“Do you mean Nimrod?”
Kush set the marked bones on a special shelf. “We need more hands, more laborers. As a bare minimum before we proceed, we must have Canaan.”
“Perhaps we should send Ham back to the Zagros Settlement,” Deborah said. “He had good luck with Ashkenaz. Let him convince Canaan to visit Babel. Then you must take Canaan into your deepest confidence. You must unveil our plan.”
“He might not be ready for that.”
“Of all your brothers, I think Canaan the likeliest to be ready. And as you say, the angel grows restless.”
Kush scowled. “We must also expand the Hunters.”
“Perhaps,” Deborah said. “But I urge caution in that regard.”
“Caution?”
“Our son is crafty as well as fearless. If he leads too mighty a band, the day might come when he challenges your rule.”
Kush laughed grimly. “The Hunters must be expanded. For soon…” He wrapped thick fingers around a stone and smashed his fist against his palm. “Japheth and Gomer must learn what it is to be our slaves.”
23.
After the worst of the Euphrates’s flooding was over, Ham journeyed to the Zagros Mountains. He learned that Beor had told glowing reports of Japheth Land, that Japheth rejected the hated curse and welcomed Canaan and his clan, urging them to join him in the north. Ham pointed out no one had ever nullified a curse of Jehovah’s.
“If that’s true,” Canaan said, “isn’t it wiser to live with Japheth under his goodwill than to wait until the curse unfolds against me?”
“That’s a coward’s answer,” Ham said.
Canaan laughed, as did several of his sons. They spoke in the old two-story house. It was packed with men as Canaan sat in a throne-like wooden chair.
“First you caution me about the curse,” Canaan said, “that I don’t take it seriously enough. Then, when I tell you that I’ll adjust myself to it, you call me a coward, intimating that I should fight against it. You cannot have it both ways, Father.”
“Let’s for the moment forget the curse,” Ham said. “Think of the explosion of predators. Babel has sturdy brick walls and more fantastically rich land than the rest of us can cultivate. The walls mean safety from the animals. The rich soil means we won’t starve—if enough of us can keep the canals in order. And unity, unity means there won’t be wars. Canaan, Zidon: come and investigate Babel. See if I speak the truth. Don’t let bitter memories destroy an opportunity to build a civilization that will take us out of this scratch and hunt existence.”
Frowning faces absorbed his words.
“Those in Japheth Land live more meanly than we do,” Chin said. “To that I attest.”
Ham spied movement in the shadows. He grinned, saying, “Sarah! Come here.”
Chairs scraped back as men turned in surprise. No women or children were supposed to be at the meeting. It was for the clan men as they made the decision. Sarah, a nine-year-old great granddaughter, who had been watching from behind a curtain, ran to Ham. He sat her on his knee. “I love my children,” he said. “Rahab and I yearn for all of you to live near us in our growing and expanding civilization. At the very least, you must examine what we’ve done. See if we’re liars to be pitied or truth-tellers to be envied.”
Several voices shouted in approval.
“No. It’s senseless to go,” Zidon said. “I’ll never live in the same land, let alone the same city, as that scoundrel Nimrod. He’s too devious for me to feel safe. Whatever lie he needs to spout, he will. I find that frightening.”
“Then you for certain should come and watch over your father,” Ham said. “Make sure that he doesn’t make the wrong choice.”
Canaan shook his head ruefully. “More of your typical logic, Father, always twisted so you’ll get your way. I’m afraid, however, that I’m as adamant as Zidon about living near Nimrod or those who support him.”
Ham switched Sarah onto his other knee. “Aren’t the two of you even the least bit curious about what Babel looks like? And your mother asks about you all the time. You might also think of the party we would have for you and the rivers of beer that would flow.”
“Why this exercise in futility?” Canaan asked. “Here in the Zagros Settlement I have the perfect situation: Everyone vying for my favor.”
Zidon, who had been scratching his cheek, now motioned to Canaan.
“You have something to add?” Canaan asked quietly.
“Perhaps there is something to be gained in Babel,” Zidon said with a mocking grin.
“Oh?” Canaan asked.
