Among the sons of seth

Amo n g t h e S o n so fS e t h Jenni f erL.Ar mst r ong Among the Sons of Seth By Jennifer L. Armstrong Among t...

Author: Jennifer Armstrong

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Amo n g

t h e

S o n so fS e t h Jenni f erL.Ar mst r ong

Among the

Sons of Seth By

Jennifer L. Armstrong

Among the sons of Seth by Jennifer L. Armstrong

2012 This work is licensed under the Creative Commons AttributionNoncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/bync-nd/3.0/ or send a letter to Creative Commons, 171 Second Street, Suite 300, San Francisco, California, 94105, USA.

First Edition Web V1.0 2012 Photos used in cover art © Claudia Ballali | Dreamstime.com Graphic Design © Paul Krichbaum

Part One

1

Among the sons of Seth

2

Chapter One

And Yah commanded the man, saying, “Eat of every tree of the garden . . .” I hold the manuscript with care. The room is dim and I am all alone, but I still glance over my shoulder. I am on the second floor and I would hear anyone coming up the stairs, but it makes me nervous just the same. I do not know why. These words are not forbidden. More like forgotten. My finger follows the writing as it goes on to tell the story of Adam, our father, and Hawwa, our mother. In all the world, only one thing was forbidden to them. Fruit from a tree, a tree that bestowed the knowledge of good and evil. On the day that you eat of it, you shall surely die. Except that nobody does. Apart from Abel. And nobody talks about him. I hear someone coming up the stairs and hurriedly put away the manuscript. How it came to be in this room, I have no idea. It is in a small trunk, underneath some rough woollen garments. The trunk is clearly my brother's craftsmanship. Tubal-Cain's skill with bronze and iron is known throughout the city of Cain. It is only Naamah coming up the stairs. She has come up to 3


see what is taking me so long. I was sent up to the stuffy, crowded room to get some more bronze platters. “Sorry,” I say. “They're heavy,” she says, in that understanding way of hers. We shouldn't speak like this. Our language is rich and Naamah and I have an awful habit of speaking in the short, clipped talk of our childhood. We have always been close, two daughters of the same mother. Our father Lamech, has two wives, Adah and Zillah. Zillah is our mother, as well as Tubal-Cain's. Adah has two sons, Jabal and Jubal. Jabal no longer lives in Enoch with us. As a young man, he would take our father's robes and stretch them out wherever he could, creating fun little rooms for us children to play in. As a grown man, he took animal skins and did the same thing. Now he lives out in the fields with his tents and the other tent dwellers. They have their flocks and though he lives a simple life, Jabal is a wealthy man. City dwellers go out and live in tents and discover they like it. Jubal divides his life between the city and the fields. He is an accomplished musician and is most popular among the tentdwellers when he plays his flute for them around their evening fires. In the city, he plays the harp for the wine-drinkers in the taverns. During the day, he has students that he teaches his skills to. Our family is not wealthier than other families in Enoch, nor are we especially powerful. But Lamech has made us different by taking two wives. To take two wives is to deny another man one wife. But there is more. There is a story about my father that people discuss in the evenings over their wine. It is said that thirty years ago, he killed a young man. No one knows who the young man was, just a visitor to the city, but for some reason, he and my father fought. The man wounded my father and my father retaliated by killing him. So people in Enoch are cautious around my father. For that matter, I am cautious around my father. We all are. In some ways, Tubal-Cain is more of a father to me than him. Naamah and I live with Tubal-Cain and his family now, in the apartments beside the store. 4

Chapter One

Naamah helps me carry the bronze platters downstairs. Our shelves are well-stocked and Tubal-Cain insists that they stay that way. For the wealthier customers, Tubal-Cain will make custom items, but most people are happy with what is in the store. There is a lady waiting impatiently. But she cheers visibly when she sees the load of platters in our arms. Of the twenty-two plates we have in stock, she purchases twenty. She has no way of carrying them home, but that is no problem in Enoch. There are plenty of young lads, the ones who are still under fifty who have not started their families yet, who can be hired to carry a load. There is no indignity to the work. We are all children of Cain here. It was our mother Hawwa who brought the knowledge of good and evil into the world. She is the mother of all living and Cain was her first-born son. The story is told that upon his birth, she held him high and cried out to our Elohim, Yah, that he had given her a man. Abel, his brother, was born shortly after. The writings in the trunk talk of a garden, a garden unlike the Land of Wandering. Our Father Cain settled in the Land of Wandering and built this city. But the Garden . . . Naamah interrupts my thoughts. “It's him!” she says to me. In her excitement, she forgets to speak in the fullness of our language. Tubal-Cain does not care if we speak like children in our apartment, but he insists that in the shop, we must speak with refinement. In our language, to convey that a man is within sight can be expressed in only a few words, but the words contain a wealth of meaning and tell you where the man is, what direction he is coming from, and even whether he is young or old. But Naamah does not have to speak properly for me to understand. Naamah has her eyes (and her heart) focused on only one man. He is our cousin, Qayin, and we share the same grandfather, Methushael. It is generally understood that a man will be married by the time he is fifty and our cousin, Qayin, is now in his late forties. Tubal-Cain is ambivalent about me and Naamah getting married. He does not want to lose us in the shop. His own wife has no interest in standing here all day and his daughters are too 5


young to be here. But he knows that we cannot be without husbands for much longer. I have never met any sons of Seth or the other sons of Adam, but the sons of Cain are strong and handsome, and Qayin is in no way an exception with his dark eyes and wavy shoulder-length black hair. His muscles show through a white cotton shirt and dark woollen trousers. My sister Naamah is as beautiful as any daughter of Cain, but I do not think Qayin appreciates it. Today, he comes into the shop and bluntly asks to see his cousin, Tubal-Cain. That we are his cousins too is of no interest to him. But in order to give my sister some time alone with Qayin, I volunteer to go into the back courtyard to look for our brother. Behind the store is a large area where he and his artisans work. “Sister!” Tubal-Cain looks up from the iron railing he and another man are working on. Only the wealthy can afford such things to act as barriers against falling off the roof. But, of course, it is the rich who have their lavish wine parties on their roofs and risk losing a guest if they do not provide some kind of protection for their staggering visitors. Tubal-Cain wipes his hands on his apron and comes over to kiss me on both cheeks. He is in a good mood and he does not even know about the sale of twenty platters yet. But my brother has always been a kind man. I would be content to have a husband like him. “Qayin is here to see you,” I say. Tubal-Cain sighs and rolls his eyes. “He will not go to our father, so he comes to me.” “What business does he have with our father?” I ask, taking his arm as we return inside. But Tubal-Cain just shakes his head and covers my lips with a finger. His fingers always smell like metal. “Qayin!” My brother greets our cousin with the same pleasure he greets all the people who come into the shop. He has a way of making people feel welcome, not as paying customers, but as special guests. “Tubal-Cain,” says Qayin, returning my brother's hug with a brisk coolness. “What can we do for you, Qayin?” says Tubal-Cain, including me and Naamah in the exchange. 6

Chapter One

But Qayin doesn't want to include us. He jerks his dark head toward a side room where we take our meals while in the shop. Tubal-Cain nods and leads him into the small room, but he keeps the door slightly ajar. Naamah and I are wide-eyed. We both have the same thought. When the men talk like this, they are arranging a marriage. I do not blame Naamah for wanting to hear what is going on. Although passersby pause to look into our glass windows and examine the fine-details of Tubal-Cain's work, no one comes in. Of one mind, Naamah and I move closer to the door. “Why is your sister named Havilah?” Qayin is demanding. For one sick moment, I fear that he is asking for me in marriage. “I was young when they named her. I did not ask. Why?” Qayin does not answer his question. “What I am about to tell you, you must tell no one. Not even your wife.” Tubal-Cain laughs. “My wife? My wife will have at least five things to tell me when I walk through the door. I doubt I will be able to tell her anything about my day.” Qayin is not interested in Tubal-Cain's domestic situation. “A man in the tavern, a trader, showed me a different metal. One I had never seen before.” Tubal-Cain murmurs something agreeable. “He said it came from the land of Havilah. Tubal-Cain, it was unlike anything I had ever seen before.” “In what why?” “It had a different shine to it . . .” The fact that Qayin must search for words is an indicator of how unusual this metal is. “More like the sun,” he finally says. “Hmmm,” says our brother, taking this in. Now that Naamah knows it is not a marriage proposal she has moved away from the door, visibly deflated. “I have borrowed money from Jabal,” says Qayin. “Foolish, foolish.” I cannot see it, but I know my brother is shaking his head. There is only one way to become a slave in our city and that is to be unable to repay a debt. “You would not say that if you saw this metal. I used the money to purchase the man's whole hoard. And I will make four times the amount of money I borrowed from Jabal.” 7


“But why come to me?” “Because it is not enough to simply have a metal. One must do something with it.” “Ah,” says Tubal-Cain. “You want me to work it. What sort of things . . . ” “It is not a huge quantity. It would have to be jewellery. Smaller items. But, Tubal-Cain, the wealthy would be willing to pay much for such an exquisite metal. And with your craftsmanship, the amount they would be willing to pay would only increase. You would have your share, of course . . .” I move away from the door. Naamah is listlessly helping a woman select an iron pot. I go over and gently squeeze her shoulders. The woman is an aunt on our mother's side. She is shrill in demanding that the pot be of a certain thickness and I patiently point out that if a pot is too thick it will take the water longer to boil. My sister has moved back to behind the counter, to be alone and away from the demands. Like Qayin, Naamah has dark eyes and long dark hair. I am the only one in our family to have hair the colour of grass at the time of harvest and olive-green eyes. It is not right that someone as beautiful as Naamah should be so unhappy. And it is no use telling her that Qayin is not a kind man. Though Naamah is quick to see the good in things, she is blind to the evil, I think. Tubal-Cain's wife is the opposite. She always assumes the worst. It is only Tubal-Cain who can see both and still choose the good. For my own part, I long for something else . . . The manuscript in the trunk talks of a garden. It is a strange story and not well known among the people of Enoch. Hawwa ate the fruit of a tree that was forbidden and made us all like Yah, our creator. Hawwa didn't have to choose the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. There was another tree in the garden. The Tree of Life. I wonder what Life would have tasted like?

8

Chapter Two

“The Pishon skirts the whole land of Havilah where there is precious metal, bdellium and shoham stone,” Qayin is saying. He and Tubal-Cain are back in the small room that runs off of the main showroom. “Onyx,” says Tubal-Cain, nodding. “I have seen it. It is a beautiful stone. Though it is rare.” “It is not indigenous to the Land of Wandering,” says Qayin. He has some kind of a map and is tracing his finger around it. He barely said hello to me and Naamah. Tubal-Cain has kept his word and not said anything to us about Qayin's new metal. Today, Qayin came hurrying into the shop with a bundle of goatskin and announced that he must see Tubal-Cain immediately. I had to go upstairs where my brother was having a midday meal with his wife and seven children. His wife glared at me for taking him away from their family meal. Inside the goatskin is the new metal. Naamah and I cannot see it, but from Tubal-Cain's admiring appraisal, we know it must be impressive. When he inquired about where this metal was mined, Qayin brought out the map they are now examining. 9


“I have never laid eyes on the Pishon river,” says Tubal-Cain, thoughtfully. “Neither have I. Of the four rivers, I have only seen the Tigris and the Gihon. The Gihon goes around the whole land of Cush.” The other river is the Euphrates. I know this without seeing the map. The manuscript in the trunk speaks of the four rivers that flow from the Garden. It is common knowledge that there is an enormous body of water west of the Land of Wandering. But it is from a tributary of our closest river, the Tigris, that the city of Enoch gets its water. “I know,” says Tubal-Cain. “Though I have never seen it myself. Jabal has though. When you have a tent and livestock, you can go anywhere.” “And what about Havilah?” says Qayin, shrewdly. I know he is not talking about me. Tubal-Cain is quiet for a moment. “My father met a man from there once,” he says. “But I was too young to remember it. I would not be surprised if my sister was named for the occasion of their meeting.” “What happened to the man?” “How would I know?” Tubal-Cain says. “I doubt very much he settled here.” “No, why would he?” Qayin agrees. “Now,” says Tubal-Cain. “What will we do with this?” He has obviously turned his attention back to the new metal. Naamah is not even bothering to listen to this conversation, so she has been serving the customers. But now there are too many for her to handle by herself. I turn my attention to the man who has just walked through the door. For one moment, I am startled. This man is taller than even Qayin. And if possible, he is even more handsome, in a darker way. His smile melts me. Naamah glances at him but then turns back to her customer. He is not Qayin, so he is not of interest to her. In any case, all his attention is on me. “Permit me to assist you,” I say, carefully, speaking in the refined language. He bows slightly. “As you wish.” It is the polite rejoinder. 10

Chapter Two

“May I show you our collection?” It is a test. Most people are in a hurry and just say, “No, show me your . . .” and then name what they want. But the truly polite person will allow themselves to be shown around the whole shop and when they have seen everything, only then will they divulge what it is they have come into the store for. “I would be honoured.” The man is two heads taller than me and my usual poise fails me as I take him around the store and point out various items. He responds with perfect ease, making compliments about the craftsmanship. But I get the sense that he is more interested in me than he is in the objects I am showing him. I am not beautiful like Naamah. When people speak of “Tubal-Cain's sister” they are always speaking of Naamah. The tour complete, it is now time for the man to reveal what he really wants to buy. He walks slowly back to a glass displaycase of knives. Tubal-Cain's knives are as ornamental as they are functional. Shepherds prize them for their sharpness. Citydwellers carry them for show. With great care, the man now looks over the whole collection. At last, he points to one. “An excellent choice,” I say. I am not just being polite. The blade is iron, the handle is an ebony wood. There is no other like it. It took Tubal-Cain three days to make it. When the man nods, that indicates that he has made his choice. I unlock the case and remove the knife. “Would you like it wrapped?” I ask, handling the knife cautiously. The blade is freshly sharpened. “No, I have a sheath.” The man pulls back his cloak to reveal a finely-crafted leather scabbard on his left hip. I hand him the knife and he inserts it into the sheath. “How will you be paying?” I ask. He adjusts his cloak to access a leather pouch on his right hip. He is opening it as Qayin and Tubal-Cain exit the small room. My brother is quick to note the distinguished visitor. I can see that, like me, he is impressed by the man's stature and equally curious about what he has purchased. Qayin, on the other hand, is visibly annoyed by the man's presence. Usually it is Qayin who is the most handsome man in any room. 11


“With these stones,” the man says, the pouch open. Casually he drops several round smooth stones onto one of our tables. Tubal-Cain comes over to examine them. With a quick welcome to be courteous he then asks the stranger, “What are these?” Clearly intrigued, my brother has picked up one of the stones and is studying it with the care of an expert. Even Qayin, heading for the door, pauses and comes back to join him. “This noble visitor selected the ebony knife,” I say helpfully. Without knowing what the man has purchased, Tubal-Cain will be unable to determine whether this is a fair trade. But Tubal-Cain barely hears me. I am the only one close enough to him to hear him mutter, “I have never seen anything like these.” “Is it sufficient?” the man asks. “Yes, friend,” says Tubal-Cain, looking up. “It is sufficient. And I wish you well.” The man nods but lingers. Tubal-Cain has already turned his attention back to the stones. Qayin is watching over his shoulder, obviously envious of my brother's acquisition. I feel it is my duty to escort the man to the door, though I admit, with the women purchasing pots, I usually let them find their own way to the exit. The man's smile is as dazzling as the sun that now shines on the white stones of the plaza outside my brother's store. We both hesitate at the door. As the one who tends the store, it is my job to open it, but it is the man who pulls back the shimmering glass door. I want to know more. Will I see him again? Does he live in Enoch? Who is he? Why is he a head taller than every other man out in the street? The words that come out of my mouth are not the words of my heart, but I am curious. “Where did you find such beautiful stones?” I ask. We are now standing just outside the shop. “They are the rocks that sparkle on the surface of the moon, my lady.” The man winks at me and then he is gone. With weak legs, I go back inside and return to the table where Tubal-Cain and Qayin are still examining the stones. I am not sure that I believe the man's explanation. “They are perfectly spherical,” Tubal-Cain is saying. “And yet, 12

Chapter Two

I see no sign of a tool being used on them.” Tubal-Cain walks over to the window with one of the stones and holds it up to the light. The stones were a shimmering grey on the table, but now in the light, they are like liquid. “Extraordinary,” Tubal-Cain says, shaking his head. Naamah is examining Qayin as he examines the stone. I sigh. My poor sister. Now I have a reason to be just as moody as Naamah. My eyes scan the crowds that move through the streets. The plaza outside the store is bustling with temporary stalls. The people that have purchased Jabal's tents and make a living with their livestock and their fields come into town once a week to buy and sell. Large mats of produce are being examined by city people while the field-dwellers move in and out of the shops making weekly purchases. A few have come in here today for pots, knives and other metal items. My mind wanders too greatly to give any of them much thought. It is the final words of the stranger. My lady. He could have just said O lady. That would have been the correct form. And the stranger had excellent manners, so he would know that. But he used the possessive form of the female gender. And not only did he address me in the possessive, he used the form that denotes complete possession. Body . . . and soul. Even husbands and wives do not always talk that way to each other. It is a form that is reserved for people who are both married and lovers. Not just people who bear children together, but for people who know each other completely. It is safe to say that Tubal-Cain and his wife do not use this form when they address one another. It is a startling way for a man to speak to an unmarried woman. And I have not been able to stop thinking about him. And so today, I continue to scan the crowds. It would be easy to see the man with the moon stones, if he were here. Even among the field-dwellers, no one has his height. Why should I think of such a man? I will most likely never see him again. I return my attention to rearranging some tin cups. The tin cups sell particularly well when the field-dwellers come into town. The city people prefer glass or delicate glazed pottery for their 13


water or spiced wine. Such a man probably already has two wives and is the chieftain of a town by the Tigris - someplace that my brother and Qayin do not know about, someplace that has shimmering stones and a way of shaping them that the sons of Cain are unfamiliar with. There are other tribes. Other sons of Adam. They are the Other People. Many people do not even know why our Father Cain came to the Land of Wandering. I know because of the manuscript in the trunk. People do not know that Cain had a brother named Abel. And that Abel was the reason why our Father Cain could not farm the land anymore and had to build a city instead. And most people have never even met a son of Seth. Only the travellers and traders. Seth was born after Abel and after Cain had already gone. The writings in the trunk say something too awful for me to ever repeat to anyone. Indeed, too awful to even think about. The manuscript also says that when Cain left his father and mother he also left the presence of Yah. Such a thing fills me with horror and yet, I hardly know why. Except that to be away from the presence of one's creator seems to me to be unutterably tragic. And yet, I do not know what it is like to be in his presence! Is it possible that the visitor to our shop was a son of Seth? Is it possible he has been in the presence of Yah? The thought makes me breathless. The more I think about it, the more I decide, it is most likely. It would explain why he is so different. After all, when has a son of Seth ever come to Enoch? Perhaps they are all like him, tall and noble. Although it is satisfying to solve a mystery, it is disappointing to know that in all likelihood, I will never see the man again. Naamah is as restless as I am. The fact that it is market day does not increase the chance that Qayin will come to the shop, but the new metal might bring him in. Rather than work in the courtyard with the other men, our brother is working with the new metal in the small room off of the shop. He and Qayin call it “gold” because it is as golden as the sun. It is likely that Qayin will stop by just to check on Tubal-Cain's progress. Naamah's robe is too elegant for the store. If Tubal-Cain notices, he does not say anything. His mind is too full these days, 14

Chapter Two

anyhow. Some of the city's wealthiest citizens have been stopping by the store to see his new creations. Qayin is eager to sell some pieces of jewellery made with the new metal. Plus, there is the issue of the stones brought in by the stranger. Tubal-Cain made a daring proposition to Qayin. There are three stones. He could use some of Qayin's metal to create a necklace with the three stones set in a pendant. The lady in Enoch who wears it would have something entirely unique and there would be no limit to the price Tubal-Cain could put on it. Tubal-Cain says that in exchange for the gold needed to make the necklace, he would forfeit his share in the profits of all the other gold jewellery. Qayin has agreed, although, with his suspicious nature, he probably thinks it is an asymmetrical deal. “Perhaps we should visit our mother tonight,” I say to Naamah. Our mother, Zillah, is the second wife of our father and it has been hard for her. Adah, Lamech’s first wife, was never a kind woman, though in later years, she has mercifully spent a lot of time with Jabal and his children among the tent-dwellers, leaving Zillah alone in the townhouse. I am hoping that by going to visit our mother, Naamah will be reminded that life with a man, even a handsome one, is not easy. “Perhaps,” Naamah murmurs. “Have you seen the beautiful earrings Tubal-Cain made?” I move closer to her so that the only customer in the store, a shepherd examining a cast-iron stove, will not hear. “They are beautiful,” Naamah agrees. Tubal-Cain's delicate filigree drop earrings will be a success in Enoch. The do not use up a lot of the gold, but they take a long time to make. “What is it?” I ask. My sister is lost in thought. She hesitates. “He did not just make earrings,” she says. I nod. “I know. He made some rings too.” “Exactly,” says Naamah. “What do you mean?” I glance at the shepherd. He is exiting the store. “Did you hear what Qayin said to Tubal-Cain?” I shake my head. Unlike Naamah, I do not monitor all of Qayin's words. “He said . . . ” Naamah pauses. 15


“Yes?” “He said they would be good for engaged couples.” “Engaged couples?” I say. “How so?” Naamah holds out her left hand and points to the finger beside her smallest one. “He says that the vein in this finger is connected to the heart . . .” My eyes widen. “Where did he learn this?” I say. “As far as I know, he counts no physicians among his friends.” Naamah shrugs. “. . . and we, that is, he and Tubal-Cain, can sell rings to engaged couples, as a pledge. A woman can wear a ring to save her heart for one man.” “Gold rings, I suppose,” I say drily. “Well, yes,” says Naamah. “But even other metals when the gold is all used.” But this is not my sister's point. She is still restless. “And . . . ?” I say. “And I think maybe one of the gold rings will be for me,” she says. I hope my jaw does not drop. “What makes you say that?” I ask. “He asked our brother to put one aside.” I think about this. That is news. But does it mean that the ring is for Naamah? There is no reason why I should not discuss this with TubalCain. Our sister needs to know, once and for all, whether or not she will ever be the wife of Qayin. But I will have to wait until my sister is not around. My opportunity comes when Naamah leaves the store to get our midday meal. Tubal-Cain's wife will have made us something. Normally, he would eat it with her in the apartment, but these days, he is eager to finish working with the gold. Even though I know he does not want to be disturbed, I hurry into the side room as soon as Naamah disappears from sight. Thankfully, the shop is empty of customers. “Dear brother,” I say, hurriedly, trying not to startle him as he works carefully on a ring. “I would not disturb you except that this is important.” 16

Chapter Two

“Yes?” he says, shifting the magnifying lenses from his eyes to the top of his head. “It is Naamah,” I say. “She has heard that Qayin asked for one of your rings to be put aside.” Tubal-Cain nods slightly. “And she has also heard that the rings are to be pledges between men and women.” “Yes,” says my brother. “It is silly idea, I think. But he has decided that people will buy more rings from me, as a result.” “Possibly,” I say. “But my concern is Naamah. She thinks the ring that Qayin has asked for will be for her.” “Ahhh,” says my brother. He bites his lip slightly and for the moment, the ring he is shaping is forgotten. “No. I am afraid it is not.” “For another woman?” I ask, boldly. If Qayin has confided in Tubal-Cain, he will not be able to tell me. “No, I do not believe so.” “Then for who?” I ask. “For the man who suggested the idea to him,” says TubalCain. “A physician?” I ask. My brother shakes his head and then remembers the lenses on his head. He grabs them quickly before they fall and break. “No. For the man who bought the dagger and paid with the stones.” I just stare at him. Tubal-Cain returns his attention to the ring and it is my dismissal. I return to the store to find an impatient tent-dweller who wants some help selecting some iron sheep-clippers. Not my interest, but I direct him to a premium pair and assure him that they will still be working a hundred years from now. Stones from the moon and now a ring for a finger that's vein goes straight to the heart! Who is this man? And how did Qayin come to be talking to this man? Now I am just as eager as Naamah to see Qayin come into the shop. But what will Naamah say when she finds out the ring is not for her?

17


18

Chapter Three

“Dear cousin!” I say to Qayin. He is startled. So is Naamah. He pauses halfway across the shop floor. He was just going to go straight to the small room without a glance at me or Naamah. “Good afternoon, Havilah,” he says, formally. “Good afternoon, Qayin,” I reply. “How kind you are to visit.” He has not come to visit, but by saying this, I require him to stop to make polite conversation. It will be brief, I am sure, so I make the most of it. “We are still talking about the beautiful stones,” I say to him. I do not need to tell him what stones I am referring to. “Where could the man possibly have found such gems?” Now Qayin is torn. He does not want to waste time with me, but he knows something and will enjoy feeling superior if he divulges it to me. “He is a stranger,” says Qayin. “Really?” I say, trying not to let it leak out that this is manifestly obvious. Qayin nods. “He drinks in the taverns.” 19


This surprises me. A son of Seth, in the taverns? I do not know why, but this does not sound right. That is the extent of Qayin's divulgence. But it is enough to explain how Qayin had contact with the man after he left this shop. And now Qayin is disappearing into the small room. “What did you do that for?” Naamah practically hisses at me. “For information,” I say, quietly. “Oh,” she says. It is not easy but she has to know. “The ring is not for you,” I say, gently but bluntly. “And I want to know why Qayin now believes that a vein on a finger leads to the heart.” It is a silly explanation, but Naamah is too stunned with sorrow to really be listening to the words. I put my arms around her and she leans against me. The one customer in the store, an older woman examining a bronze jewellery box, glances at us and then decides to mind her own business. “Sister!” I say. “It is time that our brother finds you a husband!” Naamah sniffs. “I cannot make him speak to Qayin,” she says. “There are many other men in Enoch,” I say. Inspiration strikes me and I lower my voice even more. “Sister, I do not believe he is the one for you. He has borrowed money from Jabal. If he cannot repay it, he will become a slave. But if he is married, he could give you to Jabal instead to repay the debt.” Naamah's eyes widen, but she quickly answers, her voice reproachful. “He would never do such a thing!” Oh yes he would, I think. “And besides, he will repay the money.” “This time, yes,” I say. “Because our brother makes the most exquisite jewellery in all of Enoch. But what about next time? A man who borrows money is not a man to marry. You and your children could all end up in slavery.” Naamah cannot argue with this. Our brother would never borrow money. A man who truly cares for his family would rather do without than risk losing them to his benefactor. I am so focused on Naamah that I do not notice the next 20

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customer who comes in. When someone comes up to the counter, I think it is the lady with the jewellery box. “Good day to you, ladies.” The voice is deep and rich. Now it is Naamah who needs to hold me up. It is him! Even in my weakened state, I notice a curiosity. The implication of wishing someone a good day is to wish them God's blessing. Everyone knows God created us and that to have his blessing is advantageous. I think I might be the only one who knows that our Father Cain has brought us to a land where the words are hollow. But it is a polite sentiment to wish upon someone. Except that the man has not wished us God's blessing, only a good day. He has removed the aspect from the word “good” that implies that the source of goodness is beyond us. He has implied that the day itself is good. But his smile pushes all further thoughts from my mind. “Is the man, Qayin, present?” he asks. “Yes, noble one,” I say. How absurd I must sound. The phrase is used for those who lord over us, not for a man who comes into Tubal-Cain's shop. Even Naamah is looking at me. But the man does not seem to mind. His smile, if possible, gets even broader. Whether it is Naamah's intention to give me a few moments alone, or whether it is just her desire to speak directly to Qayin, she volunteers to go tell him he has a visitor. The stranger and I are left staring at one another. I know we do not have much more than the time that it takes for a few drops of sand to fall through the glass, but I do want to know something. “I am Havilah,” I say. “And I am Semjaza the Nephilim,” he replies. It is an unusual name. I have never heard it before. And I have heard of no tribe with the name Nephil. I turn my head slightly and see Qayin pushing his way past Naamah to hurry over to the counter. Semjaza speaks before Qayin has a chance. “I have come for the ring.” Semjaza's tone is sharp and commanding. I have to hide my amusement at seeing my proud cousin slightly bow to this stranger. “It is finished,” says Qayin. “It is the reason I came today.” Tubal-Cain comes out of his small workroom, wiping his 21


hands on his apron. He greets Semjaza like he would any customer. Meanwhile, Qayin is backing toward the workroom, still bowing slightly. I have never seen anything like it. Even the elders of the city do not get this kind of deference. Then he disappears behind the curtain, reappearing with the ring. He holds it out for Semjaza's approval. Semjaza takes it from him and examines it. “Very good,” he says, finally. Again, he uses the word good in a way that implies that the goodness is in the ring itself. When someone tells Tubal-Cain his work is good, there is always the implication that it is because of the favour of God. I wonder what it is that Semjaza knows. If he speaks of moon rocks and veins to the heart, why does he also imply that goodness exists apart from the creator? Then it occurs to me . . . Hawwa's tree! Good and evil do exist apart from the creator! But we children of Cain have always huddled around the good, using it in our language, as a buffer . . . from the evil. I look more carefully at Semjaza. The way he speaks tells me that if he can look at good and isolate it, then he can also look at evil and isolate it. Such a thing suggests that the man has no fear. Is this what the sons of Seth believe? It is awesome to comprehend, for it means that God is not found in the good or the evil. He is found somewhere else. Now the ring must be paid for. Will there be more moon rocks? No. Now Semjaza has what most people use. The bronze coins that come from the same copper that my brother TubalCain works with. The price for the ring is high. I try not to let my eyes widen as Semjaza puts down the coins. Qayin looks positively greedy. I believe this is his first sale. “May the ring be a blessing to you,” says Tubal-Cain, respectfully, as Semjaza puts the ring into his pouch. “It will be beneficial for me . . . and for my lady.” With a glance at me, he takes a few strides and is out the door. My legs are hardly able to hold me up and I must grasp the counter for support. But Qayin is too busy counting the coins again for anyone to notice. 22

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Dear Naamah! I look at my sister. While Semjaza goes off with the ring that she thought had been intended for her, Qayin looks to the coins with the love she would like him to have for her! I must talk to Tubal-Cain about finding her a husband. A good man. Tubal-Cain and Qayin disappear back into the room. All the coins are now in Qayin's pocket. I will be curious to see which lady of Enoch wears the necklace that is my brother's payment. Naamah and I are not fit to work. A physician would, no doubt, advise us both to lie down, but although there is a beautiful iron bed-frame in one corner of the shop, there is not even a place for Naamah and I to sit. The reason is, Tubal-Cain says he cannot stand the sight of the shopkeepers who sit on stools all day, eating sunflower seeds and spitting them out, while they call out to the customers. But we do have the second floor. I tell Naamah to go upstairs and rest. The room is filled with surplus stock, but there are also trunks of old clothing – TubalCain's wife's cast-offs that are being saved for their daughters. One could make oneself comfortable. Wearily, Naamah nods. Is it possible that love could make a woman sick? I watch my sister goes up the narrow stairway. Is this what Hawwa felt for Father Adam? Our own Father Cain has a wife, his sister Awan, who came with him to this Land of Wandering. Did she follow him because she was sick with love for him as my sister is for Qayin? Would I follow Semjaza to an unknown land, leaving behind my parents and the presence of Yah? There will be no further thought for me this day. Naamah does not relieve me in the shop and the rest of the afternoon is spent taking care of customers. Tent-dwellers come and go. The city people do not bother visiting the shops when the tentdwellers come, preferring to come another day of the week when it is not so crowded. But they mill out in the market square, examining the produce and the animal skins. Tubal-Cain's wife will be among them, selecting a week's supply of beans, grains, potatoes, aubergines, tomatoes, and whatever else the tillers of the soil have brought in today. It will be fresh vegetables and bread for dinner tonight. Tubal-Cain is still working in the small room when I am finally 23


able to bring down the awnings that protect our glass windows and lock the front door. I tiptoe up the stairs to check on Naamah and find her sleeping on one of our brother's wife's old animal skins. I go back down and tell Tubal-Cain that tonight I will go and visit our mother. He nods as he works. “I would go with you if I were not so busy,” he says. “The streets are not always safe.” I shrug. “It has always been that way.” Tubal-Cain shakes his head. “You are younger,” he says. “But I remember a time when no one ever had to fear the streets at night.” The only reason I know that it is true is because of our father. Had he killed a man today, it would not seem so shocking. “I will be careful,” I promise. “I would feel better if you had an escort,” says Tubal-Cain, looking up from the ring he is working on. “Or if you waited until I could accompany you. Is it important that you speak with our mother tonight?” I hesitate. I think our mother would understand that Naamah needs a husband and I am hoping that she would advise me how I can help her. At the same time, I would like to ask her if she has ever met a son of Seth. Tubal-Cain is torn. He has the gold to work on but it is an honourable activity to visit our mother and I know it has been much longer since he has seen her than I have. “I will go soon,” he says. “Then we will go together.” His eyes return to his work. “I will not be there for the evening meal,” he adds. Lovely. It will be me who has to convey this to his wife who will act like slicing some tomatoes was a big accomplishment and that it is somehow my fault that her husband has too much work. I sigh and go back into the main shop, now darkened by awnings covering the glass. It is just as dark outside when I step out into the cool night air for the short walk to the apartment. The market is now quiet. There are only a few tent-dwellers left in the city, mostly young men who are heading for the taverns with their day's earnings. When a male voice startles me, my first fear is that a tent24

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dweller is about to accost me. But it is Semjaza. He grabs my arm as I nearly fall into him. And then his arm is around my waist, supporting me. “Careful,” he repeats. “Thank you,” I manage to say. “It is my duty,” is his correct reply. “Where are you heading in this darkness?” “Only to the next door,” I say. “Would you like an escort?” he asks and I can see his smile by the fading sun. I manage to straighten up and even to laugh. “No,” I say. “I think I can make it on my own.” Despite this, I am escorted to the front of the green door that will open to the stairs going up to the small apartment I share with Naamah. Of course, first I will have to stop on the main floor to let Tubal-Cain's wife know that it will just be me for the evening meal. “Would you perhaps care to join me tonight?” Semjaza asks. For the moment, I do not know what to say. Then I am indignant. “I am not a woman who frequents taverns,” I say. Semjaza laughs. “I would not take you to a tavern, my lady.” My lady. “Instead,” he continues, “I would take you to the stars.” “With a stop along the way for some more moon rocks,” I say drily, trying to sound calm despite my beating heart. He laughs and takes me hand, to wrap it around his arm. I hesitate slightly. Would Tubal-Cain approve? And then I tell myself, Tubal-Cain is only concerned about my safety. He wanted me to have an escort and now I do. No man would dare accost me with Semjaza at my side. But the small thought at the back of my mind is, who will protect me from Semjaza?

