Love Hilda: Warrior-Maid of Beor.
13.
“She’s a dear girl,” Rahab said.
“And insightful,” Ham said. “She sees the Japhethites for what they are.”
“Nonsense,” Rahab said. “She merely repeats slander she’s heard almost her entire life. What troubles me, however, is this warrior maiden foolishness. It’s clear the lack of a mother has warped her thinking. Beor loves his daughter, I know, but turning her into a javelin-throwing charioteer is simply irresponsible.”
“She seems to take to it,” Ham said.
“What I propose is medicine against this ailment,” Rahab said.
“What is the disease?”
“Masculinity,” Rahab said. “What Hilda needs is more femininity.”
“And this will be brought about how exactly?”
Rahab studied her husband. “When I was a young girl, long before I escaped to your father’s house, I had cruel parents. I, too, envisioned myself bearing weapons.”
Ham snorted.
“Yes, you find that difficult to believe,” Rahab said. “I was so shy and demure in those days.”
“I recall little that was masculine about you,” he said with a grin.
“Well, besides daydreams of wielding a sword and doing wicked deeds, I used to hide under my covers and fondle an ivory comb. It was my only nice thing. I thought that if I wore it for the right man, he would take me from my misery and treat me highly for the rest of my life. Oh, Ham, that ivory comb helped draw out the femininity within me. What I now propose is something similar for Hilda.”
“I have plenty of ivory combs,” Ham said.
Rahab shook her head. “Hilda isn’t like me. Her father loves her. For all his gruff ways, he treats her well. She’ll need something grander to draw out the femininity in her.”
“Like what?”
“The envy of women everywhere,” Rahab said. “A beautiful amber necklace.”
14.
Heth’s son traded all his malachite rocks, Ham bartering for a portion of them with several ivory figurines. The copper ore then went to a new and improved furnace, one much more efficient than the model first shown them by Noah.
As before, and in a crowded smithy, a crusher broke rocks into gravel while piles of charcoal waited in nearby wooden bins. And like its ancient prototype, this furnace was bowl-shaped and partially sunk into the ground, but instead of rocks it was made of burnt bricks lined with clay and contained several revolutionary refinements. No longer did sweating youths blow through reed tubes to heat the fire. Now the youths trod on goatskin bellows, forcing a steady blast of air into the glowing charcoal-malachite mix.
Ham sweated in the hot room and watched as Kush trickled more ore onto the glowing heap. At a signal from the white-bearded elder, Seba used a stick and opened a hole at the front bottom of the furnace. Through it, molten slag oozed, spilling into a trough. Seba corked the hole and more charcoal and copper ore was piled on. They repeated the process many times, until Kush held up his hand. The slag hole was opened for the last time and all of it drained away. Kush took a bronze-tipped staff and levered a hunk of glowing copper from the bottom of the furnace.
They no longer used hammers to crack open lumps of slag and remove pea-sized pellets of copper. With this new system, all the purified copper had sunk to the bottom of the furnace, with the slag already drawn off. Using this new furnace, 200 pounds of copper could be smelted where before only 20 pounds had been refined. It was faster and used the charcoal more efficiently, as the fire didn’t have to be allowed to die down so they could extract the slag and then reheat to begin anew.
Ham took his portion of copper and had it re-smelted. Afterward, he poured it into a long, thin basin to produce a fine copper thread. He twined the thread around a soft thong of lion-skin. Next, he polished the amber, shaping each lump into a lustrous and rather large bead. An insect was embedded in the center bead. It made Ham suspect that amber was dried sap from trees. In any case, with the greatest patience he drilled holes through the amber, stringing the copper-wound lion-string through each one. The finished creation he lay on his table, staring at it amazed, wondering if his love for Hilda had mixed with his hidden guilt for having driven her away with his drunkenness.
He hurried out, bringing Rahab in to see.
Rahab touched it. “It’s beautiful, more magnificent than I could have dreamed.”
Pride welled within Ham. “I give it to you, my wife, for all the years that you’ve given me nothing but love and patience.”
