People of the Tower (Ark Chronicles 4) (7 page)

“
Of course I’m alive,” she said. “What a strange thing to say.” Then she noticed his tears. “Darling, why are you crying? And why are my sons lying in the dirt?”

11.

Amazement, bewilderment and shock struck Babel. At first even Nimrod was stunned into silence. Rahab walked to the pyre, alive, well, seething with vitality.

Shem and Beor followed in her train, and Beor clumped up the wooden steps to Nimrod, greeting him
. Then the big man turned to the crowd and gave his first sermon in Babel under the shadow of the Tower.

Work on the Tower stopped
immediately.

People debated the idea of spreading out in small clans, filling the world as
Jehovah had decreed when the eight had first exited the Ark.

Tirelessly
, Beor rose each morning with Shem beside him. Beor spoke earnestly about Jehovah: that the people turn from the way of Cain. He and Shem had spoken during the journey south. Combined with Noah’s teachings, Beor now brimmed with Jehovah-knowledge.

Beor had n
ever envisioned that he would return to his tribe like this. Cracking heads, bellowing, showing them who the real fighter was, that’s how he had imagined it many lonely nights while in exile in Japheth Land. Now he spoke to the people in the cool of the morning. Together with Shem in the afternoon, he prayed to Jehovah. At night, he rested, usually dinning with Ham and Rahab, sometimes with other families. He felt more at peace than at any time in his life. Yet there was a void, a secret pain that he was unwilling to tell Shem for it seemed petty and well, sinful. At night as he lay on his mat, sometimes outside on the roof of a house, he stared at the stars. At other times, on cold nights beside the coals of a hearth, he prayed to Jehovah to give him the strength to resist the temptation of this secret sin.

In the
morning, he preached once more. It delighted him to see people nod, to take in the thoughts of Noah and Shem, the ideas each of them had taught him. And if he was honest with himself—he tried hard to be—he was fiercely glad to thwart Nimrod’s evil scheme. He wondered at times if he was happier stopping the evil or stopping Nimrod. He suspected the latter and prayed that it be the former.

Then the spring floods came
. The Euphrates surged with raging water, and the time of hard canal work took precedence over everything else.

12.

Nimrod crouched in the grass of the plain, his hand on the sleek hide of his cheetah, Azel. He loathed canal work, directing teams here or others there. Naturally, he couldn’t give the old task back to Kush. The people looked up to the man who led them in the farmer’s chores. So today, he had told Uruk oversee the work. Uruk was a handy man, willing to do anything. Nimrod simply had to get away from the suffocating presence of Shem and Beor. They drove him to despair.

As he couched in the grass, he bared his teeth like
a wolf. Underneath his hand, Azel grew stiff.

Nimrod
raised his head, peering up from the grasses around him. A gazelle wandered by, apart from the herd that nibbled the short stalks farther away. The lone gazelle paused, looking up, its nostrils twitching. Then it bent its head, tearing from the lush grass.

Nimrod eased up his bow, laying a reed arrow on the wood, drawing the string
. The
twang
made the gazelle start. Then an arrow stuck in its hindquarters,

“
Go,” whispered Nimrod.

The cheetah shot out of the grass
. The wounded gazelle didn’t have a chance. The rest of the herd bounded a short distance away and watched the dismal drama.

The Mighty Hunter trotted near and pulled the cheetah off
its kill, hooking a leash to the leather collar. The beast hissed as if it would bite him. Then training took over. Nimrod threw it a piece of bloody meat. Afterward, the beast allowed itself to be pulled away.

D
ressing the kill and taking the choicest pieces, Nimrod pondered his dilemma. A league later brought him to the hunting camp. An awning had been erected against the sun and leather tarps laid out. A Hunter readied a campfire. Minos played tunes on his harp for Semiramis and her maidens. Nimrod brought the kill to the cook, who began to ready it.

He
drank from a jug and rinsed his hands. Then Nimrod paced along the outer edge of camp.

From the corners of their eyes, t
he others watched him, whispering to each other. Finally, several urged Semiramis to talk to him, no doubt to discover what ailed him. She seemed reluctant, but at last rose and approached him. She seemed concerned, worried, although she was careful to smile. Nimrod had long ago made it clear that he enjoyed a pleasant, cheerful countenance rather than a dour one.

“
What troubles you, my husband?”

He peered at the horizon, not bothering to glance at her.

She hesitated, and then pressed against his side. “Is it Beor?”

“
It isn’t the crops,” he said sarcastically.

“
Yet the yearly flood couldn’t have come at a better time,” she said.

