Oholibamah said, “I think that the seraphim are free to leave us for the stars at any time if they want to. I don’t think the nephilim can. Not anymore. They stay with us, not because they have chosen to, but because they have to.”
Noah and Japheth came into the tent, their arms and hands as stained with grape juice as Oholibamah’s had been with blood. Japheth embraced his wife. Yalith ran to her father. “Mahlah has had her baby! It is all right!”
Noah put his arms around his youngest child, but he seemed strangely disinterested.
“Did you hear, Father?” Yalith demanded. “Mahlah’s long travail is over at last!”
“That is good to hear,” Noah said heavily. “We were worried.”
“What is it?” Oholibamah asked. “Is something wrong?”
Japheth’s arm tightened about his wife.
Noah drew Yalith close. “El has spoken. Strange words.”
“Good words?” Yalith asked.
Oholibamah looked at Japheth questioningly, but he shook his head.
“Strange words,” Noah repeated. “I do not know what to make of them.”
“Be happy for Mahlah, Father,” Yalith said. “It was such a hard birth, so long. If it had not been for Oholi—”
“Mahlah will be all right,” Oholibamah said. “She is young and strong and will heal quickly.”
“It is a big baby, Father,” Yalith continued. “It is the biggest baby I have ever seen, with dark hair, like Mahlah’s, and a button of a nose.”
“At least it is a baby.” Noah’s voice was bitter.
“You are upset,” Oholibamah said.
“Yes, I suppose I am upset. El has asked me to do strange things. I do not understand. Great changes are coming. Terrible changes.”
“Japheth—” Oholibamah whispered.
“Hush. Later.”
Within the comfort of her father’s arms, Yalith shivered. “But now we can rejoice, Father, because Mahlah has had a safe delivery.”
Noah continued to hold his daughter, pressing his lips against her bright hair. “We did not have a wedding feast for Mahlah. That hurt Matred. I had hoped that we could have a wedding feast for you.”
“Oh, but I hope you will!” Yalith exclaimed. She thought of Mahlah’s strange wedding, and she did not want one like that, isolated from her family and friends. Then she thought of the twins. In their own way, they were as alien as the nephilim and the seraphim, and yet they were human, totally human. And she loved them. She pressed her cheek against her father’s chest, so that she did not see the expression on his face.
Oholibamah did, but before she could speak, Japheth had pulled her to him again in a loving embrace.
* * *
A soft whimpering woke the twins. Higgaion had come over to their sleeping skins to summon them.
Sandy opened his eyes. “Higgy, what’s the matter?”
Dennys sat up, abruptly wide awake. “Is it Grandfather Lamech?” He looked at Higgaion, asking, “Should we get Noah?”
“Is Grandfather—” Sandy could not finish the sentence.
The two boys scrambled across the tent to the old man’s sleeping skins. Grandfather Lamech was breathing in strange, shallow pants. Dennys reached to touch him, and saw the scarab beetle. He felt a surge of relief. Spoke urgently. “Adnarel, we need Admael. If he could be his camel self, he could carry one of us to Noah’s tent far more quickly than either Sandy or I could run.” Dennys gently touched the bronze armor of the scarab beetle, which thinned out and disappeared under his finger, so that he was touching only a corner of the old man’s sleeping skin. Adnarel stood by them, a golden glimmer in the gloom of the tent. “I will get Admael. Wait with Grandfather Lamech.” With one of his swift, graceful gestures, he bowed and went out.
Sandy and Dennys each took one of Grandfather Lamech’s hands, which felt as cold and lifeless as marble. Sandy said, “Adnarel is calling Admael for us. We’ll get Noah for you, as quickly as we can.”
The old man breathed softly. “My good boys.”
Dennys watched Grandfather Lamech’s straining effort to breathe. Gently he put his arm under the small, frail body, easing it into a sitting position. The old man leaned against the boy, and his breathing lightened. “I’ll stay with you, Grandfather.” Dennys looked at Sandy and nodded.
Sandy nodded back.
