People of Babel (Ark Chronicles 3) Read online

  He noticed how near she was, the smell of her perfume and the way her lips parted.

  “How you must ache to hold Opis,” Semiramis said. “How you must long to kiss her, to have her.” Semiramis touched his forearm. “We’re both lonely, and both…” She squeezed his forearm. “The love draught is impossible to resist.”

  Her eyes were fire.

  “Am I not beautiful?” she whispered.

  Gilgamesh’s senses roared. And because of the potion, he told himself, whatever happened wasn’t his fault.

  They embraced.

  “I’m yours, Gilgamesh,” Semiramis whispered.

  His stirred passions, the roaring of his senses—Gilgamesh gave a great shout and tore away from her. “I can’t, I can’t!” he cried. He bolted, confused and guilty. After a league of running, he collapsed on the dirt. Would Nimrod kill him? What if Opis found out?

  Motion in the distance warned him of someone’s approach.

  Gilgamesh crouched, working over in his mind the adage of the anger of a woman scorned. It was empty in this interior country, with only vultures wheeling overhead. If he killed Semiramis—“No!” He felt sick at his murderous thoughts.

  He rose to greet her. She searched his face. She was so beautiful. Lust rose in him, but he fought it down.

  “Oh, Gilgamesh,” she said, taking his hand. “I am well pleased.”

  “What?”

  Semiramis laughed as if she were a naiad of the grasslands. “I but tested your love for Nimrod. Oh, you have surpassed my fondest hopes. Now, I can trust you. Please forgive me for doubting you, and for putting you through such a bitter test.”

  He frowned. He had thought about killing her. “No, Semiramis. I ask forgiveness. I thought… I don’t know what I thought. How could it have been anything but a test?”

  “Noble Gilgamesh,” Semiramis said, with a bitter smile. “Let us forget this incident and return to the hunt.”

  6.

  Nimrod returned from the north with a raft of mighty cedars. He sought out Ham, reminding the patriarch of the stories he used to tell of an Antediluvian tribe that made giant outrigger canoes.

  “You have your reed boats,” Ham said.

  “They’re not good enough for deep-sea voyages.”

  “Why bother with that?

  “To explore,” Nimrod said. “To outdo the exploits of the sons of Japheth, who, they say, went to the Far North and saw strange sights and returned with secret treasures. Might there not be lands beyond the delta-marsh filled with nuggets of gold or copper ores?”

  Under Ham’s direction, and with adzes and axes, Hunters hollowed out the two biggest cedars. With sturdy but flexible planks, Ham joined the two giant dugouts, making a catamaran. He spread reed mats onto the planks and made a deck, and in the center of the deck, he built a post for a small sail. In the bow and stern of each dugout, Ham built watertight compartments, there to store jerky, dried fruit and clay jugs of water. With a bow drill, he fashioned holes in each dugout’s sides, screwing in short wooden struts and stretching oiled awnings as shelter from the wind, rain and sun. Lastly, he fixed leather loops or tholepins onto the outer side of each dugout and slid five oars through them to an outrigger.

  With the vessel finally built, Ham named it the Odyssey.

  As Nimrod selected his crew, growing lyrical on the joys of adventure, of exploring the unknown and of the possible treasures, a company of notables urged Ham to guide the youngsters. Ham declined, citing two reasons: First, his bad hip precluded him from taking rugged journeys. Second, ever since surviving the Ark, he loathed the idea of sea travel.

  “But that’s just it,” Nimrod said one day by the boat. “Who among us has spanned the world like you? Who knows more about ship-handling than you?”

  Ham snorted. “For a year, I sat in a barge that slid wherever the tides moved us. That’s my ship-handling expertise.”

  “What fools you are,” Deborah later told Nimrod. “Convince Rahab that Ham should go. She’s the only one who can persuade him when his mind is made up.”

  Nimrod took her advice, and soon thereafter Ham reluctantly agreed to join them.

  Several days later, they tested the oars and sail and found the Odyssey a maneuverable little ship. As they cruised down the Euphrates, the fifteen-man crew accustomed themselves to it.

  In the delta marsh, Ham kept them in the fastest flowing channels, avoiding swamps and canebrakes and trying to stay out of stagnant lagoons. They spied many birds, although the migratory ones had left for summer breeding grounds.

