The Days of Peleg (60 page)

He smiled.

“The
Creator
is actually very gentle. He cares for his creations just as you care for yours.”

Peleg was moved emotionally in a very strange way as he pondered the words ‘polite’ and ‘gentle’ applied to the incomprehensible, infinite intelligence that Shem had been describing. He felt these attributes ought to be contradictory, yet at the same time, he felt an unexpected sense of comfort.

Perhaps being a decision-making rock wasn’t so bad, when one considered how amazingly complex and magnificent that rock was.

“Why don’t you use your volition and get some sleep,” Shem advised suddenly. “We’ll be leaving in a few hours whenever this rain ‘decides’ to let up.”

Peleg smiled slightly at this, and stretched out over his bearskin. The fire was going down, and even Bernifal was now fast asleep. He pulled the edge of his bearskin over himself, and
chose
to close his eyes.

One question suddenly arose as he drifted off to sleep.

How does one go about
inviting
the Creator?

Chapter 35

Pride

“Free will—without guidance—is the most terrifying prison of all.”

“W
hat do you mean, ‘the shipment is still not in’!” Buan glared at the courier who stepped back slightly, cowering. This was the final aggravation of an already horrible day—and it was only half over.

He had risen early, and then spent his morning fighting crowds, traveling to the Eastern gate where he had been promised cedar samples for inspection. Three days earlier he had made the same trip, only to discover that nothing had arrived.

He had returned today, two hours after dawn, but the representative was nowhere to be found. Then, just before zenith, a courier had come to say that no one would be available today, but that the samples would certainly be there tomorrow, guaranteed.

Buan had eaten nothing that morning; and there was nothing left to do but to return to his master’s headquarters and explain—again—what had happened. There would
certainly
be a fine or increased tariff for this outrage; however, it most certainly would
not
come out of his purse.

He turned in a huff and left the tent without a word. He stormed past the gate officials and entered the city, oblivious to anything around him—a cloud of angry exasperation surrounding him. His robe (which was now dusty thanks to his wasted trip) flapped against his legs as he walked, and, without thinking, he stormed into the first place he saw that offered food.

He pushed past the few patrons that were there and headed for the table farthest from the door. He was hungry, and he certainly deserved a decent meal for his morning’s unnecessary aggravations.

As he sat, his breathing slowly returned to normal, and he gradually began to take in his surroundings.

He had spent very little time in this part of the city, and he certainly never took time to eat when he did have business here. He was sure he had never noticed this eating establishment before, and as he looked around, he realized it might be slightly more expensive than his usual fare. No matter. He had earned it today.

The proprietor approached his table, noticing Buan’s dirty robe along with his overall untidy and flustered appearance.

“Excuse me, sir,” he began plaintively. “Are you certain this is the best establishment for you? We have quite a discriminating selection, and offer only the finest cuts and beverages at no mean expense…”

Buan slammed his right hand palm-down on the table. Without taking his eyes off the table, he presented the back of his left hand to the waiter, making sure the signet ring on his little finger was prominently displayed by rotating it slightly with his thumb.

The proprietor glanced down at the ring, and then stepped back, embarrassed.

“Please forgive me, sir. Of course your credit is good. I meant no offense.”

Buan kept his eyes on the table, dismissing the indiscretion with a wave of his hand.

“Just let me know what is served here,” he grunted. Not even an expensive meal on his master’s tab would make up for the hardships and aggravations of this morning.

“They were your nephews and their offspring,” said Shem.

It was now twelve weeks since their discussion about volition, and they were finally within eyeshot of Uruk. The early dawn light was just giving way to the brilliance of a clear morning sky, and the top level of Uruk’s ziggurat could now be seen silhouetted against the rising sun. Peleg noticed how much darker it was than his
Citadel
in Ur, since the outer face of Uruk’s structure had been conditioned with bitumen.

It had been an uneventful journey, with two main exceptions. As they had traveled through more familiar territories, they had encountered several small farming settlements; one of which had refused them passage until Peleg offered his bearskin as payment. The other, more traumatic event, (at least for Shem) was when they needed passage on a Phoenician cargo vessel and had no money. Ultimately, the tall founder was forced to part with several of his precious stones; which the toll officer correctly believed to be the most ‘unusual and unique minerals’ he had ever laid eyes on.

Also, during their travels, Peleg and Bernifal had been able to exchange basic language lessons—at least when Bernifal was around. Peleg now had a rudimentary knowledge of his companions’ vocabulary and syntax, and occasionally Bernifal would experiment with a few words in Peleg’s tongue.

Shem was now talking about the people whom Peleg had met during his voyage.

“When your father Eber, fled with your brother Joktan,” he continued, “they gathered at a place far to the East of Aratta which they named
Mèsha
which means ‘departure’. Joktan’s sons, along with their families and servants, chose to continue their father’s obedience and spread themselves and their descendants throughout the world.”

Peleg nodded, listening, but was also becoming more aware of the walls of Uruk approaching in the distance.

“Joktan had thirteen sons, who went out from
Mèsha
with their families, heading due east,” said Shem. “But soon there was a disagreement which split them. Four families believed a more nomadic life would please the
Creator
as they traveled—moving and dividing into smaller groups as they grew with subsequent generations. The other nine desired to build great cities, just as Nimrod had, but they wished to settle as far from Babel as possible for fear of the coming curse that Eber had warned of.”

They gently pushed aside some sheep that had wandered across their path. Flocks grazed in fields that Uruk leased in exchange for a percentage of wool and mutton.

“The last I heard anything was many years after the
Great Confusion
,” said Shem. “The nine families feared another great flood, even though the
Creator
had promised to never again cover the entire world. They built a large barge for their families and livestock, and headed out across the eastern waters to find a new land to build their cities.”

