People of Babel (Ark Chronicles 3)

Novels by Vaughn Heppner:

THE ARK CHRONICLES

People of the Ark

People of the Flood

People of Babel

People of the Tower

LOST CIVILIZATION
SERIES

Giants

Leviathan

The Tree of Life

Gog

Behemoth

Lod the Warrior

Lod the Galley Slave

HISTORICALS

The Great Pagan Army

The Sword of Carthage

The Rogue Knight

Visit www.Vaughnheppner.com for more information.

People of Babel

(The Ark Chronicles
III)

by Vaughn Heppner

Copyright © 2010 by the author.

This book is a work of fiction
. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.

Pharaoh’s Palace

“Pharaoh!” cried the high priest of Sekhmet. “I beg you. Please don’t let this old schemer poison you with anymore of his lies!”

Blind old
Ham slurped from a saucer of water. He could see nothing, but his ears told him much. He heard the shouting high priest, of course. He also heard the way the man’s golden sandals rubbed on the tiled floor. From here on his stool, he could smell Pharaoh’s sickness.

Ham
was weary after speaking for so long. His bones ached for sleep. After telling about Nimrod’s meeting with the angel, he’d needed some water. Now his belly demanded bread.

“These
—these lies about Nimrod and the angel—bah!” the high priest of Sekhmet said. “I beg you, Great Pharaoh, order the guard captain to rip out the liar’s tongue.”

“It happened as I said,” Ham protested.

“Do you take Pharaoh for a simpleton?” the high priest asked.

“It is late,” Pharaoh said
slowly.

“He tries to poison you with these lies,” the high priest declared. “In some nefarious fashion, he thinks it will help him
escape your wrath.”

“I help Pharaoh by speaking the truth,” said Ham.

“Your old age has turned you daft,” the high priest said. “Pharaoh, if you desire Sekhmet’s help in curing you, you must—”

“Pharaoh must obey your whims?” Ham asked. He was old and blind, and he was weary. But he could out-argue
a pretentious high priest any day.

“These blasphemies you
dare spout—”

Ham laughed loudly. “You’re nothing but a foolish child. Did you ride on the Ark? Did you face a Nephilim giant? No, you milk the foolish with your tales of
Sekhmet
.”

The high priest gasped in outrage. “How dare you demean the gods of Egypt. Pharaoh, this is unbelievable.”

“I walked on the empty Earth,” Ham said. “I was there when animals roamed among a handful of people. You would have died under a lion’s claws or entered a wolf’s belly. I witnessed the dreaded Tower of Babel. And I was there before the tower, and know why men attempted the foolishness of building it.”

“There truly was a tower?” Pharaoh asked.

“The tower explains why the world is so divided,” said Ham.

“Pharaoh,” the high priest said, “you’re pale. Your left hand trembles. I suggest you sleep and send this ancient blasphemer to the dungeons.”

“He might not last the night,” Pharaoh said.

“Let him go elsewhere then,” the high priest
said. “I bid you, however, to rest yourself.”

“I am very tired,” Pharaoh admitted.

Ham was also tired. But he suspected that he would never re-enter Pharaoh’s presence if he left now. The high priest of Sekhmet had a reason for wanting him sent away. It wasn’t the stated reason. No, there was something else going on.

“Old schemer,” Pharaoh said.

“Lord,” said Ham. “I wonder why the high priest of Sekhmet doesn’t wish you cured.”

“That’s a lie!” cried the high priest.

“I hold Pharaoh’s cure,” Ham said.

“Then tell us now,” the high priest said. “Save our Pharaoh’s life while there is time.”

“Yes,” Pharaoh said. “Tell me now. I am weary. I need sleep.”

“Do you wish for life?” Ham asked.

“I’m not interested in more of your verbal trickery,” Pharaoh said. “Tell me how I may be cured.”

“Yes. Before
I do that—”

“Guard captain,” Pharaoh said.

“Here, Lord,” said the guard captain.

“I wonder…” Ham said. “High Priest, are you a good friend of Pharaoh’s eldest son?”

“What are you implying?” Pharaoh asked.

“Maybe your high priest of Sekhmet wishes to serve your son more than he wishes to serve you, Pharaoh
,” said Ham.

“That is an outrageous lie!” the high priest shouted.

“You protest too loudly,” Ham said. “I have already stated that Pharaoh may know the cure to his plague. Now, while he is tired, you urge him to forgo the answer to his suffering. I wonder why that is.”

“You’re a foul old—”

“Silence,” Pharaoh told the high priest.

