People of the Flood (Ark Chronicles 2)

by Vaughn Heppner

  She whirled around, with her eyes ablaze. “Either you marry me, as you’ve promised many times, or I’ll tell people all the secrets you’ve whispered to me as we’ve made love.”

  Nimrod searched her face.

  “Don’t think I won’t, my love. Either you live with me or you die with me. O Nimrod, I promise you that.”

  He grinned suddenly in that bright way of his, with his white teeth gleaming and force seeming to ooze out of him. “Semiramis.” He hugged her and then held her at arms-length. “Oh, how I feared for you, my darling. You have no idea how sick I was as I tracked you, wondering if Beor had indeed gone mad. And my idea just now… it was only your safety and your reputation that I was thinking about. But if you believe it is better, we marry right away… yes! You’re right. But it can’t be one of my Hunters who marries us.”

  “Why not?”

  “My father must do it. Otherwise, he might denounce our marriage. We must win him over—”

  “No!” she said. “You will marry me.”

  “Of course. That’s what I’m saying. As soon as we get back, that night we’ll do it. But my father must marry us. Believe me; this is going to shock everyone. To make it stick and to make sure it doesn’t ruin our plans, we have to force my father to put his prestige behind us.”

  “However you do it, Nimrod, just as long as it’s done.”

  Despite his wound, he swept her into his arms. And he forced himself to whisper into her ear: “I love you, Semiramis.”

  She grew still, and she arched back to peer into his eyes. “Oh, Nimrod,” she said, kissing him. “I love you, too.”

  9.

  Two evenings later, Nimrod and his Hunters slunk back into the settlement. Each had made solemn vows to Nimrod, and he to them. As they departed, he reminded them of the vows. Then he took Semiramis to his father’s house.

  “Whatever you do, don’t lose your temper or threaten my father,” he said.

  “If you keep talking to me as if I’m one of your simpletons, I’ll scream. In matters of guile, I could teach your mother lessons.”

  “If that’s true, then tonight you’ll act submissively. Look down most of the time, and—”

  She grabbed his muscled biceps. “I know my part. Just make sure your father’s will doesn’t overpower yours.”

  They entered the house, and he took her deep into the inner sanctum, a room filled with curios from the Antediluvian world and various stones of odd shapes or colors.

  “I’ve never seen his famous stone collection,” she said, picking up a black rock.

  He took it out of her hand and carefully set it exactly as it had been on the shelf. Then he placed her on a bench. He stepped back, studying her. “Put on your hood,” he said, “and fold your hands in your lap.”

  She did, bowing her head demurely.

  He grunted and exited the room, returning with his mother. Deborah blinked as if waking from slumber. Her eyes got big as she stared at Semiramis sitting in the inner sanctum.

  “Are you two mad?”

  Nimrod sat beside Semiramis, taking one of her folded hands. “I love her, Mother. I want to marry her.”

  “Impossible,” Deborah said.

  Semiramis kept her head bowed, although her fingers tightened. Nimrod flashed his grin as he patted Semiramis’ hand. As he talked, Deborah kept shaking her head. “Your father will never agree to this.”

  “He must,” Nimrod said. “I’ll die without Semiramis.”

  Deborah waved her fan, and she turned toward the door. “Wait here.”

  Nimrod took out a rag and mopped his face.

  “That went well,” Semiramis mocked.

  He ignored her sarcasm as he leapt up and paced. Soon they heard approaching footsteps. He slid back beside her, taking her hand again.

  Kush exploded into the room, with Deborah hurrying behind him. His dark broad face seethed with wrath, like a cave bear that had found an intruder in his lair. He stopped on sight of the pair, and his nostrils flared.

  For several seconds, no one said a word. Nimrod kept his features even, and he refused to look away even as his guts boiled. Finally, Semiramis stirred, glancing up. “We’re to be married,” she said.

  Kush lurched toward them, his right hand clenching and unclenching.

  Nimrod stood slowly, as one might in the presence of a man-killing monster.

  “No marriage,” Kush growled.

  “Beor divorced her,” Nimrod said. “He—”

  Kush made a strangled sound, shaking his head.

  “I ask you to reconsider, Father,” Nimrod said, sounding strangely meek.

  “No!” Kush said.

  Nimrod drew a deep breath. “One way or another, I plan to marry her.”

