Glorious Companions

by Summer Lee

  “Please come in, Prophet Methuselah,” said Reba excitedly.

  “Thank you,” he said solemnly, ducking under the doorframe. Something was wrong. Her uncle, usually so full of life, looked like he had just seen death cross his path.

  Reba motioned to a comfortable cushion. “Have a seat and rest your feet.”

  “I will only be here for a moment,” he said, then looked sadly over to Kenana. “I came across Asher in town. He told me where to find you. Keni, dear, I have some difficult news to tell you.”

  Kenana’s heart sank; she knew what he was going to say.

  Methuselah looked at Reba. “Kind woman, I beg you give us some privacy.”

  “Oh! Of course,” said Reba, bowing. She patted Kenana’s hand on the way out and then busied herself in the back rooms.

  “You have news about Grandfather,” Kenana said knowingly.

  “Yes,” he said quietly.

  Kenana took in some air. “Grandfather has passed.”

  “Not exactly,” said Methuselah hesitantly.

  “What do you mean?” Kenana asked hopefully. Maybe she had been wrong. Maybe Grandfather was still alive!

  He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes full of compassion…and something else. Wonder? Confusion?

  When Methuselah spoke again, he did so haltingly and with many pauses: “Early this morning, as he does every morning, Enoch went outside to walk with El. Now, as we were staying together in a room above the tavern, I noticed Father had once again forgotten his cloak. He is like that sometimes: He gets so caught up in the spirit world that he neglects the physical. I took his cloak and went in search of him.

  “The sun had just come up and there was a chill in the air. The morning was indeed cold, too cold for an old man to be wandering about without proper clothing. I asked a farmer setting up a booth if he had seen the Prophet Enoch. He pointed me toward a cluster of boulders just outside of town, the remnants of a once great temple.

  “Indeed, there I found him, praying and talking to El. Keep in mind, child, I could not see El, but I have no doubt that Father could. I was about to call out to him when something very strange happened.”

  He stopped there and Kenana, already on the edge of her seat, nearly fell out of her chair. “What happened?” she asked, nearly begging. She wanted to throttle her uncle. She needed to know what happened to her grandfather. Already, she was so sick with worry.

  “I heard the most beautiful singing.”

  “Singing?”

  He nodded, smiling. “I was halfway up the trail, making my way toward Father, when I heard it. I stopped, confused. Had I happened across a ceremony of some sort? Although the temple was in ruins, perhaps some devout believers still used its sacred grounds for such rites. But no. Father and I were alone.”

  “Except for the singing,” said Kenana.

  He nodded again. “And what singing, child! The voices, so haunting and beautiful and pure, seemed to be coming from everywhere at once, surrounding me.”

  Kenana nodded knowingly. “Angelic voices.”

  “Yes!” said her uncle. “I was hearing the voices of angels—hundreds of angels, thousands of angels!” Methuselah took in some air. There were tears in his eyes. “Accompanying the voices of the angels was a golden light. It settled on Father Enoch, surrounding him, and as it did so, a holy silence fell over the ruined temple, and I fell, too. Straight to my knees!”

  Kenana almost laughed at her uncle’s animated storytelling, but her stomach was still weak with dread. What had happened to her grandfather?

  “Please continue, uncle. What happened next?”

  He took in some air, and a look of serene reverence came over him. “The light surrounding my father was so bright. It was as if I was looking into the sun…and yet, my eyes did not hurt. There was more, just by looking at it from a distance, I felt the light feeding my soul, nurturing me, lifting my spirits in ways I could not explain. The light, I do believe, was El Himself.”

  Kenana’s heart nearly stopped.

  Although speaking to her, Methuselah did not seem entirely in the room with Kenana. He was staring reverently into the far distance, and Kenana knew her uncle was reliving the experience of the light. He himself had experienced the presence of El.