  On the fourth day, in the afternoon, they crossed the sea bar and headed toward a vast expanse of water. Everyone but Ham marveled at the sight of waves and a distant horizon where sea met sky. The young men shouted and pointed out how deep the waters seemed.

  “It’s horrifying,” Enlil whispered, as he peered into the green depths.

  Gilgamesh swallowed hard. Waves, small ones according to Ham, thumped against the boat, making it rise and fall. Anu fell overboard. The Hunters laughed as they hauled him back aboard.

  Leaning over, cupping his hand, Gilgamesh tasted the water. He spit it out. Salty, just as Anu said.

  “We should turn back,” rumbled Uruk, who sat in the middle of the reed matting.

  Ham chuckled. “The sight of a real sea wets your breeches, eh? Now imagine what it’s like when you’re out there and a storm roars over you.”

  They glanced at the old man with leathery skin. He swayed with each swell, perfectly at ease as he laughed.

  “What do you think lies beyond the horizon?” Nimrod asked.

  Ham shrugged. “We’re not going to explore like that, straight across the sea. No, my boy, we’re going to hug the land like lubbers.” Ham pointed to his right, at a sandy shore. “To oars!”

  The young men scrambled to obey as Ham drew Nimrod aside. “Here’s your first lesson as captain. Whenever things look bleak or your men grow panicked, give them something to do. It takes their minds off trouble.”

  That night, as the sun went down, they made landfall on the sheltered southern shore of an island. They explored it the next day and found nothing of note. So they set sail again on the Bitter Sea, as some of them called it, or the Sea of the Rising Sun, as Ham said. For several days, they bobbed along the ocher shores, occasionally landing to search for gold or malachite or salt licks. Mostly, they found salt marshes, desert and crawling sea turtles.

  On the fifth day on the open sea, Ham checked their water supply before telling Nimrod, “Either we find fresh water in the next few days, or we must turn back.”

  They had gained their sea legs by now, and the sun had bronzed each of them. They often marveled at fat sea cows, laughed at sporting dolphins and shivered when the dark shape of a shark glided under the boat. Hundreds of various fish lived in the Bitter Sea and coral reefs near shore never failed to amaze them.

  The next afternoon, limestone cliffs and dusty, green date palms stood out to sea. They rowed to what Ham called an island, albeit a large one. On a sandy beach, they drew the ship ashore. Unlike the salt marshes and deserts, this island abounded in date palms and lush vegetation.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” Nimrod said. “Why is this place different?”

  Gilgamesh found an artesian spring. It bubbled out of clean rocks. The water was cool and created a small stream to the sea.

  When shown, Ham stood transfixed.

  “It’s just like you told us how it used to be in Antediluvian times,” Gilgamesh said. “How fresh water bubbled out of the earth.”

  “I thought the Deluge destroyed such things,” Nimrod said.

  Almost reverently Ham cupped his hands into the water, drinking. “This is the Blessed Land,” he intoned. “I name thee, Dilmun.” He told them about an island in the Old World that had been known for its Eden-like gardens.

  For several days, they trampled through tall flower fields and park-like groves of palm trees. Uruk discovered wild onions better than he’d
ever tasted. He filled a sack with them to grow in Babel.

  On a sandy shore, many leagues from the boat, men dug up leathery eggs bigger than two fists pressed together. That night, they ate their fill of eggs.

  Stars shone and logs popped in the fire. The Hunters leaned against rocks or lay on grass, full.

  “What do you suppose laid those eggs?” lean Gilgamesh asked.

  “A giant turtle,” Nimrod said.

  Ham didn’t think so. Some sort of giant sea-beast certainly, but one he hoped they didn’t meet. He pondered on the situation between Gilgamesh and Uruk. He liked Gilgamesh. Uruk bragged too much and laughed coarsely at rude jokes.

  The next day he took aside Gilgamesh, Enlil and Anu. “Gather rocks,” Ham told them, “about this big, and load them into the boat.” When they asked him why, he said as an experiment.

  So as the others marched about the island, the four of them manhandled the ship into the water. By dint of hard rowing and careful use of the sail, they brought it over a coral reef a quarter league from shore.