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“We call it Neptune,” Semjaza is saying. “It is a planet of oceans.” He is looking thoughtfully at the sky. “There is a storm there right now.” How does he know? I can just barely see the blue dot he calls Neptune. And who calls it Neptune? The sons of Seth? Semjaza speaks of the planets as if he has visited each one and is familiar with all of their contours. There were the gas planets, two of them, both larger, he assures me, than I could ever imagine, though they may look small in our night sky. It is only because they are so far away. One of them has rings around it, the other has moons. “And does each star have a name?” Semjaza hesitates. “Yes,” he says abruptly. “But I do not know them all.” He points to a strip of light in the sky. “Galaksya,” he says. “It contains more stars and planets than you can imagine.” I look where he is pointing. “How do you know any of this?” I ask. “My father is as a star in heaven,” he answers absently. 27


His arm around my waist, he points out something else in the night sky. It is the closest star to our earth, he informs me. The tent-dwellers are knowledgable about the stars. Did Semjaza grow up among them? The men from Enoch who study the stars often live for a time with the tent-dwellers, usually for the time it takes earth to go around our own star. The matter of the ring in his pouch also occupies my mind. And then a thought occurs to me. Semjaza is so knowledgable. Perhaps he can offer me some advice. “May I impose upon you?” I ask. It is the way of indicating that I might be overstepping the boundaries of politeness. If the answer is, yes, I will be forgiven for any breach of propriety. “Yes, my lady,” says Semjaza, taking both my hands in his and giving me his full attention. I take a deep breath. I feel weak again and have to remind myself what it is that I was about to ask him. “It is Qayin,” I manage to say. “Ah, yes, Qayin,” says Semjaza, nodding. “He is your cousin.” I nod. I cannot dishonour my family so I have to be cautious with my words. “My sister, Naamah,” I say quickly. “Longs to have Qayin for her husband. The ring you carry, she believed to be his gift to her, along with a pledge of marriage.” “She is heartbroken now,” says Semjaza, understanding. “Yes,” I say. “But I fear her heart would break many times again if she were to be his wife.” Semjaza nods. “It is the way of the sons and daughters of men,” he says. “It is the curse.” I am stunned by the reply. Because I cannot argue its truth. The manuscript in the trunk! How could I have forgotten! Hawwa ate the fruit that brought the knowledge of good and evil to all her children. But Yah was angry. He punished both our Father Adam and Hawwa. But who knows these things? “What can I do for her?” I ask. He is still holding my hands. “There is nothing you can do for her,” he says. “But there need be no curse for you.” I nod. 28

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“If I do not marry . . . ” He shakes his head. “You mistake my meaning. There are other ways.” “Other ways?” I ask, bewildered. “The sons of men bring sorrow to their sisters,” he says. “Why should you desire them?” “Who is there, but the sons of men?” I say. Semjaza is silent for a moment. There is only the light of the moon to see him by, his hair dark and wavy, his eyes the colour of burnished bronze. “The sons of God.” The way Semjaza says it, I begin to tremble. “What do you mean?” I ask. “The sons of God,” he repeats. “And the daughters of men. No curse. No sorrow.” I do not know what to say. Is it possible? A son of God? Our Father Adam was a son of God, made of dust. But now we are all children of Adam. “Where do you come from, Semjaza?” I ask. “I come from the stars,” he says simply. And for the moment, I believe him. Semjaza talks to Lamech, to arrange the marriage. I have never been close to my father and of course, my father is known to be a murderer. But Semjaza is clearly the stronger of the two. If he requests my father's permission, it is only a formality. Semjaza is more than confident enough to simply tell my father that he has chosen me. In any case, Lamech announces both his permission and his blessing. Naamah's envy is palatable. It seems particularly poignant now that the ring is on my finger. Tubal-Cain is surprised and a little bit awed, I think, at the prospect of such a brother-in-law. It fills me with a terrible fear. The fear comes from knowing that I am not good enough. Semjaza is far superior to any other man in Enoch, and yet, he chose me. How long will this fancy last, I wonder? It is true, I would always be the first wife, but it does not bring me comfort to think that he could very well decide to take others. It is approved only if a man can afford it, 29


but a man who has moon rocks is sure to be able to afford it. I leave it to my father to find out all the details about my future husband. Where is he from? Where will we live after we are married? There is no reason why I should not ask these questions myself. Tubal-Cain's wife is scornful of me for knowing nothing about Semjaza. She did not marry my brother without making sure she knew all she needed to about him. Tubal-Cain even had to agree that he would only take one wife. Already, all of Enoch is talking about the upcoming marriage. My brother, Jubal, is planning the music. There will be an ensemble of flutes and harps and instruments unlike that of anything the city has ever seen. There is something about Semjaza that makes everyone think that he must be an important chief, wherever he comes from. They talk about how unworthy I am of this great honour, but it is with envy. The general assumption is that I will be the most honoured lady in some distant settlement. But Semjaza could be a wanderer, for all I know. Tubal-Cain and I make a belated visit to our mother, Zillah. It is partly to discuss the upcoming marriage ceremony with her. As mother of the bride, she will have an honoured position in the day's festivities. Tubal-Cain greets our mother solemnly, slightly abashed at how long it has been since his last visit. I have no such guilt and greet her with the usual kiss on both cheeks. We sit down in her small sitting room. The townhouse is mercifully quiet with Adah visiting Jabal and our father out doing his business. “Our Havilah has made a fine match,” says Tubal-Cain. Our mother, a slim dark-haired woman with fine features, dressed in a long blue house robe made of soft wool, nods. “Your father has told me. He has said there is no man like Semjaza.” I nod. “He tells me that you will be living in Enoch,” continues our mother. “And that his brothers will come and join him.” His brothers! Tubal-Cain and I look at one another. “That should liven things up for the ladies of Enoch,” says Tubal-Cain. “Does he have sisters too?” It is a mischievous question, but our mother takes it seriously. “No, only brothers.” 30

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“And what does his father do?” Tubal-Cain asks. “I am guessing it may have something to do with gem stones or a mine.” Our mother shakes her head. “He says that his father is a leader and that his sons are his obedient servants.” “Hmm,” says Tubal-Cain. It is cute to hear Tubal-Cain talk this way. It is a sound he used to make as a child when he was pondering something. “After Havilah,” he says. “You will have the most honoured position at the feast.” At every wedding, the mother of the bride is treated with great reverence. She is a symbol of our mother, Hawwa, who as everyone knows, is the Mother of All Living. Our mother nods, but she looks serious. “What is it, Mother?” I ask. She looks down at her hands. “Is it Semjaza?” I lean forward, taking one of her hands. “Are you concerned? Do you think he is not a good man?” She shakes her head. “I have not met him. I have only seen him from a distance.” “He is a good man,” my brother reassures her. Of course, he does not know if this is true, or not. But our mother is not behaving as if there is something to celebrate. “Perhaps,” says our mother. “Mother,” I say. “Do you think I should not marry? Do you think I should remain as I am . . . ?” She shakes her head. “It is your right to marry. It is your decision. But the place of honour is not mine.” Tubal-Cain and I stare at her. “Mother!” says Tubal-Cain. “What on this earth are you talking about?” “The honour is not mine,” she repeats. “Mother!” I say. This is about all I can manage. My mother seems to have lost her senses. “I always knew this day would come,” she says, more to herself, than to us. “Mother, if you mean that . . .” Whatever it is I am going to say, she shakes her head. “Lamech will never tell you. And if you had chosen to never 31


marry, I would never have told you. But the marriage ceremony is the only ritual before Yah and I cannot lie to everyone.” It is true. A marriage ceremony is a commemoration of the day Yah presented Hawwa to Adam. “But what is there to lie about, Mother?” says Tubal-Cain, bewildered. “About Havilah,” she says. “What about Havilah?” he says. “No.” She thinks again. “It is not about Havilah. It is about me.” Tubal-Cain and I do not know what to say. “It is about me,” she says again. “The place of honour is not mine.” We wait and when she does not speak, Tubal-Cain asks, “Why Mother?” “Because Havilah is not my daughter,” she says simply, her eyes on the wall. My eyes are wide. Zillah is the only mother I know. How can she speak this way? “Mother!” says Tubal-Cain, shocked. “It is true.” She looks at him. “And you should know it. You were old enough to know it.” I am sitting very still. Not my mother! But then, that means Naamah is not my sister and Tubal-Cain is not my brother! Tubal-Cain is now sitting, also still and silent. I turn to him, though I speak to my mother. “What do you mean? Why should he know?” “Because he was old enough,” she repeats. “He was already a fine craftsman when you became my daughter.” “How did I become your daughter?” “Your father was a stranger,” says Zillah. “My father is not Lamech?” Zillah shakes her head. “No.” There is a long pause and then finally she says, “Lamech killed your father.” This revelation is like a thunderbolt suddenly striking in the sitting room. And still, Tubal-Cain is silent. I have to sit for a minute before I can say anything. And when I speak, it is slowly. 32

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“I am the daughter of the man who was killed by our father?” I turn to Tubal-Cain. He nods slightly. “The man came to me. He wanted a trunk. He said he had some manuscripts that needed to be kept safe from the elements.” The trunk in the storage room! “I was young and my father was the one who told the customers how much they were to pay for my work. You see, I did not have the store then. I worked from here.” “But . . .” I do not know what to ask. “There was an agreed price,” continues Lamech. “It was the first trunk I made. It was beautiful. I did not care what the agreed price was. I simply wanted to make something that would last, something of beauty.” I nod. The trunk in the second-floor storage room is both strong and a work of art. “But when our father saw it, he said we would charge more for it.” My eyes widen. “But the stranger only had the amount of money that was agreed upon. My father said that I had put so many hours into the trunk that it would be an insult to accept the price agreed upon. My only part in it all was to make the trunk and all I knew was that the stranger never purchased it. My father gave me a robe and a manuscript to put in there and to be honest, I have not thought of it since. I think I might still have the trunk somewhere.” Zillah looks at me. With great difficulty, she continues the story. “The man had a small child with him. You.” I stare. “We do not know why. There was no wife. It is possible she died bringing you into the world.” I sit, stunned. The robe in the trunk belongs to my true father. The manuscript in the trunk is the story of my people. And the manuscript tells me that sorrow with childbirth was part of the curse. “I do not know everything,” Zillah continues. “Only that Lamech stood firm and would not accept anything less than his 33


price. I think he suggested that the man give you as part of the payment.” My eyes widen at the horror. “The man refused and said that where he came from, an agreement was a matter of honour. That is all I know. Lamech came home that day and boasted that he had killed a young man, a young man who had wounded him. Our Father Cain was avenged sevenfold and he seventy-fold.” I feel a distress I have never known. An ache for someone I have never met. My dead father. Who probably wounded Lamech in an effort to keep me from becoming a slave. “He brought you home that day,” says Zillah. “I had recently had Naamah so Lamech gave you to Adah. But Adah said she would not raise a stranger's whelp. I took you.” She leans forward to grasp my hand. “I loved you, Havilah. You must never doubt that. I loved my two little girls. Tubal-Cain was gone and I loved you both.” Now the woman I thought had been my mother is weeping into her hands. “But you must have known,” I say, turning to Tubal-Cain. He shrugs. “I was not certain. I left this home the day my father killed that man. I started my own shop and handled my own business transactions.” No wonder Tubal-Cain is so indifferent at times to the amount of money his craftsmanship generates. His first work led to a death . . . the death of my father. “I never saw you until I came back to visit my mother's house,” Tubal-Cain continues. “Whatever doubts I had, I told myself that my mother had hidden her pregnancy well and that you were her true daughter.” But this explains his kindness toward me. Tubal-Cain has been more of a father to me then Lamech. He always knew, no matter what he told himself. “This does not need to change anything, Havilah,” says TubalCain. We are back out in the dark street, having comforted our mother as best we could. She will always be my mother. I know no other. I told her this and she held me close before we left. The wedding was not discussed any further. 34

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“It changes everything, brother,” I say, turning to him. “That trunk. I have seen it. I have looked through it. I must find out who the people were who recorded the history in that manuscript.” “But Semjaza will still love you no matter who you are,” says Tubal-Cain. I think about this as we walk and a disturbing thought occurs to me. My sister, Naamah, is far more beautiful than me. The family I grew up in is one of handsome men and lovely women. But Semjaza did not choose Naamah, he chose me. Perhaps he knew something not known by the rest of Enoch. Perhaps he knew who my real father was. It is silly and I do not feel like sharing the idea with TubalCain. He will dismiss it as a result of the shock of learning that I am not who I thought I was. But it is a thought I cannot make go away. And it means that before I marry, I must find out who I am. The first thing I must do is talk to Semjaza. No. The thought stops me. I actually stop walking. It is unexplainable. But I cannot discuss this with Semjaza. The place to begin is the trunk. Tubal-Cain has continued walking and now turns to see me standing on the stone walk. He steps back, takes my arm and wraps it around his. “Come sister,” he says. “There is much to do.” I understand his feelings. He wants me to marry and to marry well. Semjaza is taller and stronger than any man in Enoch. When I am his wife, I will be safe and protected and all will be equal for the injustice of losing a father. But I will not take a husband until I know who that father was.

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Naamah does not know that I am not her true sister and I leave that for our mother to tell her. Tubal-Cain and I carry on as usual. I beg Naamah for some time alone and assuming that I have wedding preparations, she graciously agrees to take the store for the entire afternoon. But instead of going out, I go up to the second floor and to the trunk. The manuscript, I have already memorized. But now I read it with new eyes. There is a brief genealogy. Previously, the names were strangers to me. But now I think these strangers may be my father and his father's fathers. It starts with Seth, the son Yah gave to Adam and Hawwa to replace Abel. Seth was one hundred and five when he fathered Enosh. Enosh was ninety years old when he fathered Cainan. Cainan was seventy years old when he fathered Mahalalel. Mahalalel was sixty-five years old when he fathered Jared. That is where it has stopped. There are references to other sons and daughters. The settlements of Seth would be well-populated. I turn my attention to the tunic and the robe. Both are well37


worn but were originally carefully-crafted to endure. Most people in Enoch are fastidious about their appearance, but this ensemble suggests either a life of hard work or a long journey or an indifference to outward appearance. Maybe all three. If only there was a map, or some indicator of where my father came from. But at least it is possible that I may have the names of some of my fathers. The contents of the trunk have given me a sense of direction, a sense of belonging to another community. This manuscript was entrusted to my father to preserve and I, his daughter, still have it. I must return it to the community that it originated from. Carefully, I pack everything back into the trunk and then ponder my next step. A daring plan enters my mind. I will make a journey to the Mother of all Living! Hawwa will know the names in this manuscript. And it is possible that the descendants of Seth continue to live in the presence of Yah! The thought is too wonderful for me to think of. Right now, I have to focus on the journey itself. Would Semjaza be willing to join me? If I tell him only that I must make a holy pilgrimage to Hawwa to ask her to bless me with fertility, he will not be able to refuse! Many women go to Awan, wife of Father Cain, before their wedding to ask her to bless them with many children, but surely, for someone as magnificent in stature as Semjaza, I should go to Hawwa herself to seek favour. Semjaza is adamant. I will not set out on any journey before our wedding day. He has come to Enoch, his brothers are to join us shortly and so in Enoch he will stay. And I will stay with him. His tone is firm, though I think I may detect a hint of threat in it. But this is no surprise. I am pledged to him in marriage – the contract made between my father and my future husband. And thus, it is already as if I am his wife. The only delay is because a wedding must be arranged. Except that Lamech is not my true father and therefore has no right to arrange a marriage on my behalf. Zillah has more scruples, refusing to have a place of honour at the wedding ceremony. But the fact that Lamech is not my true father gives me a sense of comfort. The contract is not binding should I 38

Chapter Five

choose to reveal that I know who I am. But for now, I will leave things as they are. Lamech is planning the wedding. A social outcast for all these years, he is now the centre of attention. His daughter is marrying a man who all can see will be a prominent man in the city. The fact that his brothers are coming to join him does not diminish his importance. It only enhances it. All are eager to have a place at my wedding so as to ingratiate themselves with Semjaza. Anyone with daughters is hoping that there will be enough brothers to go around. So Lamech is all consumed with planning the wedding of the century. Interestingly, he does not notice my mother's lack of involvement. It is Adah who is by his side, going from shop to shop to make special purchases. They invite me over one night to discuss the menu, to see if I have any opinions. I do not. But Tubal-Cain's wife, who insisted on coming along, does. Zillah and I smile sympathetically at one another while she and Adah have an in-depth discussion about the amount of figs we will need and whether it is too commonplace to include dark-leafed field greens in the salad. Lamech is sure of one thing. There will be an abundance of wine. He has already commissioned a vineyard outside of the city to provide all we will need. “It would help if we knew how many people we were going to have at the feast,” says Adah, slyly, looking at me. She is seeking information. She knows the whole city will be attending. What she wants to know is whether Semjaza's brothers will be attending. And how many brothers does he have? Then she will be the first one to be able to announce it to everyone when she does her tour of the market shops tomorrow. I smile and am prevented from answering by Lamech. “There will be enough for all,” he says. The talk turns to the decorations and what flowers are in season. I watch Lamech - the man who I thought was my father, who I now know murdered my true father. Hatred should consume me, but Tubal-Cain has made atonement and been as good a father to me as my own would have been. But it does not diminish my desire to find my true family. From the way Adah and Tubal-Cain's wife talk, I am the most 39


favoured woman in Enoch. Semjaza is the most desirable man and they clearly cannot understand why he chose me, of all people. I wonder the same thing. And that is why I do not believe this wedding will happen. I am not enough for Semjaza, and I know it. There are many proud women in Enoch who would feel worthy of his attention. I do not. And I fear whatever pleasure I would have with Semjaza would be equalled in sorrow at some point in the future. The desire that Adah and Tubal-Cain's wife think I should have toward Semjaza, I have instead to find my true family. But if the streets of Enoch are dangerous for a solitary woman, what about the lonely roads and fields of the Other People? It is not a journey I want to take alone, but there is not a single person I can think of who will share it with me. “Hello cousin!” Qayin greets me with more enthusiasm than he has ever shown me up until now. I am in Tubal-Cain's shop today, but not as an employee. Semjaza will not permit me to work anymore. But Tubal-Cain has invited me to choose my wedding present and insists that I take whatever I want with no thought of cost. “Hello cousin,” I say, greeting him with no enthusiasm. “My brother is in the courtyard.” “It is not Tubal-Cain I came to see.” This is different. I glance at Naamah who is behind the counter and listening to every word. I see hope on her face. “I came to speak to you.” I do not dare look at Naamah. “I am honoured,” I say automatically. The words are hollow. There is a silence that I do not bother to fill. Qayin is trying to put his words together. “Your love,” he says awkwardly. My eyebrows go up. “Semjaza,” he explains. “Oh,” I say. “I am interested in what he does.” I was staring at a display of bronze platters but now I move to the display case of knives. These are the knives that Semjaza looked at. 40

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“I am not sure,” I say. “Lamech might.” Both Qayin and Naamah look at me strangely. It is the first time I have called Lamech by his name, rather than referring to him as my father. I must be careful. I will not tell this story. It is the choice of my mother, Zillah, whether or not she wants Enoch to know. “But surely he has plans,” Qayin continues. “He must,” I agree. Absentmindedly, my eyes wander over the knives. “And perhaps he would like someone to help him,” says Qayin. “Someone who knows the people of the city.” “Perhaps,” I say. I have just had an idea. “Then you would be willing for me to work with him?” “I suppose,” I say, my eyes still on the knives. A knife! That is what I need! Qayin is exuberant. “I will tell him I have your blessing!” says Qayin. “Thank you, cousin! Thank you!” I understand why he wanted to talk to me. If Qayin has my permission, he can approach Semjaza and say it is my desire that they be partners. It is the obligation of family. Well, I will leave that to Semjaza. For now, I must pick out the right knife. It does not have to be ornamental, only something that I can handle. So it cannot be too heavy. It will be necessary if I have to travel alone. With it, I can defend myself. Qayin is already gone. And I can barely look at Naamah, but I must. For the moment, I turn away from the display of knives. “Dear sister,” I begin. But Naamah is in tears. Helpless to comfort her, I tell her to go lie down, that I will watch the shop. When Tubal-Cain comes in from the courtyard and finds me behind the counter, he indignantly berates me. Semjaza will not be pleased if any of the citizens of Enoch inform that his soonto-be wife was playing the common shopkeeper. But I explain to Tubal-Cain that our sister is in too much turmoil to be in the shop today. He sighs and sits down on a newly-made ornate iron bench up against one wall. “It is your wedding that inspires these thoughts in her,” he says. I do not bother to enlighten him. Naamah has had her mind 41


on Qayin long before Semjaza appeared in Enoch. “You must do something, brother,” I say. “Speak to our father. Lamech should arrange a marriage for her. It is only right. She is older . . . ” I stop. Naamah is not older than me. Zillah had only just given birth to Naamah when I came into the family. But that is known only to me and Tubal-Cain. To everyone else, Naamah was born first. Tubal-Cain nods. “It is time I made my daughters work in the shop. You must have your own families.” “Perhaps our cousin Qayin would make a good husband . . . ” The sound that comes out of Tubal-Cain reminds me of one of the few times we went to visit Jabal among his tents and livestock. One of his sheep was in labour. The peculiar exhalation the ewe made that day is much like the sound my brother now makes. “I will think of a suitable husband,” says Tubal-Cain. I sigh. This will not satisfy Naamah and will only make the longing worse. “Qayin is family,” I say, trying again. “If Naamah finds him attractive, perhaps he would be a suitable husband.” “There are many ways a man can be attractive,” says TubalCain, standing up. “Our cousin is attractive in appearance.” He exits out the back door to return to the courtyard. The implication is obvious. Qayin is only attractive in outward appearance. He will not be Naamah's husband. The apartment I share with my sister is quiet when I return in the evening. She is still resting in her room. Why does she make herself suffer like this? I could share a meal with Tubal-Cain and his family, but I am too nervous to eat. The knife is mine. I told Tubal-Cain as I was closing up the shop that I had selected my present and he absently wished me many blessings before hurrying upstairs to his wife and children. His wife has not been pleased with his long hours of work. I go over to the glass that hangs on the wall and look at myself in the mirror. My hand runs over my smooth face. It is not unusual for young men to have smooth faces. It has crossed 42

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my mind that perhaps I should cut my hair and leave Enoch as a young man, wearing the tunic and robe of my father. I do not know what life is like beyond the city, only that life in the city is not always safe for women. Is it the same among the Other People? But I hesitate to do it. My long golden brown hair is one of the few features admired by people, though Adah says I look like I sprinkle it with sawdust. I sigh and decide to simply hide my hair under the robe. Perhaps my greatest concern should not be the Other People, but Semjaza, when it is discovered that I am gone. I will not be able to carry the trunk with me, which is unfortunate. It is the reason my father came to Enoch and it has been the reason the manuscript is so well-preserved. The animal skins will have to do. Tomorrow is market day and it is the best day for me to go. People will be milling in the gates and no one will notice one extra person leaving the city. The thought fills me with sick excitement. I am terrified to go, but now that I know the manuscript belonged to my father, I cannot stay. I cannot stay and wonder for hundreds of years who my father was. If I face the wrath of Semjaza for going on this journey, so be it. But I know one thing. It would be far harder to try to leave once I am the wife in his home. For now, I must sleep.

