Heavens Before (33 page)

The stalks of grain were heavy, coarse, and tawny. Annah loved the look of them as she worked with Ghinnah and Tirtsah to bind the stalks into sheaves. This crop was beautiful, surpassing all their expectations—as if the Most High had released all His blessings upon this particular harvest.

Time has gone so quickly
. Standing, holding some sheaves, she glanced at Ghinnah and Tirtsah. They were sweating beneath the late afternoon sun, but they didn’t complain. The grain was as precious to them as it was to Annah.

Even Tirtsah seemed pleased today. The past few months of marriage to Khawm had made her a little less sullen. But any improvement was welcomed to Annah. And Khawm loved Tirtsah. He followed her with his eyes whenever she was near. Annah suspected he could deny her nothing.

As Annah was stretching, she saw Naomi running toward them from the lodge. Naomi was panting for air, her expression fearful, stricken. “I’ma!” Annah dropped the sheaves she held and ran to her mother-in-law. Holding out her hands, she cried, “I’ma, what’s wrong?”

Naomi clutched her, in tears. “Daughter, go tell your husband and his father and brothers … I can’t wake our Methuwshelakh. He’s dying.”

Twenty

GENTLY, FOLLOWING Naomi, Annah cast a handful of sand into the grave, scattering it over Methuwshelakh’s leather-shrouded body. It pained Annah that she had been unable to tell the ancient man anything in his last hours; he had never once opened his eyes. But she had comforted herself by giving Methuwshelakh one last token of her affection; she had struck a small disc of gold, patterned after Ghinnah’s starburst, then tied it about his neck as they were preparing him for the burial. Now she watched as Noakh slipped the first shovelful of dirt into the grave.

Standing beside Annah, Ghinnah cried softly. Tirtsah, however, remained unmoved. Methuwshelakh’s presence had never touched her as it had touched the other two. Annah studied Tirtsah, resenting her lack of emotion.
I think that the grief of your husband’s family hasn’t affected you at all
.

Now Yepheth, Shem, and Khawm were helping Noakh cover the ancient Methuwshelakh’s grave, their expressions wearied and sorrowful. Shem shoveled dirt steadily, but he paused once and looked at Annah. His expression was despairing, telling Annah silently:
This is the end. And the beginning of our sorrows
.

Moved by her husband’s pain, Annah lowered her head. Tears stung her eyes.
I will miss you
, she thought.
Methuwshelakh. Man-of-the-darts. He-who-departs-before-the-waters. Now that you’re gone—if my husband and his father believe the truth—the waters will come to sweep everything away
. Thinking of this, Annah begged silently,
O Most High, if there is a way to avert this destruction …

She stopped suddenly, feeling the prayer fall back upon her like a stone; it would change nothing. Noakh had been praying and speaking to others for more than a hundred years, hoping this calamity might be averted. And yet, because of the unchanging evil and violence of men, ruin was approaching. Annah sensed heaviness in the air about her. Unnerved, she looked at Noakh, trying to discern his thoughts.

Her father-in-law was carefully shoveling the loosened earth over his grandfather’s grave, but his eyes were distant and deeply troubled. When the grave was covered, he turned away silently, walking off into the trees lining the river. Annah gazed after him, understanding his need for solitude.

Later, when Noakh returned to the lodge to share their midday meal, Annah and the others looked at him, waiting for him to speak. Slowly, as if forcing out the words, he said, “From this day on, we harvest everything. Everything.”

Annah watched Ghinnah and Tirtsah’s reaction. Both
young women looked confused, obviously thinking,
But we’ve been harvesting everything already. How can we possibly need so much?

Seeing their rebellion, Annah shut her eyes.
We are to harvest everything
, she thought.
The father of my husband means more than just grains and fruits. And if he is so reluctant to face this harvest of “everything,” then I’m sure I don’t want to know what “everything” means
.

“We need your help today,” Shem said quietly, looking away from Annah, toward the dawn. The sunlight barely showed above the mist-filled clearing before their reed-and-grass hut. “We will be working with the herds.”