  “Below lies treasure,” Ham said, “treasure to help Gilgamesh win his bride.”

  The three Hunters glanced at the visible reefs below.

  “Coral is sharp,” Ham said. “A touch can make you bleed. If that happens, we must leave.”

  “Why?” Anu asked, a handsome lad with a quick smile, the best loved among them.

  “Sharks.” Ham grinned at their discomfort and outlined the plan.

  Soon thereafter, each Hunter stripped down to a loincloth, dagger and a goat-hair bag tied around his waist. Each tied a rock to a foot, took a deep breath and slipped overboard. Visibility was excellent as Ham watched them descend ten, twenty, twenty-five feet to the sea floor. There, each drew his dagger and pried and cut oysters free. Each soon slipped his foot from the rock and shot to the surface, gasping.

  An afternoon of it exhausted them. Ham dragged the lads aboard and threw cloaks over each as they shivered.

  “Those are treasure?” Enlil asked dubiously, eyeing the gray shells littering the boat.

  “Perhaps,” Ham said.

  “Only perhaps?” Anu asked.

  Ham took out a dagger and pried open the first oyster, a mollusk. He cut out the meat, throwing it into a clay pot. The rest of the shell he threw overboard.

  “Where’s the treasure?” Gilgamesh asked past chattering teeth.

  “There wasn’t any this time,” Ham explained. He showed them how to open the shell, and oyster after oyster fell to their blades. Each time, they found nothing but meat.

  “You tricked us,” Enlil said later.

  “No,” Ham said. “I remember—”

  “Look at this!” Gilgamesh shouted. “Is this what you’re talking about?” He held up a smooth round gem with a creamy color, a strange luster.

  “Ah,” Ham said, as Enlil and Anu sucked in their breath. “Yes. You’ve found a fish-eye.”

  “A what?” Enlil asked.

  “A fish-eye,” Ham said, “one of the most precious of gems.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Gilgamesh whispered.

  Anu shook his head. “Gems are rocks. So what is this doing in an oyster? How did it get there?”

  “Fish-eyes are formed when dew drops filled with moonlight fall into the sea and are swallowed by the oyster,” Ham said.

  Anu looked at him, openmouthed.

  Ham laughed, patting him on the back. “I don’t really know how they get there, but isn’t my explanation as good as any?”

  For an answer, the three young men resumed prying open oysters.

  7.

  They ate oysters that night, Ham first promising an ivory figurine to Enlil and Anu for their help. Both took an oath to keep secret the fish-eyes in Gilgamesh’s possession. The lean Hunter wrapped them in a cloth, stuffing the cloth in a leather pouch tied by thong to his throat.

  “If you’re wise, you’ll keep the pouch under your tunic until the end of the trip,” Ham said. “Wait until you’re back in Babel to gloat.”

  As Ham ladled oysters out of a boiling pot, Nimrod asked how they’d found all this meat.

  Enlil, Anu and Gilgamesh burst out laughing.

  Covering for them, Ham explained the rock-to-foot procedure for diving.

  The next day, Uruk wished to see where they had dove. Everyone clumped to the boat and Anu pointed out to sea.

  “I envy you the experience,” Nimrod said.

  “Look!” Enlil cried. “What is that?”

  Everyone stared at a dreadful monster. It had a long, sinuous neck and a wedge-shaped head filled with gleaming teeth. It was gray-colored and sleek like a seal. The creature roared. It had a bulky body with flippers to the sides.

  “A sea-dragon,” Nimrod whispered.

  “The neck must be twenty feet long,” Gilgamesh said.

  The monster hissed as it swam toward them.

  “Back!” shouted Ham. “Run upslope, away from the leviathan.”

  They scrambled out of the sand, over grass and behind scattered rocks.

  The beast stopped before reaching shore, hissing, swiveling a head that had to be as large as a donkey. Abruptly, the monster headed out to sea. It submerged, disappearing beneath the waves.

  The Hunters glanced at one another in dread.

  Nimrod asked Ham, “What did you call it?”

  “A leviathan,” Ham said, “a monster of the sea.” Ham scratched at his beard. “We probably ate its eggs. I suggest we drag the Odyssey higher ashore.”

  “Do you think it will hump onto the beach and destroy our ship?” Nimrod asked.