“Oh, Ham,” Rahab said, hugging him. “You’re so large-hearted, so wonderful after all these years. But Hilda needs it more than I do. I still wish to give it to her.”
“Dear, dear wife,” Ham said, holding her by the shoulders, peering into her liquid eyes. “If I’m large-hearted, then know that it’s all your doing.”
“Who shall we entrust to bring this to Hilda?” Rahab asked.
“I’ll take it to Zidon myself,” he said.
“All the way to the Zagros Mountains?”
“Why not?”
“What about your hip?” she asked.
“I’ll take my chariot and bring this necklace to trustable Zidon. He’ll see that it gets to Hilda.”
Rahab studied his face. “Are you running low on ivory again?”
Ham laughed, kissing Rahab. “You know me too well, dear wife, too well indeed.”
15.
The upstairs Barracks apartment was strewn with cushions, crumpled fur blankets, cups, and vases on chests and wooden stands. Candles flickered everywhere, many more than were necessary. Amid these luxuries, Semiramis paced like a leashed cheetah. Rage caused her eyes to flash, fueled her supple legs with grace and gave her gestures passion.
Nimrod watched from the edge of the bed as if afraid she might pounce and rake her fingernails across his eyes. They had just returned from viewing the amber necklace. Grandfather Ham had displayed it, saying that, soon, he’d be off to the Zagros Mountains, and from there the necklace would journey to Hilda in Japheth Land.
“I’m amazed that little hussy will be rewarded for her deviousness.” Semiramis struck her thigh. Then she picked up a cushion and hugged it. “Doesn’t your grandfather realize the message he’s sending everyone? How demoralizing it is for the rest of us who stay amid the floods and hardships? Perhaps I’ll traitorously dash off to a softer land. Do you think your grandfather will make me such a necklace then?”
“It is unique,” Nimrod said.
“Unique! It’s priceless, marvelous, the perfect piece of jewelry to match my eyes.” Semiramis waved the cushion. “That blonde-haired hussy, it will be wasted on her. Oh, I know all about her hard-hearted little games, believe you me. She simpered and whined, making it so people called me the evil stepmother. The little trickster, she was the devil. She drove Beor against me. She made my life miserable in Canaan’s house. I tried to discipline her, but, behind my back, people started calling me cruel and vicious because of it. Don’t think I don’t know what they said. I had to stiffen my spine to endure it.” Semiramis shook her head. “This necklace will puff her up, making her impossible to control.”
Nimrod shrugged. “That’s hardly our concern.”
Semiramis halted. “I don’t see it that way.”
“You’re divorced, done with Beor.”
“True,” she said. “But I yet feel a responsibility for the girl. Can I let her be poisoned by Ham’s misguided generosity? Not if I want to look at myself in the mirror.”
“There isn’t much you can do about the necklace,” Nimrod said.
Her eyes narrowed. “Perhaps I can’t, but you can.”
“What do you expect me to do?” Nimrod asked, surprised.
“You must intercept the necklace,” she said. “See that it never reaches Japheth Land.”
Nimrod laughed. “I’ll not slay a messenger just so you can don a necklace and strut about with it in our bedroom.”
/> “Is that what you think?” She hurled the cushion at him, which he dodged. “At least Ham understands women. He decks them in precious things because he considers them so. But you, the Mighty Hunter, they say, bringing home trophies like dragon’s heads and wolf skins. Do you think to drape me in animal cloaks so you can hunt me in our room and sate your lusts upon me?”
“I bring you gifts,” he said.
“Like the amber necklace?” she asked, eyes flashing. “Like the fish-eyes Gilgamesh lost?”
“The what?” Nimrod asked. “Fish-eyes, you say? You wish me to pluck out the eyes of fish and give them to you?”
Semiramis grew silent, sitting on a stool and lifting a bronze mirror. The mirror’s bronze face was highly polished, and she held it by its ornamental ivory handle, examining her neck, imaging how the amber necklace would look around her throat.
“I know you want the necklace,” Nimrod said. “Which of the women of Babel didn’t eye it with lust and longing? But it can’t be done, not yet anyway.”
