The Days of Peleg

by Jon Saboe

  Chapter 40

  Consummation

  “Designs of the Serpent are meant for evil, but the Creator converts them to good.”

  Eschol twitched his cheek and blinked rapidly, trying to dislodge a mosquito, which had somehow selected his face, from among all of the other possible locations within these vast swamplands, to land upon. He did not dare wave it off with his hands, because the splashing would alert the sentries who stood nearby, watching for any signs of infiltration.

  He had spent the entire afternoon half-swimming and half-crawling through the marshes of Siddim, trying to reach the enemy camp before nightfall. He was now resting, almost totally submerged, at the edge of a particularly filthy bitumen bog within a stone’s throw of King Tidal’s tent, from which a banner brazenly (and carelessly) fluttered in the evening breeze, displaying his symbol—that of a long-horned goat.

  As soon as the sun set, Eschol would emerge from the swamp, under cover of twilight, and do some basic reconnaissance. He would then return until the signal to strike.

  For the moment, however, only his face and ears were above the slimy water as he rested motionless, listening to the foreign conversation above him. He understood very little, except he heard the words Am'raphel and Ar'ioch, names belonging to two of the four enemy kings.

  He stopped himself from laughing out loud as he considered how men, who happened to be in charge of a small village or a gang of ruffians in these wastelands, astonishingly proclaimed themselves to be “Kings”—and then demanded all of the honors of state that a legitimate king should be accorded. Warlord or gang-leader would be a better label.

  Pompous idiots.

  The undeterred mosquito had its fill and finally left.

  It was all his brother’s fault. When that strange group of travelers had arrived at Mamre’s land, he had allowed them to settle near his oak-tree farms, and then promised them protection by making an alliance with them.

  Later, part of that same group had decided to lease land from King Bera, (another pompous idiot), and now the “enemy” kings had attacked and plundered the settlements of King Bera, King Birsha, and three other kings (whose names he didn’t know and didn’t care about), taking food and valuables, and capturing their people.

  Unfortunately, on one of their raids, their prisoners also included the relatives of those that his brother, Mamre, had promised to protect and defend. As subjects of King Bera, they were rounded up and taken along with the rest of the plunder. There was a fairly decent market for slaves, if one could get his product to the wealthier countries in the south where ambitious building projects paid well.

  Eschol had protested to his brother, claiming that their promise of protection was void, once the strangers had left the oak groves, but Mamre had insisted.

  “An alliance is an alliance,” was Mamre’s stubborn assertion.

  So now, here he was, hiding in the mud, waiting for the moment to attack. He was in charge of a band of twenty-three men who were currently hiding in similar fashion elsewhere in the area. Mamre had thirty-seven men to the west, also hiding in the marshes, and his youngest brother, Aner, was waiting with only eleven men in the rock outcroppings to the north.

  Eventually the sentries left the area, and the sun finally disappeared beneath the horizon. Eschol hauled himself on to dry land and began looking around, still clinging to the ground; crawling on his hands and knees, or walking hunched over in an attempt to blend in with the scrubby foliage and large rocks which were scattered over the region.

  Soon he was able to identify a General’s tent, a quartermaster supply hut, and a small armory. However, he was unable to find where the captives were, or where the bulk of the loot was hidden.

  It was a basic rescue mission. The plan was to spring a synchronized attack on the kings and officers, and then, in the resulting confusion, rescue all of the captives and reclaim as much food and valuables as possible.

  Unfortunately, the combined armies of all four enemy kings were over eight hundred troops. Fortunately, the actual rescue was not up to him or his brothers. The strangers were providing more than three hundred armed men who would rush in on their signal during the confusion and accomplish the liberation. It seemed only fair. The least these strangers could do was to go in and rescue their own people.

  But they would rush in without knowing whether he and his brothers had succeeded. And there was no way he could control their signal.

  The mud covering his body had just barely begun to dry when he returned to the bog. He had no intention of climbing back in, though, unless absolutely necessary. He sat next to a rock and waited as the evening air grew colder and the insects became more predatory.

  Mamre rested beside a large boulder, watching the waxing crescent moon make its passage through the brilliant star fields of the clear night sky.

  He had just returned from his reconnaissance, but he, too, had failed to discover the whereabouts of his friend’s people. However, he had found one of the most important targets for this night’s mission.

  The tent housing King Chedor-lao'mer and his servants! This was the ruffian; the strongman; the thug; (these “Kings” were all the same) who had betrayed the pact made over fourteen years earlier. There had been an agreement of mutual protection and defense amongst all nine kings, but just over a year ago, this King had selected three others and declared war on the remaining five for no apparent reason whatsoever; attacking their cities and stealing their food, their property, and their subjects.

  Mamre looked forward to the part he would play tonight, once the signal occurred.

  He looked up into the night sky and spotted Nergal, the dark red wanderer. In the local folklore, it was called Baal, and (traditionally) was believed to be the god of war. But the new religion of the Queen of Heaven taught that Baal was the son of Queen Astarte, and that he was the god who ruled the underworld. He brought plague and death, but if one presented Queen Astarte with sufficient gifts and supplications (given to the local temple priestesses), she would intervene and convince Baal to withhold his malevolence—at least for a period of time.