He regarded her.

“Rahab’s recovery—”

“
Being raised from the dead isn’t a
recovery
, my pretty. It’s a miracle.”

Resentment
flashed across her features. She quickly smoothed that away. “You’re right. That was a poor choice of words. But consider this. The miracle awed our people, making fertile soil for Beor’s preaching. Naturally, they heeded him. How could they not? Now they work as of old, keeping the canals intact and saving their fields. When they’re done, the miracle won’t seem as miraculous. They will have become accustomed to it. And Beor’s words… They’re hard, like all of Jehovah’s sayings. Jehovah is so demanding, so strict and such a tyrant. Who can breathe under the dictates of Jehovah? Believe me. The people will soon grow weary of listening to this new preacher.”

“
Perhaps,” Nimrod said, “and perhaps not. The people with their whims are like the wind, blowing first one way and then another.” He shook his head. “I can’t count on that. Beor’s influence and by him Jehovah’s must be broken. And yet…” A troubled look entered his eyes. He put his broad hand on Semiramis’ throat. “Do you know what I wonder?”

“
No, my husband,” she said, her eyes bright.

“
I wonder if Jehovah is right. I wonder if the angel tricked us.” He applied pressure, squeezing her throat. “I hate being a pawn, Semiramis. I loathe being at the disposal of another. I am Nimrod. I am the Mighty Hunter. I choose my own fate. I decide for myself. Yet this miracle…”

He let go of her
throat and studied the horizon. The miracle frightened him. How did one war against that kind of power? There had to be a way. Somehow, he must strike off the shackles that others tried to forge and put on him, even if the other was Jehovah. He must be free! Free to live and do as he desired, not to be a slave. He laughed. He put a collar and leash on Azel, his cheetah. What he wouldn’t allow was anyone to put a collar and leash on him.

“
Now is the time when we must gather strength,” Semiramis said. “As the people toil at canal work, we must regroup.”

“
Eh?” Nimrod asked.

“
While the spring flood keeps the others busy, we must marshal all who are ours and find a way to stop Beor’s hideous influence.”

“
What do you suggest?”

“
We need our most cunning minds,” she said, “our deepest thinkers. Gilgamesh has always helped you in the past. Perhaps now is the time to bring him back. He has been gone long enough in the marsh. Why, even Ramses has finally returned, giving up on his sister. Only Gilgamesh remains there.”

“
Forget about Gilgamesh.”

“
Husband,” she said, clutching his arm. “I know you’re angry with him. And—”

“
No. Gilgamesh has been driven insane. This girl… What’s her name?”

“
Opis.”

“
Yes, her,” Nimrod said. “She is surely dead. Gilgamesh knows that, yet he refuses to return. Like some living ghost, he haunts the great southern marsh.” Nimrod shook his head. “Let him rot.”

“
Listen, my husband, please. You mustn’t let your anger color your judgment. We need Gilgamesh. He is your friend, your best friend.”

“
No. Uruk is my best friend.”

“
Yes,” she said. “Uruk is tireless in your service. He is a good man. But Gilgamesh has that rare gift of thinking. Now we need him more than ever.”

Nimrod peered at her
with suspicion.

She bowed her head.

“You seem very eager for Gilgamesh to return.”

“
Don’t you think that now is our most dangerous moment?” she asked. “That as you attempt the great prize, the most devious and deadly peril has arisen?”

“
It has,” he admitted.

“
That is why I counsel you as I do. There are no other reasons.”

He studied her, before breathing deeply
. “I’ve wondered on a way to restore the balance, to rid us of this Jehovah lunacy. Imagine, wandering in small groups over the face of the Earth, devoured one by one by the beasts. Mankind would perish. And if not, then what would be the point of existence? A dirty, miserable life, breaking our backs hoeing or trotting after sheep. What glories could be achieved? What heights of civilization could be scaled? None. Certainly none for us.”

Nimrod shook his head. “
Here, in this generation, if we unite, we can dare grand goals. We can raise a monument to the ages. Think of it, Semiramis. Our names will be etched in eternity as the builders of civilization, as the rulers of it, the patrons. Perhaps even as its…” He grinned, with the gleam of the future in his eyes. “We have all labored many years to achieve our goals. Now, in their simplicity, the people yearn to throw away their hard-won efforts. I want to save them from that. The way is risky and fraught with peril. It will be a thankless task. Yet we cannot let fear overcome our love. If the people are simple, we must be wiser still and take the hard yet reasonable course.”

“
What is that?”

