The Days of Peleg (76 page)

Peleg turned away in revulsion, but before he did, he caught a glimpse of Tammuz’s eyes which were wide open and clearly indicated that this battle was far from over.

Inanna had apparently forgotten that Peleg was still there, but she suddenly remembered, released her lips from her son’s, and looked out over the hall.

“Guards!” she shouted, waving her free right arm. She looked down at Peleg.

“I will decide how you may best serve our needs,” she said without
too
much enmity.

Four men appeared from black archways on either side of the stage. They surrounded Peleg and clasped his arms behind his back, but without inflicting any pain.

“Return him to his room,” she instructed them. “And make sure to bring him a decent meal.”

She looked down at Peleg.

“I truly do not wish you to be unhappy,” she said. “But you
will
remain here for now.”

She dismissed Peleg and his escorts with a wave of her hand. She then turned back to Tammuz and cuddled him in her arms, closing her eyes.

The guards pulled Peleg towards the same doorway through which he had entered the Hall of Spheres earlier. Peleg twisted a couple of times to look back at Inanna and her son, but offered no real resistance.

During his last glance, little Tammuz was still glaring after him, but just before Peleg turned away, the little boy lifted his pinky finger and looked directly into Peleg’s eyes while making a slicing motion across his little throat.

With a shiver, Peleg entered the hallway, led by the
Citadel
guards. He began to think, almost with pity, about Tammuz, and wondered what hideous cruelty could possibly deign to possess such a small child.

An answer came instantly, unbidden, into his mind.

“
The Serpent
.”

Shem and Bernifal looked up as new “escorts” entered their holding room. Apparently it had finally been decided which guards would accompany them to the city gates where their exile would officially begin.

They rose to follow the first two guards (armed with swords), as four more (unarmed) fell in behind them. Again their elbows were restrained as each of the four rear guards held an arm. Soon they were exiting the
Citadel
.

They were steered down the main southern steps and into the streets where it soon became apparent that they were being led to the Eastern gate. Shem was surprised, but (he speculated) since the closest settlements were to the north and west, it was meant to reinforce, symbolically, the demand that they never return. Or, he suddenly realized as he saw the gate in the distance, it was simply because it was so close to the
Citadel
—hence the closest walk for the guards.

It was just past noon, and Shem wondered again what was happening to Peleg. It would be amazing to discover how they would soon be reunited—as promised. He looked back towards the
Citadel
, which was just beginning to silhouette itself against the descending afternoon sun. A quick push from his rear guards returned his attention to the approaching gate—and away from the receding ziggurat where Peleg was still being held.

Shem had been so excited when Peleg had entered his life. Peleg had rescued his faith—and his primary purpose in life. He tried to reassure himself that everything would occur as the
Creator
willed, but each step away from Peleg made his heart heavier.

Naturally, he and Bernifal could have easily “handled” their escorts, but they would certainly have no hope in storming the
Citadel
and somehow rescuing Peleg.

They continued plodding eastward towards the gate.

As Peleg was escorted down to the level where his “classroom” was, he felt strange, inexplicable waves of empathy flooding through his mind. He had relinquished anxiety for his own well-being, but instead of despair, his thoughts kept shifting in a myriad of perspectives that were not his own.

Instead of viewing Inanna as powerful and resourceful, Peleg was overwhelmed by a feeling that she was, instead, trapped in a prison of loneliness and fatigue. A sense of sympathy for her swept over Peleg.

As they turned down the hallway towards the classroom, his thoughts again went to Tammuz, and he was shocked when he almost started to cry for the poor child which had been commandeered by such evil.

He realized that, throughout his entire life, he had never truly viewed the world from another’s perspective.

Was this the new
sanity
which Shem had promised? Was he now compelled to experience the grief and agony of those around him? Thoughts of Thaxad, Serug, and his crewmates slipped through his mind as he suddenly realized that they had been men with hopes, thoughts, confusions, and indecisions just like himself. Thoughts of his wives and children suddenly made him aware that he cared far more for them than he had ever known before. His mind began to sag under the weight of it all.

And then, suddenly, an amazing sense of comfort entered his mind as he realized that it was not his place to contend with the world’s ills. It was the Creator’s. And
He
was now providing the peace which would (from now on) enable Peleg to cope. It was a strange give and take. Peleg could now empathize more fully with his fellow created humans, while the
Creator
alleviated the resulting apprehension.

Peleg watched the two guards who were leading him, and he realized that they too were filled with daily issues and complex concerns. There were not the same guards which had brought him to the Hall of Spheres. They were apparently just starting their shift and were extremely tired and lost in thought—not even talking to each other.

Lost in thought?

Their hold on Peleg’s arms was practically non-existent as they made the final turn towards his room. Peleg suddenly realized that he had been walking these halls decades before these guards had even been born. He probably knew passages and access ways which they had never even considered.

With a flash of energy, he wrenched his arm free from the grasp of the guard on the left, while at the same time he reached up and punched the throat of the other guard with the back of his fist, forcing him to cough and tip backwards. The first guard pushed forward to try and regain Peleg’s arm, but Peleg struck him in the sternum with his elbow, and the guard dropped to the floor with a yelp and a gurgle. The guard on the right was trying to compose himself, his hands on his throat, but Peleg clasped his hands together, stretched out his arms, and spun around wildly to the right, striking the guard’s ribs with the combined angular momentum of his extended, intertwined fists. The guard stumbled to his left, and then tripped and fell over his partner.

Then Peleg was running full speed towards a small staircase on the left at the far end of the hallway. Yells of anger and dismay followed him as the guards collected themselves from the floor and began their pursuit.