  This new and fiercer view of Baal meshed nicely with the regional beliefs, since now it was possible to wage war in Baal’s name, and send your fallen enemies to meet him in the underworld.

  But Mamre’s new friend, Abram, had called the red wanderer “Nergal”, using his Chaldean tongue, so Mamre had decided to use it as well, imagining he was calling it by a more accurate name.

  His friend, Abram, had also taught him about the Creator, showing him the fallacies of the Queen of Heaven cult, and also teaching him the supremacy of Yahweh above all creation. Abram’s teachings had freed him from the fears and obligations which traditional superstitions and guilt had once imposed upon him.

  He watched patiently as the moon moved inexorably across the sky, the twin horns of its crescent moving slowly in the direction of Nergal. Mamre estimated that the shining silver arc would collide with the glowing red dot within the next half hour.

  It never happened.

  Instead, Nergal simply vanished! It disappeared, just as Abram had said it would.

  This was the signal.

  Mamre headed toward King Chedor-lao'mer’s tent.

  Abram watched as the leading edge of the moon, invisibly dark between the two luminescent horns, covered Nergal, eclipsing its dark red radiance. Phase one had begun.

  His men waited restlessly, but silently, in the grasses, now eminently aware that they were fully committed to the imminent attack. They were three hundred and eighteen servants turned soldier, spread out along the southern border of the enemy encampment. They were armed only with simple swords—and a fervent determination to return with Abram’s nephew and his family at any cost.

  Abram waited with them, deeply concerned for Lot’s welfare, and that of his family. He had pleaded with Lot, not to move near King Bera’s city, but Lot had been so enticed by the flowing, green landscape, and (if truth be told) the easy acc
essibility to the parties and alcohol of Sodom, that he had left the Oak Groves of Mamre and taken his family and livestock to become tenants—and ultimately subjects—of King Bera.

  This was a situation that Abram had not anticipated back when he had left Haran and set out on this journey. It was an unknown journey, to an unknown destination, motivated solely by the promises and assurances of an unknown Creator, who seemed content to keep His purpose and plan, also unknown.

  Abram’s mind had turned to the Creator when he was a child, inspired by two events which had made a permanent impression in his young mind, and had forced him to view the world much differently than other children his age.

  The first event was something that had affected everyone, and had actually occurred more than ten years before he was born. But it was an event which had sent distress and fear into the community and created an environment of dread, which was still quite palpable years later to the impressionable, sensitive Abram as he was growing up.

  It had been the death of his Grandfather Nahor. Death from old age was terrifying enough (although it was becoming more frequent). But dying in this manner at so young an age, while one’s father and grandfather still lived, was incomprehensible—at least in the Shinar regions. Perhaps (if certain rumors were to be believed) such incidents did occur in regions further to the south, but never here. And yet it had happened here. And the cloud of fear and uncertainty which Nahor’s demise had produced hung over the city and never completely dissipated.

  As with other young people his age, Abram sensed this air of trepidation which surrounded them. Unlike his peers, however, Abram had not been able to ignore his internal anxiety by the normal diversions of parties, wine, and other distractions of youth. However, the only apparent alternative was to spend his time dwelling on death and despair—as some of his more “intellectual” friends chose to do.

  Thanks to the second event (which had happened when he was five) Abram had been able to develop a third alternative. An alternative which had expanded his perspective in a very unprecedented manner, and had forever altered his outlook on life and the course that it would take.

  It had happened that day when a strange man, who called himself Shem, appeared at one of his father’s warehouses and started an unusual conversation with his nephew, Lot. Abram’s older brother, Haran, had intervened, upset at what the old man was saying (and angry that his four-year-old son was the recipient) and had thrown the old man out into the street.

  Abram had been dutifully dusting and polishing, trying to avoid contact with the strange man; yet eavesdropping intently on their conversation, trying desperately to comprehend the astonishing words spoken in that unusual accent.

  He distinctly remembered looking down at the brass sculpture of SipaZi-Anna, the Great Hunter, in which diamonds were imbedded to indicate his corresponding constellation. Of course, the young Abram knew that the real constellation up in the night sky was the place where the moon had rested when the Anunnaki had fled and found refuge during the Great Calamity.

  As Shem spoke, Abram had looked at the sculpture and suddenly thought, This IS just a piece of metal—and almost dropped SipaZi-Anna on his head. Shem then said some other disparaging words about their merchandise, one of which was “trinkets”; which had finally summoned his older brother’s wrath from the other room.

  After Shem left, Abram could not get the concept of an all-powerful Creator out of his mind. Everything had to have a source. Shem had said His name was Yahweh, and from that day, Abram had secretly determined to discover all he could about this unknown deity.

  His search was lonely and empty, without instruction, yet he believed, simply because it had to be true. There were many times when he sensed the Creator communicating with him, but there were just as many times when he was convinced it was all in his mind—or that he was going insane.

