Wives of the Flood

by Vaughn Heppner

  “Did you see Noah?” Shem asked, his sons making room for him around the platform.

  Beor hesitated.

  “Speak up,” said Assur, a tall man beside Shem.

  “I saw him,” Beor said. “Noah marched at their head. They’re about an hour away.”

  “Did Noah march as a prisoner?” Assur asked.

  “It didn’t seem so,” Beor said. “Noah seemed to lead them, although he leaned on Ham. Perhaps Noah has been wounded. It’s more than possible, I say, for Nimrod is sly, a master of deceit. Thus, this could be a trick, a trap. We must be prepared and meet them with a united front.”

  Some looked frightened at the idea. A few scowled. Others nodded as they slapped daggers belted at their side or hefted spears or bows.

  Shem sighed. “Yes. I’m afraid you’re right, Beor. Until we speak with Noah, it’s sensible to take precautions. I’d rather that Japheth and the rest of his sons were already here. Everyone must gather his or her weapons. We will meet them in a show of strength.”

  Beor hopped off the platform. His armor jangled with a metallic jingle not quite like bells, but extraordinary just the same. He clumped with a group of men to some tables and benches, where they began to plan.

  Odin dropped off Ruth and sauntered to where Hilda drove to a water trough. Some lads also followed, and they began unhitching the sweaty donkeys, letting them drink. Others brought a new team in replacement.

  Hilda accepted a wooden ladle, sipping daintily despite her amazon garb. She squinted as Odin moved near, perhaps noticing him watching her.

  “You, uh, really know how to drive them,” Odin said, no longer seeming quite so self-assured.

  “Who are you?” she said. “You look familiar.”

  “I’m Odin, grandson of Ashkenaz. I, uh, met you at Ararat several years ago.”

  She scrutinized his face before smiling. “Yes. You went north, I thought.”

  He nodded, grinning.

  “You let your bread grow, I see,” she said.

  He beamed. He was proud of his beard.

  “So what do you know about chariot driving?” she asked.

  He pointed to the one parked under a tree.

  Her smile vanished. “You came with Ham?”

  He nodded.

  Her gaze roved up and down his torso. “What’s that?” she snapped, pointing at the dragon tooth dangling across the back of his pudgy hand.

  “A tooth.”

  “I can see that,” Hilda said. “Where’d you get it?”

  “Uh, Nimrod gave it to me.”

  She stiffened and grasped her dagger hilt. “You’d better leave before I shout for Gog and he comes and breaks your back.”

  The transformation startled Odin.

  Hilda whirled around and stomped to where her father sat.

  Odin watched her, liking what he saw, but still perplexed. He noticed that a thick-necked youth, a heavy lad with a rich cloak and shiny wristbands, watched him from among Beor’s men. Was that Gog? He looked tough.

  “I don’t think she likes you,” a boy said, one watering the donkeys.

  Odin tugged at his beard, beginning to suspect the same thing.

  Hilda reached the tables, pointing back at him. Beor scowled, turning, drawing an axe.

  The lad watering the donkeys whistled, tugging his charges away from the trough and away from Odin.

  Odin butted Gungnir onto the ground, trying to keep calm even as sweat prickled his armpits. Beor’s men followed the big man.

  “There’s a Hunter among us,” Beor shouted, as he pointed his axe at Odin. “A spy!”

  Odin wondered on the wisdom of holding his ground. Then he saw Ruth leading Shem and Assur. The two groups converged at him.

  “We must bind this ruffian,” Beor said. “He’s one of Nimrod’s scoundrels.”

  “No,” Ruth said. “He drove Ham here to warn us.”

  Beor eyed him coldly, while Gog pushed through to the forefront.

  “We must meet Babel’s army in strength,” Beor said. “While we do so we cannot let spies roam free.”

  “Did you hear what I said?” asked Ruth. “He drove Ham here to warn us. He’s on our side.”

  Beor eyed Odin. “You’ll march with us, then?”

  Odin nodded.

  “Without stabbing any of us in the back?” Beor growled.

  Odin scanned the throng. He’d didn’t like Beor’s tone. “If I decide to kill you, I’ll do it face to face.”