“The pleasure of listening to them beg as we once begged them to listen,” Zidon said. “Then there is the added pleasure of telling them no, as they once told us no.”
Canaan spread his hands. “You see, Father. What’s the point of going? It will only poison an already bad situation.”
“You trade with us, do you not?” Ham asked.
“You know that we do,” Canaan said.
“A good trader knows how to drive better bargains only if he knows what his customers want, and how badly they need it. But he’ll only gain that knowledge if he sees how his customers live.”
Canaan thought that through.
Zidon languidly crossed his ankles as he slouched deeper in his chair. “Mixing business with pleasure, eh?” A sardonic grin crossed his face. “Yes, I think I might go after all. Let us see what this Babel looks like. What do you think, Father?”
“I think,” Canaan said, “that the idea has merit.”
24.
In the heat of mid-summer and a little after noon, the city of Babel looked deserted. Most people napped in the cool of their inner rooms. A low wall of sun-dried bricks surrounded squat flat-roofed houses. Palm trees stood lonely guard throughout the small city, while dogs panted as they lay in the doorways. The broad Euphrates flowed serenely past Babel, several reed boats working the far shore as fishermen tossed their nets. Like veins from the main artery of the river, straight canals in a grid pattern flowed between lush fields of wheat, barley, sesame and orchards of young fig and date palms.
Then the watchman patrolling along the wall noticed chariots kicking up dust. He reached for the horn slung by a cord around his neck and put the end of it to his lips.
25.
Ham, Canaan and Zidon entered Babel to a mass of cheering people. Maidens tossed flowers into the air and threw palm branches in the path of Canaan’s vehicle. As the chariots drew to a halt, Kush and Deborah broke from the crowd.
“Canaan, Canaan,” Deborah said, with a veil before her mouth. “Oh, it has been much too long.” She embraced him, and Kush gave his brother a bear hug.
People cheered and clapped.
Then the prettiest maidens mobbed Zidon, Chin and Heth’s sons, handing them cups of beer and brushing dirt from their coats. One girl hugged the handsomest of the sons of Heth, kissing him. People laughed and clapped anew, chanting, “Canaan! Canaan! Canaan!”
Canaan leaned near Zidon, saying, “I hadn’t expected this.”
Zidon shook his head. “Keep your wits about you, Father. Remember why we came.”
That evening, everyone feasted well with tables set in the streets. Lamb and steaming bread, beer and palm wine, dates and figs and fish from the Euphrates filled everyone to bursting. Canaan spoke with almost everyone, passing from man to woman, shaking hands and kissing cheeks. He commented on Babel’s bounty and that Shinar indeed was the land of plenty. More guarded, Zidon still ate heartily and drank too much wine. The sons of Heth had never enjoyed themselves more. Each of them was surrounded by adoring maidens.
Afterward, people danced to harps and cymbals. More wine and beer flowed. The sun went down and men lit lanterns. Swirling dresses flashed. People laughed, cheered, clapped and embraced.
“It was never like this when we lived near Ararat,” Canaan shouted to his father.
Ham swayed, with glassy eyes and a pot of beer cradled in his hands. He sipped thro
ugh a bamboo straw.
“Noah would have had a stroke seeing people having so much fun,” Canaan said.
Ham nodded sagely, before glowering, finding his beer-pot empty. He staggered off to find more beer.
“Mother!” Canaan shouted.
Rahab wore a shawl and stood by her son. On the street, the dancers swirled, clapped, laughed and embraced, including Gilgamesh and Opis. Meanwhile, Uruk glowered in the shadows.
“They’re living to the fullest,” Canaan said. “You should, too, Mother.”
“Eat, drink and be merry?” Rahab asked.
“Oh, Mother, you haven’t changed a bit.”
“But you have,” she said. “Why aren’t you dancing? You aren’t that old yet to act like a patriarch.”
The bits of gray in Canaan’s hair were the only indication of his sixty-five years of age. It gave his handsome features a touch of ruggedness. “Too much weighs upon me to dance. Besides, Miriam would scold me for a month if she learned that I had.”
“You must join us here in Babel, Canaan. Return to your own.”
