Then The Deluge Comes (The Generations Book 2)

by Caryl McAdoo

  He grabbed the man’s wrist with his free hand and squeezed. The crack of bones breaking punctuated the man’s screams. Lamech pushed him back. The heathen grabbed his wrist with his off hand and glared.

  For a heartbeat, he hesitated, as though contemplating another charge.

  Lamech pulled the dagger from his side, held it point out, and pressed his elbow against the wound. Slowly he backed away, his assailant only stared like his feet were stuck in tar. Lamech walked backwards until the pagan finally turned and ran the other direction.

  A furlong outside the city, he stopped and eased down to one knee. The child hung on. “Don’t put me down. That monster will get me.”

  “I will not let him. Give me your hands.” He untied the strap, unbuckled the collar then tossed it away. “Get on my back, we’ve still a distance to go.” He swung her around and stood. “Oh, Lord, give me strength.”

  Each step seemed to take more effort, but praise God, the pain in his side dulled, and his breath returned. Once back to the tar pit, against his desires and the baby’s protest, he put her in the wagon and gave her a honey cake. He handed her a double handful of dried fruit then broke camp.

  Harnessing the horses by moonlight proved twice as hard, but an urgency to get away from the evil place drove him. Mercifully, he slapped the reins over the horses’ backs before any more mischief befell him. His newest daughter snuggled in tight against him and fell to sleep almost before he cleared the forest of Nod.

  Once the city’s stench left his nostrils, he relaxed some. The dull ache in his side reminded him constantly of his failure. Poor Ham and Shem. Would they never know the joy of marital bliss? But, bless the Lord, as firstborn, Japheth would have a wife. A snicker escaped of its own. Hopefully, Hattimas could turn the baby girl into a proper lady before her wedding day.

  It might be poor Japheth. Was his lot worse than his brothers?

  Perhaps the Lord would send him back to buy more of Cain’s daughters. He hoped not though. If he never went to Nod again, it would be fine with him. How can men live in such an evil place?

  On through the night he traveled, not even stopping when the mist rose up. He would rest some this new day, but would not sleep until he put another day’s distance between him and the heathen. If the Lord should send him back, perhaps he could bring Noah’s two younger sons. Let them pick their own wives.

  He toyed with that notion for a couple of furlongs then rejected it. Evil’s song played too perverse to subject young men like Ham and Shem to its refrain. No, if the Lord bid him return, then it would be his lot to come again alone.

  The girl stirred, and sitting straight, relieved him of her weight, He hadn’t realized how hard she’d been leaning until then. She rode in silence a while then stood. “Stop. I need down.”

  He eased back on the reins. “Whoa.” He set the brake and nodded to his right. “You take that side, I’ll go over here. A twinge of concern nicked at him. “Stay close to the wagon so that I may protect you, keep you safe.”

  He finished before the child, and breathed easy again when her smiling face broke through the lacy ferns that guarded the path. “Feed me. I’m hungry.”

  He ignored her brash tone. “Breakfast would be nice.” He grabbed the wheel’s top and pulled. His side screamed no. He let go and pressed his hand over the wound.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Under the seat. Can you get that box for me?”

  She did as told, but seemed put upon by it. She opened the lid and pulled out a loaf of bread wrapped in pumpkin leaves. “What’s this? Sweet bread?”

  “No, just regular bread. We can have that and some nuts. Those leaves are good, too.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “Where’s the meat? I like thin strips of fried pork the best for breakfast.”

  “There is none. We do not eat flesh.”

  “But why? It’s very tasty.”

  “The Lord only gave us the trees’ fruit and all seed-bearing plants for food. Eating the flesh of animals is forbidden.”

  Her lips turned down, then she leaned back, and pointed north. “Look over there. See the smoke? Something’s burning.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Centurion threw more leaves on the fire, careful not to smother the flames.

  The boldest of the twins wrinkled her nose and fanned her hand in front of her face. “Don’t choke us. Surely he knows we’re here.”

