Wives of the Flood

by Vaughn Heppner

  “A ghastly process,” Noah said.

  “Indeed, indeed,” Ikkesh said, smirking, waiting for something, it seemed. Then, giving Noah a careful scrutiny, he said, “I don’t understand your variety. Why keep all these small animals? In Nod they use mammoths as well as sabertooths, not gophers or monkeys.”

  “The variety is easily explained,” Noah said. “When the Flood destroys the world only the beasts and the people within the Ark will survive. In order to repopulate the empty lands, variety will be imperative.”

  Ikkesh chuckled politely.

  The captain of the Red Blades, however, Bera, who had grown agitated during Ikkesh’s story, now scowled and motioned to some veterans. They hurried near, burly men with beards.

  “Come now, Noah,” Ikkesh said. “I’ll admit you’ve staged an elaborate deception. That boat yonder—simply impressive. The locals must be awed into believing your tale of impending woe. Yet speaking as we have together I’ve come to see you’re no fool.”

  “This is a rare endorsement,” Noah said.

  “No, no,” Ikkesh said. “You shouldn’t take offense. For I’ve not meant to give it. What I ask, though, is that you not offend me.”

  “What?” Ham said. “How have we possibly offended you?”

  Noah shook his head at Ham.

  “Hmm,” Ikkesh said, who produced a fan, and with quick flicks shooed away flies. “Please keep in mind that the Red Blades are ready to die to the last man for the glory of Arad. That glory, I might add, ill takes to abuse or insult.”

  “And don’t be thinking we’ll be doing the dying this afternoon,” growled Bera.

  “If it should come to that,” Ikkesh said.

  “It just might,” Bera said. “So keep that in mind when you address the ambassador.”

  Noah gripped his gopher-wood staff, leaning on it, peering from under his bushy-white eyebrows. “We thank you for your warning. You humble me by it.”

  “No need to take it so hard,” Ikkesh said.

  “Ah,” Noah said. “I suspect you misunderstand. You humble me by your zeal for the glory of Arad. Yet that is a kingdom of people. How then should we feel about the eternal kingdom?”

  “Please, Noah,” Ikkesh said, “I’ve warned you we won’t be taken in by your act.”

  “I too am willing to die,” Noah said, “but not for my glory or for that of any earthly kingdom. Ambassador, this world has forgotten its Creator. To Him should be given glory.”

  Ikkesh sighed. “You want to play your little game I see. Very well, bring out your Jehovah so we may speak to him.”

  “Yes!” Bera said. “Bring him out to me. My boys can have a little fun then.”

  “A Flood comes,” Noah said. “That is why I construct the Ark. That is why I gather the animals. For on the Day of Judgment all who mock Jehovah, all who have forgotten to honor Him, will face His terrible wrath. I warn you, gentlemen, it is not a light thing for a sinner to fall into the hands of an angry Jehovah.”

  “Nor is it a light thing to mock the ambassador of Arad,” Ikkesh said.

  Noah straightened. “You must repent of your arrogance, you must give up your desire for strange flesh and you must fall before the Lord and beg His mercy and cry out that He forgive you. Then He shall. For Jehovah is merciful and desires that none perish.”

  “Jehovah,” Bera said. “I see no Jehovah. Show me Jehovah.”

  “Open your eyes,” Noah said, “so that you may see His handiwork. For His eternal power and divine nature are understood by the creation. All men know this, but by hardening your hearts and lying to yourselves, you deny the truth. For although you know Jehovah you neither glorify him as Jehovah nor give thanks to Him, but your thinking has become futile and so your foolish hearts are darkened.”

  “Silence!” Bera roared. “You will be silent.”

  “I will speak the truth,” Noah said.

  “Truth?” Bera peered at the sky. “Jehovah! Do you hear me? Do you see me? If so, then I defy you. I challenge you this instant to slay me. Come down and face me if you dare.”

  Everyone, even the waiting veterans, paused, glancing skyward.

  Bera sneered at Noah. “Nothing happened.”

  “But it did,” Noah said.

  “What happened?”

