People of the Ark (Ark Chronicles 1) (12 page)

At last
, the day came when he could work.

His first task was to go with some field hands for fresh logs, to oversee the operation
. Once in the forest Ham examined the trees, deciding which ones he wanted and which way they should fall. With special climbing tackle, experienced men ascended the various trees in seat-slings, cutting off the limbs and branches that would otherwise shatter against the ground when the tree fell.

Many finished items in the Ark needed to have a curve
. Rather than making a man-made joint with glue or clenched nails, a natural joint such as where a branch joined the tree was found. Following the grain in a natural joint produced the strongest possible structure.

Taking a drink, wiping sweat from his brow, although all he had done was point here or there, Ham motioned for the tree-climbers to come down
. Only then did axe-men notch the various trees in the direction they wanted them to fall. They made a deep cut on the opposite side. Lastly, to save on the axe-blades—bronze was expensive and needed all over the Ark—the men drove wedges into the cuts to push the tree over. Finally, they hitched oxen to the huge trunks and began the overland journey home.

The next day, after the bits were trimmed off the trunks, Ham picked up a
bark spade and started peeling bark. Almost nothing of the tree was wasted. The bark contained tannin, especially from oak, alder or elm. They used tannin to tan hides and skins. Just beneath the bark were bast fibers. The best bast fibers came from willow, lime and oak. Those fibers made ropes.

After Ham
was finished, he began splitting logs. He split each into long wedges. Later, with an adze, he shaved off the edges to make planks.

An hour of swinging the axe and tapping
wooden wedges into the splits exhausted Ham, but he felt better than he had in a long time.

A few weeks later, when his muscles began to bulge again, when he could swing his axe several hours at a time, he asked his father if he could have a word with him.

Shem and Japheth were in the Ark building stalls, while big-boned Noah studied the plan.

A
wooden stand with a slanted board about chest height held the tacked-down papyrus sheet. Penned with octopus ink was the diagram of the Ark, the dimensions given by Jehovah. Noah had other plans that went into precise detail for each section. His father had gathered information from a hundred sources: galley shipwrights, animal-handlers, deep-sea pilots and old Nereus of Poseidonis. Noah stood on a wooden step, his big hands grasping the sides of the slanted board as he peered at the plans.

Ham leaned on his cane, sweaty because he
’d been swinging an adz.

Noah raised his head.

“I, ah…” Ham rubbed his jaw. His mouth had suddenly turned unreasonably dry. He scowled. “Father… There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

“
Concerning what?” Noah asked.

H
am’s belly tightened. So he clutched the knobby head of his cane all the harder. This was ridiculous.

“
I’m busy,” Noah said. “So if you could get to the point.”

Ham scowled
. Why did his father have to stand on the step and look down at him?

“
Are your ribs hurting you again?”

H
am gave his head a quick shake and took a deep breath. “Father. I want to marry Rahab.”

Noah
frowned and stroked his beard. There might have been a twitch across his lips, but that was impossible.

Ham
gripped the head of his cane so hard that the muscles of his forearm were taut like a straining rope.

“
You say that you want this,” Noah said. “But what does Rahab want?”

“
I’ll find out what she wants,” Ham said, too curtly, it seemed. Why couldn’t he talk to his father reasonably, the way Shem did? “Before I approach her about marriage I would like your permission.” With his sleeve, Ham wiped his forehead. “You and mother raised her. I thought it proper therefore to ask you.”

Noah covered his mouth
. If someone else had done it, Ham would have suspected in order to hide a grin.

“
Do you love her?” Noah asked.

“
What? Yes! I wouldn’t ask unless I loved her.”

“
Hmm.” As Noah plucked at his beard, he studied the sky.

Ham leaned forward, his stomach knotted
. He thought his father would have shouted for joy and said, “Yes, yes, by all means ask her.” Now he wondered if his father thought he wasn’t good enough for Rahab. What would he do if his father said no? The idea had never occurred to him. Would his father let him on the Ark if he went against his wishes and married Rahab anyway?

“
Are you certain she’s right for you?” Noah asked.

“
Father! I’m in love with her. Please say yes.”

“
Yes.”

“
What?”

Noah jumped down from the step, and in two strides was around the stand and beside
Ham. His father clapped him on the shoulder.

“
Yes?” Ham asked, dumbfounded.

“
I approve, and so does your mother.”

“
Yes!” Ham shouted, throwing up the cane.

“
Why not go this very moment and find out her answer.”

Ham limped for the north gate
. Then he stopped and regarded big old Noah. “Thank you, Father.”

Noah nodded, and his eyes seemed to sparkle
. Ham would long remember this moment, deciding later that this was one of their best days together.

2.

Two men dueled on a grassy sward, in the shadow of a gnarled oak tree outside the Methuselah Clan Compound. The first looked remarkably like Ham, although older. He had a spade-shaped beard and care lines around his eyes. He wore a plain tunic as he launched his expert attack. The second, his cousin, was thinner, with silky garments and a short, black cape. He was known in merchant circles as ‘the Ferret.’  He desperately parried as he retreated.