“I can wait,” the old man whispered, “until the last star goes out.”
Adnarel returned. He knelt by Grandfather Lamech, examining him gently. He turned to the twins. “Admael is waiting outside. You don’t need to rush, Sand. There will be time.”
Grandfather Lamech gasped. “Until the baboons—”
Adnarel smiled. “Until the baboons clap their hands and shout for joy to welcome the dawn.”
Dennys said, “I’ll stay with Grandfather.”
Adnarel nodded, touching Dennys’s shoulder lightly. “Good. I will be here if you need me.” His bright form misted, swirled softly like fog, and the scarab beetle shone against Higgaion’s ear.
* * *
When Dennys had ridden the white camel across the desert, coming from Noah’s tent, he had still been weak from his sunstroke. Sandy was well and strong, and had little difficulty keeping his seat, his body quickly becoming accustomed to the erratically rolling rhythm. They crossed the desert without trouble. On a high outcropping of white rock, a lion stood majestically to watch their progress.
There was no sound around Noah’s tenthold beyond contented snores. Sandy pulled back the flap to the big tent, calling, “Noah!”
It was Matred’s sleepy voice that answered, “Who is it?”
“It’s Sandy. Grandfather Lamech sent me to get Noah.”
“El.” Noah’s voice was deep. “I’ll be right out.”
Sandy stood outside, listening to the sound of night insects mingling with snores from Ham and Elisheba’s tent. He looked up at the sky and the low, blurred stars seemed to be calling him, but he could not understand what they were trying to say.
Noah came out, wearing a fresh loincloth.
“Dennys is with Grandfather,” Sandy said, “and Higgaion.”
Noah nodded.
“Adnarel said there would be time, but you’ll get there faster if you ride the camel alone. I’ll walk back.”
Again Noah nodded, accepting the offer. The camel’s legs were folded under it so that Noah could climb up easily. He sat astride, his work-gnarled fingers gripping the hair at the camel’s neck. The white beast rose slowly, leaned its head on the long, arched neck low enough so that it could nuzzle Sandy softly, then took off, heading for the desert.
Sandy followed slowly. He knew that as soon as Noah reached the tent, Dennys would leave Grandfather Lamech, to allow the old man his last minutes with his son. Dennys would be waiting for him, probably sitting out on the root bench, perhaps with Higgaion to wait with him. But Sandy could not make his feet hurry. He jumped down onto the desert, and sand lapped at his feet. He let it run like water through his toes.
When Grandfather Lamech died, what then? Would it be near time for the flood? Would Sandy and Dennys be allowed to stay in the old man’s tent and take care of his garden and groves?
Asking these questions of the silent stars did nothing to ease the lump of sorrow in his throat. He moved slowly over the sand, stubbed his toe on a hidden rock. Said “Ouch” in a loud voice. Walked on.
On his rock, the lion now lay still, watchful, its ears pricking as Sandy plodded by.
The horizon was touched with a faint rose color. The stars were dimming. The birds were waking in the trees. He thought he heard a sleepy jabbering from the baboons. He turned in toward the oasis. He could not delay his return any longer.
His head was down; he was looking at his feet moving across the sand. He did not notice sounds behind him. Suddenly something noxious was thrown over his head, blinding him. He was picked up roughly, his feet jerked out from under him. Two people were carrying him. The foul-smelling skin ove
r his head was pressed hard against his mouth so that he could not scream. He tried to wriggle out of the clutch of whoever was carrying him, and a fist crashed into his belly, winding him, and something sharp pricked his arm.
TEN
The song of the stars
Yalith left the tent and slipped away, to the desert, to the rock where the great lion lay. He jumped down from the rock as she approached, and she ran to him, flinging her arms around his great ruffed neck, and sobbing, so that her words were barely coherent. “Grandfather Lamech is dying.” Her tears spotted his fur. When her weeping was spent, the great cat’s tongue gently licked her tears away, and then they sat, Yalith between the front paws, in silent communion.