  “You stored up more of Jehovah’s wrath against you. Now you are in even greater danger than before.”

  Bera’s eyes goggled and he turned to Ikkesh. “It is insulting to be taken for fools.”

  “Now, now, we mustn’t become too irritable,” Ikkesh said. “You’ve had your say, and our host surely realizes by now that I need merely give the command and you will engage in bloody mayhem.”

  “He has insulted the glory of Arad,” Bera said. “And that stripling of his keeps twisting his mouth as if he can’t stand the sight of us. Any more of that and I’ll let the lads drag these two into the tents so they can teach them why it isn’t wise to test our patience.”

  Ham bristled, pointed at Bera—Noah laid a restraining hand on his forearm and shook his head.

  “At last you are showing wisdom,” Ikkesh said.

  “You are our guests,” Noah said.

  “Then start treating us like guests,” Bera spat.

  “How would you suggest we do that?” Noah asked.

  “Have you no young men around?” Bera asked. “My warriors like fresh sport.”

  “Here we do not practice such perversions,” Noah said.

  Bera scowled and snapped his fingers. “Like that, old man, and your menagerie can be fired and you and your sons brutalized, castrated and blinded. We’ve given you more than fair warning that the ambassador represents the glory of the king of Arad, while I am his strong right arm.”

  Ham, in cold fury at these insults, limped near and swung his cane, knocking Bera’s helmet from the crook of his burly arm. Bera snarled and snatched for his sword. Ham struck again, hitting the captain’s hand. Bera, who had led the Red Blades for over thirty years, roared in pain. Ham swung a third time, striking Bera’s skull with the knotty part of his cane. With a dull thud it connected.

  Bera fell unconscious into the arms of his startled veterans.

  A pack of hounds, shaggy hunting dogs that had faced lions and bears, loped to Ham as he whistled. They bared fangs so Ikkesh backed against the crocodile fence, his features pale, while the veterans shrank from the massive beasts.

  “No!” Noah said. “Ham, restrain them.”

  Ham hesitated. Then he wrapped his fingers in the fur of the lead dog, a monster brute. “Heel!”

  Stiff-legged, the dogs backed away, although they kept their eyes on the veterans.

  “That was not my intention,” Noah said.

  Ikkesh licked his lips, as he seemed visibly to fight for self-control.

  “You are my guests,” Noah said. “None of you shall be harmed.”

  “What… What of the captain?” Ikkesh said.

  “He’s coming around,” one of the veterans said.

  “Ham, you’ll have to apologize.”

  “But father, did you hear what they threatened us with?”

  Noah laughed. “When haven’t we been threatened? Hurry now, he’s coming around. I want you to apologize.”

  “As a gesture of good will,” Ikkesh said, “why don’t you have your son escort the captain into our tent? They may socialize there, and that will also allow you and me to speak together in peace.”

  Noah gave Ikkesh a level stare. “I shall warn you this once. Proffer any of your abominations to me or mine and none of you shall leave alive.”

  Ikkesh glanced at the dogs. They watched him. “I appreciate your candor, Noah. But you have assaulted through your son an officer of Arad. That is an act of war. How do you propose to face the might of Arad—unless you are an ally of Queen Naamah?”

  “I am no ally of hers nor will I go to her because of this,” Noah said.

  “Then you must ally with us,” Ikkesh said. “For surely you realize
that the Red Blades will… will demand revenge for what your son has done.”

  “No,” Noah said. “You will flee soon, never to return.”

  Ikkesh appeared perplexed. “You said you have no army.”

  “Nor do I.”

  “Then your threats are meaningless.”

  “Ambassador,” Noah said, “why did you come? What is your reason for being here?”

  Ikkesh opened his mouth.

  “The short answer will do,” Noah said.

  “Sir,” a veteran said. “Shall I summon the rest of the men?”

  “Not yet,” Ikkesh said.

  Bera groaned, holding his head. He was pale and his eyes unfocused.

  “Are you in league with the king of Nod?” Ikkesh asked.

  “With Nod?” asked Noah, surprised. “Why should you think that?”

