People of the Flood (Ark Chronicles 2) (22 page)

Gilgamesh hesitated
. He feared Uruk. Everyone in the Hunters did.

Uruk turned back to Opis
. “You’re pretty,” he said, and despite her struggles, he hugged her and tried to kiss her. She bit his lip. He yelled, and he slapped her across the face. She fell to her knees, stifling a sob as she pressed her palms against her cheek.

Uruk dragged her upright and enfolded her in his arms, making her seem to disappear
. She screamed, thrashing, struggling. He hugged the breath out of her, laughing, planting wet kisses on her straining face.

Gilgamesh flushed hotter than ever
. He trembled. Uruk was mean, and if he dared interfere, Uruk would probably beat him, yet Nimrod had said that his father Rosh had died because of a lack of courage. Gilgamesh never wanted it said of him that he lacked courage. So, as he coughed, he picked up his bow. Even though his hand shook, he strung an arrow. He hesitated, and then he whistled.

Uruk froze as he stared at Gilgamesh and the arrow aimed at his back.

Opis slithered free as tears dripped from her cheeks.

“
You shoot me,” Uruk said, “and I’ll kill you.”

Gilgamesh would have liked to spit on the ground, but he was so scared that his mouth was bone dry.

“What’s going on here?”

Opis shouted, running to Ramses, flinging herself into her brother
’s arms. A bow was slung over Ramses’s shoulder together with a brace of rabbits. He pried Opis from him, shoving her behind him.

“
You hit my sister?” Ramses asked in amazement. Huge Uruk outsized him, but a dangerous, liquid motion put a flint knife in Ramses’ hand.

Uruk moved as if poked with a torch
. He grabbed his bow and arrows where he’d dropped them and stepped beside Gilgamesh. “You fight with one Hunter, and you fight them all.”

Ramses glanced at Gilgamesh
. “Are you standing with that swine?”

Opis peeked over Ramses
’s shoulder, and Uruk turned toward Gilgamesh.

Gilgamesh swallowed
. “I-I’m a Hunter.”

Ramses seemed to calculate
. He sheathed his dagger and said to Opis, “Let’s go.”

“
What about my basket?”

“
Leave it for the pigs,” Ramses said, nodding toward Uruk and Gilgamesh. “We’re going to tell father.”

“
Meet me here tonight,” Uruk shouted. “We’ll settle it then.”

Ramses didn
’t bother turning around as he led Opis away.

Uruk eyed the retreating pair, as wheels seemed to turn in his mind
. He said to Gilgamesh, “Don’t say anything to Nimrod about this, and I’ll forget you pulled a bow on me.”

Feeling more lightheaded than ever
, Gilgamesh turned on his heel. Uruk snarled, lumbered after him and grabbed Gilgamesh by the collar, turning him around. He put his wide, bearded face an inch from Gilgamesh’s hot face. “I ought to throttle you here and now for aiming an arrow at me. And I will kill you unless you swear an oath never to speak about this to anyone.”

Despite the reek of Uruk
’s onion breath and the man’s ponderous size and strength, Gilgamesh reacted before he realized what he did. He lashed out with his foot, catching Uruk in the groin. Uruk’s eyes popped forward. He let go.

“
I’m going to kill you,” Uruk hissed. Then he dropped to the ground, groaning.

Terrified, Gilgamesh turned and ran, and back at camp and coughing constantly
, he told Nimrod everything. Later in the week, Kush called Nimrod into his secret room. Kush had listened to an angry Menes, the grandfather of Opis and Ramses. Nimrod returned flushed from the meeting.

That night
, the Hunters camped in the forest and sang songs while seated on logs around a campfire. Later, Nimrod rose and told the story of Beor, how the big man had acquired his great sloth cap.

“
We already know the tale,” Uruk said halfway through the telling.

Nimrod eyed the hairy man
. Uruk was bigger than any of them. He had larger hands than anyone Nimrod knew. “Strangler’s hands,” Ham had said on one occasion.