The stars moved in their slow dance, dimmed. Neither lion nor girl moved. But Yalith, leaning against the great tawny chest, hearing the thudding of the lion’s heart in time with the soft singing of the stars, moved into peace.
* * *
Outside Grandfather Lamech’s tent, Dennys sat on the old root of the fig tree, Higgaion at his feet. Neither moved. Above them, the stars were quiet.
Within the tent, Noah held his father up so that the old man could breathe.
“My son,” Lamech whispered. “You have been a blessing to me and to the land…”
Noah’s tears rolled quietly down his cheeks, into his beard. “I have been stubborn and stupid—”
A faint laugh came from his father. “I did not say that you are not human. But you listen to El?”
“I try, Father. I try.”
“El has told me that through you shall blessing…” The old man’s breath failed.
“Hush, Father. Don’t try to talk.”
“It is … it is our last…”
“I listen, Father. To you. To El.”
“You will do what—”
“Yes, Father. I will do what El tells me.”
“No matter…”
“No matter how strange it seems.”
“Yalith—”
Noah’s tears flowed more freely. “Oh, Father, I don’t know.”
“Never fear.” For a moment Lamech’s voice was strong, and he sounded almost like one of the seraphim. Then the strength faded, and he spoke in a thin whisper. “El will take care of…”
“Father. Father. Don’t go.”
“Don’t hold me back, my son … my son…”
Noah’s tears fell like rain.
“Our dear twins—”
“What, Father?”
The old man gasped, and then smiled a surprised smile of joy, so radiant that it seemed to light the darkened tent. Had lightning flashed to make the smile visible?
“Father!” Noah cried. And then, “Father!” And then his sobs broke like waves across the dry sands of the desert.
* * *
The stars did not sing. The sky was silent. Higgaion sat up, ears alert. Dennys raised his head, and it seemed that the stars were holding their light.
And suddenly the bright presence of a seraphim stood before him, and the starlight again fell onto his upturned face.
* * *
Japheth and Oholibamah held vigil for Grandfather Lamech in their own way. They went to the desert, to their particular resting rock, and sat quietly, holding hands.
At last Japheth spoke: “Thank El that my father and grandfather are reconciled. It would be much harder to bear this if—”
Oholibamah smiled. “Two stubborn old men. Yes, it is better this way. We have the Den to thank for this.”
“It was a happy day when I first found them in the desert, our young giants. They have taken good care of Grandfather.”
Oholibamah sighed. “We are going to miss him. Yalith, especially; she was the closest to him of us all.”
“True.” Japheth cradled her dark head with his hand. “But Father says it is best that death has come to get him now. He is too old and frail to stand the trip.”
“What trip?” Oholibamah asked.
Japheth’s eyes were darkly unhappy. “Oh, my dear one, it is what I promised to tell you. Father says that El has told him strange things. And that he has been given very specific instructions.”
“What instructions?”
Japheth sounded uncomfortable. “Oh, my wife, it is very strange indeed. El has told my father to build a boat, an ark.”
Oholibamah, who had been leaning against her husband, sat up abruptly. “An ark? In the middle of the desert?”
“I said it was strange.”
“Could he have made a mistake?”
“El?”
“Not El. Your father. Could he have misunderstood what El was telling him?”
Japheth shook his head. “He sounded very certain. He said that El had also told Grandfather Lamech the things which are to come.”
“An ark.” Oholibamah’s dark brows drew together. “An ark, in a desert land. It makes no sense. Has your father told the others?”
“Not yet.” Japheth pulled Oholibamah back against him. “He says they will laugh.”
“They will,” Oholibamah agreed. But she did not laugh.
“I have never seen him more serious,” Japheth said.
“What’s the ark to be built of?” Oholibamah asked.
“Gopher wood. At least we have plenty of that. And then he is to put pitch inside and outside to make it watertight.”
“From what water?” Japheth was silent. She turned so that she could look at him. “This does not sound like your father.”
Japheth spoke in a low voice. “Nor does it sound like El.”
Oholibamah stroked his face. “We do not know what El does or does not sound like. El is a great mystery.”
