“Let me ask you a counter question,” Rahab said. “It is wrong to commit adultery?”
Semiramis’ manner became icy. She gestured with a hand but remained silent.
“I’ll answer since you seem unable to,” Rahab said. “Yes, sleeping with someone other than your husband is wrong.”
“Thank you,” Semiramis said. She seemed to have paled. “I know very well what adultery is.”
“I imagine you do.”
“You don’t want to begin with me, Grandmother.” Semiramis clenched her lower lip between her teeth, as if perhaps to bite off her words.
Rahab inched closer even though her heart beat faster and her palms had turned sweaty. She hated confrontations and was glad to have brought the two hounds. She sensed wickedness in Semiramis.
“Have you thought what would happen if Beor killed Nimrod?”
“It would be a terrible tragedy,” Semiramis said. “The tribe would mourn.”
“Agreed.”
“But why ask me that?”
“Think what life would be like if you were driven from the tribe,” Rahab said. “How would you survive?”
“I’m shocked you think so evilly of me,” Semiramis said. “I admit, I like Nimrod. He’s a hero. But my husband is also a hero. I could never betray Beor.” Semiramis drew her eyebrows together. “Do you realize the heartache your accusations could bring?”
“I understand; don’t think I don’t.”
“Then why?” asked Semiramis. “You’re not usually cruel.”
“Why are you lying to me?” Rahab asked. “Why this pretending?”
“Grandmother! Please.”
“I know the power of a woman’s beauty, Semiramis, and the dreadful woe it can bring when her ambitions are relentless like the grave. I urge caution. For you sow the wind and will reap the whirlwind.”
Semiramis folded her arms more tightly.
“Think at least of your obligations,” Rahab said.
“Which are?”
“Hilda!”
“Do you think it’s wise to plow in my field, Grandmother, when your own has so many thorns? Your husband is a drunkard, is he not?”
“What if I tell the elders you sleep with Nimrod?”
“Then you’d be lying. And you’d be responsible for starting a war between Canaan and Kush, with everyone choosing sides. I can’t imagine you want that.”
“These meetings with Nimrod must stop.”
Semiramis gauged her carefully. “How can I stop what I don’t do?”
Rahab readied to retort.
Semiramis held up a hand. “Very well. To satisfy you, yes, they’ll stop. If I did meet with him, I couldn’t very well continue. Nimrod and his Hunters are leaving soon. I couldn’t see him then even if I wanted to.”
Rahab wasn’t fooled. But what else could she do other than bring this to the elders and possibly split the tribe over it? “Thank you, Semiramis. I’m glad you see wisdom.”
“May I go?”
“I really did send him home,” Rahab said.
“Of course. I simply wanted to think a few things through. You’ve shocked me. A thing I admit seldom happens these days.”
Rahab nodded, and the two women passed as each went their way.
5.
The Hunters left as the winter rains began. Fourteen lads led by Nimrod filed out the front gate, each of them wearing an animal cap and an oiled cloak.
Heavy clouds continued to belch hail and rain, and many feet churned the settlement’s lanes into mud. Shepherds tramped to their chores with dripping hoods and bronze-smiths repaired plows and tools to the drumbeat of sleet.
Ham could never get a clear answer about the brimstone. The one time he cornered Kush in his house, a closet of bones sidetracked him.
“What are those?”
“Those are Nimrod’s,” Kush said.
The closet, a large one, was full of huge bleached bones, piles of them, and a massive skull.
“Are those the dragon’s?”
Kush said they were.
“Why does he keep them?”
“Ask Nimrod,” Kush said. “He’s impossible to pin down on them.”
“Like you on brimstone?” Ham asked.
“Why worry about brimstone?” asked Deborah, speaking from behind her fan. “If my husband has none, you’re the only one who can mix brimstone again. If he saved some, then by now he has studied the amounts of naphtha, bitumen and pitch needed to make more.”
“Why would you need more brimstone?” Ham asked.
Deborah laughed. “What if Japheth decided to take Noah at his word? To make slaves of Canaan and his sons?”