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It is hard to leave without saying goodbye to Naamah or Tubal-Cain or to Zillah, our mother. But it would not be wise. When I know that Naamah is in the shop, I carefully make my way down the stairs, past the door that leads to Tubal-Cain's apartment and out onto the street. The marketplace is filling up with sellers of produce. I hope that in the tunic and robe of my father, my hair pulled back and under my garments, that nobody will recognize me as the girl from the coppersmith's shop. I carry two small sacks. One is for the manuscript. The other is for my supplies. I have a change of clothes, one that is more fitting for a lady. Also, some coins and other small metal items to trade along the way. First I must buy some food. I stop in front of a blanket that is piled with loaves of bread. Two are purchased and put in my sack. Then I stop for some dried beans and finally, some dried fruit. Though most people are coming into the city, the streets are so crowded with traders and city people out to buy from them, that I am not noticed when I exit through the large iron gates. It 45


is my moment of doubt. The iron gates where crafted by TubalCain and his men in the courtyard. I remember when they made them. They worked on them for one whole moon cycle. It is not too late for me to turn back. I have a handsome husband to marry. A beloved sister and brother. I hesitate. There would be no repercussions if I returned to my apartment now. I could simply sit there until my wedding day and then live a life of comfort. No. I take a deep breath. I will keep going. It is fallacious to think that I will have a life of comfort with Semjaza. And I will never be satisfied as long as I do not know who my father is. The roads outside of the city are slightly quieter but I encounter so many travellers on the road that I do not have a sense of having left Enoch behind. I am now passing the golden wheat fields. In the distance, I can see barley. The farmers stay close to the city and build their homes with a mud brick that is a rougher version of the bricks we use in Enoch. Close to the copper mines, are the furnaces for the bricks. I have visited neither, but Tubal-Cain makes an annual journey to the mines and tells us it is a different world. A far less refined world than the comforts of the city. I have only ever gone as far as Jabal's tents and then I was always with Tubal-Cain or other people in our family. Jabal's tents are well out of sight of the city, but I do not plan to pass by them. It would be unlikely that I could pass by unrecognized. So when I see the tents in the distance, I turn off in to the forest that lines one side of the road. The forest is dense. It is not easy to walk in it. And it is common knowledge that there are animals in the forest and some of them have even been known to lunge at a man. But I comfort myself by recalling that the manuscript told of a time when our Father Adam named all the animals and they lived in peace in the Garden. It would be a greater comfort to me to know that I am in the presence of Yah, who talked with our Father Adam in the garden. Our Father Cain went out from his presence and I wonder at what point I will return to it. 46

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That thought becomes my hope as I push through the brush of the forest. Somewhere, there is Yah. I keep telling myself, whatever hardship I face will be worth returning to his presence. And all the time, I am aware that my journey has slowed to a crawl and it increases the likelihood that Semjaza and perhaps even my family, will soon be on the road parallel to me, looking for me. Jabal's tents are along a stream and I long to drink from it. But I would be seen. The women are out washing clothing and the green grass surrounding my half-brother's encampment is filled with playing children who know me as Aunt Havilah. I can only hope that there are other tributaries of the Tigris up ahead. The sun is high in the sky when I finally am able to return to the road. I do not even know where this road leads. The forest offered shade, but I am sure my hair must be full of twigs and other debris. I remove the robe now that the sun is full strength. My thirst has increased. There are no travellers on the road, but in some of the fields that have been cleared, I see other people who live as Jabal, with their tents and livestock. My difficulty now, in addition to being thirsty, is that I have no idea where to go. Where do Hawwa and Father Adam live? I have no idea. But this is the only road to travel on. Which is not necessarily good for me if anyone is following me. My route will be obvious. As the sun starts to move down, I am able to determine that I am walking west. I am encouraged by this. According to the manuscript, our Father Cain traveled east when he came to the Land of Wandering. But for how long did he walk? Cain and his wife have the most beautiful apartment in Enoch, although it is their son, Enoch, who is the leading citizen. They are a legendary family, being the parents of all of us. Lamech is Cain's great-great-great grandson but I have never actually met the patriarch of our city. He sits in the gate with the other elders of the city and they talk. I do not know what they speak about, though surely he has told them about his trek to the Land of Wandering. I have met his wife, Awan, the eldest daughter of Father Adam and Hawwa, but she is quiet about her journey. As dusk descends on the land, the encampments dwindle and I am left with only the stars. At least, I hope I am left alone with 47


the stars. The thought of animals in the forest makes me nervous. Though small animals ran through our brother Jabal's tents, I was never one to make friends with them. The stars fill the sky and the half-moon provides enough light for me to continue walking. I must continue walking until I come to some water. Mercifully, at last, I come upon a small stream. When I am refreshed, I can finally rest. I must take to the forest though. If anyone is following me, they will easily find me on the road. It would be near impossible for anyone to search through all the woods. I do not venture too far in and choose a small patch. The temperature is slightly cooler now, so I wrap the robe around me and try to get comfortable. It is certainly not my bed back in the apartment, but then, I have never been this weary. Before I have time to wonder what Naamah and Tubal-Cain are doing right now, I am asleep. Rustling in the leaves wakes me up. I clutch the robe around me tighter and wish that I had someone with me. Anyone. The bush is definitely moving. The only merciful factor is that the bush is small so whatever is in there must also be small. But Jabal once told us that some of the most vicious animals he encountered were small. I do not even have time to find a stick before the creature pushes its head out of the leaves. It is a tiny behemoth. I have never seen such a thing. By it's very name, a behemoth is a large creature, a giant lizard. Sometimes they are called dragons. I would never want to meet such a creature. Some of them are as tall as a three-story townhouse. Whenever one comes to threaten Enoch, all the young men must go out with TubalCain's knives and arrows and kill it, lest it ravage the town. Around the campfire, Jabal tells us frightening stories of when he and his men have to go out with their sharpened spears and confront one of these beasts. But this one is a baby. Nervously, I look around. Where is his mother? The creature seems friendly enough. He cautiously moves into the clearing. I think he might be hungry. Hastily, I pull one of the loaves of bread from my sack and break off a piece. I toss it over 48

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to the creature. He takes a few steps forward, sniffs it and then gobbles it down. I laugh. He is a cute little guy. Hopefully he is a plant-eater and not a meat-eater. We share the loaf of bread, though he is not impressed with the dried beans. Then we both venture out of the forest for a drink at the stream. I do not know where our friendship will go from here, but the little guy trots along beside me as I continue down the road. “I guess I had better call you Behemoth,” I say. “If Father Adam thought that was a good name for you, then I do too.” His reply is to bark. It's squeaky and sounds as though he is agreeing with me. As we walk along, I decide I like having the company. But then he starts barking, a more serious yap. I remember one of Jabal's wolves growling when we approached his encampment. Which can only mean one thing. Someone is either behind us or ahead of us. But there is no one behind us. Which can only mean someone is approaching us. There is a bend in the road and so I cannot see anyone yet. I do not want to meet anyone who might pass it along that they encountered a lone woman on the only road that leads out of Enoch. Quickly, I duck into the forest. Behemoth does not know what to do for the moment. He bounces along between the road and the forest. I decide that this does not matter so long as I can conceal myself. I have barely hidden behind a dense bush when I hear voices. Male voices. All male voices. I am glad I am unseen as they approach. They are talking and they sound high-spirited. Cautiously, I peek through the leaves. Behemoth is still hovering around the edges of the forest. But this tribe of men barely give him a glance. I can see why. They are not the type to be intimidated by a Behemoth of any size. They are all a head taller than any man I have ever met, except for Semjaza. Semjaza's brothers! I realize this as they pass by. But there are so many! How could one woman be mother of them all! Even Hawwa did not bear this many sons. Edgy, I wait until they all pass. My estimation is that there must be two hundred of them. Is Enoch prepared for this onslaught? Certainly, no ordinary son of Cain will be able to oppose them. I hope, for the sake of my brother and sister that 49


the brothers of Semjaza come in peace. When they have all passed, I wait a bit longer to make sure they will be out of sight when I return to the road. Behemoth has loyally waited for me and we resume our walking. What land lies beyond the Land of Wandering? Will all the men be like Semjaza's brothers? Why have I never taken the time to talk to the people who have gone beyond the city of Cain? This journey would be less fearful if I had taken the opportunity to talk to a trader when he came into the shop. The road ahead is not lined with forest, but has hills on either side. It would be a lot harder to have to hide behind a hill. I would certainly be seen in the distance running up it. There are sheep which suggests that people live somewhere among these hills. This road would not be here if there were not some settlements along it. Behemoth takes an interest in the sheep, but not in a carnivorous kind of way. He barks and even dashes in circles around one of them. We pass through the valley leaving behind some disconcerted sheep. Behemoth turns out to be an excellent scout. When there is no river, he finds ponds for us to drink from. When my food runs out, he rustles around in the forest and finds some berries for us. But I am still concerned. The hills are past. The road has trickled into nothing more than a path in the woods, and at times, I even wonder if the path is only in my imagination. We have left behind the sons of Cain. Now we are on the only path between the Land of Wandering and the rest of the earth. The trees almost obscure my view of the sun, but I think we are still traveling west. It is important that I keep moving. I have seen no people, but there have definitely been animal noises in the forest. Behemoth sends them running with a sharp bark. I wonder what happened to his mother? I imagine Jabal would have a story to tell. Behemoth's mother probably disturbed his encampment. I have almost lost track of time and have to think carefully. Have I spent three or four nights in the forest? Behemoth finds some mushrooms for us on what I think is Day Four. But I feel weary from continually moving without enough nourishment. 50

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I long for the juices Tubal-Cain's wife prepared back in Enoch, though at the time I scorned them as drinks made for children. I wish that I had brought more dried fruit. And I wonder what will happen to all the food that was purchased for my wedding. Day Five brings me and Behemoth out of the forest to a land of spacious fields. I stumble out of the trees and into the light of the sun, my eyes almost stinging from the sudden shift from dim to bright. Behemoth gallops ahead of me, to stretch his legs and bark with delight. Then he runs around in circles and dashes back to me. The little fellow is loyal. I pat his head. He has become my best friend, curling up beside me at night and trotting along beside me on the narrow path by day. To my amazement, I see a settlement in the near distance. Golden brown homes with smoke rising from fires in the front for baking. These are Other People! What will they think of me? I try to run fingers through my hair, to pull out twigs and whatever else may have ended up in it. I must look like a lost sheep. But there are still the fields to cross. The fields must have once been forest because the houses are all made of wood. Some of the houses of Enoch are made with timber, stone and plaster. The path ends here, suggesting that the traders have more options once they reach this point. I look to the left and there is another forest, to the right where there are some hills in the distance. But the settlement is west, so that is where I head. My first encounter with a person is a young man watching some sheep. He glances at me with curiosity and his eyes go down to Behemoth. I pat Behemoth's head to indicate he is perfectly harmless. “Good day,” I call out. “And God's blessing to you too,” he calls back, nodding. Behemoth gallops off to run circles around the sheep. The shepherd keeps a watchful eye on him until Behemoth proves himself not interested in devouring sheep, only in visiting with them. No doubt the shepherd is used to other animals and is quick to discern what is a threat and what is not. He turns back to look at me. I imagine I must appear as the 51


weary traveller. “I am a stranger in your land,” I call out, moving closer. He nods. It is self-evident. “If it is refreshment you need,” he says. “Stop at the third house you come to and tell my mother that Roeh sent you.” “God's blessing on you, Roeh,” I say. “And upon you, sister,” he says. The word sister stirs me. I have only known the word spoken to me by the children of Cain. But, of course, we are all brothers and sisters in our Father Adam. Once I reach the settlement, there is a wooden walkway and I walk past the first two houses until I come to the third one. Hesitantly, I knock at the door. A woman not unlike my own answers the door. She has Zillah's high bone features and long dark hair, as well as her natural slimness. But this woman has spent more time outdoors than my mother. It has been a life of hard work. She looks strong and unintimidated. “Good day, daughter,” she says. “And God's blessing to you too,” I reply. “Roeh sent me . . . ” She smiles. “Roeh's heart is for the stranger. Come in.” She steps aside to let me enter. The interior of the house is full of light. It does not have the luxury of Enoch, but the furniture is made of a solid wood. A wonderful aroma is coming from somewhere. The lady glances down at Behemoth who also wants in. “Not you!” she says, laughing. “But if you are good, your mistress will bring some fruit out for you!” Behemoth takes this well and as the door closes, I see him curl up in front of the door. I am led to a couch lined with cushions and invited to recline. “It is not often that a single woman comes to my door,” she says. “In fact, I do not think I have ever entertained anyone except the traders that pass our way.” I nod. The mother of Roeh goes through a doorway and reappears minutes later with a tray. She puts it down on a table and hands me a clay cup. I sip it cautiously. It is hot, but sweet and delicious. “This is wonderful,” I say. 52

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She laughs. “That is the advantage of having a son who has a heart for strangers. They bring wonderful things. This is cocoa. It is grown by the sons of Seth.” My eyes widen. “I mix it with the sugar cane that also comes from the traders. I believe it grows on the banks of the Gihon.” “Where am I exactly?” I ask. “Among the settlements of Dalath,” she replies. “We are the children of the fourth son of Adam. And what brings you to us, daughter?” I hesitate. “I am from Enoch,” I say. She looks at me carefully. “You do not look like a child of Cain,” she says. I do not think I should tell her too much. If traders pass through here she might tell them about me and they might return to Enoch with stories about me. Then Semjaza would be able to follow my route. “Enoch is all I know,” I answer, truthfully. “And why do you leave all that you know?” she asks. I do not want to tell her that my objective is to visit Hawwa, just in case Semjaza makes it this far and is determined to follow me right to the water's edge. But my silence is an answer for her. She nods. “The sons of men are not always kind to their daughters. Are you married?” I shake my head, confirming her belief that I have run from a cruel father. “Well, my daughter. Go in peace and go with Yah's blessing. But I would advise you to find a settlement rather than wander the forests and fields.” It is not a dismissal because she then offers me a platter of fruit and vegetable wedges and while we eat she tells me about her children. Roeh is her youngest, the only one who is not married yet. Two still live in this settlement but one daughter has married into the clan of Zayin, seventh son of Adam. I comment on the loom in this spacious room. She says that Roeh's sheep provide the wool for her to make cloth. The other 53


types of cloth available to the community are cotton, which is grown from a plant. I tell her that we have that material in Enoch but I have never actually seen the plant. The mother of Roeh assures me that if we have cotton in Enoch it probably came from Dalath and shows me a beautiful white shirt made of the material. The community benefits from the traders, but it is entirely self-sufficient. After we eat, she ushers me into a private room and brings me a basin of water to clean myself. When that is done, she tells me that it is only a half-day walk to the settlement of Zayin and that when I get there, I should ask for her daughter, Yafeh, who will give me a place to sleep for the night. “She is the most beautiful woman in the town,” says her mother. “Her husband is smitten.” I do not know whether this is to reassure me that if Yafeh says I will stay, then I will stay. Or maybe it is just that Yafeh will not be threatened by a bedraggled lamb like me and will surely allow me to stay in her home. Either way, I am grateful for the referral. As promised, the mother of Roeh gives me a generous sackful of fruit, both for me and Behemoth. Behemoth runs circles around me in his delight to have me back and barks with pleasure when I put an apple on the ground for him. With a laugh and a wave, the mother of Roeh sends us along on our way. The settlement of Zayin is also west. Perhaps as I move further away from the city of Enoch, I will be able to inquire more about the children of Adam and where they all live in relation to the Garden that lies alongside the waters. The wooden walkways of Dalath are quiet but when I get past the houses, the fields are busy. They too have wheat and barley, as well as orchards of fruit trees. But I do not see any tent-dwellers, or for that matter, any livestock. Roeh must have been the only person to decide to herd sheep. The abundance of forest suggests that anyone who needs animal skins for leather must simply go hunting. Behemoth and I must skirt the irrigation ditches which run between some of the fields. The mother of Roeh has instructed me to cross the fields and then follow the river. With excitement, I realize, this must be one 54

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of the main rivers mentioned in the manuscript. When I come to its shore, I am awed by its magnificence. Wide and flowing, one could not wade through it as one could the streams I have encountered so far. Perhaps this is the mighty Tigris. Behemoth trots along its shore, barking and excited at something new. He pauses, looking as if he wants to lower his head for a drink, but is hesitant about its flow. “Go on!” I say, laughing. “Be brave!” He takes my advice and quickly ducks his head down for a drink, but brings it up quickly when his whole face is covered. I pause on the bank and dip my hand in for a drink too. With a river like this, no one would ever know thirst. The river is a draw for many more settlements. I do not know whether these are still the children of Dalath. The houses near the river are made out of the reeds that abundantly grow on its banks. There are boats too, something I have only heard of but never seen. The boats are made of reeds and animal skins, which suggests that these communities have hunters. These settlements are more active than the one lived in by Roeh and his mother. The traders use the river and I quickly distinguish their boats from those of the villagers. The traders have long enclosed wooden boats. These boats are manoeuvred with oars. As we continue to walk by the river, I observe that many settlements have small docks for the boats to tie up at, so that the people can all come down to the riverbank and do some bartering. We see it happening at one town, though Behemoth and I stay clear of the crowds and the boat. I do not want a trader who might recognize me to report my whereabouts to anyone in Enoch. I wonder if any of my brother's metal work makes it to these towns. Finally, as the sun is going down on the horizon, I come to Zayin. Some men are repairing their boats and kindly tell me that Yafeh and her husband live in the village, in the largest house. There is some laughing and joking about how Yafeh must have the best and her husband is continually working to see that it is so. I have to ask for directions again, because, even in the village itself it is hard to determine which house is the largest. Unlike Enoch, none of them are more than one storey. But everyone 55


knows Yafeh and soon Behemoth and I are knocking at her door. A small, bright-eyed boy answers. There is noise and laughter from within the house. The boy considers his duty done and hurries off to rejoin his brothers and sisters. Yafeh appears from an archway leading into one of the rooms. I recognize her. She has all of the features of her mother, but she is more filled out. It must be all the children. The result is that she has surpassed her mother in beauty, seeming to have a life that allows her both leisure and activity. “Good evening, stranger,” she says, wiping her hands on an apron. I am afraid I have arrived while she is in the middle of preparing the evening meal. “God's blessing on you as well, this evening,” I reply. “I have come from your mother's home and she suggested I stop here.” Yafeh looks me over and welcomes me in. Even Behemoth is allowed to trot along beside me. While Behemoth is very quickly captured by a band of children who take him further into the house, Yafeh lets me join her in a small courtyard where there is a cooking fire. Soon I am cutting up vegetables for a large pot of soup. Yafeh asks me about her mother and Roeh and says that she and the children must borrow a cart and go visit them sometime. “Roeh will not leave his sheep to come here,” she explains. Unlike her mother, she shows no interest in where I am from or where I am going. She is content to have an extra hand in the kitchen. When her husband comes in from outside with a basket full of sandy spinach, she tells him to clean it himself, she and her guest will be drinking beer in the sitting room. Her husband is a large, good-natured man. He warns me about drinking too much of his wife's beer. “She sweetens it with honey,” he says, “but it is poison to a man to drink too much.” That is just nonsense, Yafeh tells me when we're sitting down with a mug each of the beverage. “It is merely a barley drink that warms the stomach.” The children are romping on the floor with Behemoth. I count at least five. I comment on the blessing of children, hoping to steer the conversation to Hawwa, Mother of All Living. She nods, absently. Evidently, this blessing comes easily to her. “Your mother says that Zayin is the seventh son of Adam,” I 56

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say, trying again. “Yes,” she says. “My husband is a direct descendant of our Father Zayin.” “Does Zayin still live among you?” I ask. “Oh yes,” she says. And that is it for conversation. Beer is a relaxing drink and we sit and enjoy the children's play until it is time to eat. Yafeh's husband has cooked the spinach wrapped in bread dough and backed in the ashes of the fire. Along with the soup, it is a simple but satisfying meal. Then there is the chaos of putting the children to bed. I have the option of sleeping in the courtyard or joining the girls in their room. I take the courtyard. Behemoth and I are used to sleeping outdoors. In the morning, the same barley that Yafeh uses to make her drink is now served in bread form. There is fruit to go along with it. Yafeh's husband gets a sackful of food and a kiss before departing to his boat and a day of harvesting reeds. I cannot outstay my welcome. But I need a sense of direction. I know with certainty that only Hawwa can help me. Only she will know all the names in the manuscript. A mother knows her children. Cousins can forget about cousins, but a mother remembers. I do not know where Hawwa lives, but going by the manuscript, my family might be found somewhere among the sons of Seth. “I seek the settlement of Seth,” I say to Yafeh. She has kindly provided me with a sack of food and refuses any of the coins I carry. We are talking at her doorway now. Behemoth is running circles around the children while they try to hug him goodbye. She looks thoughtful. “Settlements,” she corrects me. “I have not seen them, but some of the traders have. They have various places where they have settled.” “Why is that?” I ask. She seems knowledgable. “I think it is because they call on the name of Yah,” she says. My heart jumps. “They build strange stone buildings to him, the traders say. Tetrahedra, they call them. Three-dimensional triangles. I do not 57


know why they build them. I do not care. It is my husband who talks to them.” Yafeh shrugs and grabs the shirt of one of her boys just before he is about to try to climb on Behemoth and ride him like a pony. I am not sure whether it is for his safety or for Behemoth's. “Just follow the river,” she says, absently, picking up one of her girls and brushing the dust off her tunic. “Blessings to you, mistress,” I say. “Blessings to you, stranger,” she replies before returning to her home, a trail of children following behind her. Perhaps it is the traders I should talk to. But as Behemoth and I continue along the river, we do not encounter any by the shore, even in the towns, although one of their boats drifts by. If they follow the current of the river, they only need to steer. It is when they go upriver that they need the oars. That would explain the muscles on many of them. The settlements by the river vary in that some communities are using the water to irrigate their fields, while others seem content to live off vegetables grown along the riverbank. With one of the coins, I purchase some slices of watermelon, as well as some barley bread. It is not until evening that the landscape changes. As the sun goes down, I find myself in a strange new world. The river veers north, perhaps to join up with the other three great ones. But ahead of me is a vast plain. And covering that plain are exactly what Yafeh said, three-dimensional triangles. Even in the dim light, I can see that they are solidly built of stone. But most mysterious is that there is no one in sight. This is not a settlement, though it is obviously crafted by human hands. I do not know where to turn. Follow the river? Or head across the plain among the tetrahedra? Behemoth makes the decision for me. He gallops across the plain and circles a tetrahedron. It is a wide run for him and takes him awhile to make a full circuit. By the time I have reached him, he is tired of the game and wants to rest. We have our dinner of bread leaning against the stone structure. The plain is not empty of life. There are deer and foxes and other creatures moving among the structures. Some giant lizards even pass by, but they respectfully stay clear of Behemoth. They 58

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are different types, with crested heads and an ability to stand upright. But they only pause on this plain. There are no trees to feed on here. The plain has been cleared. So the only animals who come are the ones who want a drink by the river or a sheltered place to sleep by the stones. Although the light of day is almost gone now, I can still see that the stones that built these structures are enormous. They are taller than Semjaza and twenty men could sit on them if they wanted to. If these are not homes, what purpose do they serve? Yafeh says they were built by men who call on the name of Yah. Exhausted by the day's travels, Behemoth and I are asleep right after our meal. It is the sun rising in the east that awakens us. The light means a new examination of our surroundings. There are hundreds of these stone structures scattered around this plain. Some are colossal while some are more modest. But it all does not help me know what direction I should go. Where is the settlement of the people who created this landscape? Again, Behemoth makes the decision for us. He is thirsty and gallops back across the plain to the river. I will follow the river. Any settlement would probably be built along, or near, the river. So we start heading north, along the bank, only to discover that the river turns west again once it is in the forest. And now there are signs of life. A hunter almost shoots an arrow at us and calls out an apology when he sees that we are human, not deer. I accept the apology and raise my voice to carry among the trees. “God's blessing to you. Am I among the children of Seth?” “God's blessing to you too,” the young man replies. “Yes. Which settlement do you seek?” For the moment, I do not know how to answer. Then the genealogy comes back to me. Seth had a son Enosh and Enosh had Cainan and Cainan had Mahalalel. Perhaps the sons of Seth have settled according to their fathers. Enosh will be oldest settlement.” “I seek Enosh,” I call back. He nods. “Much further,” he says. “The children of Mahalalel are just up the river. Refresh yourself among our people before you 59


continue your travels.” Then he is gone, among the trees. I can hardly believe that I have located one of the names in the manuscript! When I come out of the forest to a clearing, I see there are women getting water at the river. They are startled by Behemoth but quickly realize he is small and harmless. One young woman in particular takes a liking to him and crouches down to pat him on the head. When she straightens up, she introduces herself as Chayah. Like me, her hair is lighter, the first person I have seen on this journey with this feature. I introduce myself as Havilah and she seems to recognize my name. “You have come far then,” she says. “I have come far,” I agree. I do not tell her that it is not Havilah that I came from, but perhaps Havilah that I am going to. Chayah invites me to stop by their home for a drink and a talk and graciously adds that I am welcome in their house for as long as I like. I accept the invitation for a visit. She is carrying two buckets of water as we walk back to her home. I offer to take one but she refuses. Chayah and I go into a spacious wooden home and Behemoth is put in a courtyard to keep him from the forest where he may be accidentally shot with an arrow. Chayah leads me back into a room and offers me a sweet drink made of honey and the juice from the berries of the forest. She joins me once she has returned the jug to a shelf. Chayah lives with her parents while her other brothers and sisters have their own homes. It is a young settlement, she tells me. Their father, Mahalalel, is the patriarch, but they stay in close contact with the other settlements of Seth. “Did your family build the stone structures on the plain?” I ask as Chayah and I sip our delicious drink. She nods. “It is the obligation of the sons of Seth,” she says. “How long did it take?” I ask, curious. “We start a new settlement and then we help one another build our star maps,” explains Chayah. “It will be the 60

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responsibility of my brother Jared to do the same, once he has taken a wife.” “He is your brother?” She nods. “My oldest brother.” “I saw a man in the forest,” I say. “He told me to stop here.” “That was Kenaz,” she says. “He is the second-oldest.” “The stone structures are maps of the stars?” I say. Chayah nods. “We all have different portions of the sky. It is our plan to one day map the whole sky here on earth.” I ponder this ambitious plan and before I can ask any more questions, Chayah's mother has returned from the forest where she was picking mushrooms. She takes an interest in my travels and she and Chayah are the first people that I partly confide in. I tell them that I am on a journey to meet our Mother Hawwa. I grew up without a true father or mother and would like to speak to her in the hope that she will recognize my family among all her children. “She will know,” says Chaya's mother, nodding. “She knows all her children.” “Does she ever come here?” “Oh yes,” says Chaya's mother. “Not often, but she comes. She travels the rivers at certain times of the year. Father Adam does not join her. He has his work. But all are welcome to visit him. Often, the sons of Seth travel together to meet with him and discuss Yah.” Chayah's father, Mahalalel, joins us. He welcomes me, a traveler, and says that if I will be a daughter to him, he will be a father to me. It is a blessing as well as a covenant and something I rarely heard in Enoch. Though, in all fairness, Lamech never treated me as anything less than a daughter. I am inspired to ask him if he knows of anyone who wrote down the genealogies of the sons of Seth. But despite that his name is included in the manuscript, he says that he does not know of anyone. There is something warm and accepting about this family, something that brings me a comfort I have never known. Chayah treats me as a sister and very soon, her mother is treating me as a daughter. Before I realize it, Behemoth and I have spent a whole 61


day with them, preparing a mushroom stew, getting more water from the river, taking Behemoth for a walk in the forest once Kenaz has returned with a deer and assured us he is done for the day. I am invited to stay the night and I accept. The home of Chayah and her parents once must have held many children but now only houses these three. So I have my own room. I wash up and remind myself that I am on a journey and that I cannot stay here. But my heart tells me I have found a home with these people.

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Kenaz is commissioned to escort me along the river to the next settlement, the one of their father's father, Cainan. Another name in the manuscript! I apologize for taking him a day's journey away from his home, but he is good-natured. “There are bears in the forest near my grandfather's star map,” he says. “I would be happy to present my children with a bearskin for them to play on.” Bears in the forest make me grateful that he has been given the job to safely escort me. Along the way we talk. He is married with three children so far and he is not even a hundred. But his older brother, Jared, is still single. We pass by a clearing and he points out a wooden structure. It is Jared's home. “Rough, of course,” says Kenaz. “A woman will improve it. But the main thing is, there is a huge clearing on the other side to make his star map. When he marries, we will all come to help him erect his pyramids. A portion of the sky was assigned to him the last time we gathered together with Father Adam.” “Is it Father Adam's wish that the sky be mapped?” I ask. He laughs and shakes his head. 63


“No. Our Father Enosh desired it. He is my great-grandfather. He taught us to call on the name of Yah.” “Why does Father Adam not make star maps?” I ask. “Father Adam says he has talked to Yah in person and does not need to recreate the heavens to have him near.” It is an exciting thought. Am I finally coming into the land that is in the presence of Yah? “Does Yah move among you?” I am almost scared to ask, but I must know. “No,” says Kenaz. “At least, not for some time. Even Father Adam admits that Yah is distant now, though my wife tells me that Hawwa says she sometimes gets a glimpse of him when she is out in the fields. Out of the corner of her eye.” This is both encouraging and disappointing. Father Cain left the presence of God. Maybe there is no return. The conversation turns to Kenaz's brother, Jared. Jared is too shy with women, I am told. He will be two hundred before he has a son. Cautiously, I ask if there was ever a man among the sons of Seth who lost his wife and was left with a child to raise. Kenaz says if there was, he has not heard of it. I ask about the animals in the forest. Kenaz glances down at Behemoth and says there are a lot more like him where Father Adam lives. “Father Adam is the only one who is not afraid of them,” he says. “They remember him from the Garden,” I say. Kenaz looks surprised. “You know of the Garden?” I nod. “Not everyone does,” says Kenaz. But he is not the type of man to pry. He has the hunter's way about him, not the curiosity of the trader. The Garden must have been forgotten by some of the children of Adam, the story not handed down from father to child anymore. And perhaps Hawwa does not feel it necessary to refresh their memories when she travels to visit with her children. I never would have known about the Garden if it were not for manuscript. Father Cain and Mother Awan, to the best of my knowledge, never spoke of it and I might have been the only one 64

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in Enoch who knew the real reason why they came to the Land of Wandering. Kenaz amuses me with stories of Father Adam's animals. He is the only man Kenaz knows who has a lion for a pet. His name is Ariel. Kenaz shakes his head. “Even the small cats in the forest have claws and can be vicious. None of us like to get too close to Ariel when we visit with our Father Adam.” The only animal Father Adam cannot stand is the snake. Kenaz does not elaborate, but he does not have to. The sun is low when we see the settlement of Cainan. But before we head for the town, Kenaz takes me on a detour to see the star map. Again, it is in a plain that has been cleared of all trees. The trees were used to build the homes and I can see from afar that many of them are two-storeys high. The star map is breathtaking. It is even larger than Mahalalel's. Kenaz walks us through it, naming the constellations as we move among the five or six or seven-storey pyramids. “Yah has named all the stars,” he says. “But we must be content only to name what we can see.” “Are there stars we cannot see?” I ask, surprised. Our sky is scattered with so many stars I cannot imagine anything more.” “Beyond the ones we see, yes,” says Kenaz, now leading us back toward the settlement. “Our Father Adam walked with Yah in the Garden and learnt much.” “Much that has been forgotten,” I say. “Alas, yes,” says Kenaz, nodding. “We call on Yah now. To remember.” The children of Cainan welcome Kenaz and are quick to inquire about the health of their brother, Mahalalel, and his children. We are ushered into the largest house to stay the night with Cainan and his wife, Mualaleth. I would like to talk with them about the names in the manuscript, but their oldest daughter quickly starts putting out a spread of food. She and her husband live here. Her husband is also a brother of Kenaz, so they have much to discuss while we eat fruit and bread with a delicious bean dip. The talk goes late into the night. Behemoth is allowed to sleep 65


in the courtyard while I get my own room. I hear the sounds of children but no one disturbs me. When I finally wake up and go down the stairs, I am told by the daughter of Cainan that Kenaz has already left for home. She is friendly, but busy. I offer to help but she shoos me away. I am given a breakfast of dates and figs and some more bread, along with a glass of grape juice. There must be a vineyard nearby. I go out into the courtyard to find that Behemoth has received an equally satisfying breakfast. Then it is time for me and him to set out again. I pass Cainan working in a garden abundant with vegetables. “What is your destination, daughter?” he asks me, pausing and leaning on a wooden fork. I hesitate, but decide to answer honestly. “It is my desire to meet Hawwa, Mother of All Living,” I say. “A worthwhile ambition,” says Cainan, nodding. “I would ask you to advise me, father,” I say. “I have journeyed westward. Should I continue in this direction?” He nods. “Follow the Tigris, daughter. When it diverges, go west and follow the Pishon.” The Pishon! That is the river that skirts the whole land of Havilah! Then he tells me to hold out my sack. I obey and he fills it with freshly picked vegetables. I thank him and he tells me to consider his home my home. After years on my feet in the store, you would think that this walk would be easy, but I am using muscles that are new to me. Today though, I feel stronger as I set out. There is an ache in my calves, but it is not painful, only a reminder that I have come far and still have far to go. When Behemoth and I encounter another star map, we know we are still among the settlements of Seth. This one is built on both sides of the river and the Tigris itself seems to be part of the map. The magnitude of this map is awe-inspiring. Both banks each contain more pyramids than the previous ones combined. But I am curious about the river itself. What does it represent? My answer comes when I have already passed the map. An alarming noise comes from the direction I am heading, a trumpeting, and in my panic, I shoot up a tree. I did not know I 66

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was capable of such a feat. The animals are grey, with white tusks and large flapping ears. They are all heading to the river. Behemoth, at the bottom of the tree, is in no danger and watches them with curiosity. When the creatures are done, they return to the forest and I am left to carefully make my way back to ground level. But I happen to glance back, in the direction of the star map. It is the Galaksya! The Tigris is the portion of the night sky that contains the strip of light that Semjaza said was due to its density of stars. Safely back on the ground, Behemoth and I carry on. The settlement that made the star map must be further back from the river because it is not until late afternoon that we encounter people. It is a trader's boat. They are taking a break from rowing upstream and are in a rowdy mood. The way they eye me up and down makes me grateful that I have Behemoth. He growls in their direction and though they call out some comments that I do not care to remember, they do not leave the shore. Had they approached me, the knife in my sack would have come out. It is not until the sun is going down that we encounter another settlement. It is barely a settlement, just a few homes scattered in a circle. But their presence is explained by the fields surrounding them. (It also explains the traders down the river.) In the fields is nicotiana. I have seen it only occasionally in Enoch. The physicians use it to dull the pain if a person injures himself. Once a copper worker in Tubal-Cain's courtyard was taking it after he cut his arm by accident. Except that he wanted to continue to take it once he had recovered. Tubal-Cain said it was an addiction that some of the farmers had outside the city. Those who grew it sold it among their families, though they were really supposed to be providing it for the physicians. My intention is to keep going. Behemoth and I have slept outdoors before. Except that a woman about my age comes out of one of the houses and hurries down to the river to get a last bucket of water for the day. She is startled to see me and Behemoth. “Pardon me, sister,” I say. “We are simply passing.” Her eyes widen. I guess this is unusual. “But, no,” she says when she has recovered. “Please stay with 67


me and my great-great-grandfather.” “That is very kind of you,” I say. “But I do not want to intrude upon your privacy.” I suspect these people are outcasts, perhaps children of Seth who have strayed from the precepts of their community. But I am wrong. The woman presses me to stay and I agree. Behemoth is welcome into the home and I see very quickly why. They allow their animals to be indoors. There is a small wolf in their sitting room, tamed but incited by the presence of Behemoth. He and Behemoth growl and circle one another, but in the end, the wolf decides he is not threatened and returns to his rug. An elderly man enters the room and though surprised to have a guest, quickly makes me feel welcome and inquires about my journey. I tell him I have been traveling among the sons of Seth, intending to go as far as Father Adam and Hawwa, Mother of All Living. He nods. “We are all their children,” he says. We are sitting on solid wood furniture, well-crafted, while the woman, who has introduced herself to me as Baat, is preparing us an evening drink in another room. “Are you a son of Seth?” I ask. “No,” he says, leaning back. “But I find this is the best place to be. I am a son of Hey.” I recognize the name. The fifth son of Adam. I want to ask him more but cannot risk being impolite. But he wants to talk and tells me that he has been growing his nicotiana almost since the beginning of time. His crop is purchased both by traders and sons of Seth. The sons of Seth use it for medicine. The traders, he is not so sure. He suspects they often use it even when there is no pain to abate. All the other homes in this tiny settlement are for his sons and their sons. Baat comes into the room with a wooden tray. She has prepared a drink unlike any I have every had. It is brown and strong and although it is bitter, it lifts the spirits. Her great-greatgrandfather says it comes from a bean that they also grow in one of their fields. They roast the bean and then grind it into powder to pour boiling water over it. They do not think the traders would 68

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desire it, but their family enjoys the beverage. The beverage not only lifts the spirits, it makes me feel more awake, more alert. And so we talk late into the night. He tells me about the sons of Seth and their star maps. “The star-watchers say the stars are great fireballs, but my father says they are angels watching over us.” “Perhaps both are true,” I say politely. He says he has watched the sons of Seth in their worship of Yah. Each of the star maps has a location that represents our star and the fire is built on that spot. Then there is dancing, a complete abandonment of self. “They are aware of each other only to the extent of knowing that others are also worshipping Yah. They are dancing completely to him.” It is a vivid picture in my mind, although until now, I have only known the dances of the children of Cain. They dance to be seen by others. I lean forward. But what the man says next almost makes me fall off my chair. “And when Yah comes, he dances with him.” “Yahweh dances among them?” He nods. “He has. Not recently. But he has. It is unlike anything you have ever seen.” For the moment, he is lost in the memory. “It is beautiful to watch. Unlike anything you have ever seen,” he repeats. “Will he ever return?” I ask, more to myself than to the man. “I have heard rumours that Yah moves among the settlements of Seth,” the man replies.