  Beor was much bigger, with massive shoulders and magnificent armor. He smiled grimly, nodding, perhaps admiring Odin’s guts. Then the huge man motioned to his men. “It’s time to get ready. Time to show the Babel Horde what fear is.”

  39.

  The two hosts met on an open hill surrounded by forest. Ham and a feverish Noah, together with Nimrod, worked toward Shem, Assur and Beor in his chariot.

  Everyone noticed Beor and his armor. Ham hadn’t seen the like since Antediluvian times. He knew something of the work it took to make such a suit. As metals went, copper was soft, but an armor suit of it was superior to the leather jerkins many in Babel’s army wore. The style of Beor’s armor was called fish scale. Each triangular piece was cut from a sheet of copper, with tiny holes punched in each base. The first row of scales was stitched onto soft leather or onto a heavy cloth tunic, starting with the bottom row. The next row overlapped the first like tiles on a roof. It made for flexible armor.

  Unfortunately, in battle and during regular use, the scales could easily catch and snag, while small points such as daggers and spearheads could get under the scales. Before donning such a suit, a man put on a tunic of wool or leather padding to absorb weapon blows and to keep the metal from chaffing.

  The two parties met, Nimrod smiling and affable, Beor squinting as if looking for traps. They met, agreed to peace but not the terms for Gilgamesh, Enlil and Zimri.

  Nimrod lost his smile, and Beor looked ready to leap out his chariot and brain the Mighty Hunter with an axe. But Noah groaned, swaying, looking as if he might pitch over. That ended the meeting and officially began Festival.

  40.

  Two nights later, Noah sat shivering on a mat in Shem’s tent. He was wrapped in blankets and sipped Ruth’s concoction, cradling the steaming mug in his big hands. A pale hue discolored Noah’s cheeks and he wheezed with a wet rattle in his chest. He claimed it was simply a lingering cold, nothing to worry about.

  With silver tongs, Shem poked coals in an open brazier, warming his hands over them as he studied his father. Ham sat on a nearby stool.

  “Nimrod speaks of peace and love, but he only honors Jehovah from the teeth outward,” complained Noah. “The rest of him is craft and planned malice. He’s a serpent, beguiling whomever he speaks to.”

  “Show the others who he really is,” Ham suggested.

  Noah began coughing, an ugly sound. Ruth knelt beside him, pulling the blankets tighter around his shoulders.

  “Nimrod is clever,” Noah whispered. “If someone halts one avenue of his plan, he detours around them. I fear that he sways many by his dream of Babel. And I fear that many have grown tired of listening to me and following Jehovah’s ways.”

  Ham fidgeted with his jacket, finally daring to ask, “What is wrong with Babel? Shinar seems like the land of plenty, and surely Jehovah will be pleased by a monument.”

  “Jehovah loves obedience more than sacrifice,” Noah whispered. He coughed and wheezed afterward. “Is the Tower being built to Jehovah? Surely not with this idolatry of the angel of the sun.” Noah brushed aside Ruth’s hands. “I fear for the citizens of Babel. I urge you, my son, not to return to the city.”

  “I must return,” Ham said. “Rahab is there, and there live my children.”

  “Take who you can out of Babel,” Noah warned. “Maybe not this year, and maybe not in five, but Jehovah will judge the city and all who live in it.” Noah coughed harder than ever, groaning afterward.

  “I’ll stay with him,” R
uth said. “You two go to the recital.”

  41.

  As they readied themselves, the tent flap drew back and Japheth and Europa entered. Japheth halted at the sight of Ham. His mouth twitched, whether in distaste or at a private joke was impossible to tell.

  It made Ham bristle just the same.

  “Brothers,” Japheth said.

  Shem greeted him gladly, hugging Europa first and then Japheth. Both of them wore rich robes and hats, and had dirty, travel-stained sandals. Europa was still beautiful, although she seemed smaller than Ham remembered. Japheth, had he always had such a ready sneer, with lines pulling down at his mouth?

  “Is father well?” Japheth asked.

  Ruth shook her head.

  After further pleasantries, Shem held open the tent-flap, and the three brothers stepped outside. Tents had sprouted everywhere, and as the sun set, people moved to the wooden platform where torches flickered atop poles. People threw down mats and spoke with their neighbors, waiting.