  He smiled then glanced over his shoulder. Still not in sight, but the leather’s creak alone told him the man neared. The horse’s distant odors confirmed the matter. He stood and walked into the trail’s middle, a sandaled foot on each small rut the wagon had cut not a moon before.

  The man spotted him, threw a hand over the child, then pulled on the reins. The wagon stopped a few strides from Centurion. “Greetings.”

  “Who are you? Why have you blocked my way?”

  “A friend, and I needed to speak with you. I come with the peace of my Lord Who lives in my heart.”

  “And who do you worship?”

  “The Great I Am, Lord God Almighty, Creator of all Heavens and Earth.”

  “Well said. What is your name?”

  Centurion resisted telling Lamech that his grandfather had asked the same question of him, no need. “Friend will do. Have you bread to spare?”

  Lamech nodded at the giant. He’d heard the sons of Cain brag about the angels taking their daughters and them begetting huge men of renown. Until then, he thought it only heathen lies, but now, he couldn’t be certain. Neither had he ever heard of any from the land of Nod acknowledging Abba as that one had.

  “Yes, I can spare a loaf of bread.”

  A tug on his tunic drew his attention. He looked down. Miniature fingers held a handful of the material. The girl cupped her hand beside her mouth. “Grandfather, please don’t give him the honey cake.”

  He smiled and nodded. From under the seat, he retrieved his food box, pulled out a loaf, then tossed it to the man, still wrapped. “The pumpkin leaves were fresh picked right before my wife pulled that one from her oven.”

  The giant nodded, then whistled softly. Two young ladies—if his eyes didn’t deceive him—stepped into view. The man broke the bread into two equal halves and handed the girls one each. “The Lord has provided.”

  The twins tore off a small piece, looked skyward, said something under their breath, then ate. It tickled him. They so reminded him of his own set of twin girls. Then the memory turned sour as the last encounter with them and his sons flashed across his inner eye.

  Oh, Abba, deliver them and theirs.

  “Ladies.” The giant backed away a step. “Your grandmother was wrong. Lamech, son of Methuselah, also descends from Seth, and he knows the way to Adam’s valley.”

  Both girls’ mouths flew open. “Is that true? Are you a son of Seth?” They asked both questions in unison.

  “Yes, I am. Enoch was my father’s father. Jared his, Mahalaleel his, Cainan his, Enos his, whose father was Seth.” He looked into the giant’s eyes. “Friend, how did you know?”

  The larger man backed another step. “Perhaps one day, I will tell you my story, but the war rages, and the Lord bids me engage evil.” Another stride away. “Take care of the twins, grandson of Enoch. One day, they will make two of the triplets fine, pure wives.” Then he turned and ran into the forest.

  Lamech stood but saw no more movement. Not even a leaf fluttered. Where had the man gone? He turned his gaze on the new young women. They, too, stared after the giant. First one, then the other, remembered the bread.

  “Where did you young ladies come from?”

  “We’ve been traveling for days with Friend. Before, we’d never been out of our valley.”

  “What of your parents?”

  “They went out to repel the raiders. Father said they’d win, but the sons of Cain killed them all. They murdered our grandmother, too. We watched from the ridge. The flames burned her tent; she never came out.” The girl reported the s
tory like just another tale told about some other grandmother, not their own.

  “Poor babies, I’m so sorry. I am your grandfather now.” He climbed down and held his arms open. Both ran into his embrace.

  After an extra-long hug, that the twin’s new little sister wormed her way into, he knelt down. “Tell me your names.” He smiled at the baby. “You, too, and no spitting.”

  She curled one side of her lip. “I was mad then. I am Myelin.”

  “And I am Jemri. She’s Varsi.”

  He repeated the names and matched them with the slight differences in each child. “Help me, if I get it wrong. You two look so much alike. Which is the firstborn?”