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Sleep does not come easily. Both the drink and the conversation have left me longing, longing for something I have never known and something I do not want to live without. But how can I ever hope to dance with the children of Seth when the only life I know is as a daughter of Cain? Despite my poor sleep, I want to set out early the next day. I am eager to continue my journey. But Baat's great-great-great grandfather gives me a disturbing warning. I am entering the land of the flying lizards. He nods toward Behemoth and says he will not be much good to me and will probably cower behind my robes. Over a breakfast of raspberries and bread and more of the dark beverage, he tells me that he and his sons and their sons occasionally have to defend their fields from the predators. I think of the knife in my sack and ask what they use to defend their fields. Bows and arrows. The creatures are big enough that they are hard to miss, even for the poorest shot. Not that it actually harms them. But it does scare them away, for a time. I wonder if I should just turn around and return to one of the 71


settlements. But if I did, I would never truly be accepted by them. I would always be the foreigner. Until I know more about the man who was the guardian of the manuscript, my father, I will have to continue on. I know from the manuscript that Yah made the heavens and the earth. And it would seem that Yah's presence is among the children of Seth, even if he does not always make himself known. So before I set out, I whisper a request to the sky. “Yah, watch over me.” Glancing down at Behemoth. “Us,” I add. That is all I can think to say at the moment so, trying to ignore the trepidation the old man's warning has created in me, Behemoth and I continue on alongside the river. But there are no flying dragons today, though I can easily imagine them swooping along the plain. We are in fields of barley although I do not see any farmers or settlements. I will feel better when we are back to a sheltering forest. Past the barley fields are some green hills. They seem like the perfect spot for a winged dragon to make his home, high above the fields, so Behemoth and I follow the river and go around the hills. What we see on the other side causes us both to stop and just stare. It is an impressive site to see two mighty rivers diverge. The Pishon is the mightier of the two and the one I must now follow according to Cainan. But what is really stunning about the view is the biggest pyramid yet. It stands solitary on a vast plain. I have never seen such a large structure. Some of the apartments in Enoch were four-storeys high, but this pyramid makes them look like toys for children. It reaches into the sky and touches the clouds. I can only imagine that it must touch the stars at night. I am no longer alone. Unlike the star maps, where only the animals moved among the pyramids, this plain has people moving around, although they look tiny next to the structure. There are men and women and cautiously, I approach an older woman. “Good day, honoured mother,” I say. “Good day, daughter,” she says. For a moment I do not know how to proceed and then I realize what is happening at this site. “I have come to worship Yah,” I say. “And I do not know how it is done.” 72

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She nods, understanding. “Over there . . . ” She points to something I did not notice. A large stone construction with a fire blazing on it. “It is the altar,” she says. “If one wants to, they can offer an animal to Yah as a sacrifice.” My eyes widen. “It is enough to call on his name,” she says quickly. “Are you a daughter of Seth?” I hesitate. “I do not know,” I say. “I do not know my true father and mother.” She seems content with this reply and says that she is a daughter of Enosh, son of Seth. Excited, I ask her if she ever knew of a man who wrote down the genealogies of the sons of Adam and the sons of Seth. She nods. Her husband is a scribe. I explain that I think I am the daughter of such a man, who lost his wife and only had me. And he died before I even had a memory of him. She looks thoughtful. “There have been other scribes,” she says. “But I do not think I knew your father.” “Where are the manuscripts kept?” I ask. “In here,” she says, pointing at the pyramid. I am startled. I did not realize one could enter the structure. “It is where we keep all our maps and all our genealogies.” “I think my father may have traveled to the city of Cain to purchase a metal trunk to store the manuscripts,” I say. “It is possible,” she says. “Although no one would need to do such a thing now. The traders provide us with bronze and iron items.” It is incredible to think that my brother's metal objects make it this far. “Why is there only one pyramid?” I ask. “Because there is only one Yah,” she says, before drifting off. As Behemoth and I circumvent the base of the pyramid, we notice the entranceway. The doorway is set back and it appears to go down underneath the structure and must come up somewhere inside it. But most people do not have their eyes on the pyramid, they are either focused on the sky, or their eyes are closed in private 73


conversation. I have never done such a thing, but Behemoth and I move far back from the pyramid and then I close my eyes and do what the daughter of Enosh said, I call on the name of Yah. “Oh Yah, creator of all. Yah, creator of all the children of Adam. Oh Yah, our Elohim. My Elohim.” Behemoth breaks the reverence of the moment with a bark. I see why and stand in awe. Across the horizon comes a mighty sight, one of the flying lizards Baat's great-great-great grandfather warned me about. Had I been alone, I would have shrunk in terror. But standing among the sons of Seth, I feel a strange fearlessness, as if I am seeing one of the wonders of Yah. Each wing of the great dragon could cover ten men and his body looks almost as large as Behemoth's mother, though it is far more narrow and suited for flight. He swoops across the plain, steering clear of the pyramid, while all the children of Seth stand, watching. Behemoth is barking by my side, but I hardly notice. When he has disappeared from sight, we all return to our worship. But as awesome as this pyramid is and as wonderful as it is to stand among the children of Seth, I do not feel that I have a right to be here until I know who I am. And for that, I must continue on. Still heading west, Behemoth and I take a path through a forest. I do not trust myself to be brave should I see the flying dragon by myself. Again, we have a night in the woods. There are smaller animals that visit us. Small furry creatures that must have been named by our Father Adam, but I am not familiar with. But they do not threaten us and even if one cautiously moves closer, Behemoth sends it off with a bark. The night passes without incident and in the morning we carry on. My supplies are gone so apart from a drink from the Pishon, we do not have a breakfast. When we come out of the forest we are in a bright world. The fields are cultivated with all sorts of foods – barley and other grains, green lettuces, a wide assortment of vegetables. There is a vineyard in the distance and an orchard beyond that. I see an older man, who looks close in age to Baat's greatgreat-great grandfather. He is working in one of the fields and as I approach he looks up and gives me – and Behemoth- a smile. 74

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“Welcome to my fields, daughter,” he calls out. “God's blessing on you.” “God's blessing on you, esteemed father,” I say. “Do I walk among the sons of Seth?” He laughs and puts down his gardening hoe. “You walk among the sons and daughters of Adam now.” My heart leaps as I realize who I am looking at. “Father Adam?” I ask hesitantly. He nods pleasantly. “I have not had the pleasure of meeting you, daughter,” he says. “What is your name and from where do you come?” “I am Havilah,” I say, hardly believing that I am talking to the father of all children. “I have come from the city of Cain.” His eyes widen. “And how is my son, Cain?” he asks and I think I hear a catch in his voice. “He is well, Father,” I say. “He sits among the elders of the city.” Adam nods. “He is respected by all,” I add. “And you are a daughter of my son, Cain?” I shake my head. I do not want to tell him that one of the sons of Cain killed a young man, my father. He has carried enough sorrow with Cain killing his other son Abel. “My father was a stranger,” I say. “He came to the sons of Cain to purchase a metal trunk. My brother . . . ” I correct myself. “I mean, Tubal-Cain, is a skilled craftsman.” Adam is listening carefully. I did not realize that I would be able to talk to him like this. “My father died among the children of Cain. He left behind a manuscript and a daughter.” “And you were raised by the children of Cain?” I nod. God bless them,” he says. I nod again. “I was held in honour and raised as a daughter in the household of Lamech. His son, Tubal-Cain is as a brother to me. His daughter, Naamah, is as a sister to me.” “But what brought you this far from your family and home, 75


dear child?” he asks. “Are you hungry?” he adds. “Yes, Father, I am.” He nods his head to follow him. Soon we are all on a carpet between the fields, drinking water and eating bread dipped in the oil of olives, seasoned with field herbs. And we are joined by Ariel. At first, I am terrified. Behemoth growls in a way I have never heard him do before. But Adam soothes both animals. Behemoth gets a comforting pat on the head and Ariel is coaxed to sit down beside Father Adam. Adam asks me again why I have come so far. I tell him that I have always known about the manuscript but that it is only recently that I found out that it belonged to my true father. He nods, understanding. I have the sense that there is very little that would surprise Father Adam. “I would have hesitated to make such a journey,” I say. “Except that I recently became engaged to be married. But I did not want to become entangled until I knew who I was.” “When you know who you are, will you return to your husband-to-be?” he asks. I am silent. “Why did you run away, daughter?” he asks, gently. “I did not feel worthy of the love shown to me by Semjaza,” I say, trying to answer as honestly as possible. Adam takes this in. “Semjaza?” he says. “That is an unusual name.” I nod. “He is an unusual man. He is not a son of Cain. He came from somewhere else. He says he came from the stars.” I laugh but quickly realize Adam does not find it amusing. “From the stars,” he repeats, more to himself. I nod again. “He came to Enoch and I do not know why he chose me. I only know there are women more beautiful than me.” Adam looks at me, appraisingly. “Perhaps he had a different reason. Tell me about the manuscript.” I do better than that. I pull it out of the sack, unwrap the animal skins and hand it to him. He wipes his hands on his tunic 76

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before accepting it. It takes him a few minutes to skim it and when he is done he looks at me. “If this manuscript is your father's, then you are a daughter of Seth,” he says. “Only the children of Seth gather information like this. They store it in that pyramid of theirs. They have records of everything. I am sure that your father was sent to the city of Cain to get the records of all the births there. To date, I do not think anyone ever has.” “He came to purchase a trunk,” I say. “That would only be part of his mission,” Adam assures me, carefully returning the manuscript to animal skins and handing it back to me. “Only the traders visit Enoch and they do not care about genealogies. But tell me more about Semjaza.” I tell Father Adam everything I can think of and it is my impression that he is growing more and more concerned as I talk. When I conclude with the story of Semjaza's brothers on the road to Enoch, he shakes his head, though he does not speak. When he finally does, he says, “May I offer you advice, daughter?” “Of course,” I say, leaning forward. “Do not return to Enoch,” he says. My eyes widen. I do not ask why and he does not seem to want to talk further although we finish our meal in a congenial silence. When we are done and are back on our feet, I ask him if he has any idea who my father was. “Hawwa would know,” he says, confirming my belief that a mother knows all her children. “Or my son, Seth, would know. You can find Hawwa beyond the trees.” He points to some lovely trees with white bark. Father Adam returns to his fields, Ariel curls up for a nap and Behemoth and I carry on. Our journey's end is just beyond the trees! Hawwa's home is made of cedar logs. Although it is twostoreys high, it is larger than any house I have seen on my journey. Even the richest people in Enoch did not have homes of this size, although they had more luxurious dwellings. This house is simple and welcoming. 77


Around the front are animals. No doubt they are the children of the ones that accompanied Father Adam and Hawwa from the Garden. Two tall-necked creatures with orange spots contentedly munch the leaves of a tree. In the trees themselves are strange hairy creatures that swing as they please from branch to branch. I recognize some of the other animals. There are two small brown bears, probably cubs. Some foxes. Some of the smaller lizards. (Behemoth barks at them, a bark of greeting, I think.) And there are children – many, many children. Some of them are playing in a large pen of rabbits. Others are having pony rides. A couple of older girls are watching them from under a shade tree while women come and go from the front door. The ease at which people come and go inspires me to give Behemoth a quick reassuring pat and then go up the stairs, across the wide verandah and through the front door. Inside, it is just as warm and welcoming with wood-panelled walls and comfortable wooden furniture lined with cushions. I hear laughing in another room and there is a delicious smell coming from the courtyard. I follow the smell and find a group of women around an iron stove. It is Tubal-Cain's craftsmanship. I can hardly believe it. Seeing the familiar item in Hawwa's courtyard causes an emotion to rise in me that I have not felt up until this point. Regret. Regret for what I have left behind. Regret for losing a brother and a sister. Who was dearer to me than my brother, Tubal-Cain? And I start to weep. Immediately, I am surrounded by sympathetic women and am ushered to one of the comfortable benches around the edge of the courtyard. I do not know how it happens, but when my weeping abates, there is a long-haired older woman seated on the bench beside me. She is wearing an embroidered dress and has a shawl around her shoulders. She reaches out a comforting hand and puts it on my arm. “What is it, my daughter?” she asks. Even in my sorrow, I know I am talking to Hawwa, Mother of All Living. And I tell her my whole story. She listens without interruption, although I know my story 78

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stirs emotion in her. She has not seen her son, Cain, since he left for the Land of Wandering. The fact that I was adopted into a family and loved by them encourages her. But the circumstance surrounding my adoption disturbs her. When I tell her that it is one of my brother Tubal-Cain's stoves in her courtyard, she weeps with me. She speaks then, telling me she longs for the children of Cain, though she has never been able to meet with them. They are out of Yah's presence and she dare not venture beyond the settlement of Roeh and his mother. Having known the presence of Yah in the Garden, she is far more sensitive to his whereabouts than any of her children. “Do you know my father, Mother?” I ask. She nods. “I do, daughter. You are indeed a daughter of Seth. Your father was a great-grandson of my Seth. Enosh is Seth's oldest son and leads the sons of Seth now. Enosh has a brother, Sofer. He is the father of the scribes and is guardian of all the documents and records that they keep in the Great Pyramid. Sofer has many sons, but his oldest is your grandfather. The children of Sofer all work with the documents and keep records of all our achievements. That was probably why your father and mother travelled beyond the presence of Yah.” “To include the achievements of the sons of Cain?” I say. Hawwa nods. A horrible thought occurs to me. “I was born outside his presence.” She nods again and holds my hand. “But you are back in it now. It is your mother who suffered most by being out of it. When I bore my first son I called to Yah and he gave me a child. But when she called out, he was not there.” We sit in silence, sharing the sorrow. “What was my father's name?” I ask, after a while. “Rasujal,” says Hawwa, without hesitation. “You say your name is Havilah?” I nod. “I would be surprised if it is your true name. Perhaps it was given to you because they believed it was where your father came from.” “What does it mean?” 79


“Your name means to dance. But alas, there is sadness attached to it. The same dance can be an expression of pain. If you would like my daughter, I can suggest a better name. Baraka. It means blessed and it was the name of your mother.” “Baraka,” I whisper. The name of my own mother! “Baraka!” I say, smiling. “That will be my name!” Hawwa also smiles. One of the women in the courtyard approaches and tells us the food is ready. Hawwa holds my arm as we return into the house and all the people present take a seat around a large table. The children are called in from outside and they fill up all the spaces, some on their mother's lap, others on couches, some even on the floor. Then some of the daughters of Hawwa bring out platters of food. There is bean dip and bread. Bowls of fruit are put in the centre of the table. What smelled so lovely turns out to be a bread pastry with sliced apples baked into it. It is delicious and unlike anything I have had in Enoch. A woman beside me tells me it is sweetened with sugarcane and seasoned with spices that Hawwa grows in her garden. As I eat and the women talk around me, a picture is forming in my mind. It is a picture of a young man who has just lost his wife to childbirth and now has a newborn daughter to name. He remembers the dances to Yah but he is out of Yah's presence. And he is feeling the intense pain of losing his wife. Perhaps he did name me Havilah. “Rasujal,” I whisper.

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I am invited by Hawwa to stay with her and Father Adam for as long as I want. The rooms of her house are filled with her children. Beside me is a mother whose husband died while cutting down a giant oak tree. The large table is filled at night. Everyday, Adam and some of his grandsons or great-grandsons bring in fresh vegetables that are turned into soup over the open fire in the courtyard. TubalCain's stove is used for baking the bread to feed the large household, though sometimes it is used for sweet pastries filled with apples or figs or dates. Over the next few days, I learn how to cook. I never had the chance, working in Tubal-Cain's shop. The daughters of Hawwa show me how to bake vegetable cobbler in Tubal-Cain's stove. I also make an aubergine dish with tomato sauce and bread topping that is praised by all. Adam grows two kinds of potatoes – white and sweet. They show me ways to use both. There are different types of squash. And all sorts of beans. I tell them about the beans grown by the nicotiana farmer. Hawwa smiles and says she has tasted the brew they make when she travels down the river and stops for a visit. 81


“I prefer to sweeten it with some sugar cane, though,” she says. Here they drink a mint tea. Some drink it plain, others with sugar cane. Everyone works hard here, but for those who are in or near the house, there is a break for talk and tea in the afternoon. Adam has summoned Sofer to come to his home to meet with me. Sofer is the guardian of the Great Pyramid and was probably inside it the day I passed by. I do not know what to expect. I am a little afraid to meet such a patriarch. But when he comes the next day, I am not prepared for his reaction to seeing me. First he looks at me, then he embraces me and begins to weep. Respectfully, most of the household keeps busy elsewhere and it is only Father Adam, Hawwa, Sofer and myself in the sitting room. Sofer tells me that I am the image of his wife when she was young. Hawwa nods. Rasujal was his great-grandson, but my mother was also his great-grandchild. My parents were cousins. “She has chosen to take the name of her mother, Baraka,” says Hawwa to Sofer. “For indeed, she is blessed.” Sofer almost starts weeping again and remarks that my mother left behind the blessings when she left the presence of Yah. Sofer is beholden to me for the return of the manuscript. And the manuscript itself is part of a new story, the story of my father's experiences among the sons of Cain. Sofer is a master scribe and we start working on a document about the sons of Cain right away. I tell him that Cain was the father of Enoch, the reason our city has that name. Sofer nods as he writes. “Enoch was the father of Irad,” I say. “Irad was the father of Mehujael. Mehujael was the father of Methushael.” I pause to let Sofer catch up. I glance at Hawwa. There is pain on her face. These are children she has never met. “Methushael was the father of Lamech,” I continue. “The man who raised me as his own daughter. He had two wives. The first was Adah. Adah bore him Jabal and Jubal.” Now I am talking about what is most familiar and I go into more detail. 82

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“Jabal is the father of tent-dwellers and cultivators of livestock. Jubal is the father of harp and flute players.” Sofer is writing all this down. “Zillah was the woman who raised me. She had Tubal-Cain.” I blink back a tear. “He is the father of all workers of bronze and iron. His sister is Naamah.” When we are finished, it is afternoon and one of the daughters of Hawwa tells us that the mint tea is ready. Many people want to visit with Sofer. But before he allows them to lead him to the table, he embraces me one more time and tells me my inheritance is among the sons of Seth. I am welcome to make my home in any settlement among them and I must always come to him if I have a need. I nod and now we are both weeping. But the tea is refreshing. Though afterwards, I must go upstairs to my room and rest. It is Hawwa herself who comes up to tell me that the evening meal is ready. “Mother?” I say, sitting up on my bed, while she takes the chair beside it. “Yes, my daughter?” “There is a settlement I would like to return to.” “Which one, my daughter?” “The one of Mahalalel and his children.” She smiles and I might be imagining it, but I think there is a sparkle in her eye. “You are welcome to do so,” she says, taking my hand. “A child of Sofer will be accepted in any settlement of Seth.” I am not imagining it. Hawwa is pleased with my choice. She sits, deep in thought, smiling. Then she nods. “Yes, my daughter. That is the place for you.”

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I pause in my raking. Chaya has brought us out a sweet lemon drink to refresh our thirst. Mahalalel and I are expanding his garden. He loves my aubergine and tomato dish and wants to include those vegetables in his garden. Chaya wants some different kinds of mint for tea. She is enchanted by the stories I am able to tell about Father Adam and Hawwa and their household. She has never gone further than the Great Pyramid where the Tigris and Pishon meet. Hawwa herself escorted me here to my new home. It was her season for visiting her children and I was invited to accompany her. The event brought out all the children of Mahalalel, including the quiet Jared. I remember the visit well. Hawwa took a special interest in Jared, requesting that he escort her to his home down the river. Jared blushed and they headed off down the path. Chaya was amused. “What is it?” I asked her. 87


“Our Mother is giving him The Talk.” “The Talk?” I said. She nodded as we returned to her father's house to continue preparations for the evening meal. It was to be extra special with Hawwa and there would be more people to feed. I was welcomed back as a daughter and was relieved that they did not treat me as a guest but let me immediately join Chaya in the courtyard to help with the food. “The Talk,” said Chaya. “He is well past 150-years-old now. He must take a wife. If one of her sons does not have a wife by this time, Hawwa gives him The Talk. She and Adam were instructed to multiply and she considers it her responsibility to ensure that all her children follow in the practice.” Chaya and I had giggled, but afterward, I had kept an eye on Jared. He had been thoughtful throughout the festivities and Hawwa had been particularly attentive to him, seemingly encouraging him. No doubt, it is a big event to choose a wife. Today we are preparing for another special visitor. Our Father Seth. Chaya is experimenting with an oat and honey biscuit that she hopes he will enjoy. I will make my aubergines and tomatoes, though for now, I will have to rely on vegetables traded with the settlement of Cainan. It will still be awhile before we have aubergines and tomatoes. Even Mahalalel is hurrying around his garden deciding what will be appropriate for the visit. He will harvest some of the nuts and the sunflower seeds for his great-grandfather's visit. His wife, Dinah, has been preparing fruit, drying it in the sun to perfect its sweetness. Chaya has become a sister to me and we talk about everything. She confides in me that at the time of Father Seth's visit, Jared will announce his upcoming wedding. But she does not tell me who his wife will be. I probably do not even know her. Chaya laments that we will not be able to offer Father Seth any mint tea, entirely convinced in her mind that mint tea epitomizes all that is gracious. I laugh and say that her berry juice is the finest I have tasted in my travels and will be a worthy drink to serve our esteemed forefather. When the lemon drink is finished, Mahalalel and I return to our work. 88

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I have just finished planting another row of tomatoes when I see a pair of feet beside me and hear the sound of someone clearing his throat. I look up and see Jared. Standing up, I brush the dirt off my hands and smile. It is unusual to see him here during the day. He spends all of his time near his home, creating a garden and all the other things that must be done before a settlement can be established. I turn my back on Jared, thinking he must be here to talk to his father. But his father just glances at him and returns to his gardening. Bewildered, I turn and look at Jared. He is still staring at me. I have never really looked carefully at him. Like me, his hair is the colour of sand. He is not as tall as Semjaza, but I have never met a man who was. But nonetheless, among the sons of Seth, Jared is tall. To say his face is handsome would be to detract from the other features that distinguish him. He is most certainly shy, but he is also serene, I think. Maybe even kind. “Baraka.” This is the first time anyone has said my new name. And up until now, all Jared has done is nod at me in passing. “Would you care to join me for a walk?” Rather than protest at losing his gardening partner, Mahalalel seems to be pretending that he has no awareness of this whole exchange. It would be highly impolite to refuse. “Thank you, Jared,” I reply. “Perhaps I should return to the house and put on a new robe . . . ” There is dirt on my robe, from where I crouched down to plant the tomatoes. In addition, I am certain I have soil on my face. My hands are filthy. “You look perfect,” says Jared. And then he turns bright red. I have never seen a man turn as red as Jared does at this moment. “I would be happy to go for a walk,” I say quickly. We start walking and I realize we are going in the direction of Jared's house. There is not much talk along the way. I make a remark about the small furry creatures that run around the forest. He says they are called squirrels. I comment that if our father Mahalalel is not careful, they will eat all his nuts before our Father Seth arrives. 89


Jared agrees. When we arrive at his house, he takes me on a tour of his estate. Like Mahalalel, he has an extensive garden. He is particularly proud of a patch of asparagus. None of his brothers have it in their gardens. I admire his orchard. It is an impressive mix of trees – peaches, apples, pears, almonds, hazelnut. Whatever his shortcomings are socially, there is nothing lacking about his industriousness. The house itself is two storeys and sturdily built. Then we take a walk through the forest on the other side of his home. I gasp when we come out of the woods. It is the plain where his star map is to be. The amount of labour it takes to create one of these is evident in even this earliest stage. The field is covered with felled trees. That would explain Jared's muscles. I have no doubt that the head of his ax was purchased from the traders and made by my brother, TubalCain. “My brothers will come and help me move the trunks,” he says to me. “It is not something one has to do until one is married. But I wanted to start.” I nod. But Jared is ill at ease. I do not think I have ever seen a man in such distress. It puts me in mind of the way Naamah used to look . . . Love! I look at him more carefully. The signs are unmistakable. Jared looks ill. I have only seen a man ill once. It was in the tents of Jabal and the man ate some berries that were inedible. I think fast and make a quick decision. The right decision. “It is awe-inspiring,” I say, looking out over the future star map. “It will honour Yah.” Jared relaxes slightly. “Your house is well-built and you have created a beautiful estate,” I continue. “There would be no finer place to live.” “I am so relieved you said so,” says Jared, now actually starting to look normal. “I have brought you here, that is to say, I am . . . Well, it is hard to find the words . . . ” I try to look encouraging. 90

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“Will you be my wife?” he blurts out. It is a decision I only made a moment ago, but I answer without hesitation. “Yes, Jared, I will be your wife. And you will be my husband,” I add. In the city of Cain, it is important to establish the terms of agreement from the start. I do not know how it works in the settlements of Seth, but if a wife does not speak from the start, the arrangement is subject to change. I have agreed to be his wife, implying that I will take no other husband. If he agrees to be my husband, then he is consenting to not take another wife. “I will be your husband,” he says, taking my hand. Then he takes me around the future star map. He has already mapped out where the different pyramids will go. I ask him what portion of the sky is his and he points to a spot overhead. “It will be our great-great-grandchildren who finish mapping the sky,” he says. “I pray I live to see it.” That is the uncertainty of death. We know it exists, but few people have experienced it. We do not know if it will come upon us as a result of a foolish accident, or whether Yah has some other way of bringing it about. Our father Adam has lived for over 400 earth cycles around the sun. Now that we have settled the issue that we will be husband and wife, Jared is more relaxed. He is still a quiet man, saving his speech for significant observations. But I appreciate this quality. The sons of Cain would often sit and drink wine and fritter away the evenings with insignificant subjects. “I must return you to my family,” he says. “Will it be acceptable to you to save the announcement of our upcoming marriage until our Father Seth arrives?” “Of course,” I say. “And I rejoice that when I meet our Father Seth for the first time, it will be as your wife-to-be.” He takes my hand for the walk back and although most of it is in silence, it is not uncomfortable. I inquire about some of the plants in the forest and he points out to me all the ones that can be used for food. He picks a handful of delicate green leaves and tells me to add them to the pot tonight and everyone will praise the meal for its flavour. Jared gives me a courteous God's blessing when he leaves me at the edge of the clearing that is Mahalalel's settlement. Although I return to the house and say nothing, Chaya is ecstatic. 91


She knows but she wants to be sure. When we are in the courtyard preparing the evening meal she inquires about my day. “Most pleasant, sister,” I say. “More pleasant than usual?” she inquires eagerly. “Yes, I would say so.” She beams. Dinah, her mother is also hovering around with a smile on her face. “He is quiet, of course, but he has many good qualities,” says Chaya. “Who?” I ask, pretending ignorance. I burst into laughter at the look on Chaya's face. That is when her words come out like a raging river. “My brother, of course! He has loved you ever since he laid eyes on you, but he was too shy to speak and mother and I have been so in despair over his silence that we nearly did all the talking for him . . . !” “Your brother spoke well,” I assure her. Chaya looks pleased. “If it is so, it is because I have been helping him.” We return our attention to the pot. I add the leaves that Jared picked in the forest. When the soup is served, Jared is right. Mahalalel demands to know why it tastes so good and when he finds out, he announces that we will take an excursion into the forest to dig up some of those particular herbs to transplant into his garden. Chaya and her mother confer with one another after the meal about the upcoming wedding. I gather I will have very little to worry about with both of them planning everything. Mahalalel pretends to know nothing about what they are talking about and says that if there is going to be a wedding, it will be announced when Father Seth arrives. The message is clear. The wedding should not be discussed until the engagement is announced. But there is no stopping Chaya and her mother. Mahalalel sighs and invites me to join him on the porch for a cup of lemon tea. “My son is a good man,” he says to me, when we are seated. Despite that it is not official, he seems willing to talk. “He fears 92