  “Why take the chance?” Ham asked.

  Nimrod grinned. “Let’s bait it. The leviathan will be easier to kill while floundering on its belly than if we meet it at sea.”

  “Even better,” Ham said, “is if we avoid it altogether.”

  The others agreed.

  Once the boat was secure, they spent the rest of the day watching the sea. Neither that day nor the next did the leviathan reappear.

  “We should risk launching for home,” Ham said. “If it takes as long returning as it did getting here, we’ll have been gone a month. More than that, and your mothers will start getting worried.”

  “Let’s watch one more day,” a nervous Enlil said. “Just to make certain it’s safe.”

  “And make ourselves even sicker with fear?” Ham asked. “No. We should leave now.”

  Nimrod agreed.

  So the wary crew loaded up, pushed the boat into the cool waters and scanned the deeps as they rowed past the surf. Nimrod stood with Ham on the deck between the outriggers. Both held bows, with arrows notched, scanning the placid waters.

  “Just like old times,” Nimrod whispered, “when we faced the dragon.”

  The sea remained calm as they hoisted sail.

  “Rest oars,” Ham said.

  The sail billowed with a snap and they glided, the twin hulls thumping across the water. Everyone gripped javelins or bows, silent, waiting, terrified. A quarter of a league from shore and there was still no sign of the leviathan.

  “It must have left the area,” Uruk said.

  The crew began to relax. Later, on the mainland shore, the men whooped as they drew onto a lonely beach.

  “We made it,” Anu said.

  “Thank the angel Bel,” Nimrod said.

  Ham frowned. “It’s Jehovah I thank.”

  The next day, spirits improved, although the wind blew the wrong way. By oar-power alone, they crawled along the ocher shore.

  “At this rate it may take more than two weeks to get back to Babel,” Ham told Nimrod.

  They floated several leagues away from a stony beach. The rowers rested, exhausted.

  Anu was at the prow, opening a watertight compartment, taking out a clay jar. Ham turned that way, and his eyes grew wide as he began to tremble.

  Out of the sea appeared that wicked, wedge-shaped head with teeth like a dragon. The water-dripping head rose higher and highe
r. Attached to the head was a long, sinuous neck. Ham tried to work his frozen mouth.

  As the shadow fell across him, Anu looked up.

  A man bellowed, “Leviathan!”

  The creature hissed.

  “Duck, Anu!” Ham roared.

  Teeth, numberless teeth swung down and bit onto Anu’s shoulder with a sickening crunch. Anu screamed and thrashed. The leviathan lifted him off the boat.

  “Shoot it! It has Anu!”

  An arrow sank into the beast’s rubbery side.

  Ham swiveled his head as if in slow motion. Nimrod stood in the other dugout, drawing a second arrow out of his case. While everyone else stood frozen, the Mighty Hunter fitted the arrow to the string. The leviathan hissed with its teeth yet clamped to Anu’s shoulder. The youth flailed for his dagger. Another arrow flashed, this one sinking into the monster’s long neck. The leviathan recoiled and dove with Anu still clenched between its teeth. The massive main body followed. The waters stirred and then grew strangely calm.

  Others now picked up their bows and shouted Anu’s name.

  Ham rushed to the side and peered into the murky depths.

  They never saw Anu again, nor did the leviathan return. Weeks later, they docked at Babel, bearing a sad tale.

  Nimrod’s fame, however, grew.

  And Gilgamesh, alone at last, drew the pouch from under his tunic, opening the sinews and pulling out the cloth. This he unfolded carefully, revealing three ordinary and worthless pebbles. Someone had stolen his pearls.

  8.

  Enlil swore he had told no one. Ham suggested Uruk had something to do with it. That seemed impossible to Gilgamesh. And yet…he stole near Opis one day as she worked in her father’s barley fields.

  Gilgamesh crouched behind thick blades of barley, hissing as Opis drew near. She was bent over, chopping weeds with a hoe. She glanced about before smiling, working beside him.

  “Has Uruk seen your father lately?”

  “Yes,” Opis said. “How did you know?”

  Gilgamesh swallowed in a tight throat, his rage mounting.

  Then Opis’s mother called, and Gilgamesh was left to brood.