Along the nearby brick road
, people strolled. There were men in robes debating ideas, children chasing a dog and several matrons discussing marriage proposals. Everyone ignored the duelists, seeming deaf to the clash of blades.

The attacker, Laban, who had worked in the Ark construction-yard the day that Jubal had died, fought
rather poorly today, by his own high standards. He fought distractedly. He thought on other things. Normally he preached concentration, to fight in the now, in the present, to put all other thoughts aside. For over a hundred years, he had studied the sword. He was the compound’s premier swordsman. Today, however, as his blade rang, he considered ways to increase his supply of shekels. Before Jubal’s death, he had worked for Noah. After Jubal died, clan opinion had turned hard against anyone working there.

Queen Naamah, they said, needed carpenters
. And the pay was excellent. But working for her at Chemosh seemed like a preposterous idea.

The thinner duelist
joyfully cried out. He had swiftly parried and struck a blow, clipping a piece of Laban’s hair.

I
nstead of wooden swords, they fought with blades. Laban had said that if his second cousin made him bleed, he would forgo his fee. It had caused the Ferret to fight ferociously.

Laban awoke from his musing
. He caught the next attack on his sword, twisted his wrist and sent his cousin’s blade spinning. Then, delicately, Laban set the tip of his short sword against his cousin’s throat.

“
You are dead,” Laban said.

The Ferret
’s sweaty face went from joy to shock to outrage. He stamped his foot. “No. This has been a colossal waste. My arm aches and I’m not any better than before.”

Laban sheathed his sword
. His cousin’s whining wearied him. The need to soothe the man’s ego had become a colossal chore. But he needed the money. “When we started you could only duel a short time. Now your wrist has strengthened so we’re able to practice most of the morning. You’ve learned to parry and now you launched an attack. You’ve considerably improved.”

The Ferret pouted
. “Money is my trade. Hiring swordsmen seems wiser than doing this.”

“
Until your guards turn on you,” Laban said.

“
I’m done for the day.”

Laban nodded even as he frowned, and his bearing of competence fled
. “Ah… I hate to bring this up again.”

“
What?”

“
Well, my wife—”

“
This isn’t about money, I hope.”

By trade
, Laban wasn’t a farmer or a herder, but a carpenter. Unfortunately, work was scarce. But robbers abounded everywhere, and some bold ruffians had taken to kidnapping rich people and holding them for ransom. After Great-Grandfather Methuselah, his second cousin was the richest man in the compound. So for a fee Laban had taught the Ferret swordsmanship.

“
I said I’d pay
after
I learned to use the sword,” the Ferret said.

“
You’ve learned a lot,” Laban said.

“
That’s why you could spin the weapon out of my hand—” The Ferret snapped his spindly fingers. “—Like that.”

“
It’s an advanced trick. Once you’ve mastered the basics, the rest will be come quickly.”

“
That’s the sort of thing I wanted to learn right away. I told you that when we started.”

“
Well…tomorrow we can—”

“
Do you know what, Laban? I’ve decided to call off the entire thing. When I want a sword I’ll hire one.”

“
Very well,” Laban said. “If you’ll pay me for two weeks work—”

The Ferret snorted
. “The bargain was when you taught me how to use the sword. You haven’t done that. So I’m free of any obligation.”

Laban stared at his second cousin
. “You’re trying to cheat me?”

“
How can you accuse me of that? Don’t you remember the bargain?”

A sudden ache began in Laban
’s forehead, right behind his eyes, and he felt his temper slipping. “I’ve worked with you two weeks. In that time, you’ve become much better. You owe me for those weeks.”

The Ferret raised his chin
. “That’s why you aren’t rich, Laban. You don’t think through your deals. What I said originally—”

The sword was back in Laban
’s hand. “Maybe it’s time for the last lesson.”

“
Are you threatening me?”

“
No threats. Just pick up your sword.”

“
And if I refuse?”

The ache behind his eyes
drummed
, and it caused a wild light to leap into Laban’s pupils.

His second cousin paled
. “Ebal was right. You don’t like jokes.”

“
Jokes?” Laban asked thickly.

“
You didn’t think I was serious about not paying? Laban, sometimes you take things too seriously. Let me get the coins.”

Laban lowered his blade, the headache back in force, making his eyesight blotchy
. “I’ll come with you.”

“
If you think you must.”

Laban forced a smile
. “You didn’t really think I’d wound you, or even perhaps injure your manhood? That I would do such a thing? Just for a
joke
?”

“
No, of course not,” his cousin said nervously.

Laban nodded slowly.

They marched along the brick road and into the compound to his cousin’s house. It was a huge three-story, wooden structure, filled with servants and children. His cousin had several wives and owned vast vineyards and shipped wine all over.

Soon Laban headed home, his pocket jingling with silver
. It wasn’t as much as he used to get from Noah for two weeks work, but at least it was something. Listening to the money jangle, and free of his second cousin’s company, his headache receded. He began to whistle, strolling past the big houses and under the mighty trees, the ones Methuselah had planted in his youth. He would like to go back and work for Noah. But people would talk, he knew; they would snicker behind his back. That would start his wife badgering him like before. It was like a drip, drip, drip, a constant complaint that wore away his resolve.