  Kush’s eyes were bloodshot, furious, filled with volcanic rage. “I forbid it.”

  “You can as much forbid the sun to shine,” Nimrod said.

  Kush roared, grabbing Nimrod one-handed by the throat, slamming him against the wall. “No marriage. Never!”

  Nimrod pried at the thick fingers, gasping.

  Deborah fairly flew across the room. “No, Kush, no, let him explain.”

  Kush dropped his arm and staggered back, fuming, clenching his teeth until he pounded a fist into his palm. “A marriage will split the tribe. It will drive Canaan and his sons into fury.”

  Hunched over, gasping, Nimrod massaged his throat as Semiramis bent over him.“Release him, harlot,” Kush hissed. “Get your filthy claws off of him.”

  Nimrod straightened, while Semiramis ducked behind him.

  “Please, husband,” Deborah said, “keep your voice down. Let him reason with us.”

  “The Hunters aren’t for him to gorge his lusts,” Kush hissed, “to waylay whoever he wants. The Hunters must be trusted by all.”

  “I know, I know,” Deborah said.

  “He stole a man’s wife!” shouted Kush. “That’s adultery.”

  Nimrod looked at Semiramis, and defeat seemed to be in his eyes.

  “I’ll tell your father what I know,” Semiramis whispered. “I promise you I will.”

  Nimrod stared at her only a moment before nodding sharply. “Adultery you say, Father. I wonder, is murder any better?”

  Kush’s head snapped around, and he lurched forward.

  “No,” pleaded Deborah, grabbing him by the arm. “Don’t fight. Please, my husband. Please.”

  Kush breathed heavily. “How could you be so foolish?”

  “I’m in love, Father.”

  “No!” Kush roared, and he smashed his fist against his palm. “Tribal unity, that’s what I’ve struggled for all my life. This will split the tribe. And what happens then when Japheth and his cunning sons hear of this? They’ll march on us. They’ll say, Now is the time for us to fulfill Noah’s curse. Is that what you want? To be their slave? To fetch and carry water for the sons of Japheth?”

  “I will never be a slave,” Nimrod said.

  Kush pointed a thick finger at Semiramis. “Then she must go home.”

  “Beor divorced her,” Nimrod said.

  “She must go home and face Canaan’s judgment,” Kush said. “There is no other way.”

  Semiramis clutched hold of Nimrod.

  “I love her, Father.”

  Kush scowled. “I have other sons. I have other children who can build the Hunters. Don’t think you’re irreplaceable.”

  “No,” Deborah said. “You can’t mean that.”

  “Why not?” Kush said. “If he won’t obey—”

  “He’s fearless,” Deborah said. “He has wits and courage, and, like you, he loathes second place. He’s the perfect warrior for your plans. Warriors are impetuous.”

  “If he’s not under control, he is a danger to us both,” Kush growled.

  “Give him the girl,” Deborah said. “He’s in love, that’s plain to see. Bind him that much more tightly to you. Nimrod isn’t an ingrate. He will strive that much harder in your service, beholden to the fath
er who risks all to give him such a great prize.”

  “And what of us?” Kush asked. “What of the tribe? No one will agree to this.”

  “Oh, my husband, then we must think, we must use our wits,” Deborah said.

  Kush shook his head.

  “Remember your youth, my husband. How you fought and persevered to gain me. Can your most courageous son do any less?”

  Kush squinted at Nimrod.

  “In a few weeks,” Deborah said, “after we have softened the people—”

  Semiramis prodded him.

  “—No,” Nimrod said. “I must marry Semiramis tonight.”

  Kush and Deborah stared at him as if he was deranged.

  “Tonight,” Nimrod said. He drew Semiramis under the crook of his arm. “I will live or die with her, that I swear.”

  A low growl emanated from Kush.

  White-faced, Deborah whispered in his ear, pulling him, dragging him unwillingly from the room. At the last moment, he nodded, walking out, slamming the door shut and throwing a bolt, locking the pair within.

  10.

  Deborah brought Rahab that night to see Semiramis. They had doctored the bruises, making them seem worse. Rahab hardly spoke at all, finally retiring and returning with Miriam, Beor’s mother. Rahab suggested they repeat the accusations against Beor. Miriam listened stiffly, soon storming out.