“Don’t speak to me of can’t,” Semiramis said. “Whatever the Mighty Hunter truly desires, he ends up acquiring.”
“Have a care, woman. I’m not Beor. If you continue to bait me, I’ll give you bruises to admire instead of your face.”
Semiramis looked over her shoulder at him and went back to peering at her mirror. She picked up a brush and combed her long, dark hair. With a cry of rage, she flung the mirror aside, leapt to her feet and strode out of the room.
Nimrod watched her go, amused at the vanity of women.
16.
In Ham’s knapsack, the amber necklace made its way to the settlement in the Zagros Mountains. From there, Chin the son of Zidon traveled north with a small caravan of donkeys. They were loaded with copper axes, adzes and knives and several jugs of smooth, Babel beer. The winter snows made it a difficult journey, but after hard weeks of braving deep drifts and icy winds, Chin and his companions reached the valley-village of Javan.
A brittle wall of branches dug into the earth formed a wide perimeter, with huts and rough-hewn timber houses and branch-built corrals filling the settlement in a random fashion. Some of the timber houses had been smeared with clay of such purity and brilliance that it looked like paint or a colored design. Each home, hut or corral was surrounded by open spaces. It was the chief precaution against fire.
Chin was welcomed and stayed in Beor’s stoutly built log house, where also lived the Scouts, two of them Chin’s brothers. They feasted him and his companions in a big room, the table of solid oak construction. They drank from wooden cups and ate off wooden platters, each feaster using a knife and his or her fingers. They ate roasted pork, peas and steaming fresh bread, tearing off chunks and using their thumbs to smear on butter. On the walls were stapled wolf and bearskins, with spears pegged above them. As the meal ended, Chin picked up a package by his feet. He reached across the table and gave it to Hilda. They sat on either side of Beor, who reigned at the head of the table.
The wind howled outside and air rushed down the chimney, causing the fireplace embers to glow and sparks to fly. The feasters ignored that as Hilda tore apart the package. She had grown into a tall girl with open, pretty features and long blonde hair she usually kept loose and, sometimes, in disarray. She wore a hunting outfit, a short dress to her knees, with her arms bare. She kept a dagger at her side and outmatched Semiramis’s amazon-style.
Hilda’s eyes grew wide as she lifted the amber necklace for all to see.
The Scouts and their wives marveled and began to whisper about who had sent Hilda such a fantastic present.
“Father, look.”
Huge Beor half rose out of his chair. His eyes were no longer sunken as they had been at the Zagros Settlement, but were now filled with amazement like everyone else. His once sagging facial flesh had filled out. His bushy, black beard, bald head and mammoth size—he was without a doubt the largest man on Earth. The somber cast to his features gave him a grim majesty. A double-bladed axe was thrust through his broad leather belt and in his right fist, he held a jack of Babel ale.
Beor lowered his drink and grew even grimmer. “Who is this that tries to turn my daughter’s head with priceless treasure? Eh, Chin? Who thinks to steal my daughter from me?”
“Whether that’s Ham’s intention I don’t know,” Chin said.
“Ham?” Beor asked. “My Grandfather Ham sent this?”
“He gave it into my father Zidon’s care,” Chin said. “Now I have discharged the obligation by bringing it to you.”
Beor settled back into his chair, brooding, his heavy eyebrows drawn together. After a moment, he graced the assemblage with one of his wintry grins.
It seemed as if a collective sigh filled the room, and Hilda beamed with delight.
“I approve,” said Beor, “although my grandfather’s generosity baffles me. This, however, I know: Gifts from Ham are precious. Did he not fashion the pike with which I slew Old Slow the Great Sloth, and did he not fashion my chariot? Now he has given my daughter a queen’s ransom. Let us never forget that we are the children of Ham and Rahab, noble people, good in every respect. That is why the evil plague infecting Babel must be stopped.”
“Oh, Father,” Hilda said. “Let’s not talk about that tonight.” She rose, slipping the amber necklace over her head, settling the three lustrous beads onto her blouse.
Those around the table clapped, showing their appreciation. Several of the women eyed the beads with obvious envy.
“I toast to my grandfather, Ham,” Beor said, lifting his cup.