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Yah.” “I know,” I say. “That is why I have no concerns.” “I am glad to hear you say it, daughter.” Of course, they all know I abandoned one husband-to-be in Enoch. “My heart is here, father,” I say to him. “Yah is here.” Mahalalel shakes his head. “Yah is not here, but perhaps he will return to us.” “The people of Yah are here,” I say. “I will wait with them for him to appear.” Mahalalel nods. “Well spoken, daughter.” We sip the tea as some of the forest creatures move into the clearing. Mahalalel abandons his tea to shoo away a small rabbit who tries to sneak a carrot from the garden. “Father!” I cry out, laughing. “He is only a baby! How much can he eat?” “He will return to his family and tell them that Mahalalel's garden is available for all to enjoy,” he replies. “I will go get Behemoth,” I say, standing up. “He will enjoy chasing away the creatures that try to visit the garden.” I go inside to the courtyard. That's usually where I find Behemoth, who is spoiled by the entire household with samplings of food. He is still a companion to me and sleeps at the foot of my bed. Behemoth is a willing guard of Mahalalel's garden. He spends the remainder of the evening dashing toward the forest and trotting back to me for a pat on the head every time he chases something away. Our Father Seth is a kind man who spurns all ceremony. He arrives on foot accompanied only by one of his younger sons. They are touring all the settlements of the eldest sons. He is embraced by Mahalalel and then we are all lined up so that he can greet all his children and meet any new additions to the family. I am greeted with special warmth. I think it has somehow been conveyed to him that I will be Jared's wife and thus, the mother of a new settlement. A lavish meal is served outside the house and then we all convene to Mahalalel's star map. 93


Jared, though quiet, is always at my side when he is here at his father's settlement. He leaves me only to assist his brothers in chopping down a tree from the forest. Soon there is a fire blazing among the pyramids. I quickly realize that this will be an evening of talk, not dance. But I learn much just by listening. I gather that Seth carries the burden of being the replacement of Abel. Here, among the sons of Seth, Abel is discussed. His acceptable sacrifice to Yah is contrasted with Cain's unacceptable one. And so, they conclude, the children of Cain continue to offer unacceptable sacrifices to him. My heart breaks to hear the children of Cain discussed in this way. Because no one except me has lived among them, it is natural to think that they do not fear Yah, even now. But the children of Cain do not know Yah and I am shy to point this out. I think Tubal-Cain would fear Yah if he knew him. I muse on the reason for this loss of knowledge. I think shame caused Father Cain not to pass on the knowledge of Yah to his children. Shame at having failed Yah, and no doubt shame at the knowledge that he brought it upon himself. Father Cain was devastated to leave the presence of Yah. It is a burden no son of Seth could imagine. Seth is at the centre of the talk, but all participate. Abel was the first righteous man. As honoured as Father Adam and Hawwa are, it is freely discussed that they made the wrong choice in the Garden. Hawwa was deceived and Father Adam deliberately chose to do what was wrong. Around the fire, all discuss this. No one is arrogant enough to think that he or she would not do the same. But Abel pleased Yah, and lost his life when his jealous brother killed him. Father Seth points out that the only reason this has not happened again is that no one, not even those among his own children, serve Yah with the heart that Abel did. Abel, father of none. Seth laments his brother's lack of progeny. He says that since our Mother was given him as a replacement for Abel, we must all be Abel's children too, and our lives must honour his memory. There is much nodding around the huge fire. 94

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Seth stays with us for many days and goes for leisurely walks with everyone in his family. I, too, get to visit with him. Jared and I walk through the forest with him, arriving at Jared's settlement and ending up at the future star map. The final night of Father Seth's visit will be here and that is when our engagement will be officially announced. Once seated on one of the logs scattered in the field, Father Seth turns from the topic of life at Mahalalel's settlement and asks me to tell him my story. No detail is too small for him. He craves all news of his Rasujal, his lost great-grandson, and cries gently when I tell the story that I only recently heard myself, the story of how Lamech killed my father for injuring him. He acknowledges, however, that though the sons of Cain are without Yah, I was well treated. Like Father Adam, the presence of Semjaza and his brothers in Enoch is disturbing to him. “We have genealogies of all the children of Adam, except for Cain,” he says, “But I know of no one named Semjaza. Now, if he were a son of Cain, it would be understandable because no one since Rasujal has ventured there to gain knowledge of the children of Cain. But Semjaza and his brothers are not from Enoch.” I feel a chill. Oh Yah!” Seth suddenly cries out. “What is it, Father Seth?” asks Jared. He does not like the story of my engagement to Semjaza, but in all fairness, he knows I had very little to do with it. “Think, my son!” says Seth turning to him. “If they did not come from the earth, where did they come from?” “Surely it is not possible that Semjaza and his brothers really did come from the stars?” says Jared. “Did he ever speak of his mother?” Seth asks me. I shake my head. “No, only of his father.” “The father that dwells among the stars,” says Seth grimly. “Why would they choose to live among the children of Cain?” asks Jared. “They seek a city as far away as possible from Yah,” says Seth. “We still have his sheltering presence here. Though often it is unseen.” 95


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The sobering thought that those other than the children of Adam also inhabit this earth is not enough to diminish the festivities of the final night of Seth's visit. The bonfire, fed by some of the large felled trees, is as bright as the sun, though the sun has long since disappeared below the horizon. It is no surprise to anyone when Seth announces mine and Jared's engagement, but now everyone can offer their congratulations. And even more importantly, plans for the star map can now begin. Even tonight, large trees have been rearranged by Jared and his brothers to mark the locations of some of the brighter stars. Jared himself has spent many nights out here, making a map on animal skins, so that all the stars in his portion of the sky will be represented on the ground. The wedding itself will take place at Mahalalel's star map though. It will be our son who someday gets married here when Jared's map is complete. Chaya and her mother are already talking about the wedding, set for the next full moon. Seth assures us that Sofer will attend the ceremony. This generates some talk. Sofer is rarely seen 97


among the sons of Seth, known to spend most of his time in the Great Pyramid, but as a direct descendant, I can expect him to attend my wedding. The possibility that Father Adam and Hawwa will attend is also high. Though they now have too many descendants to attend each wedding, everyone hopes that they might make the journey for this one. Dinah, my adopted mother, sitting beside Mahalalel who is beside Seth, puts forth the worry that Semjaza may show up too, to claim his wife-to-be. She has a full scenario worked out in her mind. The nosey traders will inquire about who is getting married and pass the news up and down the river and even as far as Enoch. Semjaza will hear of it and come here to drag me back to the city of Cain. Chaya is rolling her eyes, but I can tell she is just as concerned. I am grateful that Jared is far out of hearing-range, out beyond the light of the fire, discussing the star map with Kenaz and his other brothers. Seth quickly dismisses the fear as absurd. Semjaza and his brothers have chosen to be outside of the presence of Yah. They will not be venturing into the settlements of Seth. Though this is encouraging to Chaya and her mother, it is unsettling for me to think of Naamah and Tubal-Cain back in Enoch with Semjaza and his brothers. As much as I longed to make this journey to find my true father's family, part of me wants to make the journey back. But it is only part of me. Having come this far and returned to a land that still knows Yah, I know I cannot go back. In many ways, Chaya and I are closer to each other than Naamah and I ever were. Chaya is strong-spirited. She does not overly concern herself with her outward appearance and seems indifferent to marriage, although Mahalalel will no doubt choose a cousin for her to marry at some point. But as it turns out, I do have an opportunity to hear news of my family back in Enoch. The next day, Seth returns to his settlement and preparing for my new life with Jared begins. Chaya and her mother will plan the wedding. I am content to leave all details of the day to them. But Jared is eager to have my participation in making ready our new home. The exterior is solid wood and built with care. But the 98

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interior is nothing more than wood floors, a few shelves and a bed. Up until now, he has been content to cook over an open fire in the courtyard, but I insist that if I am going to prepare him all the meals I have learnt to make, I will need one of Tubal-Cain's iron stoves. Of course, Tubal-Cain never actually made the stoves. They were made by the craftsmen in the courtyard in order to keep up with the demand. Jared says we will go out to the river and flag down the traders. Mahalalel's settlement is not a regular stop for them, but if you want to purchase something, you simply have to wave for them and they will dock. Of course, it may be a long wait by the river. We pack some fruit and bread and Jared does not seem to begrudge the day away from his garden and future star map. By the riverbank, we enjoy the sights and sounds of the river. There are animals on the opposite bank coming from the forest for a drink. Jared says they know better than to cross the river lest they end up as a rug for Kenaz's children. It is thanks to his brother that Jared has so many animal skins to write on. He repays his brother with vegetables. Most of the animal skins are traded to the children of Sofer to use for their records. Jared has time to show me how to weave a basket with the large reeds growing nearby. He confesses that this is the first time he has actually made one, but as a boy, he used to watch his mother do it. Then, coming down the river, we see the large wooden barge. When it gets closer, Jared stands up and waves for them to stop. The stove will be expensive but I have brought all the coins I still have from Enoch. I did not need most of them on my journey here since people were so generous. The knife I will keep as a present to give to Jared on our wedding day. The traders stop at a rough wooden dock and I am grateful to have my tall husband-to-be with me. They look like the same men who eyed me on my journey to Hawwa. But today it is all business. We are gratified to find out that they have an iron stove and we will not have to wait until their next visit. “We would have surely sold it somewhere along the river,” the 99


headman assures us. “You are fortunate.” It is typical of the traders to refer to fortune rather than to Yah. I think only the records in the Great Pyramid could actually tell you whose children these men are. They seem to no longer care themselves. My coins are recognized as being from Enoch and that gets the headman talking about current events in the city. I can tell that Jared would just tune out everything the man has to say, make the exchange and walk away with his stove. But I am curious. I inquire about the health and prosperity of the people of Enoch. The headman nods with approval at my interest. One of the main perks of their profession is that they can pass news on to all the communities, although I doubt too many of the sons of Seth ask about the health of the sons of Cain. “They are preparing for a wedding,” he says. “The biggest one the city has seen for years.” Jared and I look at one another. “Blessed be the couple,” I say. “Which family is preparing for this joyful occasion?” I hope my voice is steady and casual. “It is the household of Lamech,” says the headman. “I have never seen such preparations.” He shakes his head. “My return trip will be entirely filled with supplies for their celebrations.” Only my sister, Naamah, is unmarried in our family. So it must be her wedding. Is it possible she will have our cousin Qayin after all, or did Tubal-Cain find someone more worthy?” “And the family of the groom?” I ask. “Are they kinsmen?” “Oh no,” says the man. “I doubt very much the celebrations would be so lavish if it were just a family wedding. The groom is most esteemed.” I have a sick feeling in my stomach. “Is the groom a son of Cain?” I ask, still trying to sound as if it is all just indifferent gossip to me. “Mercy no,” says the man, as two of the traders come up from below carrying our stove. My Jared will be able to carry it himself. “He is an outsider,” the man continues. “No one knows the name of his father, but he is known as Semjaza.” My hands go cold. “He has brothers and the house of Lamech will only be the 100

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first to celebrate a wedding of one of their daughters to the clan.” The traders are ready to move on. The stove now stands on the riverbank. There are far more populated stops to make along the river. Before they push away though, I ask the man if he has any cotton from Dalath. He nods and with my last few coins I purchase a large piece of the material. Jared and I walk back to the house in silence. He has heard every word the trader said and I know he is sympathetic to the effect it has on me. From his perspective, it is good news. Semjaza will never make a claim on me since he is now violating our engagement by marrying another. It is clear that Naamah is replacing me. I wonder how it came about and hope dearly that it was not a matter of appeasement or family honour. I also wonder about my sister. Is she a willing participant in this? There is no doubt that Semjaza exceeds Qayin in manly qualities but will his strength be a blessing or a curse? But I have my own wedding to think of. I am using the cotton to make a dress, although it is more accurate to say that Dinah is helping me to make the dress. Chaya is impressed with my choice of material and says that if she ever gets married, she will choose cotton for her dress too. As exciting as it is to prepare for marriage to Jared, it is even more exciting to find out from Chaya that a wedding among the sons of Seth always involves a dance to Yah. For among the sons of Seth, a wedding is not a reenactment of the relationship between Father Adam and Hawwa, it is a celebration of the oneness of Yah. Father Adam has taught his children that when Yah made man and woman, they were made to resemble him. A man and woman, together, are made in the image of Yah. On a more mundane level, our house is slowly filling up with furniture. Now that Jared is going to be married, everyone makes something for our home. Items come from not just the settlement of Mahalalel, but from Cainan as well. Chaya and her mother make a beautiful bedspread. Mahalalel has made some elegant wooden benches. Countless reed baskets now fill our kitchen. Mahalalel insists that I no longer assist him in his garden. I 101


must help Jared in what will soon by my own garden. And Mahalalel says with a twinkle in his eye, his garden will amply supply us with mint for tea at my wedding. Behemoth still trots around beside me everywhere I go. And that gets me into trouble a week before the wedding. Jared insists on coming early every morning to his father's settlement to retrieve me. I tell him I will be happy to make my way there by myself but he says he does not want me to fall into the hands of violent men. “But Jared,” I say. “I travelled all through this land and encountered no one who did me harm.” “You were under Yah's protection,” he says. “There is no other explanation for it.” “We are among the sons of Seth,” I protest. “They all call upon the name of Yah.” “Not all of them do,” he stubbornly insists. “And not all who travel along the river are the sons of Seth.” I remember the feeling of discomfort I had when the traders were looking at me. I almost tell Jared no one ever accosted me in Enoch but then I remember how Tubal-Cain did not want me out in the streets at night. Seven days before our wedding, Jared is too busy with plans for the star map to come get me. Mahalalel will not let me help in the garden and Chaya and her mother shoo me out of the courtyard. They have this crazy idea that I should get a lot of rest before my life with Jared. But I really want to be with Jared this day. I have mint to plant in my own garden and weeds that need pulling out. Behemoth barks at me as I aimlessly wander outside and I look down at him. He was such a faithful companion on our journey here and I know he will protect me from any harm. So I decide to walk there on my own with Behemoth as my escort. I will not walk directly along the river but will cut through the forest. Only sons of Seth use the forest path. Any stranger would take the river path. I set out carrying some of the mint plants and within minutes of entering the forest can no longer see the settlement of Mahalalel. The forest is a different world. Kenaz would normally be here somewhere but today I know he is with Jared. The next 102

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few years will be entirely devoted to Jared's star map. Anyone not doing the actual work will support the workers, providing them and their families with food. Some of the blocks at the base of the pyramids will be one hundred tons in weight. The stone is supplied by the children of Seth's third son, Avanim, who have quarries in several locations running parallel to the settlements. They are not close enough to the river to transport the stones by boat, so for each new settlement, a path must be cut through the forest to bring in the stones. That has already started, but I will not see any of it from the direction I am coming. That is why I am startled when I hear voices, angry male voices. I am about halfway to Jared's settlement and in the forest, not on the path, is a trio of men. My first instinct is to turn back. But Behemoth barks. The voices stop. The men turn and see me. Now it is too late. Behemoth has gotten bigger in the short time we have been friends but he is nowhere near the size of his mother. He is only up to my shoulders. Three men with spears could easily bring his young life to an end. But these men do not have spears. They have knives. To my horror, I realize the knives are dripping with blood and the reason is the crumpled form on the ground. I cannot even tell whether the person on the ground is male or female, only that blood is seeping onto the leaves and into the ground. I turn and run. “Yah, Yah, Yah.” It is all I can say. I do not know if he can hear. I only know that no one else can save me, not Jared, not Mahalalel and certainly not Behemoth galloping along beside me. He is not running away, he is only trotting along to keep up with me. And he almost causes me to trip. Behind me, I can hear the men. Their words are a blur of imperatives. “Get her!” “Stop her!” “Faster, you fool!” But I am running for my life. It becomes too hard to gasp out to Yah. But I start to think I may have the advantage. I know the path. I am lighter on my feet. But then a knife whizzes by me. 103


Not able to stop me, the strategy is to kill me. I realize this with fresh terror. To Behemoth, it is just a game of tag. The knife means nothing to him. I make an instant decision to just keep running and ignore the knife. The path is too narrow to dodge from left to right so as I run I am an easy target if these men are skilled with a knife. If I were close enough to our settlement to yell, I would use my last breaths to call for help. But it is too great a distance to hope that anyone would hear me at this point. No second knife comes but I will be an absurdly easy prey when I collapse. Although I have gained slightly, the men behind me have the same amount of endurance and it is only a matter of time before I collapse and am faced with three men. Even if Behemoth can occupy the attention of one man, my prospect of coming out of this unscathed is low. If only Kenaz were somewhere in these woods! His bow and arrow would quickly put an end to the men chasing me, or at least scare them into turning around. It occurs to me that if I get out of this alive I will be too ashamed to tell Jared about it. After all, is this not exactly what he warned me about? “Oh Yah!” I gasp one more time, remembering Jared's insistence that only his presence was what kept me safe in my journey. With that, I feel myself on the edge of collapse. I run . . . and run . . . and run. And drop. Behemoth immediately falls on top of me and licks my face. He thinks it is just good sport. I can barely breathe. I can hardly be bothered trying. In only a few moments, the men will be upon me and I will die out here in the forest, too far from anyone who can help. But minutes pass and no one appears above me as I lie on my back, gasping. I manage to sit up slightly and realize . . . I am alone. Only Behemoth is with me. The men are gone. Quickly, I get to my feet. It is possible they are only waiting out of sight, perhaps behind a tree. I must keep going. I stumble forward, on the verge of falling again, but I keep 104

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going. I keep going until I am back within sight of Mahalalel's settlement. Nervously, I look behind me. Now I can yell if I want to and at least there is the hope that it will be heard. In fact, I can see Kenaz's eldest son at the edge of the forest, practising with his bow and a few arrows. I must be thoroughly dishevelled and I do not want to arrive back home and announce that I blatantly disobeyed Jared's instructions. I slow down only slightly, enough to try to fix my hair and get my breath back. Kenaz's son spots me and I try to call out good-naturedly, “Careful! I am not a deer!” He smiles and waves his acknowledgement but mercifully shows no interest in my sudden appearance. He is entirely interested in his own skills and turns to shoot in another direction. Though there are always people milling about, I do not attract attention. I am probably flushed, but I hope that it is just attributed to a romp with Behemoth who everyone knows is a lively rascal. He barks and trots along beside me, cheerful from our adventure. My shaky legs take me into the house and though I hear Chaya and her mother's voices coming from the courtyard, I go straight up to my room and collapse on my bed. And weep. Behemoth licked away my tears, but he cannot do anything about the heaviness in my heart. Though I thank Yah fervently for delivering me – I hope he can hear whispers in a bedroom – it occurs to me that the men turned around to finish what they had started. If that person on the ground had any life in him or her when I encountered the men in the forest, I do not believe he or she has now. I go down to the main room at dinner time to join Chaya and her parents. I do not know what to say. It seems dishonest to hide my experience from them. But as it turns out, I do not have to endure a meal of trying to act natural. Mahalalel asks the blessing on the meal of bread and herbs in 105


oil. Chaya and her mother are so busy preparing food for the upcoming wedding that our daily meals have been simple fare. I have no appetite, but I force myself to reach for the bread like everyone else, when suddenly, Kenaz practically falls in through the door. Like me earlier, he is out of breath. But unlike me, it is not with terror. It is more an excitement. He and Jared encountered three men in the woods near the star map, two of whom had knives. I hang my head. I know why the third one did not have a knife. At the sight of Jared and Kenaz, and particularly, at the sight of Kenaz's bow and arrow, the men fled into the woods. Suspicious, Jared and Kenaz had followed their trail and discovered a body in the woods. The man they had found was barely alive. He was losing blood, but Kenaz had torn off his own shirt and stopped the flow. He and Jared had carried the man the long journey to Mahalalel's settlement, deciding that the man would be better off here than back alone at Jared's house. “But why?” Chaya bursts out. “Why would someone do such a thing?” While my head has been hung in shame, Chaya and her mother have been listening in horror. “These are becoming violent times,” says Kenaz, reaching for some bread. “It is not unusual, particularly in the other settlements. The man was a trader and had valuables to sell. He managed to tell us he had shells from the sea, extremely beautiful apparently. The men who accosted him probably lured him beyond the river with the promise of a nearby settlement to sell them too. In any case, he has lost his shells now. He told us he would have been dead if someone had not come along with a barking animal that scared away the men.” Perhaps to a man lying on the ground, with multiple stabs from a knife, that is what it would seem like. My eyes are still on my lap. Still, it sounds as if some good came from my appearance at that particular moment. “Where is the man now?” demands Dinah. “In my home,” says Kenaz, pouring himself some water from the pitcher. “My wife will look after him. He is sleeping presently.” 106

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Jared joins us, announcing that he has alerted all of the settlement to be on the lookout for the three men. They were not known to him or Kenaz so it is doubtful that they are of the sons of Seth. The meal is sombre. Chaya and her mother fret about not being able to travel freely among the settlements without fear of being attacked. Right after the meal, they hurry over to Kenaz's home to see what they can do to help care for the man. I am left mercifully alone with the excuse that I must clear away the remains of the meal. I do not want to see the man. Not only do I fear that he might recognize me, even more, I am sick about the whole thing and want no further reminders of it. Although I am in the courtyard, I can still here snippets of the conversation between Mahalalel and his two oldest sons. These incidents of violence are becoming more frequent, although I gather that any stories they have heard have been kept from their women. Jared says, for the most part, they are robberies and the traders have more to worry about than the settlers. Kenaz says the settlers should still start to think of security. Perhaps settlements should have walls. Mahalalel wonders what it will all lead to. In the courtyard, with Behemoth now snoozing in a corner while I put away some plates, I wonder what Hawwa will think when she hears of this. We are all her children. It will break her heart that some of her children are willing to shed the blood of others just for some objects from the sea.

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After three days of sleep, the trader is well enough to be carefully conveyed by Jared and Kenaz to the river and a passing boat of his own kinsmen, who promise to return him to his home settlement by the sea. The sea is an unknown for most sons of Seth, although it is well known that one side of the Garden of Eden was by the sea. I have persuaded Mahalalel to let me help him in his garden on the days Jared does not come and get me. He tells me that Father Adam used to watch the dolphins swim at night and marvel at the size of the whales. Of course, without seeing these creatures for myself, they are hard to imagine. The incident in the forest is almost forgotten by the day of my wedding. Guests start arriving the day before and all the homes in Mahalalel's settlement fill up with uncles and aunts and cousins. There are so many people that many of the cousins choose to sleep outside on reed mats rather than take up space in the houses. When Sofer and his sons arrive, they greet everyone and then go directly to the star map to sleep under the stars. 109


With this many people present, I feel safe. The story of the trader in the forest circulates, albeit in hushed tones. There is even talk that perhaps the settlements should be moved closer together, for safety. But Enosh and Sofer quickly dismiss this. “What will become of the star maps if we abandon the settlements?” says Enosh, Seth's eldest son. And so there is no more talk about the increasing violence. The oldest man present will perform the wedding ceremony. Naturally, this would have fallen to Father Adam had he been here, but he and Hawwa just sent all their love. There is no reason to feel rejected. They are so busy with those in need among their own household that they rarely attend any weddings. Their life would be one endless ceremony if they went to every celebration of their children. So it is Seth who will marry me and Jared. It is a short ceremony, consisting mainly of an oath that we will live as husband and wife and a reminder that we are participating in a union that represents the oneness of Yah. But the celebration are just beginning. Jared is assisting the other men in creating the largest fire I have ever seen. When it is done, it rivals the sun itself. But as I stand, surrounded by women and well-wishers - some eating, some talking, some just watching – I wonder if Yah will ever return. If the children of Adam are becoming brutal toward one another, why should he appear in our midst? And now it has come to the settlements of Seth. When the fire is the size of one of the smaller pyramids, the dancing begins. It starts with singing. There are no harps or flute players such as my half-brother Jubal once trained, but the voices in the light of the fire with the darkness behind are enough. The song is one of praise, rejoicing in Yah and his creation, calling on Yah to walk among his children once again. Soon there are children of Seth dancing. They are moving to the music, their dancing reflecting the song as it alternates between rejoicing and longing. Like the son of Hey said, no one seems aware of those around him, only of their own desire for Yah. At first, I hesitate. But then the dance calls me in. Jared is already dancing somewhere. There is no one watching me, 110

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looking to see if I join in. There are people on the outskirts, some who even seem indifferent, but near the fire are the people who are at this moment only thinking of Yah. And then I find myself caught up in the music and the longing in my own heart. I have come from the city of Cain to find Yah the Elohim that Cain left behind. And the yearning I have to know Yah is so great I am nearly sick by it. I am overwhelmed by the desire for someone I have never met, never even seen. The journey in the woods that I took that day to plant mint in my future garden was foolish. But had I been on the same journey to meet Yah instead, even had I been waylaid and murdered on the way, it would have been but a small sacrifice to chance a meeting with our Elohim. Because in that moment, life without Yah is unbearable. I dance as I weep. There is no Yah, there is only the dance. And there are the stars, so close and so bright that I start to feel as if I am dancing with them. Slowly my sorrow is replaced by awe. I feel it. The universe is whole! I feel it! I do not know if they are my own words or the words of the singers. It does not matter. I feel it. If I cannot have Yah at this moment, I can have his universe, able to reach out and hold it in my hand. Time has no meaning. At some point, I must collapse because when I wake up, I am in my own bed in Mahalalel's house. Like every morning, the sun is shining through my window. The only difference is, Jared is sharing my bed with me. Behemoth is faithfully sleeping on the floor on my side of the bed. Jared is sound asleep. I step over the snoring Behemoth to slip on a robe and see what is going on in the rest of the house. Many of the guests are still here, some sleeping, some in the courtyard helping themselves to piles of bread, date paste and mint tea. Some recognize me and smile and I return the wellwishes. I take some food and return upstairs with it. Opening the door wakes up Jared and he greets me with a sleepy grin. “I hope you do not mind one more day here,” he says, accepting the mint tea with gratitude as I join him on the bed. 111


“So many people have come so far, I thought we should stay here and return to our home tonight.” I nod my agreement. Behemoth decides he can do better than bread and date paste and I open the door for him to go downstairs and beg for a different breakfast. When he is gone and I am back in the bed, Jared puts his tea aside to take me into his arms. “The little rascal would not let me touch you last night,” he says, grinning. “He kept growling at me.” I smile. “He is protective,” I say. “Though I doubt he could do you much harm.” “Have you seen his teeth?” Jared asks me. “What are you going to do with him when he is as tall as a pyramid?” I remember the men with the knives and think that I will not mind having such a tame beast by my side. “If no one downstairs gives him anything to his liking, he will be right back up here again,” I say. This inspires Jared to take quick action. Jared's lovemaking is hurried but tender. When Behemoth returns, he is suspicious. He comes into the room and looks Jared over as if suspecting that something might have transpired in his absence. I laugh and toss him what is left of my bread. Then we dress and go downstairs to visit with our guests before they return to their settlements. By the time late afternoon comes, most of them are gone. Kenaz insists that he and his bow and arrow will accompany us back to Jared's settlement. But Jared laughs and shows him Tubal-Cain's knife that I have just given to him. “Surely this will protect us from anyone intending to do harm,” he says. Kenaz admires the fine craftsmanship of the knife and agrees that, if necessary, it would be a lethal weapon. Jared returns the knife to its sheath and with most of our belongings now at Jared's house, we set out through the forest with Behemoth trotting along behind. This walk will take me right past the small clearing where I saw the men assaulting the trader, but with Jared accompanying me, I refuse to allow my mind to relive that day. It is best 112

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forgotten. Behemoth, however, feels differently. When we come to the spot where the man was on the ground, he dashes off and circles the area, sniffing the soil. Jared tells me this is the spot where he and Kenaz found the trader. I nod. “He must smell blood,” says Jared about Behemoth. I nod again and take his hand. And soon we are home. It feels too late and I feel too tired to think about making an evening meal. But Jared seems content with more lovemaking and even promises he will make the morning meal. As we drift off to sleep, I murmur that we must get some of those beans cultivated by the sons of Hey down the river. Then we will never have to worry about being sleepy. We will not be left to ourselves for the next few years, I quickly realize. The very next morning, some of the sons of Seth show up at our door, ready to work on the star map. They come loaded with provisions because they will be staying for long periods of time. True to his word, Jared takes care of the first meal of our married life, although it is not an intimate meal for two, but more for twenty. Some of the men will sleep in our house, but again, others prefer the outdoors. Still, I will not have a house to myself until the star map is complete and even then, everyone assures me that by then I should have a household of children to keep me company. Perhaps it is the story of the trader in the woods that makes everyone eager to comfort me that I will not be alone. And they do not even know how close I came to a knife in my back that day myself! For the first few months, the garden takes all of my time. Mahalalel, curious to see how the star map is coming along, also comes with presents for my garden. His greatest gift is some wild blueberry plants. Kenaz also brings edible plants from the forest for my garden. I think they both know how many people I have to feed everyday. Although people come with their own supplies 113


and more are sailed down the river for the workmen, there are still days when everything seems to be running low and we have to rely on my garden or mushrooms from the forest. When I am not in my garden, I am in my courtyard with Tubal-Cain's stove, baking bread and everything else that has been taught to me since I left Enoch. But after a while it is obvious I will be even busier soon. Jared and I are expecting a child. Chaya and her mother come to be with me in my final days of pregnancy. Although Chaya is now engaged to be married to one of our cousins, she insists on staying with me right up until I give birth to my first son. “We will call him Enoch,” says Jared, holding his son with obvious pride and affection. “Perhaps he will find a way to connect the sons of Cain with the sons of Seth.” I am honoured that he should pay tribute to the city of my childhood and to the family that raised me. I long to somehow pass the message on to Tubal-Cain, Naamah and our mother, Zillah, that I am now married with a son. I still think about them and wonder how Naamah's marriage to Semjaza affected the family of Lamech. Our second son comes within a year and I name him Rasujal, after the father I never knew. As they grow, the two boys play and I cannot help myself from thinking that this must have been how Hawwa felt watching her two sons together. Who could have ever imagined that one would turn against the other in jealous anger? And yet, nowadays, it is not so unbelievable. Though the star map continues to occupy our time and attention, the reports of violence among the children of Adam are alarmingly more frequent. Little do I realize that, in time, there will be even more disturbing rumours.