  “It seems that your children have drawn Noah out at last,” Japheth told Ham. “I wonder if to his death?”

  “You’re blaming Noah’s condition on me?” Ham asked.

  “Back in your city of Babel, Kush raved like a lunatic, did he not?” Japheth asked. “He started the old feud all over again, only this time with daggers and spears. Luckily, Noah showed up, throwing a bucket of water over the mad dog.”

  “Your children started this,” Ham said.

  Japheth raised an eyebrow.

  “They enslaved Gilgamesh and the others.”

  “But you’re misinformed,” Japheth said. “Beor captured them. Beor, he’s another of your fine ruffians. He’s a warlike man, trained in warlike, Hamite ways. It’s true that several of my sons sing Beor’s praise, Magog most of all, but the others condemn him as a troublemaker. It’s hard to know which is right. But one thing has become clear: Beor’s choice to keep Nimrod’s bravoes as slaves only escalated the affair. Really, Ham, you must understand by now, it’s your boys that always overreact. Surely, even you can see that.”

  Ham’s desire to strike Japheth almost overpowered his restraint.

  “Beor is a good lad,” Shem said. “He follows Noah’s ways.”

  “I don’t recall Noah ever taking captives,” Japheth said.

  “Bah!” Ham said. He managed a curt nod before stomping to the platform. There were a hundred things he would have liked to tell his brother. In fact, he considered going back and telling him. Then he heard, as it were, the soothing words that Rahab would tell him if she were here. Things were bad enough. He didn’t need to start a fistfight with Japheth. Besides, maybe Japheth had a point. It was his offspring who had started all this. He rubbed his jaw. Why did it always have to be his children that went awry?

  He drifted to the platform, standing in the back as girls in turn went on stage to sing or young men to juggle or to show them dogs who did tricks. The audience clapped, cheered, and laughed at the various antics. Festival was a grand time, when all the children of Noah reunited and traded gossip and goods and marriageable sons and daughters. That disaster had been averted—war—delighted almost everyone. Beor’s armor was talked about as well as what would now happen to Gilgamesh, Enlil and Zimri. The captives, “the slaves,” as some whispered, hadn’t yet been seen. Rumor had it that Beor kept them in a secret camp. How Nimrod would free them, without giving up the incomparably beautiful Semiramis, was something everyone was dying to know.

  Nimrod and Semiramis presently watched from a mat. She looked stunning, with a golden collar around her throat and a silver comb in her hair. She smiled, and the two of them held hands as they watched.

  Minos, her brother, now made his way to the platform. He, too, looked good, smiling, making hearts melt. Evil rumors swirled around him, but the fine cloak he wore and the clean woolen tunic and the gold band around his forehead matched the golden harp under his arm. He walked onto the platform, flicked back his cape and sat on a stool. He had stage presence. He smiled and strummed his harp.

  He sang with a brilliant voice, loud and melodious, and it was a captivating song. Almost from the beginning, people leaned forward, the better to hear. Ham sidled closer, finally squatting, and nodding as Minos sang. The poet told a mournful tale, of people surrounded and besieged by mighty beasts. Wherever they went, the beasts of the field stalked them. Lions, wolves and sabertooth cats, there was no end to the strange monsters that filled the land. Even dragons that breathed fire…ah, would these people be able to survive?

  Slowly, the song began to change. It told of a man, a hunter, a warrior of the field, who would not submit to the beasts of prey. He challenged fate; he challenged the idea that men should fear these monsters. He fashioned for himself a bow and straight arrows, and he recruited like-minded men, Hunters, to stalk these evil creatures and bring peace to the earth.

  At the song’s height, Minos chanted this warrior’s name: Nimrod the Mighty Hunter. The dragon, Black Mane the Lion, the leviathan who ate Anu, Nimrod had faced each, killing or driving them back into the murky depths. Nimrod Victorious! The champion of man! His Hunters made the earth safe for humanity. Nimrod! Nimrod! Nimrod the Mighty Hunter!

  The song ended. Firelight flickered off Minos’s sweaty face. He lifted his handsome head and peered at the crowd. “Nimrod. Tell us about Babel. Share your dream with us.”