“It’s not that easy, and I have more than just myself to consider.” Canaan glanced about. “By the way, where are Nimrod and Semiramis?”
Rahab clutched his arm. “Nimrod doesn’t want to ruin your first night here. So he’s staying out of sight, and he ordered Semiramis to do likewise.”
“Their staying away is deliberate?” Canaan asked.
“Canaan. Nimrod isn’t the lad you knew. He has strength in him.”
“He’s the Mighty Hunter, they say.”
Ham swayed near with a new pot of beer in his hands. “Seems like a silly title, I know, the Mighty Hunter. But I’ve seen what Nimrod does.” Ham nodded. “When everyone else stands frozen in an emergency, Nimrod moves, like when he drove away the leviathan. If the monster had been given a moment longer, it might have swamped our vessel and devoured each of us at its leisure. The lad is indeed unique.”
“So is Beor,” Canaan said.
“Yes,” Ham said, as he sipped beer. “So is Beor.”
26.
Ham lay in bed. A flickering candle cast shadows on the curtained walls. On the chest lay a half-finished blanket. Rahab sewed, it seemed, almost every hour of every day. But Ham sensed someone other than Rahab in his bedroom. This someone held a candle, the one annoyingly flickering in his face. Ham cracked open an eyelid. Oh, his head ached and his limbs felt leaden.
The someone shook his elbow. “Great Grandfather, wake up.”
Ham twisted his head. The candlelight glowed around a handsome face—Ramses. “What do you want?” Ham asked thickly.
“They sent me to fetch you,” Ramses said.
Ham tried to push the offending hand away.
“You’re worse than a hibernating bear,” Ramses said. “Up already.”
With Ramses dragging him out of bed, Ham pulled a comb through his beard and donned a fresh garment. Then he leaned on Ramses’s arm and limped onto the dark street outside.
A red glow streaked the horizon. Above it, stars twinkled and a chilly breeze blew.
Ham muttered as they came to the altar in the center of Babel. Smooth, chiseled stones were cunningly fitted together. The altar stood on a small mound with clay steps, and the mound was in the most spacious area in the city.
Notables stood around the sacred site. A few shivered in the predawn chill, but most had bundled themselves in woolen cloaks. Ham took his place as Kush approached in a long, red robe, with Nimrod following and leading a perfectly white bull. Kush lit a fire and poured a libation of wine onto the altar as he invoked the angel of the sun.
Canaan seemed absorbed with the proceedings, and a shivering Zidon frowned. The sons of Heth looked like Ham felt: bleary-eyed and ready to topple.
As the sun peeked up for yet another day, Nimrod drew a broad-bladed dagger and plunged it into the bull. The beast bellowed as a jet of blood arched across its white hide. Its forelegs buckled, and Nimrod withdrew the blade and plunged it in again. The bull coughed bloody froth, and with a heavy thump fell to its side. Kush and Nimrod cut off its head, loading it with curses. Obed, as under-priest, carted away the head and tossed it into the Euphrates. Then Kush and Nimrod began to flay the carcass. Kush prayed as they took out its paunch whole, leaving the intestines and fat inside the body. Next they cut off the legs, shoulders, neck and rump, and stuffed the carcass with loaves of bread, honey, raisins, figs and aromatic substances. Finally, they poured a quantity of sesame seed oil over the carcass and burned it on the altar.
As the fire consumed it, Kush beat his breast and prayed aloud. When that part of the ceremony was over, Kush and Nimrod served a meal to everyone out of the remaining portions.
“I’ve never seen the like,” Canaan said later.
“Yes,” Zidon said. “I’m loath to admit it, but it was impressive.”
Kush smiled mysteriously, quietly accepting the praise.
Afterward, people departed for their daily chores, some grabbing nets and hurrying to the docks. Others, by the manure on their boots, headed to sheep or cattle pens. Still others wore wide-brimmed hats and perched hoes on their shoulders. Most of the women returned home to rouse their children or churn butter or sew or cook or clean or help build a mud-brick addition to their homes. More than a few headed to the fields to help their husbands and brothers.
Nimrod approached those who remained at the altar. He approached in his hunting gear, having changed out of his robes.