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In time, Enoch and Rasujal are joined by a sister. I want to name her Chaya after her beloved aunt, but Jared says that will be confusing and says he prefers Tikvah. It means hope. And hope is what we need in these troubling times. The traders now move down the river well-armed with bows and arrows and do not venture into the settlements without anything ranging from a dagger to a machete. Even casual travellers carry small knives. The star map is more than half-finished. Many of the smaller pyramids are complete and much time is being spent on the larger ones. Chaya, now married with two daughters, tells me that Mahalalel's star map was only completed shortly before I arrived. We see much less of each other now that we are living in different settlements. Although Jared's settlement is so young with only the two of us and our three children, it is an active one with the sons of Seth coming and going as they rotate work on the star map. The unsettling trend that causes us to name our daughter “hope,” is that the further people have moved away from Father Adam, the more unrestrained the area has become. Ironically, 117


although it was at the site of Father Adam's home that the first murder occurred, now it is the settlements farthest away where murder has become almost routine. And it is not just murder. Among our cousins, I hear reports of angry husbands who turn on their own wives. It is alarming when even the sons of Seth seem affected by these times of brutality. For if the sons of Seth are willing to strike their own wives, I wonder what is going on among the other sons of Adam? Perhaps it is not just wives, but children as well. Perhaps a time will come when no one is safe, even in his or her home. Despite this, I become pregnant again and cannot help but rejoice at the thought of another baby to hold. My little ones are not so little now. Enoch is fourteen and spends most of his time at the star map, already as strong as some of the men. Many have commented that he seems especially favoured with strength. But when I talk to him, he says it is only because he is eager to see the star map completed. “You do not have to worry,” I say, laughing, as I work in the garden. I have added raspberries and strawberries, as well as some peanut plants. “You have many years before Hawwa takes you aside and instructs you that it is time to choose a wife.” Hawwa, Mother of All Living, still visits her children and is the only one to travel unarmed. Enoch shakes his head. “It is not that,” he says. “It is Yah. I have seen him.” I almost drop my hoe. “What is that you said?” I give him my full attention. He nods. “He is with us. That is, I think he is with me. I have seen him at the edge of the forest, watching.” “Has anyone else seen him?” Enoch shakes his hand. “No. At least, no one has said anything. But I do not think they have. When I see him, he is only looking at me.” I feel weak. I have almost forgotten what it is like to long for Yah. But now it comes back to me and it arrives with such a feeling of desperation that I almost cannot stay standing. I have let go of my longing, I realize, because of disappointment. A hope deferred makes the heart sick. And now my son talks this 118

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way . . . I am not sure that I will be able to live with any more disappointment. But my son does not notice my reaction. So often he is in his own world anyway, and off he goes now, to the house for some mint tea and afterward, some playtime with Behemoth. Behemoth is now taller than our home. Indeed, we had to cut a path out of the forest for him so he could move freely between our settlement and the star map where there is more room for him to roam. My carefree (or some may say, careless) second son, Rasujal, often rides him back and forth between the two, much to his father's delight and much to my terror. Behemoth loves all my children, but high on his back like that, I fear a dreadful fall. At least I do not fear roaming bandits. Very few of them would be prepared to take on Behemoth, even though his bark is still worse than his bite. I return to the house with a basket of greens, deep in thought. Yah. Yah at the edge of our forest? It has been awhile since I went out to see the progress of the star map. Perhaps I will go today. I will certainly not have the time when my next child is born. Absentmindedly, I make lunch for the few people who are in my home. Most people have taken their midday meal with them to the star map. After lunch, I gather up Tikvah and a large blanket for her to have an afternoon nap on. She can sleep in the shade of one of the finished pyramids and I can rely on Behemoth to guard her with his life. The short walk is enough time for anticipation to build. What if Yah really is watching this new star map be built? Jared greets me with an embrace and Tikvah is immediately scooped up to the shoulders of her uncle, Kenaz. “I would like to walk around the map,” I say. “Of course, my love,” says Jared. “But avoid the north end.” I nod. The north end is active with stone masons and other workers assembling the base of one of the larger pyramids. These are the ones that require the rectangular blocks that can be up to one hundred tons and you do not want to get in their way. I stroll along the edge of the forest. To everyone else, I probably look as if I am taking a casual walk. But my heart is 119


beating and my eyes are scanning everything. Everything except the star map. For it is in the woods that my son said he saw Yah. I see Enoch. He is busy with some of our cousins working on a smaller pyramid. It is nearly completed and they are letting the rascal climb to the very top where the capstone will soon be placed. He notices me from up there and waves. I smile and wave back. Then he nods his head toward a certain patch of forest. He knows why I am here. I smile and nod. But my walk is a letdown. As always, there is no Yah. I even venture into the forest until I am almost out of sight of the star map, but all I find are some mushrooms that will make an excellent stew for dinner. I nearly weep with frustration. How can Father Adam, who once walked with Yah in the Garden, stand such a loss? I can barely stand the loss of something I have never even known. I return to Jared with an armful of mushrooms and find Tikvah sleeping on her blanket underneath the table where the star map on animal skins is spread out. Jared promises to bring her home with him when he returns for the evening meal. And I head back down the path that will take me home. A warm breeze caresses my cheek as I walk through the silent forest. For a moment, I do not notice and then I realize what an unusual thing it is. It is the warmth from the sun that I feel, yet I am entirely shaded by trees. I turn and quickly survey the whole forest. Is it Yah? It must be! But then the warmth is gone and I am left with only the memory. Laden down with mushrooms, I continue on to the house and spend the remainder of the afternoon gathering more vegetables and preparing the stew for the evening meal. Our fourth child, another son, is named Pyramides, because on the day he is born, the capstone is put on the largest of all the pyramids in our star map. Chaya is by my side throughout my labour, though pregnant herself with her fifth child. Jared was torn between participating in the completion of the pyramid and being home to be the first to hear the news of our 120

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child. Chaya shooed him off to the star map with the assurance that as soon as the baby was born, Rasujal could gallop on Behemoth with the news. And so I re-enter that season of life where all one's energies are taken up with a new life to care for. But even as I am holding Pyramides while he drinks, admiring his curly light hair and enjoying the way his small hand curls around my finger, I am thinking of Yah. At every birth, there is always someone – a jovial uncle or an exuberant cousin - who says that each new life is a miracle. But if it truly is a miracle, why is Yah not present? I am left with the feeling that he has made us and now keeps his distance. My only hope is that Enoch says that he still sees him, and not always near the star map, but in the forest and once even down by the river. “And how do you know it is Yah?” I ask him. “It is the way he looks at me,” is all Enoch says. When I ask him what he looks like, his physical characteristics, Enoch seems incapable of providing a description and I do not want to force the issue. Part of me knows why Yah does not walk with his children anymore. I see the reason in my own children. Though Enoch is aloof from the everyday stresses of life, Rasujal and Tikvah are so quick to turn on each other over the slightest grievance. They live with the desire to have their own way at all cost and it is only Jared stepping in and sternly rebuking them that brings it to an end. Although I loathe admitting it, even I grow weary of their continual arguing. It is to Jared's credit that he continues to patiently supervise the construction of the star map. Disputes break out on the site and once it was only Kenaz's bow and arrow that kept two brothers from attempting fratricide. It leaves me with a spirit of heaviness and some mornings it is hard to get out of bed. How can Yah move among us if we are continually choosing the evil of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, rather than the good? The Tree of Life remains forever guarded by a flaming sword and cherubim stand guard at the east of the Garden, though these are things I have only heard of and never seen. It is Father 121


Adam who told his sons about the flaming sword. No eye but Father Adam's has seen that. “Baraka!” I turn from the courtyard stove at the sound of my husband's voice. It is unusual to have him home during the day. He takes his midday meal at the site of the star map with the other workers. “All praise to Yah that you are safe!” He gives me a quick embrace. “Where are the children?” I am startled. “Pyramides is sleeping,” I say. He is a healthy two years old now. “Enoch is with you, is he not?” Jared nods. “But the others?” he says, almost sounding impatient. “Rasujal is in the forest picking berries . . . ” “We must find him, quick!” And Jared is off before I can point out that Tikvah is in the corner of the courtyard, making a batch of dough for the sweet honey cakes she loves so much. My legs feel weak and I am torn between staying in the house with my two children and dashing off after my husband. As it turns out, Jared does not have to go far to find Rasujal. He is already approaching the house with his basket of wild blackberries. Although he is almost the size of a man, Jared practically grabs him off his feet and pushes him into the house. He calls out an order to me to shut and barricade the door before running off back in the direction of the star map. There are only two other people in the house with me. They are young men, second cousins, who have been sent by their families with more food supplies to feed the workers. Quickly, they push the table and the chairs up against the door while I run around closing shutters. What on earth is going on? I feel sick. I am not sure whether it is sick at not knowing what is happening or whether it is sick with fear. In any case, it does not matter. My small family, along with our cousins, take refuge in the courtyard. In the distance, we hear shouts. They are not friendly shouts and I have no idea what to make of them. Behemoth, too big to be in the house anymore, is somewhere out there and I hear him barking. It is a bark I have never heard come from him. It is almost a roar, but it is unmistakably Behemoth. Only Pyramides does not seem concerned. 122

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He is still sleeping, now in my arms. He is getting heavier and I am forced to sit down on the ground with him rather than continue standing like the others. Enoch is somewhere out there with his father. Rasujal's eyes glitter with excitement. He mutters something about wanting to know what is going on and I get a sense that he would even like to be a part of it. The two young men, who were intending to return to their settlement right after the midday meal, are quietly conferring with one another. I appreciate their demeanour, which is not adding to the tension. I have enough panic in my heart without anyone outwardly showing fear. It is a long hour before any news comes to the house. With the door barricaded, I would not have known who to admit to the house, except that in the open-air courtyard, my first sight of a person is my son Enoch, riding on Behemoth's tall shoulders. With a cry, I quickly run through the inner rooms to the door, the cousins right behind me. While Tikvah watches and Rasujal helps, the two cousins pull away the table and chairs and soon the house is filled with our battle-worn men. At first, there is no talk. Only trying to overcome shock to help with the present needs. Jared has a cut on his arm, but brushes me away when I try to stem the blood. There are others who need attention, he says. Quickly, I tear bolts of cloth to wrap around bleeding hands and arms and legs. The story of what happened comes out in bits and pieces. I pick it up as the men talk and recount what they just experienced. They were attacked by marauders. The reason for the attack was unclear although some of the workmen heard the gang refer to valuables on the site. It is possible that the rumour has gone out that the sons of Seth use precious stones or metals in the construction of their pyramids. In any case, the attack was savage and sudden. But the workmen retaliated and fought back with their tools. Behemoth joined the fray and gave the attackers second thoughts about their whole undertaking. But it still took some time to drive the attackers off. “I am sure Kenaz also gave them something to think about,” I murmur. I look around. Where is Kenaz? A sick feeling reaches down to my very kidneys. “Where is Kenaz?” I manage to say out loud. 123


“He left immediately after the fray,” says Jared, now paying attention to his own wound. I provide some strips of cloth and he lets me wrap them around his arm. “He wanted to warn the others. And defend them if necessary.” I nod. Mahahalel's settlement might be in danger. We are better armed here with our tools. They may not be as well prepared. “It is clear that we are going to have to build walled settlements,” says one of the men, now bandaged and sipping the wine I have provided for the injured. There are many murmurs of agreement. “It has already been done in the settlement of Dalath,” calls out another. I think of Roeh and his mother. What about the wide-open spaces for Roeh's sheep? Do they live in fear behind walls now? “We cannot put a wall around the star map,” Jared points out. No one comments on this. I know why. When they are done helping Jared, they will return to their busy settlements while Jared and I will be left here with our one home and our children. Our settlement will not grow until our children start having children. And we will be very vulnerable. I push these thoughts away. There is enough to think about right now. After much discussion, it is agreed that the work on the star map will continue. But at the same time, we lose about half the workers. The idea of building walls around the settlements is moving from talk to action. But many men will be needed to accomplish the task as there are many settlements among the sons of Seth. So the work on the star map slows down and even Kenaz stays home most days, training the sons of his brothers with bows and arrows, to defend their homes if necessary. Meanwhile, our home remains solitary and open to attack. The workers that stay now sleep in the house or in the courtyard. I step over their sleeping forms each morning as I make my way to the stove and start a fire for mint tea. But violence does not return to our house. Instead, we hear disturbing stories of unrest among the other sons of Adam. Among the children of Hey, in Havilah, the 124

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violence is the worst. The golden metal that so enchanted Qayin and Tubal-Cain is found in the land of Havilah. There is also onyx, now considered something to die for. Cursed is the man who has large quantities of either, for sooner or later, someone else will attempt to acquire it. Only the myrrh from Havilah still seems to be moved freely among the children of Adam. There are two types of traders now. Those who handle goods that people do not kill for. And those who do. The ones that carry precious stones move in packs, like wolves, and are as menacing as the men who would attack them. It is not just in Havilah. Along the Gihon, skirmishes occur regularly. Kenaz informs us that when it comes to defending a settlement, it is no longer enough to just be handy with a bow and arrow. There are other, more sophisticated, ways of fighting now. This new world is increasing the demand for the skills of the hunter. Kenaz no longer trades his animal skins with the sons of Sofer, but sells them to the traders. The traders have a thriving new business. They make frames and cover them with animal skins, selling them as shields. These new shields will protect a man from the knives and short swords that people regularly carry. But Kenaz says it goes beyond personal protection. The sons of Hey organize themselves into line formations. They carry shields in one hand and short swords in the other. When they move forward as one, they are formidable and well able to defend their settlements from menace. Even arrows cannot penetrate the new shields, provided a man is quick enough to cover himself. And yet, throughout it all, the news from Enoch is scant. I desire to know whether the family of Lamech is thriving. Has Naamah had children? Has the strength of Semjaza and his brothers benefited the city of Enoch, or has it brought them unhappiness? My mind runs over the various possibilities. The reality turns out to be stranger than any of my imaginings.

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Tubal-Cain must be a wealthy man by now. The knives made by him and his craftsmen are now carried by most of the sons of Adam. Perhaps it is a good thing that TubalCain is allied to Semjaza and his brothers by marriage. If the violence that covers the rest of the earth has affected Enoch, then he will need the protection of these men that tower above the sons of Cain. Jared does not let me go near the river when the traders are docked, so I cannot inquire about the inhabitants of Enoch. But my own Enoch keeps me distracted enough. He casually announces to me one morning that he has not only seen Yah but he has talked to him as well. The star map is not the bustling site it used to be. Whereas in the past, there were several crews working on different pyramids, now there is only one crew and so only one pyramid gets built at a time. Therefore, most of the huge site is usually without people. Today, when Enoch was passing by one of the completed pyramids, he saw Yah standing there. There was no need for introductions. 127


Whereas my first instinct would have been to fall to the ground on my face and weep with relief at the presence of Yah, my precocious son, now used to Yah's various appearances, asked him what the name of the star was that this pyramid represented. Yah laughed and said that this pyramid, in fact, represented a whole galaxy, though with our eyes, it would seem like another star. From there, they had walked and talked right back to the house. Enoch has been sent by Jared to bring back some more bread for the midday meal since some of the sons of Avanim from the stone quarry have shown up with a new load and need to be shown proper hospitality. I desperately want to know what Yah and Enoch discussed. My whole being would cherish the words of Yah. But my son does not share it with me. Quiet like his father, he is thoughtful and not quick to put forth his opinion. So I despair of ever knowing what he and Yah spoke about. “Where is he now?” I ask. Enoch is loaded down with a large basketful of bread and some bean dip, as well as another jar of oil. “He kept moving, toward the river,” says Enoch, as I hold the door open for him. I return to the table in the courtyard where I am making the dough for a potato pie. Yah in our very settlement! My heart should rejoice but it is breaking because I was not there to see it. As unsettling as it is to hear the reports of violence in the other parts of the land, it is more wretched to my spirit to know that Yah is here and is not talking to me. I continue to knead the dough, my mind entirely on what my son has just told me. Am I jealous of my son? No. I am glad for him. But I still ache for Yah. I have come out of the Land of Wandering and returned to the presence of Yah. But where is he? Then a thought enters my mind. It is really more of a conviction. Yah is present. Yah is talking to Enoch and he is my son. I am connected to Enoch and Enoch is connected to Yah. 128

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Just seeing it with that perspective helps. But only slightly. We remain mercifully untouched by the violence that is affecting the other settlements. Only the sons of Seth are not fighting among themselves, though that does not mean that outbursts of anger do not occur. When Chaya comes to visit, she tells me that her brothers and their children are not at peace with one another. “But at least we have not declared war on each other,” she says, smiling. I smile absently. She is visiting on a day when nearly a hundred sons of Avanim have shown up with some of the larger base stones needed for one of the final pyramids. The heavier stones require all hands. I am expected to have a meal for them all out at the star map. The bread is prepared. I am also roasting potatoes in the oven. They are what I am concentrating on now, checking on them to make sure they have not overcooked. When they come out, I will marinade them in oil and spices. “Here, let me do that,” says Chaya, as I return to a large table where I have to wash and chop some spinach to add to the potatoes. She rolls up her sleeves to run the sandy leaves under the running water. I notice something. “What is this?” I ask, looking at her arm. There is a patch of blue markings on one of them. I gently touch it. She shakes away my hand. “It is nothing,” she says. “An affliction that affects us all.” “What do you mean?” I say. I have only seen such markings once, after Rasujal fell out of a tree. His leg bruised and he was blessed not to have broken a bone. “How did this happen?” I ask, knowing my sister is not in the habit of falling out of trees. “It is nothing,” she repeats. It takes me a minute to figure it out. Her husband did this. “Does Mahalalel know about this?” I demand. “Of course not!” she says sharply. I understand if she does not want to tell our father. He is getting older and perhaps she does not feel he can help. 129


“What about Kenaz?” I say. Our brother Kenaz could certainly put an end to this. Chaya laughs. But it is a bitter laugh. “You should see the markings on his wife's arms,” she says. How can this be? For the moment, I have completely forgotten about the potatoes. Now I remember that I have a field of hungry men waiting. I grab a heavy cotton cloth and pull out the two large pans of potatoes. Though hot, I quickly chop them up and toss them into the bowl of oil. Chaya, meanwhile, has finished washing the spinach and is now shredding it and tossing it in with the potatoes. I add some onion that I had already chopped to the bowl and the potatoes are done. I have so much food to bring down to the field that I have to load it all on a cart. If I wanted, I could harness up one of the small horses that Enoch has befriended and use it to haul the cart along the path, but I am in too much of a hurry to catch one. We start off for the star map with me pulling the cart. Tikvah trails along behind, picking wildflowers. She is a grown woman now, though she still enjoys some of the activities of her childhood. She is far enough behind that I pursue the topic with Chaya. “But surely there is some kind of protection . . . ?” “What would you know about it?” she mutters. It is the first time I have experienced hostility from my sister. “I am married,” I say. “You are married to Jared,” she says. “Has he ever struck you?” “Of course not,” I say. “Of course not,” she repeats, sounding slightly mocking. “I have talked to the cousins,” she continues. “It is all the same. The wife of Enosh, the wife of Cainan, my own mother, they know nothing of these things.” I try to take this in. “Be sure of this, sister,” says Chaya. “Rasujal will strike his wife. Enoch will not.” Is there truth to this? It is true that Enoch has a different personality than his younger brother, but I did not attribute this to anything except 130

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sibling variety. Rasujal is certainly disrespectful at times, but he is not the type to strike out at someone. Is he? “But it was Cain who struck his younger brother, Abel,” I protest. Chaya shrugs. “Among the sons of Cain, perhaps things are different,” she says. “Among the sons of Seth, this is the way it is.” What more can we say? We walk to the star map in silence. The food is received with gratitude, but today I look at the men differently. How many of their wives live in fear? It is impossible to tell as they sit around in groups, talking and laughing. Then I look at Jared. What makes him different? It is Yah, I decide. Each of the eldest sons of Seth has had to build a star map and so has become the guardian of a place of worship. Despite that Chaya stays with me for two more days, the topic of the bruises on her arm does not come up again. Instead, we talk about our children. She has left her's back at Mahalalel's settlement. Dinah is delighted to be able to spend the extra time with her grandchildren, she tells me. That is something I miss. Chaya's mother never really became my mother and I have lost Zillah. No doubt, Zillah has Naamah's children to rejoice over. Chaya, who was once so full of life, now seems only to talk of death. The traders bring news every time they dock. Another death. Another murder, or sometimes an accident. The patriarchs – Father Adam, Father Seth, and the other sons of Adam – command enough respect that no one threatens their lives, but among cousins, life is brutal. All larger settlements are walled now. Even animals are being trained for war. Wild dogs have been domesticated to defend households. And Behemoth is not the only tamed lizard. Other great dragons are being used to guard city gates, the most formidable ones being the kind that breath fire. Dragon trainers are in great demand. “That is why you are safe here,” Chaya says over mint tea in the courtyard. “The marauders are afraid of Behemoth.” I do not tell her that I think we are safe because of the 131


presence of Yah. Recently, Enoch has had another conversation with Yah, this time in the forest. He was gone a whole day. Mercifully, I did not know he was missing. I assumed he was with Jared at the star map. Jared assumed he was home with me. I did not even attempt to find out what it was that they discussed. It is enough for me now that Yah is near. “I am going to make a pilgrimage to visit Hawwa, Mother of All Living,” says Chaya. Her choice of words is unusual. Up until now, I have only heard the sons of Seth refer to a pilgrimage to the Great Pyramid. “But why, sister?” I say. “She will come again to our settlements. She always does.” Chaya shakes her head. “I cannot discuss certain things when all the others are around. I need her blessing.” At first I think that she is talking about the abuse that she and her cousins are enduring. “The more sons a man has, the higher his esteem for his wife.” I realize it is her intent to visit Hawwa to ask for a blessing of fertility. “But, sister,” I protest. “It is me who should be asking for more children! Not you! After all, I have a settlement to people.” Chaya shrugs. “But Hawwa cannot give you more children,” I say. I have come a long way in both body and mind since my days in the city of Cain. No longer would I even entertain the possibility that any matriarch can bestow a blessing of fertility on her daughters. “She is the Mother of All Living,” Chaya insists. “But even she herself said that she had brought forth a manchild from Yah.” “Then perhaps she can ask Yah to give me more children. If I do not have more children, I will die!” I think of my son, possibly even at this moment, out in the forest with Yah. Should I pass the request onto Enoch to convey to Yah? It would save Chaya a journey over ever-increasingly dangerous land. “Perhaps Yah is closer than you think,” I say. “Perhaps if you call out to him, he will come to you.” “I do not want Yah to come to me,” says Chaya sharply. “I 132

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want more children!” I am shocked. “But surely Yah is better than ten children!” I say. “Do not let Jared hear you say that,” is her reply. But I think Jared would agree with me. It is not safe to travel alone between the settlements, so Chaya returns to her own home with some of her brothers. I watch them disappear into the forest and wish there was something I could do for her. There is only one thing I can think of. I mention to Enoch that his Aunt Chaya would like to have more children and that children are a gift from Yah. Perhaps he could mention this to Yah next time they converse. Enoch's reply shocks me even more than Chaya's outburst. “Yah is not pleased with the sons of Adam. Why should she bring more children into this violent world?” And so Chaya prepares to make her journey. The family is divided over it. Mahalalel and Jared disapprove of such a pilgrimage, saying that Hawwa is not a substitute for Yah. I plead with her to wait until the star map is complete. Then there will be a dance to Yah and I assure her, it is quite possible it will not only be a dance for Yah, it might be a dance with Yah. But Chaya's husband wants more children now, not later. And Chaya's mother is willing to watch her children while she is gone. So Chaya pays for passage on one of the trader's ships destined for the closest settlement to Father Adam. I half expect to never see her again. But she returns six months later, not overly impressed with the whole situation at Hawwa's. She says they have too many animals and Father Adam is too quiet and Hawwa is too busy and they take in too many people and all in all, she is not hopeful that anything was accomplished by her journey. Alas, she proves to be right and does not get pregnant again. Much to the shame of the sons of Seth, her husband pronounces her barren and says he is taking a second wife. “It is not so bad,” I try to console her when her brother Kenaz brings her along on a day when he has come to work on the star map. “My mother, Zillah, was a second wife.” “Oh! So now you are a daughter of Cain instead of a daughter of Seth?” she snaps at me. I sigh. She is only speaking in angry. And it does not help the 133


situation that I am pregnant again, approaching the end of my time of waiting. I cannot convey her to her the sadness I feel with this pregnancy. A new life should be a time of joy and hope. But I cannot help but feel that Yah has abandoned his children because of their disobedience to him. Except for Enoch. Though he is still young, Jared is already putting forth the idea that Enoch will need a wife. I know that Enoch will never seek one out so long as his days are spent with Yah and I point out to Jared that he was not a father until he was 162-years-old. But Jared is eager that his son marries younger than he did. While I feel a reluctance to have another child because of the way the world has turned, Jared feels the opposite. As if more sons of Seth will be able to turn things around - to the way he remembers the world as a boy. In the meantime though, we are distracted by a visit from Seth himself. It has been many years since we had a visit from our patriarch, and indeed, this is the first time he has visited our settlement. We were not expecting him until the star map was complete. He comes specifically to see me. Jared and Enoch both sit with us as we talk on our large front porch. It is the first day in years that neither of them goes to the star map. “Some of the traders have come to me with alarming stories,” he says. “They are scared.” “Whatever do they have to be afraid of ?” I ask. “They are alarming men themselves.” “This is true,” says Seth. He is sipping some of our orange juice. We recently bought orange trees. “They are afraid of giants.” “Giants?” says Jared. Seth nods. “They came to me because of Sofer. Of course, they cannot actually talk to Sofer. The Great Pyramid is guarded as closely as the Garden. But the traders wanted to know if these men were safe to trade with.” “Giants,” I say, softly. “They call themselves Nephilim, Fallen Ones,” says Seth. “I remembered the name of the man you encountered in Enoch 134

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was Semjaza the Nephilim. Is it possible that these are the same people?” “Quite possible,” I say. “A long time ago, when I left the city of Cain, I had a chance to see the brothers of Semjaza. They are alarming in their stature. But why is it that the traders come to you now? The Nephilim have been in the city of Cain for many years.” “These are not traders who travel to the sons of Cain. They have encountered these giants in the perimeter settlements. They are alarmed,” says Seth. “When a man is so much larger than yourself, all you can rely on is his honour. But I was unable to give them any comfort. There are no Nephilim in our records of the children of Adam. If they are not sons of Cain, then they are not of this world. And not knowing who they are, I cannot tell the traders whether they are honourable men.” I happen to glance at my son. Though my husband's eyes are full of concern, my son is calm. It would not surprise me in the least if he and Yah have not already talked about the Nephilim. “We must pray these men choose to settle where they are,” says Seth, standing up. “If the traders are frightened of them, I can only imagine the panic that would spread over the earth if they chose to explore elsewhere.” Continuing to discuss the matter, he, Jared and Enoch then drift toward the path that will take them to the star map. My mind is spinning. I would so like to hear more news about Naamah and Tubal-Cain in Enoch. But it does not sound like the traders are going there these days.

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The news only gets worse. A boatload of men, very large men, has been seen lazily making its way down the river. They did not seem to intend harm, from the report of the eyewitness, but were just sightseeing. But then I get the fright of my life. I am out in the woods one day. Enoch is somewhere in these woods, ambling with Yah, oblivious to the world and its troubles. Or perhaps they are discussing its troubles, for all I know. I need mushrooms. This is not the first time I have been out by myself since giving birth to my child, a girl who we named Kalah. Kalah means, to be at an end, because the star map is almost finished. There will most certainly not be another child in the meantime. Tikvah is thrilled to have a baby sister and loves Kalah as if she is her own. I am able to leave Kalah with Tikvah whenever I need to go to the star map or to work in the garden. “Good day, my lady.” I almost drop my basket of mushrooms. It is a voice I have not heard in years. And one I never thought I would hear again. 137


Semjaza. But what is he doing here, in this quiet forest, far from the city of Cain? I swallow fear. I will not be afraid! Yah is nearby. Yah protected me as I journeyed here. “Semjaza,” I say, trying to speak with a tranquility that matches the forest around us. “What brings you here, among the sons of Seth?” “I seek you, my lady.” I do not like this idea. And he is still using that familiar, my lady. “My understanding is that you are the husband of Naamah now,” I say. I casually crouch down and pick up some of the mushrooms I dropped and return them to my basket. “I am,” he agrees. I stand up straight. “My sister, is she . . . well?” “Your sister lives,” he says, coolly. “I seek another. That is all.” “My sister has not born you children?” I ask. “She is the mother of five of my sons,” he replies. “Then you have no reason to seek another,” I say. I decide the mushrooms are not important and the first chance I get, I will return to the house. And barricade the door. “You were always my first choice,” he says. “Perhaps,” I say, trying to sound calm as I begin making my way back to the path. “But when I agreed to be your wife, I believed that I was a daughter of Cain. As I prepared for the wedding, I learnt I was a daughter of Seth.” “Should that matter?” he asks, as he walks alongside me. “It did to me.” We walk in silence. There are so many things I could ask. Does he know I am married to Jared? How did he find me? Why is he no longer satisfied with Naamah? But I do not want to break the silence. I want to remain aloof. Unfortunately, I am quite a distance from the house. Even if I were to shout out now, no one would hear me. And even if they did, who would come to my aid? Tikvah and Kalah? No, I decide. I must put my trust in Yah and in my position as the wife of 138

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Jared. But I still feel a terror from knowing I ran away from an engagement and did not disentangle myself with honour. “The sons of men treat their wives with cruelty,” says Semjaza. “Mine does not,” I say. More silence for a stretch. “You bring forth children in pain,” he says. “True,” I say. “I do not desire more children,” he says. “There are ways of avoiding conception.” “I am married,” I say. “As are you.” “I weary of Naamah,” he says. “Then you will weary of me,” I say. “I would never weary of you, my lady.” I should not even hint that there is the slightest possibility that I will consider a marriage with him. I want to tell him that Jared is a good man and I will not leave him, but I also do not want to put Jared in a dangerous position. There are men who have been killed for their wives, sometimes even with their wife's complicity. “My life is here,” I say, instead. “Then I will make my life here,” he says, taking the basket of mushrooms from me. “Why should you be like a servant girl and make the soup when you can be the daughter of a god?” “I am a daughter of Seth,” I say sharply. At the same time, his words are both disturbing and enlightening. Daughter of a god? That can only mean that Semjaza believes himself to be the son of a god. What god? Surely not Yah? Even as I walk along this familiar path, trying to think of a way of escaping Semjaza, I am thinking ahead to when I will be able to report this to our Father Seth. “Your beauty makes you a daughter of god,” he says. “This is no place for you then,” I say, deciding to speak bluntly. “This is a life of work and worship to Yah.” It is as if a dark cloud passes in front of his face. “Yah has left you,” he says. “I offer you something better.” If I did not know that my son is at this very minute somewhere with Yah, I would be momentarily tempted. The world certainly feels abandoned by Yah. Though I know it is not true. “My place is here,” I say. 139


“You are stubborn, Havilah,” he says, handing the basket back to me. We are still a distance from the house and I wonder what makes him suddenly terminate the conversation. Then I see my son, Enoch, emerge from the trees onto the path. Semjaza is gone. I look around, but I do not see him anywhere. He must have moved fast and stealthily, but it is still unnerving. He was here one moment and now he is not. “Mother,” says Enoch, greeting me and kissing my cheek. “It is not safe to be out here alone.” I sigh. If he only knew how true those words were. Part of me wants to keep Semjaza's visit a secret from Jared. But I realize this is only foolishness. I fear for Jared's safety but not telling him is not going to keep him any safer. When we are alone in our bedroom, Jared listens. At first he is enraged. He cannot speak, but when he does, his first remark is to repeat what Enoch has said. It is not safe to be out alone. He is as concerned about me as I am for him. I resist the urge to tell him that Semjaza or no Semjaza, I have no desire to be a prisoner in my home, waiting for someone to accompany me whenever I need some ingredients for soup. I have no confidence in my own beauty and am certain Semjaza will move on when he realizes that I am not just going to run off with him. In fact, I am different than I was in the city of Cain. By the glass windows, I can see that I am more tired-looking. It is around my eyes mostly. And each child that I carried and bore has changed me. Yet Semjaza is as handsome as ever and shows no signs of wear or age. Jared agrees with me that we need to discuss the matter with Father Seth, but says we can do so soon enough. By the next full moon, the star map will be complete and all the sons of Seth will be invited to celebrate. “Then I will have to be out and about in order to prepare,” I say. “That means hundreds of people coming. I need to be in the forest harvesting everything edible and in the garden every day.” “Rasujal will accompany you,” says Jared. He does not say it, but in his opinion, Rasujal is next-to-useless when it comes to construction. Although it is not the construction itself. It is 140

