by Tim Chaffey
“Grandfather. Why don’t you let Elam play after the meal and you can think of a story to tell?”
Methuselah held up the instrument and laughed. “You don’t like my music?”
“What?” Noah grinned. “I can’t hear you. You broke my ears.”
Emzara laughed and pulled Noah to the other side of their wagon and stared into the clearing. “This place is beautiful. We should stay here for a while.”
Noah yawned. “It would be nice to stop moving, but we have a long way to go before we reach our destination.”
She sighed.
“We’ll have to look around in the morning.” He peered over her head, trying to locate the stone structure, but it was blocked by foliage and ever-deepening shadows. “There’s a building somewhere over there that I’d like to check out in the daylight.”
“I’m not sure how many more bumpy rides our baby can take.”
Noah smiled and nodded. “I understand. I’d rather not make a decision until we know more about this place and everyone gives their input.”
She nestled against him. “That seems fair, but unless there is something very dangerous here, you know where I stand.”
“Hey, Son,” Lamech said. “Evenfeast is ready. Come and join us.”
Noah pulled Emzara tight against his side and rubbed his own stomach. “And you know where I stand on that.”
Chapter 17
Noah rolled over and carefully adjusted his blanket to avoid waking Emzara. A faint light pushed through the thin covering of their wagon, informing him that the sun would soon clear the horizon. He shifted to get comfortable and closed his eyes. He concentrated on slowing his breathing, hoping to get a little more sleep before the others stirred.
As he drifted toward unconsciousness, a memory flashed into his mind. Grandfather! Had he dreamed it, or did he actually see the elderly man steal out of the wagon a short while ago? Noah sighed and looked at his grandfather’s empty bed.
Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes and then stretched out his arms and legs, causing several light snaps and cracks of his joints. As he slipped on his shoes, Emzara put her hand on his lower back.
“Where are you going?” she asked through a yawn without opening her eyes.
“To check on Grandfather.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “He stepped out a while ago and hasn’t returned yet.”
She peered up at him. “Be careful.”
He patted her hand and then crept toward the back of the wagon, trying not to wake his father, Elam, or Rayneh. As he lowered himself from the platform, Noah silenced a groan. His achy feet and knees protested the contact with the ground. In the early dawn, he saw the shadowy humps of sleeping animals, but no sign of his grandfather, so he circled their tiny encampment. Cool, damp grass met each step as Noah looked from side to side. Where could he be?
The snapping of a twig from the direction of the stone structure seized his attention. Keeping his voice down to avoid waking the others, Noah asked, “Grandfather, is that you?”
An indistinct figure appeared next to the building and moved forward, holding a hand against the stone wall. “Noah?”
“What are you doing out here?” Noah asked as he cautiously walked toward Methuselah. He climbed over a log and ducked under a couple of low branches.
Methuselah chuckled as he drew close. “I knew it.”
Noah raised an eyebrow. “Knew what?”
“This place.” He lightly slapped the wall twice. “Last night after we went to bed, I couldn’t help but think that I’ve been here before — back when I was only a child.”
“Come on, Grandfather. You’ve never been here. It’s just your imagination.” Noah held his palm up. “When did you ever travel so far from home?”
“I told you, when I was a mere child.” Methuselah tipped his head back and closed his eyes. “I would’ve been only about six or seven years old. My father and grandfather took me on a long journey to meet—” Methuselah covered his mouth and clutched Noah’s shoulder.
Unsure of whether this was a true story, a dream, or the product of an active childhood imagination, Noah nodded for him to continue. “To meet who?”
Methuselah laughed and then spun to study the small stone building, which Noah could now see consisted of just four low walls and a collapsed roof. “This wasn’t their home. It was a place for storing food. I remember going in here” — he pointed to the end of the wall, only about 10 cubits away and started walking along it — “in the door over here.”
Now fully convinced his grandfather’s tale was imaginary, Noah followed along in hopes of persuading the old man to return to bed.
Methuselah turned left and pointed. “Ha. I told you there was a door.”
Noah smirked when he saw an opening with a few scraps of a rotted wooden door collapsed on the floor. “You’ve already looked at the other sides, so the door had to be over here.”
Methuselah ignored Noah’s remark. “This was only a shed.” He closed his eyes and held up a finger to request a moment to think. Then his eyes shot open and he laughed. He pointed across the glade, almost in the direction of their wagons. “Because their home was on that side of the clearing.”
“Whose home, Grandfather?” Noah grabbed his arm to stop him. “Who did you come to meet?”
“You don’t believe me? Come.” Methuselah gestured for Noah to follow him. “I remember there was a small river behind the house.”
Noah huffed and trailed him back to the clearing. Why won’t he answer me?
As they marched across the glade, Emzara shuffled toward them as quickly as a woman more than eight whole moons into a pregnancy could move. She walked alongside Noah. “What are you two doing?”
Noah shook his head. “Grandfather says he’s been here before, but he won’t answer my question.”
“What question?” Emzara asked.