“
I don’t think you do know the story,” Nimrod said. “Gilgamesh, what happened?”

Gilgamesh stopped coughing long enough to say,
“Beor son of Canaan stalked a great sloth.”

“
And?” Nimrod asked.

“
Beor slew the great sloth,” Gilgamesh said. Stars glittered in the dark and the fire cast dancing shadows over the hunters and the background trees behind them.

“
Then?” Nimrod asked.

Gilgamesh shook his head
. “I don’t follow you, Nimrod.”

“
What if I said that I think Beor made up the tale? What if I said Beor was a great liar and had never slain a great sloth?”

“
Everyone’s seen his cap,” Gilgamesh said. He didn’t understand why Nimrod singled him out like this. All the other Hunters watched. They and he knew that his days were numbered in the Hunters. He just couldn’t seem to get well.

“
Ah,” Nimrod said. “That’s good, Gilgamesh. Perhaps you’re not as strong as some people are, but you think. Thinking is important. So tell me, what does the cap signify?”

Gilgamesh
’s eyes shone with delight. “Beor proved his deed by his great sloth cap.”

“
Exactly,” Nimrod said. “Just as we should be able to prove ourselves at a glance. Even more than that, we should be able to rank ourselves that way.”

“
How could we do that?” Uruk asked.

“
By our caps,” Gilgamesh said.

Uruk glared at him
. “What caps? I don’t see any caps.”

“
Like Beor’s cap,” Gilgamesh said. “He skinned the great sloth and wore its head like a totem. That way, everyone knew at a glance his prowess as a hunter.”

Uruk scrunched his hairy eyebrow, a thick and singular one over small, narrowly placed eyes
. “But we have no caps.”

Several hunters laughed, until Uruk silenced them with a scowl.

“We must earn them,” Nimrod said. “A hunter could only wear the head of a beast he’s slain.”

Uruk thought harder
. “That would be our rank?”

“
Yes,” Nimrod said, his smile gone and his eyes now intense on Uruk.

“
But I’m the strongest,” Uruk said, returning the stare. “So I should be ranked highest no matter what kind of silly hat I wear.”

Everyone fell silent as Nimrod said,
“Stand up, Uruk.”

The big man did
.

“
Does anyone doubt that Uruk is the strongest?” Nimrod asked in a quiet voice.

No one spoke.

“Gilgamesh,” Nimrod said. “Is Uruk the strongest?”

The hairy man glared at Gilgamesh.

“I think he might be,” Gilgamesh said, coughing.

“
Chamoth, do you agree?”

“
Yes, Nimrod.”

In the crackling light of the campfire
, the athletic dragon-slayer gazed on his Hunters. He was broad-shouldered and lean-hipped and his eyes were magnetic as he flashed his white-toothed grin. Beside him, Uruk hulked like a bull, hairy, dull and fierce-eyed.

“
It seems that you’re acclaimed the strongest,” Nimrod told Uruk.

“
I am the strongest,” Uruk said.

“
So you should be first?”

Uruk shuffled his feet and scowled
. “I’m the strongest. None can best me, although some may run faster and catch swifter game.”

“
Ah,” Nimrod said. “That’s good, Uruk. You’ve thought before you committed yourself, unlike the other day in the woods when you struck a girl, when you struck Opis.”

Uruk
glared at Gilgamesh.

“
I’m talking to you,” Nimrod said.

Uruk turned hard eyes on him.

“That was a foolish thing to do, Uruk.”

“
I’m a Hunter,” Uruk said. “I take what I please. You’ve said so yourself; that’s how we’re going to live. Are you a liar?”

A tiny smile played on Nimrod
’s lips. “I’m not a liar. I am Nimrod, and I am first. What’s more, I can prove it.”

“
Because you’re the dragon-slayer?” Uruk asked.

“
No,” Nimrod said, “because I’m going to thrash some sense into you.”