  Because Minos asked, or so it seemed to Ham, the women clamored for Nimrod.

  Reluctantly, pushed by beautiful Semiramis, Nimrod rose. People clapped, cheered and whistled, and he grinned, moving to the stage.

  Minos bowed. “Nimrod the Mighty Hunter, I greet you.”

  Nimrod clasped Minos’s hand, and he turned to the crowd. “None can match Minos, the poet of Festival.”

  The cheering, whistling, and clapping was the loudest of the night. People leapt to their feet, giving Minos an ovation.

  As they resumed their places, Nimrod paced back and forth across the platform, his Black Mane cloak swirling. He seemed like a tiger. He turned. His handsome face was a match perhaps for even Minos, and he began by picturing the bounty of Babel. He told of its security from predators and the great monument they built to the glory of Jehovah. He assured all that the citizens of the city thrived physically first, and then emotionally, artistically and spiritually. The Euphrates ensured a constant supply of water, and the soil was Eden-like. The fruitfulness allowed them time to mediate upon the higher qualities of life, not just grub for existence and die under the rending claws of ferocious beasts.

  Beor jumped up, with his beard bristling. “You built a city, eh? But Jehovah has told us to obey Him first. The Lord Jehovah has decreed that man should fill the Earth. Each family must obey Jehovah and set out for points faraway, and there subdue the land, trusting in the protection of the Rainbow Promise.”

  “Certainly, Beor,” Nimrod said. “I in no way disagree with you.”

  Beor’s perplexity caused many to chuckle, which made him scowl fiercely.

  “We must fill the Earth,” agreed Nimrod. “But cannot we alter the timing just a little? First, let us build a Tower to the glory of Jehovah, a monument that will please our Creator and ensure that we are not forgotten in the ages to come. Let us make a city where men can buy supplies and good weapons and retreat to as a place of refuge. For isn’t it wiser to colonize from a central base, lest the beasts devour us, as Minos has sung about? Do we wish for mankind to forget about us? Oh, if only you could all see Babel, could all see the Tower. Then you would all understand the glory and honor we do to the Immortal Creator.”

  “You spout fancies,” Beor said, “to hide your disobedience to Jehovah.”

  “How can you say that?” Nimrod asked. “Minos asked that I share my vision. So I do. What I say isn’t disobedience. I see a string of cities populating Shinar. Oh, if any wish to join us there, they are most welcome. Many hands make the load light. In no way are the best fields and the best sites already occupied. Too much of th
is land of plenty lies fallow and unused. Every clan, whether of Japheth, Shem or Ham, can set up in splendor and behind thick, protecting walls. If you think that an idle boast, ask Ashkenaz, son of Gomer, if we have done right by his clan. Speak to Javan, a son of Japheth. There is no favoritism in Babel, despite what a few malcontents have said about us. Hard work is rewarded. Valor is admired, whether you are our cousin or our brother. Oh, let us forge a united empire in Shinar, and then let the empire spread out over the Earth. As one, we will ensure peace. As one, we will subdue the Earth and fill it. And no longer will beasts stalk us. Never again, I say. We will stalk them and make the Earth safe for any maiden or child. He or she will be able to walk the breadth of the Earth with a pot of meat, never fearing a wolf or lion springing from cover and devouring them.”

  “No!” Beor said. “You lie with fair words and trickery.”

  Nimrod smiled softly. “Not all agree with me, I see. But for the sake of my men, men cruelly enslaved, I will forbear and let these insults pass. In any case, that is my vision, the vision of Babel. All I ask is that you consider it.”

  “Let the insults pass?” Beor shouted. “It is I who let them pass. I, who Hunters tried to ambush and kill. Instead of slaying them, as was my right, I captured them.”

  “You slew Olympus, a Japhethite.”

  “Say rather, a man of Babel.”

  Nimrod studied the big man. “Ah, Beor, I fear that now isn’t the time to weigh our differences. Let us enjoy Festival a little longer. Too soon, we will have to finish this.” Nimrod lifted his hands toward Semiramis.

  She stood, smiling. It was dazzling. She walked like a queen, stepping onto the stage. Nimrod clasped hands with her.