“He said his father and grandfather brought him here to meet someone, but he didn’t say who.”
“Did you ask him?”
Noah rolled his eyes. “Two or three times. He keeps talking about them, but won’t say who they were.”
Emzara touched his arm. “Maybe you just didn’t ask the right way.” She took a few quick steps and caught up to Methuselah. Gently slipping her arm under his, she said, “Morning peace, Grandfather.”
“Yes, morning peace, child.” Methuselah continued his determined walk across the glade, largely ignoring her presence.
Emzara pulled his arm gently and stopped him. “Grandfather. You said you’ve been here before?”
He nodded. “Yes, so many years ago. I was only a child.”
“And who did you come to see?” she asked.
He quirked an eyebrow and snorted. “Who?” He shook his head, apparently amused that anyone would ask such a question. “Why Greatfather and Greatmother, of course. This is where they lived.” He pulled his arm away and continued his march toward the trees.
Noah’s grin from watching his wife and grandfather vanished, and he stopped cold.
Emzara’s mouth hung open as she turned and stared at Noah.
For a moment, neither of them could speak. Noah blinked and breathed in. “Did he just say what I think he said?”
Emzara laughed and bounced on her toes.
“It can’t be.” Noah grabbed her hand and gently pulled her toward Methuselah. “Come on. He said that their home was over this way.”
The sun began to bathe part of the field in a soft glow, but the tall trees still cast long dark shadows over the eastern side where they had camped. Methuselah reached the tree line on the southeast corner. He stopped and looked from left to right, giving Noah and Emzara an opportunity to close the gap.
“Do you see it?” Noah asked.
Methuselah stared into the abundance of flora in front of him, a disappointed look growing on his face.
Noah stepped past his grandfather and pushed some of the brush out of the way, searching for any hint of a house. After s
everal moments he turned and faced the old man. “Maybe you don’t remember it correctly.”
“I was so sure of it.” Methuselah kicked at the ground.
“Grandfather.” Emzara stood a few dozen cubits to their left pointing into the woods. “You may want to see this.”
Methuselah and Noah exchanged an excited glance and then hustled to Emzara.
“Did it look something like that?” she asked.
The old man put an arm around her and smiled. “Just like that.”
Noah stared at the house in disbelief. Tucked away behind a couple of fallen and mostly decomposed trees, a stone building rose from the forest floor. The place might have been a little more than half the size of Lamech’s house, and like the structure on the other side of the clearing, the remains of a thatched roof had fallen inside of it.
“Listen,” Emzara said. “Do you hear that?”
“It sounds like a river.” Noah flashed a sheepish grin at Methuselah, who crossed his arms and nodded. A twig snapped and Noah spun to face the camp.
“What are you three doing?” Lamech asked as he approached.
Methuselah pointed at Noah. “Your son was just telling me how good my memory is.”
Lamech stared past them. “Is that a house?” He scratched his cheek. “Your memory? What does that have to do with you being out here so early?”
“He says he’s been here before,” Noah said.
“When were you ever so far from home? And why would you come here?”
“Because his father wanted him to meet Greatfather and Greatmother,” Emzara said.
Lamech stared wide-eyed. “You never told me any of this.”
“That’s because I was so young, and I couldn’t remember if it was real or if I had just imagined it.”
“So you’re telling me that Greatfather lived in that house?” Lamech asked.
“That’s right.” Methuselah shook his head and chuckled. “I can’t believe I remembered this place after more than 850 years.”
“What else do you remember?” Lamech asked.
Methuselah closed his eyes and then slowly shook his head. “Maybe I’ll think of more if we go inside.”
“Let’s find out,” Noah said. He moved ahead and led them toward the house, picking his way around overgrowth, trying to find the easiest route. “Was there a specific reason your father wanted you to meet them — besides the novelty of meeting the first two people?”
“We came with my grandfather, too.” He cocked his head and looked at Emzara while he counted on his fingers. He chuckled. “Jared was your father’s grandfather.”
Emzara’s eyes brightened, and she slipped her hand into Noah’s. “I’ve never heard about any of this.”
“I remember my grandfather wanted us to learn the truth about our world from those who were here at the beginning.” Methuselah sighed. “Unfortunately, I was so young and it was so long ago that I recall almost nothing of what they said. I remember thinking about how old they were. At that point, they were the only people I’d seen with gray hair. Now we all have it.” He touched the top of his head and looked at each of them. “Oh, the serpent. I remember they warned us about the serpent.”
“That was good advice,” Noah said as he finally reached the front of the house. Like the other structure, this one’s door had mostly decayed. Noah pushed the little bit that was left of it and it simply crumbled to pieces and fell to the ground. The collapsed roof timbers had clearly seen better days. Three of them had decayed all the way through, each leaving two shorter beams on either side of the respective breaks. The significant deterioration in other beams caused Noah to think they were ready to surrender at any time. To his right, a short hall opened to two smaller rooms, a section of the roof still held above them. Instead of thatching, this covering consisted of mud-brick. One large room sat to his left, a fallen stone table occupying the center of the space.