For a moment
, Uruk said and did nothing. Then he roared and charged, with his head down and his mammoth hands outspread.

Nimrod sidestepped, clouting Uruk a heavy blow to the head
. Uruk staggered, and Nimrod leaped behind him, twisting one of the thick arms. Uruk bellowed, and Nimrod tripped him, throwing Uruk onto his belly and pushing his face into the dirt as he jerked the arm cruelly behind the broad back.

Uruk gnashed his teeth as he struggled.

Nimrod jerked the massive arm harder.

Uruk groaned and his face paled.

“Should I break it?” Nimrod asked.

“
No, no,” Uruk said.

“
Are you a fool?”

“
I am,” Uruk said.

“
You will not harm Hamite girls, Uruk. Do you understand?”

“
Yes, yes.”

Nimrod held tight as sweat pooled on Uruk
’s heavy features. “Now, tell me this, friend. Who is first?”

“
You are,” whispered Uruk.

“
Louder. Let everyone hear.”

“
You are first, Nimrod! You are first!”

Nimrod let go, leaping to his feet.

Uruk rolled over, eyeing him narrowly as he panted.

“
Do you still wish to become a mighty man?” asked Nimrod. “Do you still wish to make a name for yourself that will shine throughout the ages?”

Uruk stared at the surprised, frightened faces around him
. He stared at Gilgamesh watching openmouthed. Uruk looked to Nimrod and nodded.

“
Then take my hand and know that Nimrod admires your valor and your fierce rage. Those are good things.”

Uruk reached up an outsized paw.

Nimrod gripped the big hand, and his eyes flashed. “As long as you also realize that I am first.”

“
Nimrod is first,” Uruk said.

The athletic dragon-slayer drew the big man to his feet, slapping him on the back
. He turned to the others, missing Uruk’s look of hatred at Gilgamesh. “Tomorrow we’ll be hunting for totems,” Nimrod said.

2.

The months passed. Beor healed slowly and eventually moved back into his father Canaan’s house, although Hilda remained with Rahab. And Ham, who had secretly vowed to slow his drinking, came over one day as Miriam brewed beer.

The recipe for the amber liquid was already ancient
. In earthen jars, Miriam first soaked barley until it germinated and began to sprout. Then, like other brewers, she nibbled select grains, testing for sweetness, and at the right moment, she spread the sprouted seeds out to dry. This was the most vulnerable point of beer making, when any brewer had to keep a close watch over the greenmalt.

Soon
, Miriam crushed the malted grain, flavored it with secret spices and honey, and pressed it into malt bread. With a shovel, she next mixed it in a pit with sweet aromatics. After that, she mixed hulled grains with the malt-bread and warmed it in a slow oven until she judged the texture just right. The goodness or sourness of a batch depended on this judgment. The readied mash she spread on a large cooling mat, adding to it in order to aid fermentation. Then she poured water into a vat and added the mash. The vat had a perforated base, and the water-mash mix, the beer, dripped into a second pot below the first, which contained the finished prize.

Miriam caught Ham listening to the dripping beer in the brewery shed, and although he at first declined, he left finally with several jugs.

His conscience reminded him of his secret vow, and at first, it was only a cup of beer to help him sleep at night. Then the thirst tormented him. So he sat with Zidon and swapped stories, letting his grandson fill his cup as they bragged about their dragon-killing exploits. Finally, one day, he took a jug and guzzled until he was roaring drunk.

Rahab scolded him for yelling at Hilda while drunk
. The young dear had fled weeping into her room. Ham knocked when sober and told Hilda he was sorry. She smiled and kissed him on the forehead. The second time Rahab said nothing and Hilda told him it didn’t matter, she was used to being yelled at. The third time, Hilda moved back into Canaan’s house.

“
I didn’t yell at her,” Ham said.

“
No,” Rahab said. “But once you started on your first cup, Hilda said it would be better if she moved back. She said her father missed her and that even Semiramis had asked him when she was coming home. So, while you sang, I helped her pack.”