At first, Peleg wasn’t sure what he was going to do if he escaped. But, after a split-second of consideration, he determined that he was going to see his family again—if only for a final farewell. He reached the archway leading to the dark stairwell and, instead of going down, he instantly headed
up
the steps two at a time.

He could have gone down three stories where he would have exited into the main courtroom—only to be met by more guards who would no doubt be alerted to his escape. Instead, he knew that, one flight up (on the same level as the Hall of Spheres) there was a small crawl space adjacent to the doorway entering into the main corridor. It traveled in a straight line through the center of the
Citadel
, exiting outside on to a narrow ledge on the northern face of the ziggurat. Maintenance workers used it to clean debris and dead birds from the sides of the
Citadel
.

Hopefully the guards would assume he had gone down and give him more time. Once outside, Peleg could run to the Northwestern corner where small steps were cut in the stone and he could descend to the first level, run to the southern face and drop the half story to the archway covering the main entrance. From there he could wedge himself in the angle between the covering and the front wall and scale the remaining level using the large petroglyphs as handholds.

His plan was devised in an instant—with no regards for his fear of heights. He quickly—and quietly—ascended the two alternating flights to the next level (in the dark) as he listened to the guards discussing which way to go on the landing below. He found the crawlspace where he expected it and dove in.

Peleg crawled a few “paces” and then stopped to listen. He heard the guards as they decided to head downstairs, took a deep breath, and resumed moving as fast as he could through the crawlspace on his hands and knees.

A few seconds later his forehead collided full force with a large metal object, almost knocking him out. He yelped involuntarily in pain, and reached out to feel what he had struck.

The crawlspace was completely sealed by a metal plate—probably bronze—judging by the resonating sound of the impact. He felt around for some means to open or dislodge the barrier but found nothing.

The guards below heard his resounding yell—which had been preceded by the muffled metallic echoes of the impact—and quickly reversed their pursuit back up the staircase.

Realizing he had no choice, Peleg tried to turn around, but was unable to in the cramped space. He felt blood dripping down his eyebrows as he began backing up as quickly as he could—all the while conscious of the fact that his pursuers might be waiting for him when he emerged.

Fortunately, he arrived at the stairwell just before the guards reached the level below. He hurried down towards them, stopping just before the first switchback, and waited for them to pass beneath.

Soon they came running up the flight beneath him, and, just as he heard them approaching from below, he jumped blindly over their heads and behind them towards the far landing which was only barely lit by the faint blue light of the fish-oil lamps from the hallway beyond. He tried desperately to swing his feet out in a straight line, but his heels caught the lip of the first step and he tumbled forward, violently crashing into the far wall with his forearm and face while his knees landed painfully on the marble floor.

The guards whirled at the commotion, but had difficulty turning around in the narrow stairwell. Peleg collected himself, and decided to run down the stairwell to the third level.

When he arrived, he turned and ran left down the hallway, with the guards shouting in loud pursuit. The lighting was much brighter here than on the levels he had just left, and he tried to keep running while he blinked and shaded his eyes. The Hall of the Inner Worlds for
Nabû
and
Inana
was on this level, and a scattering of students and Academicians were moving through the hall, going about their daily activities.

The guards entered the hall a few moments behind Peleg, and shouted for them to stop him, but they were so stunned by his filthy and bloody appearance, that they instinctively stepped aside. He continued running until he reached the end of the hall where he was confronted with two choices.

A small stairway on the left would take him down to the main floor level where he might be able to charge his way out of the ziggurat—and to his family. However, his chances were very bleak, now that the entire
Citadel
knew there was a fugitive on the loose.

But his other option—to go right—might be worse. A low archway on the right led to a small chamber where he knew another crawlspace existed.
This
crawlway also led to the outer face, but was even tighter than the one he had attempted earlier. Unfortunately, it had only been used during the original construction of the
Citadel
, and had been sealed at the outer ledge. It was only a thin stone plating, and he might be able to break through if he had enough time, but…

He had to decide. The guards were nearly upon him. A thought flashed through his mind as they approached.

Inanna had been right about one thing. True understanding could never come by empirical knowledge alone. An external information source
was
required. She had
chosen
her source, and he…

His thoughts aborted as the guards reached for him, and his mind frantically tried to free itself from his prison of indecision.

Go right!

The strange command resonated from within his head, but there was no time to question it. Without hesitation, Peleg pulled from their grasp and headed into the chamber on the right. The guards, who had half expected him to run for the stairs, were surprised for a moment, but soon pursued him through the archway.

Peleg kicked aside a small table in front of the crawlway, pushed aside the tapestry covering it, and entered headfirst. The guards reached for his feet, but he kicked them away as he began his long, tight scramble into the dark tunnel.

He hauled himself forward using his elbows and knees, destroying what was left of his fine avocado colored suit. Dried blood mixed with sweat, and Peleg was forced to close his eyes as he pushed aside dirt and insects on his way to the Eastern face.

The young, muscled, well-fed guards were unable to pursue Peleg into the tight opening, and were forced to wait for other, more nimble guards to send in after him. But there was no chance of escape. The tunnel only went one place, and it had been sealed for years, so the guards were finally able to relax.

Peleg continued to push forward, unable to determine how far he had traveled. When he realized that the guards were not immediately behind him, he stopped for a moment to collect his breath—and his thoughts.

Had the
Creator
told him to go right? Here he was, stuck in a tight, filthy crawlspace inside of the very
Citadel
he had trusted his entire life. He really had no place to go, since the way back was guarded, and the way forward was surely sealed off. For a moment, he began to wonder if the
Creator
really had his best interests in mind.