  The twins shook their heads together as if Abba had cast a rod and brazed one end to each girl’s pretty noggin. “Grandmother had ribbons at the ready but forgot to tie them on, and mother, well…she said it felt like we came out together. So.…”

  “We’re both firstborns.”

  “Yes, both.” They nodded together and spoke in unison.

  Oh, Lord, what do I do now? How will it be decided who should marry Japheth?

  “I’m six.” Myelin stepped in front of the twins. “I had three mothers, and my father’s father came from above. That makes me Heavenly and very special. You two look very regular.”

  Jemri pursed her lips and smirked. “No, we are daughters of Seth, and you are not so special.”

  The baby took a deep breath. “Am so. I was marked at birth. Want to see?” She grabbed her dress’ hem.

  Varsi grabbed her hand. “No, of course not, girl. Keep yourself covered, especially in front of a grandfather.”

  Looking genuinely confused, her forehead wrinkled. “But why?”

  “Because we said.” Jemri squatted in front of her. “We are twelve. That makes us twice as old as you, so that much smarter, too.” She looked at her twin and gave her a nod. Again, they spoke together. “We know God. He’s our Creator.”

  “No, you got born just like me.”

  Though he tried to ignore them, it proved not easy. Varsi turned the little one’s chin. “He made you, too, in your mother’s belly, but you don’t even know it, do you? Our mothers say the daughters of Cain don’t know even the Lord or call on his Name.”

  They turned up their noses and looked away from the beautiful little girl.

  Her mouth twisted to one side, and one eye practically shut, but no comeback quip came.

  That seemed a good opportunity to interrupt. “That will be enough. We must get on our way. Home is still eight days away, and –” He stopped himself, no need to mention an attack. Hopefully, the slaver or his man would forget about him and his baby girl. “You darling daughters need to get along. Be kind to each other now that you are sisters.”

  “Is there more bread?”

  Myelin snarled. “Yes, but you can’t have the honey cakes, so don’t ask. They’re all mine.”

  Not soon enough, he got the young ladies fed, the barrels rearranged, making room for all, and a rotation plan in place for who sat on the bench next to him and when. But to his dismay, the rhythm of movement didn’t put anyone to sleep, and the banter continued until the baby’s turn came to ride next to him.

  She fell silent, snuggled in next to him, and dozed. The twins hushed as well.

  Thank You, Lord, for small mercies.

  For the first three days, Jemri didn’t notice the old man favored his left side, but then Myelin mentioned about him getting stabbed the night he bought her.

  Oh, Lord, why would you give me another baby sister?

  Not that Varsi would admit it, nor would she contend over it, but Jemri knew she was the firstborn. Her twin had never wanted to take the lead, nor challenge anything anyone ever told them. Even Grandmother treated Jemri like she was the oldest, though she never declared it aloud. She could tell.

  So on the morning of the fifth day, even though she wanted to snuggle in and get back to sleep, she—as the true firstborn—slipped out from under the wagon and helped her new grandfather retrieve the horses, grain them, fit the harness over their backs then chained them to the wagon.

  As he mixed the wheat flour with three different kinds of seeds, she watched intently. He cracked two eggs in it and dropped in a handful of blueberries, just like the other mornings, then fried the batter in olive oil until golden brown. She loved the wonderful cakes and committed the making to memory. Slathered in that brown sap he explained came from a maple tree, they tasted even better.

  Her mother would love the fried cakes.

  A tear ran down her cheek, but she quickly wiped it away. She’d cried enough over her parents. The giant said they were in a better place, and that one day, she would be with them again. He spoke as if it was a simple fact, and his words brought comfort. As had his touch, but he left her and her sister with the old one.

  His stories about the wonderful place he called Adam’s Valley, home, gave her hope that life would improve for her and her twin, too. So much had changed. Yet Jemri chose to let the excitement outweigh the sadness. If only her twin could find some comfort.

  “Shall I wake up the sleepy heads?”

  The old man handed her another cake. “Yes, their breakfast will be ready soon.”