Everyone else did likewise. “To Ham!” they shouted.
As he lowered his cup, Beor said, “The necklace doesn’t quite suit your costume, my daughter. For that, you must wear a proper dress and douse yourself with perfume—and put a crown of lilies in your hair. Then you will seem like a princess come down from the clouds.”
Hilda made a face, but she excused herself and went into the next room, taking a slate mirror off a wooden chest and examining herself and the necklace. A proper dress…she hadn’t worn a gown for a long, long time. She took off the necklace and carefully set it in a small wooden box. Then she went back to enjoy the evening and to hear more news from Chin.
17.
Hilda drove her father’s chariot the next day as Beor led Chin to other valleys and to the other villages in Japheth Land. It was south of Mount Ararat, much closer to the catchments of the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers than those who lived in the Eastern Zagros Mountains. With the passage of years, Japheth Land had drifted southward, inching ever nearer the alluvial plains of the Two Rivers.
These were high valleys, thick with snow and pines and, in the lowest regions, with many oaks. Game was plentiful, and, unlike Babel, the growing season was singular, so food wasn’t as abundant as in Shinar. Perhaps to offset that, many nodes of surface copper-ore—gold, silver and occasionally tin—lay strewn almost everywhere.
At each village, Chin traded briskly for rare tin and precious silver and gold, the gold mostly in dust form. He also traded gossip and news, giving and receiving liberally. Patriarch Japheth treated him with respect and inquired after Babel. He wanted to know in particular about Nimrod.
“Is he as dreadful as Beor makes out?” Japheth asked. They stood at an outdoor pit, with crackling logs. Tall pines rose behind them. Above, dark clouds hid the sun.
Chin glanced at Beor and Hilda before he said, “Nimrod wears a lion cloak, one that had a black mane. They say this lion was the king of all lions.”
Japheth shrugged. He was approaching two hundreds years of age. He was tall, with drooping shoulders and a long, blond beard. His eyes seemed wiser than before, if more haunted, and his mouth twitched from time to time, as if he knew a joke much too clever for anyone but himself to understand.
“Our Beor is also a champion,” Japheth said. “He slew a great sloth, although no one has ever explained to me, to my satisfaction, what drove a sane man to such a deed. Then I t
hink to myself, but of course, he acts like Ham, who faced Ymir and survived. Beor now warns us of Nimrod when he himself acts just like him.”
Beor shook his head. “I refuse to be drawn, Lord Japheth. For, in debate, none may match you.”
“And by such a refusal you think to refute me?” Japheth asked. “I know that ploy. Notice, Nimrod drapes himself in a lion cloak. You wear the head of the great sloth. All the sons of Ham, it seems to me, love ostentation of this most primitive kind. Warriors you are, indeed. Your naked bloodlust proves it.”
Chin cleared his throat.
“You wish to challenge my assertion?” Japheth asked.
“No, Lord Japheth,” Chin said. “You asked for news of Nimrod. This might intrigue you, I warrant. He drove off a leviathan.”
Japheth glanced at several of his grandsons. They wore thick woolen garments and hefted red-colored shields. Each had tattooed swirls of blue woad on either his forehead or cheeks and held onto copper or flint-tipped spears. They had red or blond hair tied in ponytails and wore leather caps with earflaps.
“You’re right,” Japheth said. “I’m interested. We occasionally sail on Lake Van. But a leviathan…such creatures live in the oceans. Has Nimrod built another Ark?”
“I don’t think so,” Chin said. “Ham fashioned a-a—”
“Ah-ha!” Japheth cried. “I knew Ham lied to us during the Deluge. He pretended to abhor the waters, when in actuality they fascinated him. I warrant that Ham sailed with Nimrod.”
“That is true,” Chin said.
“And during the journey, they found this leviathan?” Japheth asked.
“Yes,” Chin said.
“Did Nimrod slay it?”
“No, Lord,” Chin said. “But after it slew a Hunter, Anu the Light-Hearted, I believe, Nimrod wounded the leviathan and drove it off.”
People of Babel (Ark Chronicles 3) Page 5