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Rasujal's inability to follow directions. “I have Behemoth,” I say. “Behemoth is too big for the forest,” Jared points out. “Rasujal will accompany you and if he does not, I will take a whip to him.” It is the first time Jared has ever said such a thing, but I am not alarmed. In this case, it is his concern for my safety. The next morning, Rasujal is sulky about his new assignment. Even if he does not enjoy working, he likes hanging around the site and talking to the men. “The work there is almost done,” I say, to console him. “You must find something else to do anyhow.” He still grumbles. I do not know if it would cheer him up to learn that the reason he must accompany his mother is because he will have to protect me from a man who is a head taller than him and two heads taller than me. But Semjaza does not appear today and Rasujal and I have a day in the forest, gathering what we will need for the upcoming festivities. The whole time, Rasujal complains. “It would go by faster if you would work harder,” I point out to him. His basket of olives is only half-full, while I already have two large baskets of dates and figs. Over the next two weeks we, or rather, I, gather wild herbs and all other edible greens from the forest. My nerves almost crack after days of listening to Rasujal grumble. But at the end of the last day, something happens to lift my spirits and make my heart soar with gratitude. As I am sorting out the herbs on a table in the courtyard, Enoch comes in with a huge basket of blueberries and puts it down on the ground beside me. “My son!” I say, in surprise. “Thank you for picking these!” “Oh, they are not from me,” he says, as he turns and heads back out. “They are from Yah,” he calls out over his shoulder. From Yah. I stare down at the basket. I have never seen this basket before. It comes up to my waist and it is sturdier than any of the others I own. I look at the blueberries in the basket. Though the berries in 141


my garden are lovely, they are usually small. These are large, some of them even the size of grapes. I taste one. Sweet! Sweeter than any I have gotten from my own bushes. I sink to the ground beside the basket. With Semjaza lurking around somewhere and a son who cares little for my needs, my whole body has felt weak these last few weeks. But here is a gift from Yah. He most certainly knows how many people will be arriving here in the next few days. I put my arm around the basket and just hold onto it. And I cry quietly. Our settlement swells from one home and few workmen, to an encampment for nearly all of the sons of Seth. Though many do not even bother to visit the star maps closest to their own settlements, this new one is an excuse for a festival and a chance to get caught up on family news. Our Father Enosh will lead the activities but Jared is needed right beside him. So I am left to look after the food, with some help from Tikvah. Kalah is passed around from doting relative to doting relative. She is the youngest one at this festival. Chaya attends with all her children, her husband . . . and her husband's new wife, who is now expecting a child. It is awkward, but I am spared from it by having so much to do. The blueberries are a success, with many people commenting on how sweet and delicious they are. But my greatest hope is that Yah himself will show up tomorrow night at the dance of the star map. Once again, it is like the old days. People campout under the stars. There are too many of us to worry about marauders. But the conversations still centre on the bandits who have menaced the other settlements and are now even permeating the settlements of Seth. Seth himself stays in our home and confides in me that he hates the talk of his children. “Perhaps if we talked more about Yah, he would move among us again.” I agree. I have a chance to tell him about Semjaza in the forest and he 142

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is concerned. “Stay strong, my daughter,” he says. “You did the right thing when you came to be among your own people. There is nothing dishonourable about your choice and Yah will bless you for having chosen to be among his people.” I thank him for his words of encouragement. “Father,” I say, hesitantly. We are mostly alone in the house. A fire has been built outside our home and the majority of people are out there, talking and laughing. “Yes, daughter?” I do not know how to say it. I do not think even Enoch has told anyone. But I think Father Seth should know. “Enoch walks with Yah,” I blurt out. Seth's eyes widen. He is silent for a moment. Then there is joy on his face. “Yah be praised!” he bursts out. “Yah be praised! He has not forgotten us!” “But, Father . . . ” I take his hand. “Why does Yah not come to us all? Me or you, for example.” Seth covers my hand with his. “That might not be for us to know,” he says. “It is enough to know that he is still here.” I nod. It is true what he says. Then I tell Seth about the blueberries. Seth starts to laugh. That makes me start to laugh. And then we are both laughing so hard that we are weeping. “Yah provides,” Seth says at last, wiping tears from his eyes. I nod. Yah provides. After my talk with Seth, somehow I feel that Yah will not dance with us. I wake up in the morning with this new thought. It is not a disappointment as much as a conviction. Perhaps Yah will never move again among the sons of Seth, but we can be grateful that he still moves among some of them. Or even just one of them. But my longing for Yah is just as intense as it ever was. Maybe even stronger. Jared is not in bed beside me. Obviously, he has risen early to 143


be at the star map in preparation for tonight. Kalah sleeps in a small bed near me. She is stirring so I take her downstairs with me and into the courtyard where I will begin a huge pot of mint tea for the early-risers. Tikvah and I have prepared date and fig pastries in advance, so I place those out on the table as soon as the tea is boiling hot and ready. Then I must start taking food out to the star map. With so many people here now, Jared does not require that Rasujal accompany me everywhere. He is off with his cousins, some of the ones who Kenaz has trained with a bow and arrow. They are practising their skills in a less-populated part of the settlement. Even Tikvah is not much help today. Although she assisted me with all the food preparations, she is now also with her cousins, talking and laughing and discussing family news. I sigh. But I cannot be hard on either of them. We are a new settlement and so they do not have the social opportunities that their cousins from the older ones have. So I load up the cart myself. I have bread to feed a city, oil and herbs to dip it in, as well as dried fruit and honey pastries. Mercifully, Chaya's mother's sister appears as I am just about to set out and volunteers to take care of Kalah. For this load, I really should harness a pony, but all the small horses are being ridden right now. There is even a pony race being started in one long clear stretch of the settlement. Once again, I will be pulling the load myself. I set out, expecting to see cousins and aunts and uncles along the way. But the path is quiet. Those who were going to the star map early, such as Sofer and his sons, are already there. Everyone else seems to be planning on setting out later, closer to the night. So I am alone in the forest. But not for long. Semjaza appears in front of me. I do not know how he does it. One minute I am alone. And the next moment, he is right here. I take a deep breath and try to calm myself. “He has you pulling carts now,” says Semjaza, walking alongside me. I sigh. He does not have to say who he is referring to. “My husband is too busy at the moment . . . ” 144

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“Too busy to think of his wife,” says Semjaza, nodding. “It is a common affliction among the sons of Adam.” With one hand, he takes the reins of the cart from me and starts pulling. He does it with effortless ease. I cannot pretend that I do not appreciate him removing that load from my shoulders, but at the same time, I do not like the feeling of gratitude that emerges inside of me as a result of the gesture. It is true. Jared does not always consider my needs. But he has had the star map to think of and he is a good man. “We are busy,” I say. “The star map is complete . . . ” “Has it ever occurred to the children of Seth that Yah is not interested in star maps?” asks Semjaza. “It is the way we honour him,” I say. It is so much easier to walk without having to pull that cart. “Perhaps he is not around to be honoured.” I do not say anything. I will not tell him anything about Yah or how my family has been blessed by his presence. I try a different approach. “Semjaza,” I say. “Why do you stay here? The earth is full of women lovelier than me and who would be more than willing to be your wife.” “Perhaps that is why I stay,” he says with a small smile. A challenge. That is all I am to him. If I were to give in to him, I would no longer have his interest. “And how is my sister, Naamah?” I ask him. “Your sister, Naamah is dreary to live with.” “You took her from the man she loved.” Semjaza throws his head back and laughs. “You do not mean that silly cousin of hers, do you? Qayin?” “Naamah always loved Qayin,” I say. It seems safer to talk of these things. Semjaza, still laughing, shakes his head. “Naamah does not love Qayin. She loves me. I bought Qayin for her, as a slave.” I stop walking. “Qayin is a slave?” Semjaza also stops walking and watches me with interest. “He had debts. I bought him for her. I thought it would amuse her to be able to order him around.” I do not know what to say. I never really liked Qayin, but now 145


all I can think is, poor Qayin. “If Naamah loves you, why do you not return to her?” I ask, starting to walk again. “She is dull,” he says. “Not like you. She does not want a man to have his freedom. She wants to hold onto him with her claws.” “Maybe she is just afraid of losing you,” I say. “And you, Havilah,” he says. “What are you afraid of ?” It is a question no one has ever asked me. The sons of Seth expect their wives not to be afraid. And for the most part, I am able to calm my own fears with reason. But there is only one thing that fills me with terror. And that is the thought of losing Yah. But I have never even seen Yah! Again, how can I long for something I have never had? And yet, I do. But I will most certainly not tell Semjaza this. “What is it, Havilah?” he repeats. “What is it you most fear?” His voice is soothing. It invites me in, to share my fears and to feel protected. I do not speak. I do not dare speak. “The world is not safe, Havilah,” says Semjaza, still pulling the cart with apparent effortlessness. “I do not care,” I say. He smiles slightly. “But it would be nice if your husband would care, would it not?” That is a troubling thought. Jared chooses to ignore the violence. He has focused on the star map since the day we were married. Since before we were married. He has never once asked me how I feel about the world and whether I need to be more protected. We live in one of the few unwalled settlements and the only weapon we have, apart from Behemoth's formidable presence, is the knife I gave to him when we were married. “This is a world for the strong,” says Semjaza. “The strong survive in a world like this. The weak need protection.” He does not need to tell me that I am weak. The fact that I am alone in the forest, to be molested at the whim of anyone who happens to come along, is evidence enough. And then I feel his arm around my waist. The other arm still pulls the cart. 146

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My legs feel unable to support my body. He is sustaining me. And then his other arm drops the reins of the harness and I am swept closer to him. We are face-to-face now. “I am strong, Havilah,” he says. “Never forget that.” Then he lets go of my waist. I almost drop. And I am alone in the woods. Had he violated me, I would not feel less terror than I do now. I am terrified by the desire I have to feel safe in Semjaza's arms, yet at the same time, I am sickened by the thought that if I give in to him, I will perhaps find myself in a place far more evil than even the Land of Wandering.

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Somehow the cart gets pulled to the star map. I do not know how. I have no strength left in my body after my encounter with Semjaza. But Jared is too occupied to notice my weakened state. There are trees being felled for the giant bonfire. There is some kind of an argument going on over the location of the fire on the ground in relation to the sun. I do not want to walk back through the forest alone. I ask Jared if Rasujal can be spared to accompany me back to the house. There is still work to be done there. Thinking that it is just a matter of hauling back the cart, Jared says that he will bring the cart back himself and that every man is needed to prepare for tonight. Then he hurries away. No doubt there is truth to what Semjaza has said. But, on the other hand, I do not have bruises on my arms like some of the other wives here. Semjaza must have other ways to occupy himself because my walk back to the house is a solitary one. Oh Naamah, my sister! How your heart must be breaking now! 149


As the evening approaches, I have offers of assistance from cousins to carry the remaining food to the star map. We will be at the map all night and one gets just as hungry as during the day. So I do not walk the path alone again. As the sun starts to go down, I am accompanied through the forest by a whole crowd of men, women and children. We bring fruit and vegetable pastries, orange juice for the children and wine for the adults. I almost forget Semjaza as we arrive at the star map and gather around the fire. I look around, realizing for the first time, the map is complete! What an undertaking it has been. The sons of Avanim and their wives are all honoured guests. Without their stone quarries, these maps would not be possible. Enosh is the one to welcome everyone and proclaim that again, Yah has been honoured in the achievements of the sons of Seth. My son, Enoch, is called forward and a special blessing is requested of Yah so that the next map will bring honour to Yah too. To the best of my knowledge, no one here knows that Enoch walks with God and so they do not see what I see. Enoch is not participating in the prayer. He knows something. But then Jared is called forward to raise his hands in supplication to Yah and to ask Yah to walk among us again as he did with Father Adam in the Garden. To have mercy on our sins and to keep us from the hands of violent men. There are violent men standing here, I think. Then the fire is lit. In a short time, the blaze lights the whole map just as the sun lights our day. At our wedding, not everyone joined in the dance. But this time, I see that even fewer people seem interested in the sacred aspect of this evening. While most people gather around the tables of food and talk on the edges of the darkness, it is the older people who dance to Yah. With Kalah being cared for by Tikvah and a cousin who is soon to be married, I join them. My heavy heart tells me that Yah will not join us, though I cannot help but look on the outskirts of the forest for him. I try to forget that Semjaza is also in that forest. Enoch dances to Yah and I cannot help but watch him before losing myself in the music. Enoch dances with a lightness and a 150

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grace. He is not seeking Yah, he has found him and now his whole being is dedicated to him. While the other men his age seem eager to talk to their female cousins, he is in a world of his own. And soon I am also in a world of my own. If I cannot have Yah, then at least I can have no one else. For the time I am moving to the music, I forget that I am the wife of Jared. I forget that there was every a man named Semjaza. I forget that I am the mother of Enoch, Rasujal, Tikvah, Pyramides and Kalah. There is only me. Touching the edges of the universe and maybe even catching a glimpse of the shadow of Yah. With morning comes sleep. Many people fall asleep at the star map. I have certainly brought enough food that those who are still awake when morning comes can have a meal before their sleep. After that, they will have to return to the house. It is Enoch who helps me carry some of the empty baskets back to the settlement. Kalah has long since been taken home by Tikvah. My other sons are still with their cousins. Typically, Enoch is quiet. Like his father, he does not speak unless there is a reason to. “Someday you will have your own star map,” I say to him. It is not an idle comment. I hope to learn what it is that he is hiding from the rest of us. “There will be no more star maps, Mother.” So that is it. Yah must have told him. But why? Why will there be no more star maps? I do not ask. It is enough that Enoch knows, for the heavy burden of building the map would have fallen to him. But what will the sons of Enosh say when Enoch marries and does not carry on the tradition? My mind is too sleepy to give it much thought. Though Jared is not in our room when I return to the house, Kalah is in her little bed. I fall down on my bed and almost immediately join her in sleep.

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Our settlement is still. I have never experienced it this quiet. There have always been a few workmen at the house and of course, many at the map. But the map is completed, the workmen are home and all our guests long-gone. Even Jared seems at a loss as to what to do next. He turns to our sons, who are now grown men. It is a surprise to him that Enoch is not around very often. I think he assumed that Enoch was always here, helping me in some way. So it is Rasujal who gets his attention. Jared tries to engage him in the task of maintaining the star map. There are always minor repairs to be made, grass to be cut, and it is the second and third sons who help their father. The first son will move away and start his own settlement someday. But Rasujal is more interested in his new bow and arrow from his Uncle Kenaz and which of his cousins he will marry. He also wants to know when we will start building our wall. “Our wall?” Jared repeats. “Our wall of protection,” Rasujal says impatiently. We are just 153


our family, seated along a large table, for breakfast. In past days, twenty, or more, other people could have been here with us. “But we hardly have anything to protect,” Jared protests. “We are only one house!” “There will be more houses in the future,” Rasujal insists. “And we should build our wall before the violence comes to us!” Perhaps it is just to keep him busy, but Jared puts Rasujal in charge of the wall. And soon Rasujal is teaching us all the art of mixing mortar to hold stones together. Some settlements have protected themselves with wooden fences, but we have many unused smaller stones leftover from the pyramids. Only the gate is wooden and when our wall is completed, Jared insists that the gate always be left open. Rasujal is disgusted. “What is the point of a secure wall if you leave the gate open?” he demands. But Jared is adamant. “We are guardians of the star map. Some people will come through here on their way to visit it. It should not be closed to them, no matter what time of day or night they arrive.” No matter. Behemoth, though older now, sleeps within the walls. He can easily step over them if he needs to get out. He is truly a gentle giant. But Rasujal has different plans. He wants to breed lizards, smaller but more vicious than Behemoth. They will make terrifying guards and he can sell them to all the settlements around. I do not like the idea, but Jared says that since he shows no inclination to do anything else, we might as well let him. And so, wooden cages are constructed all around the perimeters of our property. With some help from his Uncle Kenaz and some of the cousins, Rasujal takes his bow and arrow and goes out into the woods, far beyond our settlement, to capture some dragons to breed. The bow and arrow is just for defence. So as not to harm the beasts, they are going to be captured with nets. It is a bloody undertaking and I expect that many of them will return with injuries. But none of them turn down Rasujal's proposal. There is much money to be made in settlement security. Sure enough, when they return several weeks later, though their cages are full, their arms are scratched and one cousin even 154

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came close to losing a leg after a dragon bit a chunk of his flesh out. His cousins had to carry him home on a bed of wooden boughs. Mercifully, the wound healed instead of becoming infected, though the man will walk with a limp for the rest of his life. Meanwhile, Jared is urging his sons to choose wives who seek after Yah. Enoch nods with gravity as this idea is discussed over dinner. Rasujal, on the other hand, says he knows who he will be marrying and names one of his cousins. Nava is extraordinarily beautiful, but as far as I know, has little interest in the ways of Yah. “I will ask her to be my wife when my first dragon lays an egg,” he says. The prospect of him bringing this girl back to the settlement and having her live in my house until Rasujal is able to build his own house does not cheer me. I have never been able to talk to Nava on any topic and I have never seen her assist her mother in any way. But Enoch is quiet. It is not until a few weeks later that he tells his father that he has asked one of his cousins at the settlement of Mahalalel to marry him. He spent some time there and returned with this news. Edna is a quiet girl and has none of the beauty of Rasujal's future wife. But I could not be more pleased. She is the girl one always sees working in the background. And at the festival of the star map, she was one of the few younger people dancing around the fire. She will be a welcome addition to our family. Jared is slightly puzzled. “He could have any of the women among our settlements,” he says, that night after his talk with Enoch. We are alone in our bedroom. Kalah is now a young woman with a room of her own. I nod. Enoch is handsome. “But Edna is so . . . ” He does not have to say it. Edna is plain compared to her sisters. I smile. “Perhaps Enoch sees her heart,” I say. “I suppose that is it,” says Jared, as he climbs into bed and pulls a light cotton sheet over us both, although the temperature 155


is steady enough that we do not really need a covering at night. In fact, our Father Adam and Hawwa used to wander the Garden unclothed without discomfort. But I have always liked the feeling of cotton. Now that our sons are ready for marriage, we have not spoken of further children. Pyramides is talking of traveling farther upriver, as I did once. He wants to visit the settlements of Cainan and Enosh, to select a wife. Apparently, none of the cousins in Mahalalel's settlement please him. This is what we discuss as we drift off to sleep. “Perhaps I will accompany him,” says Jared. “Soon Tikvah and Kalah will need husbands. And I would like to see the Great Pyramid . . . ” Enoch's wedding brings many people to our settlement once again. We are honoured by unexpected guests. Father Adam and Hawwa! They do not announce their arrival, but simply appear in my courtyard along with all of the other people who are drinking mint tea and discussing the next day's wedding. Father Adam is immediately surrounded by his sons. Hawwa joins me in by the stove. I nearly drop my tray of fruit pastries. We hug and she quickly joins me in kneading dough and assembling more pastries. I tell her she is an honoured guest and must not work like this. But she just laughs and says she will be useful. She wants to know all about Enoch and his wife-to-be. I hint quietly that Yah is present with Enoch and she nods. “My son Seth told me,” she says, also softly. Though there are people helping with food preparation, we are the only ones at this table. “That is why we are here.” I glance into the house where Father Adam is at the centre of a large group of men. Does he long to walk with Yah again? Hawwa reads my mind. “It is the greatest loss of all,” she says, quickly folding some honey-coated peaches into the dough. I nod. She does not have to elaborate. And then she asks me about Rasujal and Pyramides and Tikvah and Kalah. More of her daughters join us, wanting to talk 156

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to her. I shoo her away, saying I am selfish to keep her all to myself. She laughs and says we will talk more later. I am left to wonder if the presence of Father Adam will draw Yah out to dance with his children once again. A creation without a Creator. I am bitterly disappointed. Though our son is now married and Edna is a blessed welcome in my home, Yah did not appear at Enoch's wedding. I know Hawwa is as disheartened as I am. Though she keeps a pleasant face when we embrace and say goodbye, I can read the frustration in her eyes. I do not know how others survive the loss of Yah. It is Edna who explains it to me. We work together in the courtyard while Jared and Enoch construct their new home. “They live as if the creation is all that there is,” she says to me. “They speak with awe about the grass and the trees and the sky and forget that it was Yah who made it. My own mother speaks about flowers as if they are sacred.” “You are so right,” I say, as I take this in. I have been alone in my settlement for so long that I have not realized this until now. Edna's mother has her whole house surrounded by flowering bushes. Anything that blossoms or blooms is arranged with stunning effect. At Enoch's wedding under the stars, people spoke as if the stars themselves were worthy of worship. “It is the pain of not having Yah,” I say. “They turn to his creation as a substitute.” Edna shakes her head as she adds some more flour to the bread dough. “It is not to compensate for his loss. They no longer desire him. His creation has become enough for them.” It is bewildering, but I know it is true. I would gladly suffer desire all my life and never have it satisfied, than to long for anything less than Yah. Edna brings a new addition to the settlement. She has domesticated a wildcat. Hatoul is small and lovely, but ferocious to those she does not count as her friends. She is even willing to 157


take on Behemoth, although her claws have no effect on his thick skin. He merely yawns when she hurls herself at his leg. But she is as docile as a baby when she is in Edna's arms. Jared says Hatoul should be in a cage like Rasujal's lizards. But before he can follow up on this threat, an event changes Hatoul's outlook. Hatoul becomes a mother. She still maintains her ferocity toward anything that threatens her seven young ones. But motherhood softens her and soon she is leading her young ones throughout our settlement, obviously the proud parent. One of her little ones attaches himself to Jared and soon everywhere Jared goes, little Chataltuol is behind him. The small cats freely roam our settlement and seem to take particular delight in goading Rasujal's lizards in their cages. They walk by the cages, just out of reach of the lizard's claws and soon the whole wall is a cacophony of screeching animals. Rasujal must make a communal cage in order for his lizards to reproduce after their own kind. All of us, including Hatoul and all her little ones, hide in the house on the day he must move the creatures to the one cage. I resign myself to losing my second son in this business venture of his. But his determination to stay alive matches their determination to do him harm and he corrals them all into one enclosed structure. They are left alone for a few days and soon, there are eggs. Rasujal announces triumphantly that he will now take Nava as his wife. And so we begin to plan for another wedding. One night at dinner, Rasujal suggests that we have had too many events at the star map and perhaps we could have his wedding somewhere else. “What is better than the star map?” Jared demands, almost rising from his chair. We all just stare at Rasujal. Enoch and Edna are still with us, although their home is nearly finished. It will not be too soon. Edna is expecting their first child. Rasujal knows better than to pursue this line of thought and quickly says, the star map it will be. I wonder whether it was his idea, or Nava's, to choose a different location. In any case, it is unthinkable that the children of the guardian of the star map would marry anywhere else. I am spared from too much involvement with the wedding. Nava's mother arrives, accompanied by several of her sons for protection, to discuss the upcoming event. While Rasujal shows 158

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his dragons to his future brothers-in-law, she and I drink lemonade in the courtyard. What she suggests for the upcoming wedding is well beyond anything the sons of Seth have ever done before. Quite frankly, I will be embarrassed to host such an event. I realize now it must have been her who wanted a different locale for the whole wedding. Like me, she appreciates cotton. She proposes a vast white tent not unlike the ones that Jabal used to live in, but on a much larger scale. The vast splendour of the star map does not seem to impress her. We must find a spot for her tent somewhere amid the stone structures. The next thing to discuss is flowers. Flowers will be everywhere. For this, she suggests we call on Edna's mother. “Fine,” I say. “She will be coming to stay with us soon. Edna's first child is expected any day now. . .” She is hardly listening. “Now, your vegetable pastries are lovely,” she tells me. “They are the talk of the settlements.” I find that highly unlikely. “However,” she continues. “You must not carry this load alone. I suggest . . . ” She and Nava do not want the rough pastries that have served us well in the past. They are thinking of more delicate treats. This will mean much planning and the traders will have to be called on to bring in more exotic fare. I sigh and lean back in my chair and concentrate on my lemonade. This is beyond me. But it does not seem as if anything is expected of me anyhow. It is only at the end that I am told what is required of me. “I know that dress you were married in is lovely,” says Nava's mother. “But perhaps a new dress would be something to consider.” My wedding dress is what I wear to all the special occasions. It is simple and flattering without being conspicuous. Nava's mother pulls out a sample of fabric and shows it to me. I take it and look at it. It is cream-coloured and feels smooth and soft and delicate. Quite unlike anything I have ever worn. “What is it?” I ask. “The traders call it silk,” she says. “There is a settlement, 159


among the sons of . . . oh, I forget who, that is entirely devoted to making it. It has something to do with worms but you would never know it to feel it.” I hand back the cloth. “Nava's dress will be made of it,” she continues. “Of course, she will be the centre of attention. But the rest of us must not be too drab.” I am certain that Nava's mother has no intention of being too drab, so the comment is for my sake. Very well then. I will make myself a dress. Standing up, Nava's mother says that if I cannot assemble something appropriate in time, then perhaps she has something that might do . . . I stand up and say that I think I will be able to pull something together for the occasion. Then, much to Rasujal's disconcertion, Nava's mother wants to see what progress has been made on the house that he is building for her daughter. Sadly, it is next to nothing. The land has been allotted to him, and Jared and Enoch have cleared enough of the forest that it is a good size for a home. The trees are just sitting waiting for Rasujal to take the next step and actually start building. But he has been so busy with his dragons. Nava's mother is not impressed with his dragons but her sons are. One of them is even going to purchase one for his family's protection. My feeling about that is, who will protect his family from the dragon?

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I remember Roeh's sheep and his lively mother, the first two people I met who were not children of Cain. My dress for Rasujal's wedding is made of soft wool. I go all out and even dye it with the juice of some of my raspberries which makes it a light pink, not unlike the colour of some of the flowers provided by Edna's mother. But no one is looking at me. It is the bride who has everyone's attention in her long, flowing silk robe, with golden thread woven around the edges. Whereas a wedding in the past celebrated a love of Yah for his people and the idea that a man and a woman represent Yah's image, this wedding is all about the love of Rasujal for Nava. It is praised as if his love is something to be sought after. I know my son and know that he is not worthy of such homage. More tellingly, there is no star dance scheduled for the evening, only an abundance of food and talk. I can barely stand it – the conversation centring on personal achievements and ambitions - and return to the house early to check on Edna and her new son, Methuselah. Edna has been spared the bother of finding a dress for this occasion, having given birth only a week 161


ago. Enoch has given his son a peculiar name, Methuselah. It means, “In the year he dies, it will be judgement.” Edna is well aware that her son has an unusual name. Although she agrees with me, she does not speak of it any further. I suspect that Enoch is more open with her than he is with me. Not that there is distance between us, but it is inevitable that a husband and wife should share more. Although Nava's mother was the force in creating this whole wedding, she is nowhere in sight when it comes time to clean up. Jared does not want the star map cluttered with remnants of the wedding and much to Rasujal's disgust, he has his second son out of bed and with him the next day, cleaning up the plain. I become the owner of a large tent for which I have no use. Folded up, it is compact and I haul it upstairs to give to Nava. Perhaps her mother can use it again for another wedding. Knocking on the door, I hear a sweet voice say, “Come in!” Nava is seated in front of a glass, running a comb through her hair. “Oh, it's only you,” she says. The voice has completely changed. “Yes,” I say, deciding to ignore the rudeness. After all, we will have to live in this settlement for the rest of our earthly lives. I drag the rolled-up tent into the large room. “I have come to return this.” She glances at it. “I have no use for it,” she says. “Perhaps your mother would like it back . . . ” Nava shrugs. She is twisting her hair on the top of her head and examining the effect in the mirror. “If there is another wedding . . . ” Nava shrugs again. “If there is another wedding, she can get another one.” “OK, my dear,” I say. I pick up the heavy bundle and decide that perhaps the traders will have some use for it. “Shut the door on you way out . . . oh, never mind. I will do it myself,” I hear my daughter-in-law say behind me. I shake my head. Life was never perfect, but I wonder if I will be able to tolerate this new situation. Not wanting the tent just sitting in my courtyard, I take it 162

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straight outside. Jared and Rasujal are back at the star map, this time to retrieve the tables. At least the remains of the food and the flowers can be left behind. I load the tent into my cart and go over to a large shed that now houses our ponies. At one point, I decided that if Edna can tame a wildcat, I can tame a few ponies and so now they are at our disposal whenever we need them. I know I am being foolish, but I decide to just head for the river and wait for the traders. Part of me is weary, weary of this life without Yah. It makes me indifferent to my own safety. My children need me less-and-less and now I have the prospect of living with a vain, self-centred daughter-in-law until my son builds her a house. Since Rasujal is only ambitious when it comes to projects that interest him, I may have Nava in my home for quite some time. The forest that runs along the river is not as dense as the one that borders the star map. But there are still some useful things to harvest along the way. I spot an active beehive up in a tree and make note of its location to tell Jared. I pause to pick some almonds from a bush. They will be appreciated if the traders take awhile. I also pick some asparagus. It will make a quick evening meal. I arrive at the riverbank. The majestic Tigris, impassable without a boat, is soothing after the troubles of the settlement. I unharness the pony so he can graze among the tall grass. I sit down and watch the river, but as time passes, it is obvious I will be here awhile. While I wait, I harvest some arrowroot that grows along the river. The boiled rootstock makes a pleasant change from potatoes. Just as I am beginning to get edgy, thinking that Jared will return and find me gone, I see a trader's boat in the distance. The current is strong today and it is not long before I am waving them down to stop at our small dock. Mercifully, these are not the type of men with the knives and the scars from fighting with the knives. These are the kind of traders who deal in items very much like the tent I want to trade with. They have items that are useful, but not especially valuable. The head-trader is interested in the tent, but of course, it is of little value to him unless he can find someone who wants it. 163


“It was for a wedding,” I say. “It can hold 500 people.” “Ahh,” he says, recognizing the potential of such an item. “Yes, that might interest some people.” It is a matter of indifference to me what I obtain in return. But in order to turn the conversation to the children of Cain, I inquire as to whether he has any metal items by the craftsman, Tubal-Cain. “Ah, yes,” he nods. “Some beautiful items. Copper plates.” “A pot, perhaps?” I say. “Many pots,” says the trader, signalling for one of his men to go down below and bring a few up for my selection. “And how are the children of Cain?” I ask, casually. “The city of Cain is peopled by giants,” he grumbles. “And the children of Cain?” I ask. “Are they well?” “They prosper.” The trader shrugs. “It is unusual for a daughter of Seth to inquire about the children of Cain.” I do not know how to reply, but then a voice among the traders speaks up. “Havilah was raised among the children of Cain.” It is Semjaza! What is he doing among the traders? I did not notice him because he was sitting down on the deck with a group of them. Now he stands up and comes forward, just as a couple of the traders come up the steps carrying a large black pot between them, followed by some other men with smaller pots. “I think this one will do for Havilah,” says Semjaza, taking hold of the large pot and effortlessly stepping off the boat to the deck, putting it on my cart. “She is the wife of an important man and has many people coming and going from her settlement.” I am just staring. The trader does not seem to care. One pot for the tent is a reasonable exchange. He bids me good day and then calls to Semjaza to get back on board if he wants. “I will visit with my lady,” Semjaza calls back. There is some snickering among the traders. I have heard it said that among the traders there are men who have a lady in almost every settlement. “Do I have to pull this today?” Semjaza asks, pointing to the cart. I shake my head. 164