  Immediately thereafter, Kush married Nimrod and Semiramis, grumbling afterward to Deborah that he didn’t see how this could work. She began to weave out a plan, even as he continued shaking his head.

  In the morning, news of the marriage stunned the settlement.

  The sons of Canaan muttered among themselves, while their wives looked away whenever Semiramis chanced by. Several times, a lone Hunter found himself jostled by friends of Beor. Tempers grew. Five days after the marriage, everything unraveled as Gilgamesh strolled to a well and an arrow hissed from between two buildings, cutting a furrow along his neck. Bleeding profusely, Gilgamesh stumbled to his Grandfather Put’s house. Put sewed the gash, and he ordered Gilgamesh to stay in the house until the culprit was found.

  Nimrod called out the Hunters, stationing them around Put’s house. Meanwhile, the sons of Canaan gathered in their father’s house and demanded that Gilgamesh, Nimrod and Semiramis be handed over to them for punishment.

  Deborah went to Rahab, saying that only the patriarch could solve the dilemma. Rahab was dubious, although, in the end, she persuaded Ham. He crossed to Canaan’s house and found the main room filled with armed men looking scared and angry, a bad combination. Through logic and hot argumentation, Ham persuaded Canaan to try to solve this crisis through law rather than bloodshed.

  “But if I don’t get justice from the elders,” Canaan said. “Then it is my sons who will win it for me.”

  11.

  In the middle of the settlement, in a grassy yard reserved for community festivals and surrounded by solid log homes, Menes, Put, Kush, Nimrod and Ham clattered heavy stones into a pile. The exertion left them panting, winded, and Menes and Put, more fair-skinned than either Kush or Ham, grew flushed. The stone altar grew to chest height, while nearby, in a wooden cage, doves cooed. Atop the crude altar, Menes piled straw and twigs and then set a brass grille over it.

  The lanes were empty. A gentle wind whispered between the log houses. It would soon be spring in warmth as well as in season.

  Canaan and Zidon approached. They were a lean, olive-colored pair with dark hair that seemed to glisten in the sunlight. Each was handsome, a reflection of the other, and each wore a white tunic and red cloak. Each had a long, bronze dagger belted at his side and hurried past the quiet homes.

  In a long robe, Kush hurried to meet them, dwarfing his slender brother, ushering him to the altar, which Menes had lit with coals. The countenance of each was grave and solemn as they wore their best finery.

  “Jehovah in heaven, give us wisdom, we pray, give us peace.” Kush accepted a dove handed him by Menes. With his thick fingers, Kush twisted off the head, placing the blood-spurting body and head onto the grille.

  Canaan took a second dove, frowning, bowing his head. “I ask for justice, Lord of Heaven.” Then he too, with wiry fingers, with several silver rings, tore off the head and sacrificed the dove, placing it beside Kush’s offering.

  Feathers curled in the fire. Blood bubbled. And the stink of it wafted skyward in the oily smoke.

  Kush turned to Canaan. “I’m glad you came.”

  Canaan seemed impassive, but he couldn’t match Kush’s graveness. Zidon glowered at the bigger Nimrod, seeming like a hound readying to launch himself at a lion. He was game for the battle but doomed, it seemed, to defeat. With his scarred hands and muscled-knotted forearms, to say nothing of his smooth athleticism and broad shoulders, Nimrod exuded deadliness. He bowed his head meekly, yet it seemed like a sham, something ill-suited to his nature.

  “I’ll start,” Put said, “since it was my grandson who was ambushed. And this is on top of the loss of four of my sons, Gilgamesh’s father Rosh being one of those.”

  “This isn’t about you,” Zidon said.

  “Gilgamesh is my grandson,” Put said. “So, of course this is about me.”

  “This is about Gilgamesh the Hunter,” Zidon said, his eyes never leaving Nimrod.

  “Yes,” Nimrod said. “And as a Hunter, Gilgamesh stands under my protection.”

  Kush scowled, shaking his head at Nimrod, who fell silent, bowing his head once more.

  “Elders!” Canaan said. “This is a matter of law and justice.” He pointed at Nimrod. “That one harbors an adulteress, and he also drove away my son, Beor.”

  “That’s a lie!” Nimrod shouted. “Semiramis is no adulteress, and Beor left of his own accord.”