  “I was still on my knees and wanted to hide my eyes, but I could not turn away from my father—or from the light. Within the sphere of light, Father Enoch was still visible. He now began to shine, as if his flesh were made of white fire. The fire of El. I should have been afraid, I think, but I wasn’t. Somehow, I knew what I was seeing was something beautiful, something rare, and it was a privilege for me to be there in that moment. As I watched from my knees, Father Enoch’s face turned upward. His face was shining nearly as brilliantly as the light surrounding him. And then…then it happened.”

  “What happened?” Kenana asked, breathlessly.

  “Father Enoch began to rise slowly from the rubble of the fallen temple. The light surrounding him seemed to shine even more brilliantly, nearly unbearable to look at with the naked eye. And as he rose, the angels began singing again, and from my knees, shielding my eyes, Father Enoch smiled down upon me, and I knew I would never see him again on this Earth. I said goodbye and told him that I loved him, and with tears streaming down my face, I watched my father rise up until he disappeared into the heavens.” Methuselah stopped and looked deeply into Kenana’s eyes. “And then he was gone.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  The two were silent. Outside, Kenana could hear the rush of the river and the chirping of birds. Reba banged around in the back rooms, fussing over something.

  Kenana stopped and put her arms around the neck of her uncle and hugged him firmly, crying hard into his neck. “I loved him.”

  “Do not be too upset, child,” said Methuselah, patting his niece on the back. “Your grandfather did not suffer a physical death. I believe that he was transformed from flesh into spirit. In fact, I believe that the bright light surrounding him was also his spirit being released.”

  “Truly?” Kenana pulled away, surprised.

  Methuselah sat down on a wooden bench. A smile crossed over his face. “He spent more time with El than with any human.”

  “But why did this happen to him?” asked Kenana, sitting next to her uncle. “Was it a miracle?”

  “It was a gift from El,” said Methuselah. “I am sure of it. Father Enoch walked with El. He included El in everything he did, and so El brought him home without suffering physical death.” Her uncle got up from his cushioned seat and moved over to the window. Looking out toward Heaven, he added, “I want to follow in my father’s footsteps.”

  “You are already a holy man, Uncle Methuselah.”

  “I want to walk as my father walked.” Methuselah continued staring up into the sky, until little Tyro made a noise from his bassinet. He smiled and went immediately over to the babe. He asked if he could hold the child.

  “Of course,” Kenana said, grinning at her uncle’s gracious manner.

  Gently, he reached into the reed basket and lifted the baby. Tyro’s great uncle nuzzled him with his whiskered chin. The child giggled instantly.

  “Take care of your son,” said Methuselah, a wide smile on his face. “His birth has set you free.”

  This was news to Kenana. “How so?”

  “Babies are a gift from El. They are a reminder of His love. Babies are wholesome and their souls are pure, and their effect can have a profound and loving change on those around them.” He set Tyro down and reclaimed his seat. “On a side note, when I was born, Father had a vision that on the very year I died a worldwide disaster would come to the Earth. The vision, as you could imagine, frightened him, and since he did not know when I was going to die, he devoted his life to El, and walked with Him every day.”

  Kenana had known about the coming flood for some time now. But she did not want to think about it. No, she had a life to live—and a son to raise—and so she prayed that old U
ncle Methuselah could hold on a little longer.

  A lot longer!

  Reba appeared in the room at that moment. “Master Methuselah, may I get you a cup of tea?”

  “No, thank you, kind woman.” Methuselah stood and walked over to the door. “I have other relatives to speak with. I must go now. Kenana, dear, would you care to walk with me?”

  *

  Kenana followed her uncle outside.

  In the bright sunshine of the late morning, with Tyro on her hip, Kenana asked, “What did Grandfather mean by the statement, ‘The Lord is coming with thousands of his holy ones?’”

  “We believe that the Lord is El’s son, and some day he will come to Earth with thousands of his saints. That is a riddle that wise men will be pondering for centuries. Worry not your little head, for it will be long after we are dust.”

  She nodded. “Grandfather was a man of riddles.”