“
I’ve thought long on this,” Nimrod said. “I’ve pondered for a way out of our dilemma until my head aches with fatigue. The needed task, as I said, is dirty and mean and perhaps even worse than that, it will be thankless. Yet which of us will shirk his duty if called on to save civilization? Perhaps I have been raised up for this very hour. I doubt if anyone else has the courage to see through this difficult task. If I could find some other means, I would.” He squinted. “People’s memories are short. They think on what they see. Out of sight is out of mind.” He pursed his lips. “Except, it seems, for you regarding Gilgamesh.”

She kept silent.

“In any case,” he said, “the miracle slaps them in the face everyday. They can do ought but discuss it and marvel anew on what occurred. Although it pains me to say so, there is only one way to insure against that.”

“
You cannot banish Rahab.”

Anger twitched
across his face. “Do you consider me a fool? Do you think I could dare such a decree, snapping my fingers so my Hunters grab her by the elbows and hustle her out of Babel? Oh, yes, I can see it now. Before everyone, I deny Rahab salt and bread and inform her that if she dares to step foot in Babel again, she will die.” He snorted. “You’re wise and far-seeing, Semiramis.”

“
Forgive me, husband. I thought—”

“
When I said it’s a thankless task, I meant that it can’t be done openly. Now to ask a man to slay a dangerous beast is to praise and to honor him, to imply that he has great skill and courage. What I suggest is low and despicable. The one who would volunteer for it we would spit upon and call a cur and a hyena. Yet perhaps for that very reason it takes even greater courage to do—if this evil deed is done for the noble reason of saving civilization. I know that most people could never consider it. It is why we lead. For the good of all, some, at times, must perish.” Nimrod peered at the horizon. “Neither I nor any cabal of elders would or could banish Rahab. No, Semiramis, what I suggest, reluctantly, is much more certain and permanent and therefore fraught with risk. Rahab must die and stay dead.”

“
No,” Semiramis said. “You can’t mean that. It’s horrible, wicked.”

For a
moment, Nimrod stared at his wife the way a wolf or leopard might stare at a hare. Then his features softened, and he stroked her cheek. “Dear wife, even you with your cunning recoil at the needed task. As I said, it’s low and despicable. I wish the deed on no man or woman. And yet…it is simply another reason why Bel must have chosen me over my father. As a hunter, I have learned to be remorseless. I have learned to ponder the choices, arrive at the decision and then carry it out.” Nimrod sighed. “The question, Semiramis, is do we let grandmother thwart everything we’ve worked for?”

“
As you say, I’m just a woman, no doubt too soft to think…to think of such a deed. There is craft and deep thought in this, and I know the idea horrifies you. Oh Nimrod, it’s too risky even for you.”

“
There is no other way.”

She pressed her cheek against his shoulder
. Then she let go of him, stepping back, regarding him. “You know that my brother Minos is clever regarding these things. Perhaps you should relate these thoughts to him. He sees life though a poet’s eyes. He might see something that neither of us would have thought of, perhaps missed.”

Nimrod scratched his chin as he glanced at
the camp. Minos in his bright cloak and with his oiled curls strummed his harp as he sang to the maidens. They watched him in rapt delight, with shining eyes. The way he had run from the ambush in Japheth Land made many consider him a coward. Still, Minos had aided him at Festival and now trained the Singers, the maidens, with keen precision. Minos brimmed with ideas, perhaps too many. Nimrod nodded.

Semiramis hailed her brother, and soon the three of them walked out of camp
. Semiramis explained the problem and possible solution.

Nimrod seemed to gaze at the clouds, but with his peripheral
vision, he gauged Minos. The lad’s good looks made him seem clever. Nimrod knew the good looks also made him seem brave, and that was an illusion. Yet Minos pondered the information. If he was shocked by what he heard, he didn’t betray it.

“
If Rahab died that would surely help over time,” Minos said. “The problem is who among us has the hardness to dare such a feat? Not I, certainly. And while, you, Nimrod, are the bravest of the brave, your good will and magnanimous nature preclude you from ordering such a wicked deed.”

“
This is your vaunted poet’s insight?” Nimrod asked. “I might as well have sat at Beor’s feet and listened to one of his sermons.”

Minos dipped his head
. “There is the problem. Shem raised Rahab, if she ever was dead. Yet Beor wanders through the streets stirring the people with his sermons. Surely, it surprises you as much as me to find that massive, usually brooding archer, to be so persuasive. Now what I think—”

Nimrod grabbed Minos
’s shoulder, making the poet wince. “What did you say?”

Minos sputtered, trying to
ease out from under Nimrod’s hand, but the grip was too powerful.