Ham
’s head ached, and he felt wretched. He shuffled into his workroom and picked up his latest piece of ivory. As he carved, the stiffness left his fingers. For several minutes, keen concentration kept his mind blank. Then contrary ideas seeped in about poison, Beor, Semiramis, Hilda and his inability to stop drinking. He began to turn maudlin. Fortunately, a knock brought him around.

“
Husband,” Rahab said, peeking in. “Nimrod would like a few words with you.”

Ham straightened his clothes and limped into the sitting room
. “Nimrod!” he said. He tried to recall the name of the slight youth with him, a pale, fine-featured boy, who wore a wolf-cap and couldn’t stop coughing.

Ham snapped his fingers
. “Gilgamesh.”

“
Yes, Great Grandfather.”

Ham couldn
’t remember who Gilgamesh’s father was. So he simply said, “How’s your father?”

“
My father?” Gilgamesh squeaked.

“
Rosh is his father,” Rahab said. “You remember. The dragon slew him.”

Ham cleared his throat, patting the boy
’s shoulder. “I’m terribly sorry. Rosh was a good man.”

Gilgamesh looked stricken.

Ham sat across from them and wished somebody would change the subject.

Nimrod did, telling him the Hunters were off on a western expedition
. “But, before we go, I wanted to give you this.” Nimrod passed over a leather-wrapped object. Ham showed Rahab.

“
A present,” she said. “How thoughtful. What’s the occasion?”

“
Open it,” Nimrod said.

Ham untied the strings and withdrew a dragon tooth
with a leather thong so he could wear it. He held it up for Rahab as he thanked Nimrod. They chatted as Nimrod expounded on the purpose of the Hunters. Finally, the two young men said they needed to get ready, hugged Rahab and shook Ham’s hand and left.

“
Will you look at this,” Ham said, handing over the dragon tooth.

Rahab handled it gingerly
. “I’m very proud how you helped slay the dragon. Everyone saw how brave you were.”

Ham slipped the thong over his head, laying the tooth on his tunic
. “I really didn’t do anything, just a bit of driving around.”

“
Just driving around with a dragon breathing on you, and mixing the brimstone that killed it. No,” Rahab said. “Not much at all.”

“
I still haven’t gotten a clear answer from Kush, whether any brimstone is left. Maybe I should talk to Canaan about it.”

Rahab chewed her lip.

After a hundred years of marriage, Ham recognized the sign. “What is it?”

“
I know you’re fond of Nimrod, and it was polite of him to give you a dragon tooth. But I suspect the real reason was politic.”

“
Regarding me?” Ham asked. “The elders make the decisions.”

“
That’s not completely true. You know it makes everyone feel easier if you agree with Kush and Canaan.”

Ham adjusted the tooth
. “Are you saying I didn’t earn this? That Nimrod gave it to me to keep me… happy?”

“
Of course you earned it,” Rahab said. “And yet, doesn’t Nimrod make broad statements by the very act of handing them out?”

“
His father approves.”

Rahab hesitated
. “I wonder if the tooth is idolatrous.”

“
Huh?”

“
They call it a totem.”

“
This?”

“
A totem, Ham. In the Old World, they were filled with magic. We both know what Jehovah thinks of magic.”

“
This isn’t magic.”

“
It isn’t used that way yet.” Rahab sat beside him. “Maybe if our children prayed more, worshipped Jehovah more, I wouldn’t be so worried.”

“
I suppose.”

“
You should teach our children how to worship, how to pray.”

Ham could envision his children laughing at him as he tried to lead them in prayer
. “Here,” they might say, “have a mug of this while you’re at it.”

He stood, nodding sagely.

“I’m serious, Ham.”

“
I agree in principle. You know I do.”

Rahab folded her hands, and after a moment
, she nodded. “Thank you, Ham.” With a sigh she rose, picking up cups and dishes and heading into the kitchen.