“
Daddy!”

Laban turned, grinning as his running young
ster launched himself into his arms. Ben-Hadad was nine, a gangly-limbed lad with a tousle of dark hair and bright blue eyes. He clutched a leather sling; it went everywhere with him.

“
There you are, Laban.”

Frowning at the harsh tone, Laban looked up
. His father strode down the lane. His sire’s forked beard bristled and his red robe flapped around his skinny ankles. Laban set Ben-Hadad down, who slipped behind his legs.

“
Do you know what your boy just did?” his father asked.

Laban shook his head.

“He killed my peacocks, my prize birds.”

The headache Laban had thought gone now returned.

“You come out here, boy,” his grandfather said.

From behind Laban
’s legs, Ben-Hadad stuck out his tongue.

“
Oh, no, you don’t,” his grandfather said, lunging at young Ben-Hadad.

Despite his distaste at laying hands upon his father, Laban grabbed him by the arm
. “Wait a moment.”

His father jerked himself free.

“Step out here, Ben,” Laban said.

“
No. Grandfather said he’s going to spank me.”

Laban twisted around, grabbed his son by the ear and dragged him forward.

“Ow! You’re hurting me.”

“
Did you kill grandfather’s peacocks?” Laban asked.

“
No.”

“
You little liar,” his grandfather shouted. “I saw you laughing as you twirled your sling, knocking stones against their head.”

“
He hit them in the head?” Laban asked, impressed at such accuracy.

“
Three of them,” his father said. “He killed three of my prized peacocks!”

“
I did not,” Ben-Hadad said.

Laban squatted down, putting his hand on his son
’s back. “Listen, Ben, it isn’t good to lie.”

“
I’m not!”

“
Are you saying grandfather is a liar?”

“
Yes! He hates me.”

“
You know that’s not true, Ben. Grandfather loves you. But if you killed his peacocks… Now I’d be proud if you could sling so well that you hit each bird in the head.”

“
You would?” Ben asked.

“
You’d better not be proud,” growled Laban’s father.

“
Did you sling the peacocks?” Laban asked.

“
Well…”

Laban blew out his cheeks, standing.

“See, I was right,” his father said.

Laban nodded.

“You should spank him.”

Laban didn
’t like hitting his children. He had heard it only taught them that striking others solved problems. He wanted to teach Ben-Hadad to talk things through with people, not to resort to your fists. Although… he knew that Noah had spanked Japheth, Shem and Ham, Ham most of all. Noah had said that a man who loved his son would train him, and that included teaching him through discipline. Spanking hadn’t seemed to hurt Noah’s sons—in fact, an argument could be made that it had helped them.

“
Well?” his father said.

“
Give me your sling,” Laban said, holding out his hand.

“
You’re not going to take it away,” howled Ben-Hadad.

“
Give it to me,” Laban said.

Little Ben-Hadad weighed the sling in his hand
. Then he snarled at his grandfather, “I hate you.” And he turned and sprinted away.

“
Ben-Hadad, you come back here,” Laban shouted.

The nine-year-old boy ducked his head and turned a corner, running hard.

Laban sighed. What was wrong with today’s youth?

“
You should spank him,” his father said again.

Laban massaged his forehead.

“Those peacocks cost me a lot of money. I know Ben-Hadad can’t pay for them.”

Laban hesitated, but then he nodded and dug in his pocket, withdrawing several shekels
. “Will this cover it?”

His father glanced at the coins with distaste, although he held out his hand
. “That will do, I suppose.”

Laban dribbled them over, mumbled a few more words and wondered how he should deal with Ben-Hadad
. The best thing might be to start him working, make him earn the shekels back. Still, he was only a boy. A rueful smile twisted his mouth. His boy had been able to sling each peacock in the head.

He soon walked into his house, a
small building. He found his oldest brother Ebal drinking his wine and talking with his wife at the kitchen table.

“
Laban,” said his wife, Mara, a beautiful woman. “You’re home early.”

He wondered why she looked flushed
. His brother Ebal sat back, eyeing him. Ebal had a huge gut, was ox-strong and sneered at everyone. Ebal thought himself the smartest man in the world.

Laban plopped down and poured himself a glass of wine
. Tasting it, he was surprised to find it was their best jug, the one they saved for celebrations. “What’s the occasion?”

Blushing, his wife turned to Ebal.

Ebal lifted his glass. “I’ll tell you what’s the occasion. Work at Chemosh pays well.” He quaffed his wine at a swallow.

“
They didn’t rob you?” Laban asked. “They didn’t drag you behind a shed and beat you because you were related to Noah?”

“
They wouldn’t dare,” his oldest brother said.

“
Ymir wouldn’t dare?” Laban asked.

“
He wasn’t there,” admitted Ebal. “Naamah sent him west on a raiding expedition. For what she’s planning, she’ll need lots of gold and silver, believe me. You should see it, Laban. A man could work there his entire life.”