  Canaan looked shocked. “You dare to tell us, here before the elders and the patriarch, and after sacrificing to gain Heaven’s attention, that you never slept with Semiramis behind Beor’s back?”

  “I never did,” Nimrod said.

  “Then why did you chase Beor? Why track him with the might of your Hunters, as if he were some beast of the field, if you weren’t in love with Semiramis? And how else did you fall in love with her unless you slept with her behind her husband’s back?”

  “I never slept with Semiramis,” Nimrod said, “but I’ve spoken with her before. Everybody knows we used to talk together. What they don’t know…” Nimrod hesitated, biting his lower lip. “I am reluctant to say this. I loved Beor as an older brother. I admired his bravery, his reckless courage. Yet I learned from Semiramis that Beor had become deranged.”

  “You lying dog,” Zidon hissed, turning crimson.

  Canaan put a restraining hand on his son. “Let Nimrod speak. Let him damn himself with his… with his tale.”

  “This is a hard truth, I’ll admit,” Nimrod said. “I have no joy repeating it. Only because the tribe itself is at stake do I reveal what I’ve learned—I had hoped to spare everyone and, most of all, to spare Beor’s memory. But…” Nimrod blinked at the ground and took a deep breath as if this indeed pained him. “The loss of his leg warped Beor. You know he hasn’t been acting like himself. Semiramis feared for her life. That’s why she didn’t sleep with him. When I heard Beor had taken her, I recalled that she’d said he often boasted to her how he would kill her in the wilds. I couldn’t bear the thought of that or that Beor had taken leave of his senses. So I followed. Yes, that’s true. And Beor misconstrued my intentions and attacked us. We tried to disarm him. Dakis took that awful wound then, and I gained the gash in my side. At last, before more damage was done, Gilgamesh reluctantly fired an arrow into Beor’s shoulder. Beor raved after that and said that he divorced his wife. I had no choice, then, but to take Semiramis with me. He would have slain her otherwise.”

  The elders looked at him askance. Hawk-eyed Put shook his head in disbelief.

  Zidon said, “I’ve never heard a more daring lie. I congratulate you, Nimrod.”

  “I should cut out
your heart for that,” Nimrod said. “But your father has enough sorrow, and I’ve no wish to add to it. Ask your nephew, Chamoth, if what I’ve said isn’t the truth. He was there. He heard what happened. He saw.”

  “Chamoth is a poor liar,” Zidon said. “Oh, yes, he says what you say, but he sweats when he does, and his eyes dart every which way. Some people, it seems, can’t lie with a straight face.”

  Nimrod spread his scarred hands. “What more can I do or say? I’ve spoken the truth, even though I only wished to shield Beor and then shield his memory. Chamoth, a grandson of Canaan, agrees that everything happened between Beor and me as I’ve stated. Zidon even attests to that.” Nimrod hesitated again, until a look of sternness fell upon him, as if he forced himself to continue. “Let us have an end to assassins lying in wait in shadows as they did for Gilgamesh. If anyone thinks me a liar or feels a bizarre need for so-called justice against me, let him step forward now and face me man-to-man.”

  “A splendid idea,” Zidon said, drawing his dagger, sunlight flashing from it.

  “No!” Canaan said. “Wait.”

  “I can kill him,” Zidon said, clutching his dagger so his hand shook. “Justice is on my side.”

  Canaan shook his head, looking dubious. “This isn’t about brute force, about who’s stronger. This is about my son being driven from the tribe and losing his wife to that scoundrel.”

  “But I’m innocent,” Nimrod cried.

  “Maybe innocent is the wrong word,” Kush said.

  “Then you admit he’s wrong?” Canaan asked.

  “He’s shown poor judgment regarding another man’s wife,” Kush said slowly. “Yet each of you knows how large-hearted Nimrod is. Which of you pledges loyalty to another like Nimrod does to his Hunters?”

  “Nimrod stands with his friends just as we stand with Beor,” Zidon said. “He’s no better than any of us.”

  “Beor deserted the tribe,” Kush said.

  “He was shamed into it,” Canaan said. “Driven away!”

  Kush appeared thoughtful, stroking his white beard. “We know how valiant Beor was. If he thought Nimrod had slept with his wife, he would have killed him.”