Hearing an unspoken meaning in his voice, Annah stepped in front of her husband, facing him, willing him to look at her. “Please, tell me what you mean. You and your father and your brothers have been coming and going from the herds for three days already. And when you come to me at night, you say almost nothing. You obviously don’t like what you have to tell me, so I want to hear it now.”

“We’re going to harvest the herds,” Shem answered bluntly. “I’ve been helping my father and brothers set up enclosures to hold the animals while we butcher them. Their flesh will serve as food for the carrion-eaters while we are together in the pen. I’ma will help us. But we also need your help to cut the flesh and set it out to dry.”

Annah felt the blood draining from her face. “
All
the animals of your herds?”

“Virtually all, yes.”

“That will take longer than just one day,” Annah said,
reluctantly forcing another unwilling admission from her husband’s lips.

“Yes, it will take more than a few days.”

Sickened, Annah swallowed hard.
To cut into flesh, over and over for days. No, I can’t do this
. She wavered and turned away.

But Shem caught her and pulled her into his arms, holding her tight. “Listen to me,” he whispered. “You know I would never ask such a thing if it weren’t necessary. We can’t depend upon my father’s cousins to help us, and we know that Ghinnah and Tirtsah will consider this as further proof that we’re mad. Most likely, it will be just the six of us doing all the work. We need your help, beloved, please.”

Annah sucked in a quick breath. It was ridiculous of her to be squeamish. Her garments were of leather, and whenever she worked the gold, she worked with leather and membranes. And she had seen death already: useless, senseless, bloody death. This would be different; the deaths of these animals would have a saving purpose. Their flesh would give life to other animals. Bracing herself, she nodded. But as her husband bent to kiss her, she clutched at him again, begging, “Please don’t ask me to kill any of the animals.”

“You’ll stay with my mother and help her,” Shem promised. “You won’t be near the animals when we take them.”

They ate a quick morning meal. Then Annah helped Shem gather what they needed: cutting tools—blades of stone, bronze, and iron—a sharpening stone, a bucket, cleansing herbs and pale, coarse, dried gourd fibers for scrubbing their hands. Annah also packed some food in a basket, though she was certain that she would be unable
to eat anything. Silent, they walked through the misty fields, toward the herds, away from the rising sun. Noakh, Naomi, Yepheth, and Khawm were already at work, separating the herds, urging them into small, woven-wood enclosures, despite the protests of three angry, leather-clad men, Noakh’s cousins.

As they approached his family, Shem spoke to Annah beneath his breath. “I don’t need to tell you to stay away from my father’s cousins. They are wild men. The two with the graying hair are brothers, Pathal and Akar. The younger one is another cousin, Othniy. Don’t speak to them, even if they speak to you. Stay with I’ma.”

Naomi greeted Shem and Annah first. She was quiet and tense, her eyes flicking back to the herds, where Noakh was trying to placate his cousins. The two brother-cousins, Pathal and Akar, were almost as old as Noakh, wiry and sharp-eyed, their hair grizzled and thick with curls, their beards flowing and rumpled. Noakh’s third cousin, Othniy, was much younger and, to a startling degree, resembled Shem. His eyes were large, dark and intense, and his features were strikingly handsome, but he was completely lacking in manners. He was now screaming at Noakh, gesturing wildly with his hands, his voice hoarse, raging.

“You’re a fool! You’ve always been a fool! And now you’ll ruin us all—that’s what you want to do, isn’t it? Why should you cut down perfectly healthy animals?”

“Othniy, listen to me,” Noakh answered mildly, reasonably. “I will pay you as we agreed when you returned from your last journey. If you prefer, you may take one hundred animals now and leave. But if you stay to help us, you may save one hundred twenty animals for yourself.”

“Why should I help you destroy my livelihood? ”
Othniy sputtered. “No, I’ll take my hundred and leave! The death of that old man gave your weak mind another turn!”