  Ikkesh indicated the menagerie. “Clearly, you gather animals for Queen Naamah.”

  “What?”

  “As I said, our spies have been to Nod. So it’s no use denying it any longer. Our spies have seen the games there, the wild animals devouring the unlucky and the gladiators butchering each other to the roars of the crowd. We know Queen Naamah must plan likewise in Chemosh. Oh, they have been busy in Chemosh these past years. Naamah has raised marble temples along with plinths, obelisks and giant statues. Sculptors and artisans of rare ability ply their genius at Chemosh. Yet how to entertain the hordes who have flocked there? Because of you we now understand how.”

  “Me?” Noah asked.

  Ikkesh gave him a wry look. “Your menagerie makes it self-evident. And the growing network of beastcatchers even more so. Through this, through what we saw in Nod—for the king there is Naamah’s nephew and surely gave her the idea—we realize that you must be leagued with the queen.”

  Noah blinked before he threw back his head and roared with laughter. It caused the hounds to lift their heads, and it made the veterans bristle.

  “What’s so funny?” asked a crimson-faced Ikkesh.

  Noah shook his head. “No, it isn’t funny really. It’s sad.”

  “Sad?” Ikkesh asked. “Then why do you laugh?”

  That sobered Noah, who glanced at Ham. “They so can’t believe the coming judgment that any wild fancy will take its place. They think we gather the animals for a coliseum, for blood-sports.”

  Ham nodded, although he was more concerned about figuring out a way to keep from apologizing.

  “Ambassador,” Noah said. “What—”

  Bera’s groan cut him off. The broad-shouldered captain staggered to his feet. “Kill them! Kill them all.”

  “A moment,” Ikkesh said.

  Bera pointed at Ham. “Bring that one to the tents, stripped.”

  Ham molded his lips to whistle for more hounds, when from outside the menagerie horns pealed. Every one listened. The horns blew again, mingling with the throated shouts of warriors on the attack.

  “That’s Laban’s call,” Ham said.

  “Laban?” Bera asked. “Queen Naamah’s champion?”

  “Look,” a veteran shouted. “Fire!”

  From the other side of the wooden wall smoke billowed. The smoke funneled black and oily. From there shrill screams of butchery sounded amid the renewed blasts of horns.

  “The tents,” a different veteran shouted.

  “To arms! To arms!” Bera shouted, shuffling toward the gate. His veterans followed, while Ikkesh went white with fear.

  “What treachery is this?” Ikkesh whispered.

  “Bring the dogs,” ordered Noah.

  Ham whistled and ran after his father, who together with Ikkesh moved to the menagerie gate.

  They made it in time to witness terrible scenes of slaughter. The silk tents that the Red Blades had pitched earlier outside the menagerie now blazed with crackling flames, with thrown torches atop them. Out of the tents stumbled disheveled, sleepy-eyed warriors, to die screaming as arrows hissed into them. For around the tents wheeled chariots of Chemosh. Archers shot heavy arrows, driven by powerful composite bows. Bera and his veterans glanced at one another and then the captain put on his helmet as he shouted instructions. They drew their dagger-swords or picked up rocks and charged. It was a brave but pitiful gesture. Arrows cut them down until Bera staggered alone with a rock in his hands.

  A cunning charioteer swooped from behind and threw a lariat. The loop dropped over Bera and brutally tightened around his ankles, pitching him to the ground. The warrior leapt from the chariot and pounced upon the captain, hogtying his arms. The warrior—it was Laban—ran back onto the chariot, drew his lance and led another charge.

  The Red Blades who had escaped the burning tents and the butchery, together with the pursing charioteers, moved like overgrown mice through the fields.

  Ikkesh trembled and with a groan sank to his knees. In his costly silk robe, he crawled to Noah. “Oh save me, save me, don’t let them kill me.”

  “Think, Ikkesh,” Noah said. “Consider what it will be like on the day Jehovah judges the Earth. Then it will be too late for mercy. Then what you see here will be nothing in comparison.”

  “Save me,” wept Ikkesh.