  Once her twin and baby sister visited the bushes and filled their bellies, Jemri insisted she take the first turn riding next to Grandfather Lamech. Not that the other two protested at all. As she figured, they wanted to rest their eyes a while longer.

  For a few turns of the wagon’s wheels, she watched how he controlled the animals. It didn’t seem too hard. “May I try?”

  He looked over and smiled. “Try what?”

  “The reins. May I drive the team for a while? Will you teach me?”

  He held his hands up, winced a bit, but didn’t say no. “See how the leather fits through my fingers?”

  “Yes.” She spread her fingers. He put his hands in front of hers, and she slipped her fingers in like fashion, then he retracted his.

  “Hold them easy, or your fingers will get real tired.”

  “Can I make them go faster?”

  He chuckled. “No.”

  “Why not? We are going so slow. I’ve seen men run horses as fast as the wind.”

  “True, but not for too long a ways, and you would not like riding in the wagon if they were even trotting. Were they to run, well…” He shook his head. “The wagon wouldn’t last long. It’s strong but….”

  “We’ve been wondering. What have you in the barrels?”

  “Pitch.”

  “The black tar used on torches?”

  “Yes, the same, but we need it for the ark.”

  “That’s the boat you were telling us about?”

  “Yes. An ark is larger than the riverboats you’ve seen.”

  “So our new home is on the water?”

  “No. We live in Adam’s Valley in the shadow of God’s Mountain.”

  “Then why build a boat? I don’t understand.”

  He laughed. “You are very much like my grandson Ham.”

  “He’s the middle one right, right?”

  “Yes, Japheth and Ham are twins, like you and Varsi.”

  “How old are they? These triplets you talk about so much?”

  “Eighty-five, last planting season.”

  “What? They are old men?”

  He shook his head. “No, not at all. They have barely begun to live.”

  “My grandmother had lived more than one hundred and ten summers, and she was ancient.”

  “How old do you think I am, young lady?”

  “I have no idea, not even a guess.”

  “I am seven hundred sixty and two.”

  “No, it isn’t possible. No one lives that long.”

  “With God all things are possible. My father is even older, nine hundred and fifty-four.”

  Jemri stared at the horses’ backsides, handling the reins like an expert, in her estimation. It wasn’t so hard. She would not think that Gr
andfather would lie, but how could it be as he said? Perhaps he spoke of the moon’s cycles, but no one measured their life by the lesser light.

  She thought of the stories about some of the sons of Cain who had to remain chained until the moment right before battle. Madness they called it.

  Could that be it? Had Lamech been one such man, and now he’d dreamed up this crazy tale about being over seven hundred years old and needing to build a boat but having no water to float it.

  She faced him. “Were you ever one of those men, who uh…?” She hated asking but she needed to know before he took her any farther away from her valley. Perhaps the giant had been wrong and some of the clan had survived. “Were you ever a berserker?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Berserker.” Lamech smiled. “I don’t know that word. What does it mean?”

  The girl scrunched her near shoulder. “Uh, it’s what they call the men who have to be…” She relaxed and shook her head. “Well, you’re probably not one.”

  “And you are talking in circles.”

  “It’s that big boat with no water. And no one lives seven hundred years. And that giant, knowing things that.…” She sniffed.

  He wrapped his arm around the child’s shoulders. “The Lord works in mysterious ways, dear. From Seth on, for each generation, it has been our way for the oldest son to wed the oldest daughter.”

  “Yes, as in my clan.”

  “But my son Noah and his wife Hattimas did not have their triplets until he was five hundred, and she four and thirty. Soon after, she left off child bearing. Abba bid me come to Nod to gather more pitch and find my grandsons’ wives.”

  “I am to wed one of those old men?”

  He squeezed gently. “Do not worry, for it is God’s will. I realized after buying Myelin that I did not bring enough gold. Then the Lord brought you and Varsi to me.” He kissed the top of her head. “We are all blessed, sweet girl. Way more than you could know.”