  “Yes.” Methuselah smiled and said, “Last night after the meeting, your grandfather gave you a riddle.”

  “Yes.” Kenana had been thinking about the three words ever since, although she had yet to make sense of them.

  “Before he went to bed, he asked me to give you a clue,” said her uncle. “A clue that could help save you and those you love from the coming Great Flood.”

  Kenana held Tyro a little tighter. She had to admit, she felt sick at the thought of the coming flood. And she would do anything to save her precious son.

  “Please,” she said. “What is the clue?”

  “I was told to tell you that the number ten is important.”

  “Number ten?” Kenana frowned.

  “Yes. It will guide you. Numbers often unveil the mysteries of life and the universe.”

  “But I don’t understand,” she said. How could a number help her?

  “You are a wise girl, born into a family of prophets. Ask El to give you guidance.”

  Kenana pondered his words as they moved out along the stone path that led from Reba’s cottage to the dirt road beyond the hedges. Overhead, a gaggle of geese swooped down toward the river, and then abruptly erupted again in flight. Tyro reached toward them, his little fingers opening and closing.

  Kenana prayed for guidance, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, clarity struck her. Kenana knew something of numbers. After all, had Grandfather Enoch not spent a lifetime educating his family of their significance? Was not Eber a mathematical genius?

  Indeed, her father, Eber, had taught Kenana much to do with both numbers and words. She was a well-educated young lady.

  “Enoch was the seventh from Adam,” she said, speaking with surprisingly lucidity. “Seven is the perfect number and represents El. Grandfather Enoch offered a perfect sacrifice by faith, and walked closer to El than anyone. That is why he did not suffer the pain of mortal death.”

  Methuselah nodded his head and clasped his hands behind his back. Through his beard, Kenana noticed he was smiling.

  Excited, she plunged forward. “If Grandfather was seven, then you are number eight. Eight means new beginnings, or new birth. Your father told you that the year you die, a universal flood will destroy the world and all the evil within. After that, the world will have a new beginning of purity, like the planting of a new tree. It will feel like being born again.”

  Methuselah tilted his head once toward her, nodding, encouraging her.

  Kenana continued, “Nine speaks of completeness. Perhaps someday, humans will make a complete circle and return to what they once had in the Garden of Eden.” She bit her lip, thinking. “Now, your son Lamech, who is my cousin, is number nine from Adam. If eight is the sapling of life, then nine is its fresh fruit. Like you, and like his grandfather, my cousin Lamech will continue to follow El, bringing forth His word to the world.”

  Methuselah tilted his head back and laughed uproariously. “Your insight is uncanny, dear girl!” They reached his old donkey, hitched to a short post near the dirt path. “Many characteristics separate our family from others, dear girl. We show love, while others show hate; we have joy, while others have sorrow; we have peace, while others have turmoil; we are patient, while others are restless; we are kind and faithful, while others are wicked and deceitful.”

  Methuselah mounted his donkey.

  “Wait!” said Kenana. “We are only at number nine. Number ten would be Lamech’s son.”

  Methuselah nodded. “Indeed.”

  “Does he have a son? I know not who he is,” she said.

  “Yes, Lamech has a beautiful son, fair and blond, named Noah.”

  “He is number ten. What can you share about him?”

  Her uncle adjusted himself on his riding blanket. “The number ten stands for testimony, responsibility, reward and judgment. Lamech’s little son, Noah, will grow to be the patriarch responsible to testify for El. His life will represent both reward and judgment.”

  Kenana nodded. “And what of Grandfather’s final riddle: spoor, spore, and door? I have been turning those words over all night and day, seeking an answer.”

  Her uncle looked at her with interest. “And have you divined their meaning?” he asked.

  “My father always said that a spoor was a track left by an animal. A spore is a seed—any kind of seed, actually. It could be a bag of barley seed, or even the seed planted in a woman by a man. I am sure that animals and seeds are somehow the answer to the riddle.”

  “I am impressed, child.”