“That old man was the father of your father,” Noakh reminded Othniy firmly.

But Othniy refused to be concerned with any familial respect. “Father of my father or not, that Methuwshelakh was an old storytelling idiot. And his idiocy has been passed from you to your sons. No wonder your sons had to pay bribes to get wives. You’re all insane.”

Hearing this, Annah put a quick hand on her husband’s arm. Shem was angry, his eyes glittering, his lips pressed together hard. Annah met his look swiftly, shaking her head, silently reminding him:
Be calm. Your cousin is speaking in rage. We know the truth
.

But Khawm was obviously stung, and snarled at Othniy, “Your hatred of us hasn’t kept you from demanding our food and work all these years, when you’ve lost everything and we’ve had plenty. Who is truly the fool, cousin?”

Infuriated, Othniy charged at Khawm, but the two older cousins held him back while Yepheth grabbed Khawm, restraining him. Othniy bellowed, “I’ll kill you now! Let me go! I’ll dash his brains all over this field!”

“You’ll take your animals and go,” Noakh told him, so harshly that Annah barely recognized his voice.

Shem already was moving toward the herd to help his father count out one hundred animals for Othniy’s wages. Freed now, Othniy glared menacingly from Noakh, to Shem and his brothers, then to Naomi and Annah. Othniy paused and stared at Annah, his expression voracious.

Annah looked down at her feet, scared.
My husband could have been just like this Othniy. They are of the same family
,
and their features are the same. The only difference between them is that my husband loves the Most High, while this Othniy shuns Him
. Annah longed for the secrecy of her veil. More than anything, she wanted to hide from Othniy’s cruel, staring eyes.

“Daughter,” Naomi whispered, putting an arm around Annah, “come with me to the well. We can prepare our work area while my husband and sons deal with these men.”

Annah followed Naomi obediently, but she was still frightened, watching the men anxiously from beneath her lashes. Noakh’s cousins were quarreling with each other as Noakh, Shem, Yepheth, and Khawm goaded one hundred animals away from the herd. At last, Othniy picked up his staff and his pouch, then strode away, driving the animals before him. They were reluctant to go, but Othniy hissed and whistled sharply, chasing the animals onward, Annah thought, by the sheer force of his rage.

In contrast to Othniy, the two older cousins, Pathal and Akar, seemed willing to stay and help, apparently lured by Noakh’s promise of extra animals in return for their work.

I wish they would go too
, Annah thought, feeling sick, watching the brother-cousins prepare their blades by sharpening them against stones.
I wish they didn’t have knives
.

To keep herself busy, Annah brought water from the nearby well, then helped Naomi to unpack their own cutting blades. Almost before she knew it, Shem and Yepheth came toward her, carrying a gutted, skinned, decapitated carcass.

As they set the once-living form in front of Annah, she shut her eyes, willing herself not to retch.
This is necessary
, she told herself firmly.
It has to be done
. Slowly, she
picked up a knife and moved with Naomi to kneel beside the still-warm carcass. Annah let Naomi make the first cut, then she followed her motions numbly.
Don’t think about this
, Annah told herself.
Just work
.

Moving quickly, Annah cut slice after slice of the flesh, her fingers becoming sticky and stained with blood. Like a mindless creature, she worked until she heard Naomi release a low, sobbing breath. Startled, Annah looked at her mother-in-law. Naomi continued to slice at the flesh of the carcass, but tears were coursing down her cheeks. Her own misery forgotten, Annah whispered, “I’ma?”

Naomi sniffed and swallowed hard. “It’s nothing, child.” She sighed and continued. “I can’t help but think of all the nights my husband and my sons have spent out here, tending these animals. Now, to do this is horrible. I have to tell myself that this is necessary.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling myself.”

Taking a deep breath, Naomi said, “We should keep telling this to each other.”

They worked as quickly as possible, stopping only to rinse their hands and sharpen or exchange their cutting blades. Several times, Shem and Noakh came to help them.