Ham heard tapping
. He was so tired. He was hungry. But now wasn’t the moment to ask for more bread. Would Pharaoh listen to the rest of the tale? Could he save Egypt from a horrible doom?

“I will listen a little longer,” Pharaoh told Ham. “But if you take too long, if your story should ramble into boring tales of lin
eage, yes, then you shall die a quick death.”

“Pharaoh—” the high priest of Sekhmet tried to say.

“I have spoken,” Pharaoh said. “Let none then think to overrule my will. What do you say to that, high priest?”

“As you will, Pharaoh.”

“Ham?” asked Pharaoh.

Ham slurped from the saucer of water. He hoped he had the strength to tell the entire tale. “Listen, Pharaoh, about what happened after the dreadful
meeting with the angel…”

Babel

1.

Canaan and his clan remained in the Zagros Mountains
. Kush, Menes, Put and the others led their families to the land of promise. In the foothills, they learned the miraculous tale of Nimrod’s meeting with an angel. Gilgamesh and Uruk attested to it. They had heard a roaring sound and seen a bright light. At the very end, they had heard the angel pronounce their doom, and they had heard, too, and gushed in the telling of how Nimrod had saved them.

In a long train of lumbering wagons and two-wheeled oxcarts
, the tribe of Ham left the foothills. On the plain of Shinar, they raised dust clouds. Children walked with their parents, and there were herds of bleating sheep, goats, cattle and protective hounds. Great wealth lay in the clattering wagons, and the people chattered excitedly about the richness of the alluvial soil and the vast sea of grass.

At the Euphrates
, where the angel had spoken with Nimrod, Kush built a large earthen mound. From chiseled stones taken from his wagon, Kush constructed an altar. Then he called an assembly of the people. He lifted his large hands, and his broad, seamed face was a study in seriousness.

Quiet descended as mothers hushed their children and fathers nudged teenage sons.

“Does our patriarch plant each seed for his tribe, forge each dagger and hoe?” Kush asked, in a loud voice. “No. His sons plow the fields. His grandsons blow through tubes that heat the smithy fire. His daughters sew garments and bake bread. So, too, does Jehovah delegate tasks to various angels. Some move the stars. Some cause the wind to blow, the sun to shine and snow to fall on the hinterlands that feed the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers. Each of these angels serves the Holy One. Now I ask you. How does a son of Ham feel when he plows the fields if he is never recognized for it? What if I eat at my father’s house and say: ‘What a wonderful meal, thank you.’ But I never thank my sisters for their labor in the kitchen. Wouldn’t I have slighted them? In such a manner, I would have slighted my father. So, too, do we slight Jehovah by never thanking the angel of the sun for his hard work, or the angel of the moon for giving us light in the darkness. Or we slight the angels of the stars, who move them for us and thus tell us the seasons and move the constellations which represent the stories of long ago, first told by Father Adam, his son, Seth, and the venerable Enoch.”

The wind stirred nearby palm trees lined against the Euphrates
. Opposite the trees in a corral of circled wagons, a cow waiting to be milked lowed in complaint.

“
As a farmer who is intimate with nature,” Kush said, “which is to say with the doings of Jehovah, I will take some of my possessions and sacrifice them to the angel in thanksgiving for all of us.”

People nodded, impressed, and after the sacrifice the elders and the heads of each family met to discuss how to begin construction of the city.

The plain of Shinar was unlike anything they had seen. Few trees grew on the flat sheet that spread as far as sun shone. So no farmer needed to hew trees to clear his field or laboriously cut out stumps or clear rocks, for there were practically no stones in the land. Reeds sprouted wherever water stagnated and date palms grew thick along the river’s raised banks.

Nimrod and his Hunters had described the seasons, the chilly, rainy winter, the rising of the Euphrates in spring and
, in some areas, the vast flooding, and the hot months of summer when rain seldom fell. Knowing this, the men took out shovels and pickaxes, a kind of short-handled hoe. Under the direction of either Kush or Menes, they picked and dug canals. Meanwhile, Nimrod and his Hunters supplied venison.

The Euphrates was unlike any river they had ever encountered, or that Ham had heard about in the Old World
. Each year the river turned muddy-brown with silt washed down from the highlands. The churning, seething floodwaters kept the silt moving, but on the flat plain the speed of the water—the current—slowed and the silt deposited itself. Gradually, perhaps since the Deluge almost 100 years ago, this depositing silt had built-up the banks of the Euphrates. Thus, incredibly, the river flowed above the plain.