“Japheth isn’t stupid enough to bring his boys into open war against mine. Not even Noah’s curse can give Japheth that much courage.”
Kush grunted as he picked up a dragon bone. His dark fingers contrasted with it. “But if Japheth and his tribe did attack, a hail of brimstone would change their minds.”
Ham took the bone from Kush. “Was this the dragon’s forearm, do you think?”
Kush shrugged.
“What about Japheth’s sons?” asked Deborah. “Perhaps Japheth won’t attack us, but Gomer, Magog and Javan all hold Noah in high esteem, and their mother has taught them to think of themselves as kings. Surely they’ve talked about the curse. Maybe to obey Jehovah, they should enslave Canaan. Maybe some of them think the curse includes all your sons.”
Ham shook his head. “We’re all brothers.”
“Like Cain was Abel’s brother?” Deborah asked.
Ham gave up and hurried into the foul weather. He hunched his shoulders against the drizzle and tossed a hood over his head.
“Grandfather!”
Ham turned into the drizzle. Beor used crutches, thrusting them into the mud, to swing his massive body onto his good leg. Beor wore his outrageous cap and a hairy coat that made him seem like some forest beast.
“I need your help.”
“Mine?” Ham asked, getting the impression Beor struggled to control his emotions.
“I need a wooden leg, one I can walk on.”
Ham tried to picture that.
“Then I want a chariot like yours,” Beor said.
“Ah,” Ham said. “I see.”
“No. I don’t think you do see. I don’t think anyone does. But that doesn’t matter. I’ll hunt again. Only instead of legs, I’ll use wheels. And instead of the spear—” The big man glowered. “The bow isn’t my first choice. But I’ll learn to use it. Will you help me?”
“If you’ll let me get out of the rain,” Ham said.
Five days later, Beor clumped about on a peg leg, although it took several weeks before he maneuvered without crutches. The chariot took longer.
Ham appreciated Beor’s help, while Hilda often joined them. As they worked, Ham noticed that Beor never mentioned Semiramis, nor did the beauty ever come out to watch the chariot take shape. When Ham ate at Canaan’s on two occasions, he noticed that neither Beor nor Semiramis spoke to one another.
Beor held up the chassis as Ham hammered on a wheel. It didn’t have spokes like Antediluvian chariots. This wheel was cumbersome and heavy. To fashion it, Ham had taken three wood sections cut from a plank and laboriously smoothed the edges to a circular shape. In the middle section, the longest piece, he had chiseled out the axle-hole. He had joined the three pieces by cross struts and nailed a leather strip, or tire, around the entire wheel.
This chariot would sit low on four such wheels. The small chassis was made of a wooden bottom and was U-shaped, with a step in the rear, in the open part of the U. A wooden frame on the sides covered with leather bound the remainder, except for the front, which was made of two shields. Later, the reins would pass through the V between the shields.
They worked in a shed, wind whistling through the boards.
“I hope I’m not intruding into private affairs,” Ham said.
“What was that?” growled Beor.
Ham
coughed discreetly. “Well… you say very little about Semiramis.”
“What would you like me to say?”
“Is she treating Hilda well?”
Beor narrowed bloodshot eyes. “Has my daughter complained?”
“No. Of course not.”
“She’d better not.”
Ham lowered his hammer. “Don’t you love your daughter?”
Beor grunted as he set the cart onto its wooden blocks. “I appreciate your help, Grandfather. But does that mean I’m compelled to let you ask me stupid questions?”
“Why is what I asked stupid?”
“Let me put it this way.” Beor spoke softly. “Is your question worth dying for?”
Ham noted how Beor’s massive fingers turned rigid like claws, how the skin around his mouth firmed. Worried, Ham tried to straighten from the wheel. A heavy hand on his shoulder made that impossible.
“Speak, old man. As you value your life, tell me the truth.”
Murder lust boiled on the big man’s features. So Ham chose his words with care. “You two never talk. So I just wanted to make sure that nothing I’ve said has come between you.”