  He worked hard into adulthood, assisting his brother Haran, and they both became quite wealthy. Eventually, Haran decided to expand the family business and established a small trading community far to the northwest. Abram and the aging Terah joined Haran and his family, leaving young Nahor in charge of the business in Ur.

  While in Haran’s community, Abram married a beautiful and thoughtful woman named Sarai, and for the first time in his life, he was content. His own household and business grew with hired managers and servants, and he assumed that he would spend the rest of his life here with Sarai.

  Then the day came when his father, Terah, died, and Abram was again forced to confront the issues that had driven him to the Creator. But this time, when he sensed the Creator speaking to him, he was confident of His message—and His instructions.

  That had been the beginning of his unknown journey. He had sold all of his belongings and business interests, converting his wealth into the universal currency of the plains: livestock.

  So as a young, middle-aged man of seventy-five, Abram took Sarai (they still had no children), Lot and his family, and all of his managers and servants (with their families) and headed out towards the new life which, the Creator had promised him, would be revealed in due time.

  The Creator led them to the plains of Moreh, but that region was in the midst of a massive famine. Abram had great difficulty imagining that this was truly His destination, so they struck out for Kemet, also known as Egypt, in search of food.

  The average life expectancy in Kemet and the surrounding cities was about one hundred and twenty—barely half that of the inhabitants of the Mesopotamian regions from which Abram had just departed. So Abram knew that there would be wealthy men and rulers who would be extremely interested in Sarai. She was still a gorgeous woman, barely showing signs of middle age at seventy-four, and Abram knew that there were many men in this region would want her—if only to somehow increase the longevity of their offspring. The rulers of Kemet were so obsessed with increased lifespans, that they would even mate brothers and sisters of long-lived parents, just to try and maintain the bloodline of anyone who showed signs of superior longevity.

  In fact, as they drew closer, Abram became afraid that someone might actually steal her away. He knew that the rulers of Kemet had strict moral codes concerning adultery—but they didn’t have many compunctions about killing foreigners! At least, that is what he had heard. He feared there was really nothing to stop someone from killing him, and then stealing her away and marrying her.

  In a moment of weakness, he instructed her to pretend to be his sister, hoping this would spare his life. And sure enough, once they entered the capital, every male eye latched on to Sarai, and soon the city princes had informed the King, and a message was sent to Abram.

  Abram’s wealth had dwindled slightly during the hard months of travel, so it was easy to succumb to the bribes of livestock and servants which the king offered Abram in exchange for some heredity building sessions with his “sister.” And when the King found that Sarai had never given birth, he was more excited, looking forward to the challenge, with the assumption that the firstborn would also be the healthiest. The King assured Abram that, after he had produced a few children with Sarai’s help, she would be returned to Abram, and that Abram should anticipate a great deal more compensation in exchange. Of course, everyone in Abram’s party would receive full food and housing, and be able to enjoy all of the luxuries of Kemet during their stay.

  Abram had nervously accepted, but the Creator had intervened, striking the King with sickness and revealing Abram’s lie. The King angrily returned Sarai before anything had been consummated. He would not risk the wrath of his gods for taking another man’s wife; and in a move that both shocked and relieved Abram, he drove Abram and his fellow travelers from the city, and, even more astonishingly, allowed Abram to keep the bribes that had been offered.

  The outcome had been so unbelievable that Abram was forced to acknowledge the Creator’s intervention. And he also came to understand more of Shem’s words pertaining to Yahweh, the provider.

  They returned to the plain
s of Moreh and began the process of establishing a community. However, their wealth began to accumulate to such a degree, that soon there was not enough land to accommodate the livestock of both Abram and Lot.

  That is when Lot had decided to go and lease land from King Bera. They parted ways, and Abram moved his headquarters to the oak groves of his new friend, Mamre.

  Mamre.

  His thoughts returned to the present. Mamre, his new friend, who was at this very moment, assisting him in rescuing his hardheaded, foolish nephew.

  Fires began to sprout up from the enemy camp, shaking Abram from his reverie. They were now committed to battle. His normal quiet and meek manner was gone. Somehow, in the buildup to this conflict he had discovered a strength and fearlessness that he had never known before. A great anger welled up inside. No one assaulted his nephew and survived.

  The attack of Mamre and his brothers had begun, and Abram and his men hoped that the resulting disarray would be sufficient for them to enter and complete their rescue. They were stretched out in a large semi-circle, with more than sixty meters between each man.

  Every eye was trained on the shining edge of the moon, waiting for the silent signal that would instigate their assault.

  Eschol’s campaign was a great success. King Tidal, his entourage, and all of their supplies had blossomed into a spectacular blaze as fires traveled from tent to tent. He killed a general, who had rushed out to impede him, and torched his tent, which sent all of the men in the nearby quartermaster’s supply station running. Then he secured a very fine sword from the armory—whose Master of Arms would also fight in no more battles. He ignited several more tents during his search for the captives, and lost count of the number of officers that fell from this fine sword of their own making.

  But he still had not found any sign of the prisoners. The one item he had brought with him was a small ram’s horn, kept in a watertight skin/sheath strapped to his back. But it didn’t appear like he was going to need it.