Even at the Euphrates
’s low level of mid-summer, moving the water through the canals over a long distance proved easy because of the river’s beginning height. Only for their special gardens of onions, leeks, garlic, cucumbers and lettuce did they need to hoist water to higher levels. There they used a
shaduf
, a long pole with a rope and bucket on one end and a stone as counterweight on the other end, with an upright post used as a pivot or fulcrum. A man pulled the bucket against the counterweight of stone. He dipped the bucket into the lower canal and used the counterweight to help hoist the water to a higher canal. Working from dawn to dusk with a
shaduf
, a man could move 600 gallons a day.

The hot summer sun, the rich soil and the unlimited water produced heavy blades of wheat and barley
with astonishing yields. Barley grew best. Oil pressed from the many-colored sesame seeds were used for cooking and were used as lamp fuel and cosmetics, while sesame seed cakes became a staple. To hold all the grain, potters fashioned large jars and plugs of clay.

Even the wild date palms gave fantastic yields, dropping
, on average, one hundred pounds of fruit per tree. The stone in the fruit they crushed for cattle feed or burned into charcoal. The fruit itself was eaten fresh or pressed into thick syrup. They used the syrup instead of honey or made a potent date palm wine. The tree trunk they fashioned into doors and wagons. The ribs of the tree made beds and chairs. The leaves were bound into brooms to sweep away dust. The fibers were woven into baskets, ropes and fishnets, while the young shoots at the top of the tree made a tasty salad.

During this joyous time of initial building and new possibilities, Gilgamesh despaired
. It was true that he had become a gifted tracker. He was lean and tireless, with stringy muscles suited to long runs, and he had a growing patience for hiding behind thorn bushes as he watched nervous gazelle. The sun had baked him brown, and the endless hunting gave him a serious look, giving intensity to his squint.

One day as he returned from the dusty plain, with several hounds loping beside him and a slain gazelle slung about his neck, he stopped at a shrinking lagoon
. As the hounds lapped water, a man only a little older than Gilgamesh parted reeds with a net slung over his shoulder and a string of carp in his hand.

Gilgamesh
often thought of Opis, and the youth before him had similar features. It was Ramses, her brother, dressed in a Hunter’s leathers.

They shook hands and commenced to walk together, congratulating each other on a good day
’s bounty. Then they fell silent as Gilgamesh brooded.

“
Uh,” Ramses said, glancing at him sidelong, “Opis says to say hello.”

Gilgamesh knit his brow, and with a decisive movement
, he dug from under his belt a smooth black stone that seemed to suck in the sunlight.

“
That’s jet,” Ramses said, appraisingly. “It’s a precious stone.”

“
It’s my lucky stone. Here. Give it to Opis.”

Ramses eyed him, and perhaps it was only the sunlight, but something seemed to glimmer in th
ose eyes. “Can I give you some advice?”

“
Not if you’re going to tell me to leave your sister alone.” Gilgamesh scowled. “The thought of Uruk touching her makes me boil.”

“
Indeed. But for you to save Opis from him, you must make her your wife.”

“
How? I own no flocks or cultivated fields. My valor and wits are my only possessions.”

“
Those won’t buy a wife,” Ramses said. “Now that piece of jet… My father adores gold, silver and precious stones. If you could add to your jet or gain a few flocks or some cultivated fields…”

Gilgamesh shook his head
. “Hunters have no time for idle pursuits.”

“
How does one gain wealth then?”

“
Valor is the goal,” Gilgamesh said.

For a time
, their tramp was the only sound.

“
My point,” Ramses said, “is that if you ever do gain wealth, you must come to my father and lay half of it at his feet. Say: ‘I wish to marry Opis.’ He’ll look at your goods and say, ‘Not enough.’ Then begin to add a little more. Bargain. If you have enough and argue very hard, Opis will become yours and Uruk will have been thwarted.”

“
Would your father go back on his deal with Uruk?”

“
My father adores Uruk’s goods, not his personality.”

Gilgamesh grew thoughtful.

“You have a little less than two years,” Ramses said. “For on Opis’s fifteenth birthday, she will marry.”

Gilgamesh put away the jet.

Later, Ramses said, “You might sneak by sometime. If…”

“
Yes?”

“
If you promise on your honor that you won’t dishonor my sister,” Ramses said.

“
I would do nothing to shame her.”

Ramses smiled
. “Perhaps I’ll tell her you said hello. That you’ve been thinking about her.”

“
Yes!” Gilgamesh blushed. “Please, do that.”