Beor searched his face, the pupils darting back and forth, until he grunted and removed his hand.
“I’m sorry if I’ve upset you,” Ham said.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Certainly.”
“Ever,” Beor said. “Don’t mention this to anyone.”
Ham decided he’d learn what was going on when the time was right and not a moment sooner.
When they had finished the chariot, Beor insisted on a four-donkey team. “I’ve lost a leg, but I still outweigh you. And don’t tell me four donkeys are harder to manage than two. I’ve both the time and the inclination to learn.”
A donkey was a finicky beast, not like the horses of old. A donkey seemed to have only two speeds, a walk slower than that of a man and a breakneck gallop. A donkey’s tractability, his willingness to obey… it took many hours to train a chariot donkey, as Ham could well attest. But once trained, he found them tractable enough. The telling point in Beor’s wish was the neckband used to harness a donkey. An ox had prominent shoulders that were easy to yoke and allowed the animal to transfer his great strength into pulling heavy loads. A donkey’s narrow shoulders, however, would slip through such a yoke—it was the reason for the neckband. Yet as soon as a donkey drew a load, the neckband constricted its windpipe, choking him if the load was too heavy. A donkey was more spirited than an ox and refused to pull against a neck harness harder than it found comfortable. It was the reason a chariot had to be built as lightly as possible. The exception to this rule being the time the dragon had chased them. Then, even with an overloaded cart and half-choking, the donkeys had run for their lives.
Despite foul weather, the day everything was ready, Beor insisted that Ham teach him how to drive. Having anticipated such a request, Ham had already half-trained four donkeys. So, that afternoon, Beor and he rattled out the front gate, making trails in the snow.
“It’s like a ship,” Ham explained, bundled in his furs. “You need sea balance.”
“I’ve never seen a ship,” heavily-bearded Beor complained.
Ham held the reins with gloved hands and stood easily. Beside him, Beor leaned against the railing, watching intently.
“I want you to notice how I absorb the shock with my legs.”
“You use your knees,” Beor said after awhile.
“You have only one knee, I know. But the other—”
“Don’t worry about me.”
Ham wondered whether the big man meant to be so brusque. Did he know how terse, how moody he’d become? More than a leg had been amputated from Beor. All his good nature, the ability to smile or crack a joke had been cut out of him.
“Another thing to be aware of is the turn radius,” Ham said. “Antediluvian chariots could spin almost right around, and that at high speeds. Our four-wheeled cart, at anything above the slowest speeds, has a wide turn radius. With this vehicle, only attempt high speeds on open, level terrain.”
They soon switched places, and by dint of sheer effort, Beor gained a learner’s competence.
As they returned to the settlement, Beor insisted that Ham drive. Ham agreed, trying not to show off as he brought them through the gate.
They released the donkeys into a corral, threw a tarp over the chariot and headed down a muddy lane to Canaan’s smithy.
“Your driving is more skillful than I’d realized,” Beor said, squelching mud under his big boot.
Ham nodded.
“What you did when the dragon chased you.” Beor halted. “I would have died if I’d been driving.”
“And I would have died if it had been me who charged the dragon with a club. Our skills are relative.”
A wintry smile twisted Beor’s lips. He held out a huge paw. “My thanks. I won’t forget you or what you’ve done for me.”
Ham shook hands, and as much as he wanted to, he refrained from asking what that was supposed to mean.
“I’ll take them out myself tomorrow,” Beor said.
“Tell me when you’re ready to race.”
The smile cracked a little wider, and Beor turned and clumped away.
6.
A hard spring rain melted the snow, and fifteen weary Hunters loped through the gate like a pack of hungry wolves.
Within the hour, Kush, Canaan, Put and Menes met, with an extra chair for Ham beside a roaring fire and two for Nimrod and Gilgamesh.
Gilgamesh still had a scraggly beard and otherwise smooth features, but there seemed to be a certain aggressiveness to him that hadn’t been there before. The changes to Nimrod were subtler. He moved the way a king of lions might. He also cradled a cheetah cub in the crook of his arm, scratching its ears as he waited for the elders to settle into place.
