire—of the bodies of his kinsmen. Massacre.
Noah stumbled closer to the burning pile. At the edge of the smoldering ruins he saw a burnt linen cloth. A red linen cloth. The dress Emzara had worn before they last made love. He pulled it out of the flames. One of Emzara’s copper bracelets, blackened by the fire, rolled out. He picked it up with the cloth and wept bitter tears. He murmured to himself the name of his beloved, trying to resurrect her, demanding that Sheol would not allow her to be forgotten.
He looked to heaven and raised his fist in anger. “And you expect me to obey you?”
A child cried out in hunger.
Then it hit Noah. His sons. His sons! He jumped up and ran full tilt for his tents. He arrived at a jumble of goatskin canvas and piles of rubble. He saw a bulge in the tent and ran over, ripping it apart, digging for the truth.
It was the pet lamb, lifeless and spattered with blood.
“Father!”
He thought it was a dream-voice. He looked up.
It was no dream. Shem and Japheth stood a short distance away, shadowed by a bandaged Methuselah watching over them.
Noah cried out for his sons and ran to them. They crashed into each other and fell to the ground in weeping happiness. He kissed them. They held onto him for dear life, a pair of cubs reunited with their parent.
“I thought you were dead!” Noah cried. “I thought you were dead!”
Shem stopped him. The boy pulled away and stood upright. “No, father. We did as you taught us. We distracted the bad men.”
“With a sacrifice,” added Japheth. They proceeded to tell him the story of their strategy. They opened the back flap to make it appear they had left, and then burrowed into their hiding place. The soldier had followed them into the tent. They had left Lemuel out to distract him, just in case. When the soldier could not find the boys, he killed the lamb. It satisfied his frustration, and he left.
“They were abonimations,” yelled Japheth, hopelessly mangling the pronunciation.
Shem scolded his little brother, “Japheth, you are not allowed to say...”
Noah interrupted them both. They looked into their father’s eyes, expecting a chastisement. But he calmly said to Japheth, “The correct word, my son, is abominations.”