  “Father!”

  Laban raced toward them, standing proudly in his thundering chariot, his lance held to the sky.

  The caparisoned stallions neighed terribly, their ostrich plumes waving. The chariot swung around as the wheels churned dirt, and then the vehicle came to a shuddering halt. Through the Y-slot opening of his helmet, Laban’s eyes blazed.

  “That one is mine!”

  Ikkesh trembled anew, his pudgy, beringed hands clinging to Noah’s knees.

  “He is under my protection,” Noah said.

  “Queen Naamah has charged me to bring him back to Chemosh,” Laban said.

  Noah shook his head.

  “Consider carefully,” Laban said. “For you may not plot with impunity with Queen Naamah’s enemies.”

  “I do not plot,” Noah said.

  Laban laughed. “I know that. But don’t think that the queen will believe it.”

  “She knows it too,” Noah said.

  Laban glanced over his shoulder, and for a while watched the chariots round up the survivors. “I have no wish to kill you, Uncle. Not this day. So I will station men nearby. The day Ikkesh leaves he will be captured and brought to Chemosh.”

  “Then perhaps I will win my first convert,” Noah said. “Thank you.”

  Laban snorted, and with a nod, he indicated the driver should leave.

  As the chariot thundered off, Noah turned to Ikkesh. “You are welcome to stay as long as you work.”

  “Work?” Ikkesh asked, rising, dusting his purple gown.

  “If you want to eat you must work,” Noah said.

  “But my rank!” protested Ikkesh.

  “Means nothing here,” Noah said. “Claim it and you may walk out there.”

  Ikkesh eyed the stumbling Red Blades, with ropes around their throats as they staggered behind the chariots, Bera among them. “Very well,” he said. “I will work.”

  12.

  Exhausted after a hard day of labor, Ham soaped his hands at the washbasin outside the house and scrubbed his face. Oh, but that felt good. He ached all over. Four of them had roped a near-berserk mammoth calf right at sunset, hauled and yanked on the ropes, moving it to a stronger pen. He winced as the soap stung the abrasions in his palm.

  Gingerly, he dried his hands, glancing at the first stars as they appeared. If they had this much trouble with a mammoth calf, how in the world were they going to get all the animals aboard the Ark when the day of doom finally came?

  Walking through the front door and unlacing his boots, kicking them off and putting them near Rahab’s dainty shoes, he felt that familiar knot of doubt. The day of doom… Would Jehovah really destroy humanity together with all the animals? The magnitude of what that meant was hard to envision, and did everyone deserve to die?

  “Darling,” Rahab said, smiling as he walked
into the kitchen. She kneaded dough, her hands white with flour.

  He pecked her on the lips and glanced about with a frown. “What’s for supper? I don’t smell anything cooking.”

  “Your mother asked us to come over tonight.”

  He lifted his eyebrows, sitting at the kitchen table, picking an apple from the fruit plate. “Do you know why?” he asked, with his mouth full.

  Putting the dough into a stone crock and sliding the lid into place, Rahab cleaned her hands and dried them on her apron. “Your father invited Ikkesh to supper.”

  “He’s been doing that for months now,” Ham said.

  “Yes, but apparently Ikkesh has finally accepted. Ikkesh said he has a grand announcement to make.”

  “The ambassador is coming with us on the Ark?”

  “It seems hard to believe,” agreed Rahab.

  “Impossible is more like it.”

  She slapped him on the shoulder. “Turn around.”

  Ham rose with a grunt, turned the chair and draped his arms over the back as he sat down again. Rahab began to knead his shoulders, working him over as she had done the dough.

  He groaned. “Just a little lower, please.”

  Her fingers moved down his back.

  “Ahhh, perfect.”

  She smiled. “What a man you are. Muscles everywhere. How could I have ever been so lucky?”

  “I’m the lucky one,” he said.

  She leaned onto him, wrapping her arms around his neck and putting her face in his thick hair. He took hold of one of her small wrists, while his other hand intertwined with her fingers.

  “What happened to your hand?” she asked.