“Don’t touch any of the wood,” Noah said. “It’s too far gone and isn’t safe.”
“Bring back any memories?” Lamech asked.
Methuselah stared at the two smaller rooms to his right. “Definitely.” He stopped at the end of the hall. “My father spent a lot of time with Greatfather Adam all the way back there.” After passing the first room, he entered the second and turned to his left. “I don’t remember that.”
“What?” Emzara asked as she strode toward him.
The old man shrugged. “Painted images, I think. They look familiar, but I can’t place exactly where I saw them.
Emzara stared at the walls, her mouth slightly agape.
Hundreds of faded fist-sized images sprawled across the back wall and continued onto the adjoining one to the right. The artwork, directly painted on the stone, had a sense of order, yet some of the depictions converged so closely that they almost wove together. The remaining part of the ceiling blocked much of the light, but it had likely protected the paint from rain over the years.
Emzara tiptoed around debris for a closer look. “They don’t seem to be just for decoration.”
“I wonder if they tell a story. In fact” — Lamech looked at his father — “Grandfather Enoch had scrolls with pictures much like this.”
Methuselah slowly lifted his head. “You’re right.” He stared intently at the images. “It’s too dark to see all of them.”
“I’ll get a lamp,” Lamech said as he turned to leave.
“Grab two, Son,” Methuselah said.
“I will.”
The left side of the back wall received the most light, but the images there also appeared to have faded more from the exposure. Noah leaned closer to the stone and studied a few of the clearest illustrations. In one, the top half of a man came up from the ground while a wind blew across his face. Or was the wind pushing him into the ground? The next featured several trees. Most of them bore fruit, but two stood apart in the middle, and the one to the left looked too much like the old Sepha skarep tree. Frowning, Noah shook his head. The third image showed four squiggly blue lines emanating from a short central line.
“What do you think they mean?” Emzara asked.
Noah scratched his head, trying to match the sequence with anything he had learned in the past. He glanced to the right to gather a little more context, but decided to wait until his father returned with the light. “I don’t know, but I think my father is right. I think they tell a story.”
“Grandfather, do you—” Emzara faced Methuselah but stopped her question when she noticed he was praying. Sheepishly, she smiled at Noah. “I guess I’ll wait.”
Words from Noah’s past entered his mind and he snapped back to the first image. “The Creator fashioned our Greatfather Adam out of the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life.”
Methuselah ceased praying and stared at Noah.
“The words from our marriage covenant?” Emzara asked.
Noah smiled wide and touched the picture. “Right here.” He stepped back and scanned the two walls. “I think Greatfather might have recorded what happened in the earliest times.”
Methuselah nodded. “I think you’re right. In fact, they seem to tell the story my father taught me when I was young.” His shoulders slumped. “But I failed to pass it on to your father.” His eyes watered. “I guess I can do it now.”
Lamech reentered the room, breathing heavily and carrying two lit oil lamps. “Here.”
Noah took both lamps, handed one to Emzara, and then held his up to illuminate the upper right corner of the side wall.
Methuselah carefully made his way to the lit corner. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out. Then he looked at the first several symbols and his lips curled up on one side. “I know what this is describing.”
“First, the Creator made the heavens, and then He made the earth out of water. Next, He made the light and separated it from the darkness. That was the first day.” He ran his finger under each symbol as he spoke. On the second day, the Most H
igh separated the waters and created the skies between them.” He touched a round symbol with one black half and one white half. “This represents evening and morning. Notice that it appears each time we are shown what the Creator made. On the third day, He created the dry ground and various plants.”
“And on the fourth day, he made the sun, moon, and stars, right?” Emzara asked as she pointed to the next series of images.
Methuselah smiled as he looked over the pictures she pointed to. “That’s right.” He slid a little to his left. “Then He made all the sea creatures and flying creatures on the fifth day.”
“I wish I could’ve seen that,” Emzara said.
Noah nudged her with an elbow. “You and your animals.”
“Yes, I think you’ll like this one,” Methuselah said. “On the sixth day, the Creator made all the beasts of the land.”
Emzara grinned widely and nodded. “That would’ve been amazing to see, too.”
He reached the point that Noah had figured out earlier. “You were correct, Noah. The Most High made Greatfather Adam from the dust of the ground, and He breathed the breath of life into him. He made a garden with all sorts of fruit trees, and He put two special trees in it: the tree of life and this one” — he pointed to the one that reminded Noah of the Sepha tree — “is the forbidden tree.” Then he moved on to the next image and gently waved his hand over the four squiggly lines. “The garden had one large river that split into four.” He glanced at Lamech. “I don’t remember the names of all of them, but I know one — it flows past your house.”
“The Hiddekel?” Lamech asked.
“Mmhmm.” Methuselah turned back to the wall. “Then Greatfather named the beasts of the field and birds of the air.”
Emzara leaned against Noah as Methuselah paused before explaining the next part.