Zidon stiffened and Canaan rubbed his chin. “I congratulate you, Nimrod, on a sacrifice well done.”
In a dramatic gesture, Nimrod went to one knee and bowed his head. “Uncle Canaan, I crave your pardon. Four years past, I acted hastily in the pride of youth. I don’t ask you to forgive me, for that would be too much for both of us. Yet I ask that you pardon my action, if you could see it within yourself to do so.”
Astonished, Canaan glanced at Zidon.
Zidon blinked, until he stirred and whispered into his father’s ear.
Canaan appeared indecisive. Nimrod kept his head bowed.
“Please, Nimrod,” Canaan said, “you shouldn’t bow to me.” He tried to draw Nimrod to his feet, but the Mighty Hunter held his place.
“As a priest to the Supreme, you acted your part well,” Zidon told Nimrod, “but as an actor, you are still supreme.”
Nimrod raised his head. “Let us end our quarrel. Let there be peace between us.”
“Ah,” Zidon told his father. “That is the cry of all robbers after a successful mission. Peace, peace, put away your malice. My question is, how does that satisfy Beor?”
Nimrod licked his lips and once more bowed his head. “I’m not an orator. I’m a Hunter. So I’ll not match wits with Zidon nor try to check his hatred of me. What I crave is pardon, crave it enough so I humble myself before you, Uncle.”
Canaan glanced at those around him. Zidon sneered. The sons of Heth seemed indecisive, and those of Babel clearly longed for rapprochement.
Ham learned near, whispering, “Be magnanimous. Put them in your debt. When have you ever seen Nimrod like this? Humbled before any man? This is the moment to heal old wounds, to show your brothers that you don’t hold grudges.”
Canaan cleared his throat. “We all know that Nimrod is proud, for he is gifted in the hunt as few others are and he is a bold man. To drop to his knee like this…” Canaan clapped Nimrod on the shoulder. “Arise, Nimrod, for freely I pardon you.”
Zidon looked away.
“I promise, you won’t regret this,” Nimrod said, rising. “To the others of your clan, I ask that they withhold judgment until their trip to Babel is over.”
Kush stepped forward, and the rest of the day seemed uneventful, taken up in inspections of the canals and levees, the fields and granaries and storehouses. Later they went on a boat ride up the Euphrates, where Canaan marveled at a herd of elephants on the far shore.
In time, they returned to the wharf and trudged
around to the Lion Gate. Big, pine doors twice the height of a man and normally bound by a copper bar made up the gate, the brag being that not even a dragon could open it.
Kush halted inside the Lion Gate. “I’ve saved the biggest surprise for last.”
“What could that be?” Canaan asked.
They strolled to an open-air oven, a brick-made oval a little taller than a man would stand. Kush indicated that Menes would speak.
“In the Zagros Mountains, we used wood to build just about everything,” Menes said. “In Shinar there are no hardwoods, although we have enough soft woods for our fireplaces. Thus, we had to use a different substance for construction. As you’ve seen, clay is our most abundant resource.”
Canaan nodded.
“Shinar is a land of alluvial mud,” Menes said. “And we have a hot sun. So it was a simple matter to slop clay into a wooden mold and let the sun dry it. With such sun-dried bricks have Babel and our homes been made. Yet sun-dried bricks are not as endurable as we might have hoped. For sun-dried bricks absorb water, swell and, in time, break apart. This,” Menes slapped the oven, “solves our problem.”
Menes swung the grille open and took out a brick. He handed it to Canaan, who twisted the brick this way and that.
“Try using your thumbnail to flick off a piece,” Menes said.
Canaan tried. “This is harder than the others you’ve shown me.”
“And more endurable,” Menes said. “I baked it in the oven.”
“You did what?” Canaan asked.
“Baked it,” Menes said. “I used fire to harden it. We call it a baked brick.”
“What does that mean?” Canaan asked.
“It means,” Kush said, “that whatever we make will last, well, forever.”
“Not only that,” Nimrod said, “but we can build stronger and higher.”
“That’s all very good,” Canaan said. “But to build bigger—”
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