Peleg nodded.

“I see,” he said. “Manco Chavin said there had been thirteen, but that only nine made the voyage. He himself was a replacement to maintain the Inner Thirteen.”

He paused to knit his thoughts together. The men who had tried to drown them in the
Acapana
had been his own nephews! He suddenly made the connection. Manco Chavin had said the Inner Nine’s father—and founder—had been
D’Jaqtan
! That was a detail he had never mentioned to Shem, but it was too close to be a coincidence.
Their
Founder must have been his own brother, Joktan!

But he now had to deal with a much more troubling thought. This meant that a great deal of the information Shem had told concerning Eber and other details of his history must also be true. And as this greatly increased Shem’s credibility, it was becoming less easy to dismiss him as a crazy person.

The pedestrian traffic became more compressed as merchants and craftsmen began to funnel in and out of the Northwest Gate. The number of people around them continued to grow, and Peleg suddenly realized that this was more people than he had seen in one place in over thirteen years.

Strange thoughts occurred to him as he watched other travelers and tradesmen. Since his discussions about decision-making, he had never been able to look at people the same way. A small girl kicked a stone across the path and Peleg thought,
She just exercised her free-volition and changed the future of that stone forever and permanently altered the outcome of the universe
. He shook his head, somewhat worried about himself. But he had to admit that the stone would have never moved except by some natural cause-and-effect—and no causality had forced the girl’s decision.

They approached the city where pottery stands and small shopping kiosks pressed against the city wall. Horse-dealers from Kemet, textile merchants from Indus, and vendors from a variety of regions conducted business. But the more expensive and exotic commodities were to be found within the city walls.

The crowd was now pressing from every side, and they found themselves carried along as they were compressed and funneled through the gate. The gate officers watched from small stands, supposedly watching for petty crimes and looking for items that needed to be taxed. Soon they were ejected out on the other side, and the three men found themselves on the wide, yet busy streets of Uruk. Peleg felt a wave of relief come over him. He was home! Of course, this wasn’t
truly
his home, but at least it was a known city, and he had actually visited it twice, many years earlier.

Just as Ur had been founded as a place to further
Knowledge
and learning, so Uruk made no apologies for focusing its energies on Commerce and Trade. Although it had been founded just a few years after Ur, and covered roughly the same area, it boasted a population nearly double that of Ur, and maintained a much more frantic air and pace as it pursued what the inhabitants considered the most noble aspiration of all. Wealth!

During the past three days Bernifal had been unable to hunt, since any game he caught would probably belong to one of the many families or camps which leased space from the city. They certainly didn’t want their re-introduction to society to come from a poaching indictment!

As a result they had eaten nothing but wild-grains and whatever rations they carried during those three days, so when Peleg saw an eating establishment, he reached for Shem and Bernifal and pulled them inside.

Old habits took over, and Peleg moved to seat himself at a table near the door. But before Shem and Bernifal could join him, a man moved to intercept them and addressed Peleg.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he began, “but I’m not sure if this is the best place for you and your …”

He paused, looking at Shem and Bernifal with disgust.

“…friends,” he finished.

Peleg glanced down at their clothing, and suddenly realized how filthy they were. He was still wearing the pleated leather skirt uniform which he had replaced almost three years ago and was thin and flaking. He looked up and winced when he viewed his companions through “city-eyes”. Bernifal was wearing his one-piece, single-shoulder fur outfit, and Peleg suddenly realized how strange Shem’s tan leather trousers and jacket must appear here. Add three months of accumulated dirt (and smell), and Peleg realized that, if he were the proprietor, he would probably throw them out immediately.

Peleg looked up at the man, obviously the proprietor.

“I’m very sorry, sir, for our appearance,” he said, switching to the language of Uruk—something he had not spoken since his last visit here. “We have traveled a great distance, and are very hungry…”

The man interrupted him.

“And you have
money
, I suppose?” he said sarcastically (managing to mock Peleg’s accent) as he scrutinized their attire.

Peleg looked up at Shem for help, realizing too late that this was an unknown language for him. Shem was watching with a look of total confusion—the first time Peleg had ever witnessed this.

“We need some money,” he said to Shem in his own language, “or something with which to buy food.”

Shem paused for a moment, and then with a look of sad resignation, withdrew his leather satchel of prized stones. He reached in and selected a few which he showed to the man.

The proprietor looked up into Shem’s eyes and glared. At first it appeared he was going to slap the pebbles out of Shem’s hand, but instead he whirled back to Peleg and reached for him, pulling him up out of his seat.

“Take your filthy bartering outside,” he yelled. “And I mean outside of the
city
! We only accept
real
money, here.”

He began pushing all three towards the door.

“Go outside and buy a goat with your pretty rocks,” he taunted as he maneuvered them. While pressing, he inadvertently placed his hand on Bernifal’s shoulder, and Peleg froze as he watched Bernifal flinch. A quick glance from Shem told Bernifal to meekly refrain, and soon the three men were back on the street again.

“And get some decent clothes!” he shouted after them as they began moving further
into
the city—further infuriating him.

People from the country should
stay
in the country, the proprietor thought as he turned back into his business.
Filthy, uncultured, riffraff!
The city was crowded enough without idiots from the countryside wandering into the elite business world within.

Buan had watched the three out-of-place men enter the establishment. The tall one was a Mentor, but he wore the strangest leggings he had ever seen. He was accompanied by an obvious
uncultured
wearing nothing but a crude animal fur. Probably lived in a tree, Buan thought. The third man led them with an air of confidence that the others did not share, and rudely seated himself as the proprietor moved to intercept the disheveled trio.