Japheth laughed. “So is a big boat in the desert.”
“How big?” Oholibamah asked.
Japheth flung out his hands. “Three hundred cubits long, fifty cubits wide, and thirty cubits high.”
Oholibamah asked curiously, “El gave these precise measurements?”
“According to Father.”
“I don’t understand,” Oholibamah said. “I wish you’d had a chance to talk to Grandfather.”
Japheth shook his head, wiping the tears from his eyes.
“And our twins,” Oholibamah said. “What will happen to our twins now?”
“It is possible they might go on taking care of Grandfather’s garden and groves. But I’m not sure. Grandfather’s death is the beginning of a big change.”
Oholibamah nodded. “There are dissonances in the song of the stars.”
“Have you heard it?” Japheth asked.
Oholibamah nodded. “The song has changed. Yes, I have heard it. But why should Grandfather Lamech’s death be the beginning of change? He is a very old man.”
Japheth agreed. “It is not at all strange that he should die.”
Oholibamah mused, “Perhaps it is strange that Grandfather Lamech should die just as El gives extraordinary commands to Lamech’s son.”
“Oh, my beloved,” Japheth said. “You are wise. Sometimes I wish you were not quite so wise.”
They twined their arms about each other. Japheth put his lips against hers, and they took comfort in their love.
* * *
When it became apparent that Sandy had not returned to Lamech’s tent, nor had he stayed in Noah’s, there was great consternation.
Noah’s sons and their wives had come with Matred across the desert, and stood sadly outside Grandfather Lamech’s tent.
“We haven’t seen him,” Japheth said anxiously to his father. “We thought he was following you.”
Yalith reached for her brother. “We were so busy with our grief, we didn’t even think…”
Noah pulled at his beard. “He said he would follow me.”
Ham said, not unkindly, “Whatever’s happened, we can’t look for him now, not with the morning sun rising.”
Shem explained to Dennys, “In our country, in this heat, the dead must be buried quickly.”
Dennys tried to hide his pan
ic at Sandy’s inexplicable absence. Sandy was reliable. If there was a reason for his not having followed Noah to Grandfather Lamech’s tent, he would somehow or other send word.
How? There were no telephones. But wouldn’t he have tried to find one of the seraphim? He wouldn’t just have gone off somewhere, without telling anybody.
Matred put a motherly arm about Dennys. “Now we must anoint Grandfather Lamech’s body and prepare it for burial at sundown. Then we will leave our grief and look for the Sand. There is some reasonable explanation for his absence, I’m sure.”
Anah suggested, “Perhaps he’s somewhere with my sister. I think they’re very taken with each other.”
Dennys shook his head. He did not believe it. Sandy would not go off with Tiglah, knowing that Grandfather Lamech was dying.
Yalith slipped her hand into his and squeezed it comfortingly. She kissed him lightly on the cheek, like a butterfly, and then went with her mother and the other women into the tent. The men stayed outside while Lamech’s body was rubbed with oil and spices and wrapped in clean white skins.
The sun rose high in the sky, beat down on them with the fierceness of a brass gong.
Japheth said, “Do not even think of going off to look for him in this heat, Den. The sun would strike you down, and that would not help your brother.”
Had it not been for Japheth, Dennys would have put on one of Matred’s woven hats and gone to look for Sandy. But Dennys knew that Japheth was right.
“Surely he’s somewhere in the shade,” Shem said. The palm grove where they were sitting shielded them with its dense shade. “Don’t worry, Den. The Sand is a sensible lad.”
“Yes, but—” Dennys started. And stopped himself. The people of Noah’s tenthold were grieving for Lamech. Higgaion was in the tent with the women and the old men, and Dennys knew that it was irrational of him to feel abandoned by the mammoth. He was, after all, Lamech’s mammoth.
The tent flap was pushed open slightly and Higgaion trudged out, and toward Dennys, raising his trunk in sorrowful greeting and asking to be picked up, much as a small child will raise its arms to be lifted.
The Wrinkle in Time Quintet Page 70