  “The fact that there is a door involved—” Kenana was thinking out loud now, even as her uncle snapped the reins and moved the donkey forward at a slow pace. Kenana walked with him, thinking and musing aloud. “What do doors do? They open and shut. They keep out those who are unwanted, and they keep in those who are protected. Perhaps the animals will be protected, perhaps man will be protected, and perhaps all of life will be protected behind a door.”

  Methuselah gave her a final grin. “The question,” he said, “is this: What will they be protected within?”

  He patted her cheek and continued down the dusty road. Kenana stopped and cradled little Tyro. Her son was waving furiously at the back of his great uncle. Methuselah turned and waved, smiling. Tyro giggled, and then started to cry. Kenana hugged him tightly. “You don’t want him to go, do you?”

  As Kenana watched her uncle fade from view, she suddenly knew the answer to the riddle. If a flood were coming, there would be protection for the animals behind the door of a great ship.

  Lamech’s son, Noah, she realized, would captain the ship.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  When Ava returned from bathing in the river, Kenana decided to do the same. Leaving Tyro with Asher’s cousin, Kenana, with flax towel in hand, waded through the bushes and reeds near Reba’s home and found a secluded section of the river.

  She removed her clothing, and waded out from the shoreline and into the icy water. The morning was hot and the water, now that she was getting used to it, felt amazing.

  After rubbing her body vigorously, Kenana was nearly ready to get out and dry off when she heard rustling in the bushes along the shore.

  “Who’s there?” she called out.

  “Just me,” said a familiar voice, and Asher pushed his way through the reeds to the river’s edge.

  “Oh, my gracious!” Kenana gasped, cupping her breasts. “What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you,” he said, grinning.

  “You mean looking at me.”

  Still covering herself, she turned toward the river’s edge and walked toward him. She smiled to herself when she saw his mouth drop a little. Still, he did not turn away, and she really, really enjoyed the hunger in his eyes.

  I could get used to that, she thought, stepping out of the river and allowing him one last view of her body.

  “I apologize for not announcing myself,” he said, but he did not sound very sorry. His voice, if anything, sounded husky. “I guess I should have called out first.”

  “Common sense would tell you I may
be bathing,” she said. “Now, bring me my towel.”

  Without taking his eyes off her, he removed the towel from the tree branch and held it open. Kenana, dripping wet and suddenly not very shy, stepped out of the water. Asher did not move.

  “Well, wrap me up before I freeze to death.”

  He stared at her for a moment longer, then stepped forward and wrapped the thick towel tightly around her, pulling her in close. Kenana’s toes curled, and breathing was suddenly difficult. Asher stared hungrily down at her, his own breathing sounded ragged in his chest. He lifted her chin as if to kiss her. Kenana knew she was not strong enough to stop with just a kiss.

  Kenana, using all her willpower, said weakly, “King or not, you need to turn your back now.”

  “Why, my queen?” Asher did not sound himself. He sounded as if he had swallowed a frog.

  “So that I can get dressed.”

  “Oh,” he said reluctantly. “That.”

  He turned his back to her, and Kenana, still feeling very weak from the news about her grandfather, took her clothing and donned them as quickly as she could. With his back still to her, Asher said, “What are we going to do about our love?”

  “Get married as soon as we can,” she said, and laughed when she heard the words leave her mouth. Had she really just said that? The nerve of her—

  “May I turn around?” he asked.

  Clothed now, she said, “Yes.”

  He did so, smiling, drinking her in. And then he came to her, wrapping his arms around her, running his hands down her still wet back. He kissed her on the neck. She saw the teasing sparkle in his eyes, and it warmed her heart. Kenana stroked the dark hair on his arm. “I want to give you pure, beautiful love at the right time. I do not want to hurt you the way other men have done.”

  “I have dreamed of love without pain,” she said. “I believed that it was only a dream until I met you. Now, I can picture it happening.”

  “I will give you a love that will help you forget your past and set you free; a love that will heal your soul, even during hard times. How does that sound?”