“We’re glad for your safe return,” Canaan said.
“Yes. Jehovah be praised,” Ham said.
His sons glanced at him, while Gilgamesh momentarily lost some of his self-possession.
“Jehovah?” Nimrod asked.
“Uh, yes,” Ham said.
“We didn’t see Jehovah during the journey. Although many times my Hunters revived themselves through force of will. Together we chased hyenas, slew a pack of wild dogs and bagged a bull elephant.” Nimrod grinned. “We ate like kings after that. And from the soles of the elephant’s pads, we fashioned new shoes. That is how we survived. Through valor and cunning, not upon an unseen being’s whims.”
Ham plucked at his beard, while Put shifted uneasily.
“The important thing is that you’re back,” Canaan said. “All of you.”
“Perhaps as important,” Nimrod said, “is that my father’s prediction was right.”
“How so?” Canaan asked.
“The land of milk and honey,” Nimrod said, “isn’t that what you predicted, Father?”
Kush nodded.
Nimrod flashed his smile and described the Land between the Two Rivers, with its herds of antelopes, asses and elephants and lions, hyenas and wild dogs. He spoke of rich soil without trees or stones in it, so they wouldn’t have to waste time clearing fields. Just plant the seeds and abundant crops would pop into existence. “As the fields yielded during the Antediluvian times, our fields will do likewise on the plain of Shinar.”
“Shinar?” Menes asked.
“A name coined by my father,” Nimrod said.
“Where did you learn this name?” Menes asked.
Kush made an airy gesture.
“I foresee a mighty culture,” Nimrod said, “one of artistic brilliance and walled cities.”
“You’ve become a poet,” Canaan said.
“A dreamer,” said Put, not unkindly.
“Rather I dare to believe in what we can achieve,” Nimrod said. “As a foretaste of our coming glory, I’ve already named the Twin Rivers the Tigris and the Euphrates.”
Ham sat up. “
Those are the names of two of the four rivers that once flowed out of Eden.”
“Yes,” Nimrod said, “for I foresee a new Eden.”
Menes laughed good-naturedly. He was imperiously tall, the tallest of Ham’s sons. “I’m curious, Nimrod. How did you acquire the cheetah cub?”
“Him?” Nimrod said, rubbing the cub’s head.
A knock interrupted the meeting, and Miriam, Canaan’s wife, who still wore a turban, hurried in with tears.
“What it is, wife?” Canaan said.
She handed him a piece of parchment.
Puzzled, Canaan scanned it and grew pale. He dropped the note as he fell into the nearest chair.
Kush walked to his brother and put his hand on Canaan’s shoulder, whispering.
Canaan shook his head.
Miriam said, “Beor has left.”
“What do you mean left?” Menes asked.
“Gone to Japheth,” wept Miriam.
“Japheth?” Ham asked. “Whatever for?”
“Surely he can’t get far on one leg?” Nimrod said.
“He has a chariot,” Ham said. “One we built together.”
“Oh,” Nimrod said.
Gilgamesh asked, “Did he go alone?”
Nimrod jumped up in alarm, but only Ham noticed.
“Why would he leave?” wept Miriam. “Why?”
“What does the note say?” Ham asked.
Nimrod picked it off the floor, his features stark. “Just that he’s leaving.” He approached Miriam. “Did Beor… did he leave alone?”
“What?” Miriam asked.
“Did Semiramis go with him?” Nimrod asked.
“Oh, both Semiramis and Hilda,” Miriam wept. She turned to Canaan. “Husband, what are we going to do?”
“Gilgamesh!” Nimrod said. “Gather the Hunters.”
“What’s wrong, my son?” Kush said.
A wild look filled Nimrod. Then he and Gilgamesh bolted out the door.
7.
Hilda wore a fur jacket like the others, and she hung onto chariot railing, watching the dreary landscape.
Wives of the Flood Page 43