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“I have a pony . . . somewhere.” I look around. That wretched animal is nowhere in sight. Tired of waiting, he has probably returned to the settlement. I still have a ways to go in domesticating these ponies. Semjaza laughs. His laugh is rich and seems to contain music. But I cannot entertain any idea of being with him. There is something about him . . . I am certain he is in opposition to Yah in some way, although I am helpless to explain his presence here among the sons of Adam. Once again, Semjaza is pulling my cart. “I never see you with your husband, Havilah,” he says to me, as we walk back. “When do you ever see me?” I demand. “I see you all the time,” he says, smiling without looking at me. “For example, that tent you traded was from you son's wedding.” “Of course you know that,” I say sharply. “I said as much to the trader.” “Your daughter-in-law wore a white silk robe with golden trim around the edges. Quite a lovely-looking girl, but I doubt your son will be happy with her. The guests feasted on honey pastries, mangoes and bananas, and a particularly expensive delicacy known as truffles. Female pigs are used to discover them . . . ” “You only know that because you are among the traders now,” I say. I recall Nava's mother mentioning that we would be depending on them. “I know because I was there.” This is unsettling. But perhaps what is even more unsettling is that he is right. If he sees me, it is probably not with Jared. It is not for lack of desire on my part. Jared is simply never around. “Jared is busy,” I say. “First it was the star map. Then it was Enoch's home. Now I suppose it will be Rasujal's home.” But what Semjaza says next is even more disturbing. “No, my lady. He has booked a passage with the traders for him and your son, Pyramides. They will be gone for half the time it takes the earth to go around the sun.” I stop walking. It vaguely comes back to me that Jared said something about going to visit the Great Pyramid. But with Semjaza here by my 165


side, that idea seems particularly menacing to my well- being. “I will most likely be near him the whole time,” says Semjaza, reading my mind. “I would not dare visit you while your husband is gone. It would not be fair to him.” Such arrogance. But I do not like the idea of Jared being haunted by Semjaza on his pilgrimage to the Great Pyramid. “I will tell Jared that he will see you . . . ” I begin to say coldly, but am interrupted. “Oh, but he will not.” What manner of man is this? Semjaza disappears into the woods when we are within sight of the settlement. I continue on with the heavy cart. With effort, Jared lifts the pot for me and carries it to a stand in the courtyard where I can kindle a fire underneath it when needed. I follow with my asparagus and arrowroot. Although he chides me for going alone to the riverbank, Jared praises my trade saying he never wanted to see that silly tent again, or any other reminder of that wedding. “Jared,” I say, hesitantly, as we return outside. No doubt he will dash off somewhere. I will not see him until the evening meal and then again, only briefly when it is time to sleep. “Yes, Baraka,” he says, pausing slightly. “Semjaza was in the woods,” I say. Jared stops. Wherever he was going is forgotten for the moment. “Baraka! Why did you not tell me?” “I am telling you,” I say. “I will cancel my journey with Pyramides,” he says immediately, thinking out loud. “It will not be necessary,” I say. “Semjaza travels with the traders now. He is more likely to be with you than with me.” Jared does not look convinced. “I have Enoch to look after me,” I say. “And Yah,” I add. “I will have to think about it,” Jared says, looking angry. Not at me, I hope. “Where is he now?” “Somewhere in the woods,” I say. “He comes and goes.” Scanning the perimeters of our settlement, Jared seems satisfied that Semjaza is not skulking about. I would not be so sure. But Jared announces he has work to do back at the star map, and though it is already late, he will be back for the evening meal when he can. 166

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Wearily, I go upstairs. I do something that only children do and curl up on my bed and have a nap. It is agreed that Jared and Pyramides will follow through with their plan to visit the Great Pyramid. Enoch is instructed to protect me, a greater necessity now that a sad event has befallen our settlement. Behemoth is dead. My faithful friend just lay down one day and did not get up. I knew he was growing older, but it was still a shock to go outside, give him a gentle nudge and have him not move. I wept for nearly a day. Rasujal immediately offered one of his beasts as a new lizard guard, but I have no desire to befriend another of Behemoth's kind and most certainly, not one of Rasujal's vicious beasts. Enoch, Edna, young Methuselah and I walk down to the river to see Jared and Pyramides off on their journey. When the traders arrive and dock, I nervously scan the deck for Semjaza. But there is no sign of him. That means nothing, of course. He could be down below. We wish Jared and Pyramides God speed and then we return slowly to the settlement. This is Edna's first walk since having Methuselah and she wants to stretch it out. We pause to harvest some more asparagus. Edna goes a little ways when she sees some blackberries. It is the leaves that she wants. They make a refreshing tea in the morning, freshening the breath. Edna has come up with many new teas for us to drink, including raspberry leaf tea and rose hip tea. She is so skilled with her brews that I laughingly promise her our own trip to visit Hawwa, bearing gifts of the new beverages for her, someday when Methuselah is older. I do not expect to see Semjaza in the forest when I am accompanied by Enoch and Edna. But as Edna and Methuselah return to their home and Enoch walks me back to my own front porch, he says to me, “You have nothing to fear, Mother. Yah is watching you.” I try to keep the tears from my eyes as I kiss my son's cheek. “Thank you,” I whisper. He nods and smiles before heading toward his home and his awaiting family. He and Yah must have discussed matters that I have never 167


discussed with Enoch. I wish I could be the one to talk with Yah, but it is enough to know that Yah is nearby. If Yah is watching, then I most certainly do not have to fear the lurking presence of Semjaza. Yah created the heavens and the earth. Though Semjaza may not be a son of Adam, he is certainly a creation of Yah. What manner of creation is anyone's guess. I go inside to my quiet house. Nava is, no doubt, in her room fixing her hair. Rasujal is out with his ferocious lizards. Kalah is staying with Enoch and Edna, to help with the household chores in these early days of Methuselah's life. Tikvah is probably in the courtyard. But when I pass by the central terrace, it is empty. She must be in her room. As far as I am concerned, while Jared is away, Nava can take full responsibility for feeding her Rasujal. Tikvah and I can prepare our own meals. I go upstairs to let Tikvah know that though I will bake bread everyday, she and I can eat as we please and not at any set time. But Tikvah is not in her room. I knock on Nava's door, just in case she's visiting with her sister-in-law. Nava, who does no work around here, is annoyed that I interrupt her nap. I am informed that Tikvah is not there and the door almost gets shut in my face. She must be out, strolling the settlement, maybe with Rasujal. But Rasujal is feeding his lizards and Tikvah is not with him. Now I am starting to get alarmed. Despite that I have never known my daughter to go to the star map by herself, I hurry along the path to see if she is there. There is always a first time. Perhaps my daughter is like me, and longs to get closer to Yah . . . But my daughter is nowhere to be seen. I cover the whole plain and circle the larger pyramids, but there is no one here. My eyes cannot help but wander over the edges of the forest, but there is no Yah either. I return to the settlement, now thoroughly alarmed. My son has just told me that Yah is watching me and I have nothing to fear, but now I am more afraid than I have ever been. My first stop is at Enoch's house. Enoch answers and immediately understands my concern. He does not need too many words. Tikvah is missing. That is all he 168

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needs to know. He goes to talk to Rasujal and returns to report that Rasujal has not seen her all day. Edna is preparing me a soothing cup of raspberry leaf tea. “Did Yah say anything about this?” I demand. I cannot help it. It is my daughter we are talking about, not me. For myself, I do not care if harm comes to me, but if anything happens to Tikvah . . . Enoch hesitates before speaking. “Yah can be trusted,” he says, joining us at the table and accepting a cup of tea from Edna. “I know,” I say impatiently. “But these are violent times. Someone could have come from outside and taken her . . . ” Again, my son hesitates. When he does speak, it is with regret. “It is my belief she went off willingly.” “Willingly? What do you mean? Where would she go . . .?” “I have seen her,” he says. “When?” I demand. If he has seen her, why did he not tell me? “Many times. Out in the forest.” “Speak, Enoch!” I say, putting my cup down on the table. “What is it that I do not know?” “With someone.” “With who?” I ask, impatiently. A man of few words is fine, so long as one does not need information. “One of her cousins?” Enoch shakes his head. “The one known as Semjaza.”

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I cannot speak at first. The idea that Semjaza might approach Tikvah has never occurred to me. The very thought! Is it possible that my own daughter would be so foolish? I have told them the story of my arrival among the children of Seth and they know that my adopted sister is married to Semjaza in my place. Although I have not gone into great detail, they all know he is not to be trusted. “Impossible,” I say, but already my mind has raced ahead to the possibility that Tikvah has gone off with Semjaza. “Semjaza told me that he would be along the Tigris, where your father and Pyramides journey. He promised to leave me alone.” Even as I say it, I try to recall his exact words. Something about it not being fair to Jared . . . But as I recall the whole conversation, I realize there is no reason to dismiss the idea that Tikvah might be with Semjaza. “But why did Tikvah keep this from me?” I ask. “Why did you?” “I did because Yah told me to,” Enoch says. “And I would guess that Tikvah kept it from you because she would not be expecting your approval.” 171


I am stunned. That my daughter would keep something from me is insignificant compared to Yah keeping it from me. “What manner of God is Yah?” I demand. Enoch smiles. “When you know him as I do, you know there is only good in him. And whether Tikvah comes to harm is a small matter. She does not serve Yah.” The truth of this hits me like a stone. “But I do not think Yah would let harm come to her,” says Enoch quickly. “For your sake, Mother.” I look down at my hands. I hardly know what to say. “But that is only my opinion.” Enoch whispers this last statement. I groan. “Yah is compassionate,” says Enoch. And then he falls into silence. It is probably the longest discussion he and I have ever had. And I understand what he is saying. Though Tikvah is my daughter, she is not a seeker of Yah. If he watches over her, it is only for my peace of mind. Yah is compassionate. But he has promised nothing to Enoch in this matter. “So what do I do now?” I ask quietly. Edna comes around the table and sits beside me, taking my hand. “You wait,” says Enoch. To wait is the hardest thing. I would rather go dashing through the forest, calling out for Tikvah, calling out for Semjaza even. Or to make Enoch go out and find Yah and demand that something be done. Much to my annoyance, Enoch has quietly left the house without telling me where he has gone. I am alone with my thoughts, although Edna keeps my company. Edna is not one of these women who feel the need to fill all silence with talk and so she is tactfully quiet. Later, we are joined by Methuselah, who has no such approach to life. He feels silence must be filled with giggles, burbles and many and varied attempts at talk. Edna's attention is taken up by him and soon I am left with a cup of cold tea and a sense that I am utterly alone. 172

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Even if I could find Tikvah, how could I persuade her that Semjaza is not the right man for her? He is tall, he is handsome, he is everything a woman could want. And what can I offer Tikvah? Myself ? Life here in a quiet settlement with an ageing mother and a distracted father? Even if Jared returns with the announcement that he has secured a husband for Tikvah, what man could tempt her from Semjaza who knows the names of far-away planets and has seen the stars? Wearily, I realize that I am not waiting anymore for Tikvah to return, I am merely waiting for the strength to get up and carry on. Enoch comes back. He has not been idle. He has gone through the woods, though he does not say whether it was to look for Tikvah or to seek out Yah. But he does not return with Tikvah. That is when I know it is over. I stand up and thank both him and Edna. They look startled. I tell them that I will be in my home if anyone needs me. As I head out, I turn back to say to my eldest son, “Please send word to your father of the situation.” He nods. I cross the clearing that is our settlement, now dim with the sun below the trees. It is over. That is what my heart is saying again and again. It is over. It is over. My daughter has gone off with Semjaza. Only Yah knows where. I might never see her again, but in Yah's mercy, I can plainly see that she will not be missing me. She longs for Semjaza in the way that I long for Yah. Wherever she goes, whatever troubles she faces, she will not ache for me in the way I ache for her right now. This pain is entirely mine. Enoch stops by the next afternoon to let me know that he waved down a boatload of traders and asked them to pass on the message to the two travellers, if they see them. “It is only a hope,” he says. “If we do not hear back from them in a week, I will go myself.” “Your father would not want that,” I say. “Send Rasujal.” Enoch smiles. 173


“Perhaps one of the cousins can be persuaded to go,” he says. “Do not worry, Mother.” He gives me a quick kiss on the cheek before returning to his own family. Nava comes downstairs. I did not tell her Tikvah was missing, but she has probably gathered as much from Rasujal because she is eager to talk. I pour her a cup of mint tea and brace myself. She asks me if Tikvah is OK. I say, to the best of my knowledge. “Was she . . . taken against her will?” Nava leans forward, halfthrilled, half-horrified by the thought. My laugh is genuine. “No.” “Is she returning to us soon?” “She would be the one to ask.” “Is she to be married?” The girl has no sense of tact. “She is old enough,” I say. Nava sips her tea. I can see her visibly straining to think of another question. But I get up and tell her that I am going to take a walk to the star map. She can feel free to help herself to whatever she needs to prepare an evening meal for her and Rasujal. She opens her mouth, but before she can speak, I am halfway to the door. Food has lost all appeal for me. I am glad that Kalah is at Edna's house, being fed and looked after. I would not be much of a mother to her these days. Though it is getting dark by the time I arrive at the star map, I am unalarmed. I doubt I will be seeing Semjaza anymore. And marauders are usually in more populated areas. No one steals pyramids and too few people visit them to be accosted. “Oh Yah,” I say, out loud as I walk among the grand structures, only so recently completed. “My daughter is missing. But I guess you know that.” “I do.” I am startled. I look around. But in the darkness, I cannot see anything. “I do not know what to do,” I continue. There is no reply. “But I imagine you know what to do,” I add. “And that is sufficient.” 174

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I do not hear the voice again as I move around the star map. Jared could tell me about the stars that each pyramid represents, but Jared is not here. I sleep more now, even during the days. I am up in my room sleeping when Jared returns to the settlement. I hear Rasujal call out a greeting to him. Quickly, I get out of my bed and hurry downstairs to greet him as he comes through the door. “Wife, what is this?” I do not even get an embrace. Jared is agitated. I nod. “It is true,” I say. “Tikvah is gone.” “How could you let such a thing happen . . .?” I think even as he is saying it, he realizes it is an unfair accusation. “I think you should talk to Enoch,” I say, gently, taking his arm. “He is the best one to talk to.” “Of course,” says Jared. “You must be sick with grief.” He pats my arm before hurrying off toward Enoch's home. I step outside and watch him cross the settlement. But I am not sick with grief. Resignation has set in and it leaves me weary. I survey the settlement. I do not see Pyramides. Have I lost two children? I go back into the house. I doubt very much that Jared will want a lavish welcome-home meal, but I should, at least, prepare something simple. When, at last, he comes home, I have a vegetable soup and some flat bread. We eat it together at the long table. “Where is Pyramides?” I ask. “I left him at the settlement of Enosh,” he says, absently. “He liked it there.” Probably a pretty cousin. Jared does not seem interested in talking. He must know now that Tikvah has been spending time with Semjaza. I do not know whether he is angry or whether he is hurt. It is not until the end of the meal that he speaks. “I have failed her,” he says. “I should have found her a husband sooner.” 175


I am not entirely sure that would have helped. Semjaza is far more charming than any son of Seth, particularly if one does not consider the matters of Yah to be important. “We might never see her again,” he says. “It is possible that we might,” I say. “He left Naamah after she bore him five children.” The disheartened look on Jared's face makes me wish I had not spoken. Still, it is the truth. “Where do you think he has taken her?” Jared asks. “The world is big.” I stir my uneaten soup, now cold. “Of course, it is possible he took her back to the city of Cain.” It is the only place I can think of. I cannot imagine he and Tikvah travelling up and down the Tigris with the traders. Jared has also hardly touched his soup. I stand up and take our soup bowls into the courtyard, still within hearing distance of Jared. But what he says next makes me think I misheard him. “Then we will go to the city of Cain,” he says. Quickly, I put down the bowls on a table and hurry back into our dining room. “But we are children of Seth,” I say. “We would never be welcome there . . . ” “You have family there,” he points out. “They were kind to you and you were not a child of Cain.” He is right, of course. But I just never thought I would go back. As much as I have desired to visit my sister, Naamah and my brother, Tubal-Cain, I have been equally afraid to depart from the presence of Yah. “But you are a guardian of a star map,” I say. “You cannot leave.” “What good have the star maps done us?” he says, standing. “We build them and Yah does not come.” His voice is rising. “And now a man who stands against Yah has entered my settlement and taken my daughter. If I have to give my very life to bring her back, I will.” I try not to sigh out loud. What my husband does not realize is that Tikvah might not want to come back. I return to the courtyard to clean the bowls and put them away. Despite my protest, there is really very little to consider. If my husband travels among the children of Cain, then I will 176

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go with him.

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The world has changed. Nothing is the same as the journey that brought me here. We are walking it, just as I did those many years ago. Jared wants to find out if Tikvah is in any of the settlements along the way. The first one we come to is the one of our father, Mahalalel. Only Mahalalel is told about Tikvah. All the rest are not aware of the real reason for our visit. In fact, they do not realize that we are heading east. They will assume that we have simply come to see our father and then return home. I stop off in Chaya's home. Like me, she has aged, both in her heart and on her face. As we sit together in her courtyard, the conversation is light. I cannot talk to her about what really matters to me, Tikvah and Yah. And she is not free to talk for the presence of her husband, an overbearing man who seems to have an opinion on everything that is of no importance. He talks while she prepares us a drink. By coincidence, Chaya serves me the same drink as Roeh's mother did when I passed through the settlement of Dalath. “This is cocoa,” I say, surprised. “I am told it is a bean grown 181


by the sons of Seth who live near the Gihon.” Chaya nods. “Kenaz's wife is from there,” she says. “Her parents bring it whenever they visit us. The children love it.” “It keeps them awake at night,” says Chaya's husband. “If it were left to me, I would serve them only lemon tea. But a man does not rule his own house.” He laughs. Judging by the cowed mannerism of my sister, I know very well he does rule his own house. We stay only one night at Mahalalel's home. He wishes us God speed on our journey and promises to keep ears open for news of Tikvah. We set out early and are within sight of Zayin by late afternoon. One thing I notice is how many more people there are. Whereas I walked along a quiet riverbank to get here, now there is activity all along the way. Most of it is harmless, everyday labour, but some of it is menacing. Two men approach us just outside of Zayin and say they have fallen on hard times and need money to return to their settlement. Jared sharply points out to them that there are plenty of fields around here that need harvesting and they should have no trouble finding work to earn the money. Then a knife comes out. I scream. But Jared is prepared. He grabs the man's arm and twists it behind his back, causing the knife to fall. As his partner lunges for it, I manage to grab it while at the same time, accidentally grazing his face with it. Now it is his turn to scream. I am so shaken up, I start screaming again. And then some nearby farmhands come over to see what is happening. I am not entirely sure that it is to assist us, but the result of it all is that our attackers hurry off and we carry on into Zayin. After our experience, my legs are weak. Jared asks where I stayed when I first came here. I tell him about Yafeh, but doubt that she would remember me. In any case, there is now some kind of a guesthouse for travellers by the central plaza. We enter the three-story wooden building and find the communal area filled with traders lounging on cushions and drinking wine. Moving through the large room and into the courtyard we encounter an overworked boy feeding an 182

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assortment of pack animals. There are even some tame lizards, tied up, among the ponies and goats. He tells us his father owns the guesthouse and we will probably find him somewhere . . . The boy waves a vague hand. We finally find the man in an outer building that serves as a cooking area. Like us, he has one of Tubal-Cain's stoves. A large woman is pulling trays of pastries out while a huge pot cooks some kind of stew on top. The husband seems to be supervising his wife more than assisting her and immediately turns his attention to us. He wants to know who we are, where we're from. Jared is even better at me than deflecting questions. We end up with a third-story room, overlooking the courtyard. The room is filthy. Obviously there is no consideration for the next traveller who will have to stay in it. Mud footprints are caked on the floor. The bed itself is nothing more than a large board on legs. There is a window, but it does not have glass or a screen, so bugs can freely fly in. Jared looks at the room with grim disapproval but then suggests that we mingle in the town and see what news we can pick up. “I should have left you back in the room,” says Jared, when it becomes obvious that the women out at night seem to be there for men's amusement only. “I would not have felt any safer there,” I assure him. There is only one tavern in Zayin, but it is filled with men and only the occasional woman. We enter the tavern and take a table in the corner. Jared orders two mugs of wine and then leans across the table to tell me not to drink it when it comes. I nod. Wine is an everpresent feature at our star map celebrations, but here the drinking is different. It is to excess and I notice to my horror that one man, who has passed out, is having his pockets searched by a fellow patron of the tavern. What few coins are found are triumphantly carried off to purchase another round of drinks. Since we are not traders or children of Zayin, we are soon noticed by some of the patrons. “Welcome, strangers!” one calls out, holding up his mug in salutation. Jared nods a return greeting. 183


“What brings you to Zayin?” another man calls out. “We visit my wife's family,” says Jared. Now they all look at me. “Are you a daughter of Zayin?” Jared answers for me. “We are leaving for the settlement of Dalath tomorrow,” he answers, truthfully, though the men take it to mean that that is my family. “Oh, I never go there anymore,” says one man, shaking his head. “Too many of those hideous sons of Cain.” I am surprised. Have the sons of Cain started moving among the other sons of Adam? Jared asks the same question. “It is obvious you have not been there in a while,” says the man, shaking his head again. “Are they marauders?” Jared asks. “No,” someone else calls out. “They are just big and Phobo is afraid of everything.” Everyone in the tavern laughs. They have all stopped talking among themselves to take part in this conversation. “No, but it is true,” someone else says. “Phobo is right. They take our women. And they take the most beautiful ones.” Jared and I look at each other. “And why would they do that?” Jared asks, casually. There is shrugging. “They do not seem to have women of their own,” someone puts forth. “And they come from the city of Cain?” asks Jared. There is nodding. Now Jared and I have something to think about. Have the brothers of Semjaza decided to live elsewhere? “But they live among the children of Dalath,” says one man. “I have a sister there. Yah be praised, she is very plain and does not have to worry about their attention.” Everyone in the tavern laughs. “But it is true,” says his drinking companion. “They take the beautiful ones and leave the plain ones for the rest of us.” There is much agreement on this point, but clearly, no man in the room is willing to do anything about it. When we return to the room, Jared says, “She may be in 184

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Dalath.” “We can hope,” I answer, gingerly sitting down on the plank that is the bed. It creaks. “If only I had discussed with Semjaza what our future life would have been like had I gone away with him, we would have had a good idea of where Tikvah is now.” Jared sits down beside me. “I am just as glad you did not.” We smile at each other. There is no getting comfortable on this bed. The board serves only one purpose and that is to keep us off the floor, which is crawling with insects now that the room is dark. The flying ones buzz around us and Jared falls asleep swatting them. We wake up stiff. Jared groans. I can barely move. How the traders stand it, I do not know. I discover how the traders do it when we go downstairs in search of a morning meal. Many of the traders have passed out on the cushions in the communal room. I guess so long as you pay for a room, the proprietor does not care where you sleep. We head outside, not intending to return. The market square is slowly and lazily coming to life. Some traders have already set up their wares. I am alarmed by the number of weapons, knives in particular. It is not possible that Tubal-Cain and his craftsman are making all of these. Other men must have learnt the secrets of metal. As we pass by a wooden display case full of knives, I observe that the craftsmanship is not that of my brother. It is poor and rough. In a gruesome way, to be killed by a knife that Tubal-Cain made would be more desirable. It would be a quick, clean insertion. Jared buys us some fruit we do not normally see among the sons of Seth – mangos and bananas. We also get some bread to go. And then it is back to the path that runs along the river. It is a wider path than the one I travelled on as a young woman. People now move along it with carts pulled by horses or large domesticated dogs. We often have to step aside onto the grass to let overloaded wagons pass. As we approach Dalath, there is a visible change among some of the people. Definitely taller and all around bigger. They look young though. Jared takes my hand. It is a protective gesture. But entirely needless. Though large, the people do not seem intent on 185


anything but their business. Dalath is now a walled city. The fields outside are covered with barleys and other grains, as well as the cotton plant that makes the material I love so much. My memory utterly fails me in identifying any of the landmarks. Everything has changed. We enter through the open gates, passing large men carrying large loads and large women carrying large children. It is a long time since I have been a child, but I do remember the feeling of being small. It is how I feel now. Unlike some of the towns that keep their commercial transactions in the centre in the marketplace, Dalath is entirely devoted to buying and selling. Small shops line every street we turn down. Apartments are built on top. Not only are there shops with large swathes of cotton, ready to be altered in any way, there are also shops with every manner of item made of the material. Some stores sell just barley and grain. Others have more of a variety of produce. One little stand is entirely devoted to selling fruit juices to drink as you walk. The juice is poured into a small wooden cup that can be returned for a partial refund or kept if the person desires. There is not just one tavern, but at least three. And there are places to eat that are more respectable – with tables and chairs and people to bring you a plate of food as if you were a guest in a home. Both Jared and I move through the busy streets, surveying, straining for a glimpse of Tikvah. I finally give up and just keep my eyes on the men, looking for Semjaza. Even in the city of giants, he would stand out. He is a handsome man with a look of polished perfection. The giants here have ordinary features, though not unpleasant. In fact, one man passes by me who puts me in mind of Naamah. Naamah! That is it! I squeeze Jared's hand and he looks down at me. “These are the children!” I say. “The children?” I nod as I look all around at the mix of people. “These are the children of Semjaza and his brothers. Their mothers are daughters of Cain.” Jared nods slowly. 186

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“It makes sense.” “They have moved out beyond the city of Cain,” I say. “I do not think it will help us find Tikvah, though,” says Jared. I know what he means. These are a hybrid people and though Semjaza is a son of the stars and Tikvah a daughter of Adam, I doubt he would bring her to this city of mixed people who practise tolerance for the sake of commerce. I fear my daughter might now be in someplace not as obvious as this bustling town. We find an inn. This time, there are two to choose from and we select the one that is not favoured by the traders. It is operated by a large woman who has four children. There does not seem to be a husband around, but the woman seems able to handle everything herself. Her courtyard does not contain pack animals and she informs us that the price of our room includes a meal in the morning, should we choose to join her and her children. The room is clean and the bed has a sturdy cotton mattress filled with straw. She tells us with pride that the straw is changed regularly. “Well, this is an improvement,” I say, sitting down on the mattress. “It is also twice the cost,” says Jared. We have brought semiprecious stones to trade along the way. In order to finance this journey, we cleared out our garden and emptied our house of all its furniture to give to the traders for stones. Even Rasujal contributed by selling one of his lizards. I lie down and try to get twice the value for our money. “I am going to go look around some more,” says Jared. I lift my head up enough to nod. There is no concern about leaving me alone in this inn. The large woman inspires a sense of safety. “I will bring back some food,” Jared adds, as he is going out. “Thank you, Jared,” I say. The door shuts. Food hardly interests me, although, the long journey certainly makes the body hungry. I roll over and try to get comfortable on my side. Then I roll over and try the other side. It is not the mattress. It is me. For Jared, this problem will be solved when we find Tikvah. I do not have the same feeling that this is merely the objective to be accomplished. She may not want to return with us. Tikvah is 187


going to be a sorrow I carry with me for the rest of my life and I am weary just thinking about it. I wonder how Hawwa can carry the load of the whole world being her children. I am asleep when Jared returns and can barely get up when he offers me some roasted vegetables wrapped in a large grape leaf. Mistaking my lethargy for exhaustion, he encourages me to go back to sleep. The vegetables get put on the bedside table. But I ask him if he found anything when he was out. “No,” he says, sitting down beside me on the bed to ease off his sandals. He offers me the vegetables again before beginning to eat them himself. I wish now that I had stopped that man who looked like Naamah. If indeed he was her son, he might have an idea where his father is now. “This seems like a safe place.” I lay back down. “No,” says Jared. “It is not.” “What do you mean?” I ask, rolling over to look at him. “It is vile,” he says. “In what way?” I ask, now sitting up. “It has all the evil a man can imagine but it is controlled by money.” I just stare at him. “They have slaves,” he explains. “You can buy one in a tavern. You can have a woman for one night.” My eyes widen. “In one of the other taverns there is a large courtyard in the centre,” Jared continues. “In it, four men fight. To the death, Baraka.” I feel sick. “People bet on who will survive the contest. They use coins and stones and there is a man who takes the bets. If you choose the right man, you get double your wager back.” Now I am wide-awake. This is the world my daughter has unknowingly entered into. Is it a world Semjaza will protect her from or is his heart just as violent? Even more disconcerting, I now feel as if we have left the presence of Yah. He seemed distant to me at our settlement when he would walk with Enoch rather than me. But now I 188

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realize how close he was to all of us. Out here, among the children of Dalath, Jared and I are alone.

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“I never thought I would say this,” says Jared, the next morning, as we set out. “But I wish I had one of Rasujal's beasts with us.” I agree. We had a pleasant breakfast in the courtyard with the large lady and her children. The tea was watery and the bread was bland, but I consumed it with the sense that this little home is an oasis in a city of violence. Now we are walking through the streets. The lady at the inn told us there is another gate on the opposite side of town, one called the Gate of Cain. She does not have to give the reason for its name. My guess is that the gate is close to the spot where I emerged from the forest that day and saw Roeh and his sheep. Early in the morning, the town does not seem threatening. Debauchery has left it weak. I see the occasional man sprawled in a doorway. Liquid from broken pots have drained out in trickles across the walkway. Only the merchants look alert as they begin to open their shops and sweep away any dregs – human or otherwise – who have ended up in front of their premises. As we emerge through the Gate of Cain, I realize Roeh's field 191


is gone. The city has extended to cover it and we are now past it. Even the forest is more cleared out and instead of a narrow dirt path, it is now a stone walkway. But the forest, rather than being serene, is menacing. We hear human voices as we travel, just the two of us. People are now living deep into the forest. My mind wanders over all the possibilities. Outlaws, perhaps. Waiting to rob travellers? My husband, though strong and brave, would not be equally matched for a gang determined to rob us. In this country, strong and brave is not enough. But Jared is good. It is his goodness that I depend on now, to see us safely through this stretch. Where Behemoth was my companion on the journey here, a sense that we are of significance to Yah comforts me on this venture. Jared travels at a brisk pace and I try to keep up. I do not think he wants to spend a night in these woods and I do not tell him that it is impossible to avoid it. As it turns out, I am wrong. The woods end far sooner than I expect. The sons of Cain have spread out well beyond the city of Cain. A walled settlement appears in a clearing. With fields of barley and grain all around it, it is small, but active. The gates are unlocked but in the opening stand men – large men. We stay close to the edge of the forest but are still noted by the men. Although they are laughing and talking among themselves, they would be capable of engaging in combat if necessary. It is their demeanour. And the tall spears held lightly in their hands. In the time it takes us to pass the settlement, I see a man with a cart of grain pass through the gates. He is of little interest to the men. We no longer have to travel by forest, unless we want to. There is a continual chain of cultivated fields followed by walled settlements. By evening, we have a decision to make – a night in the forest or a night in a settlement. Jared chooses something in between. A night at the edge of the forest. We have passed a settlement and are out of sight of the guards. We share what little food we have left as we lean against a 192

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large willow tree. “Is it a mistake not to check each settlement?” asks Jared. I shake my head. I am almost too weary to move. Even the hard tree feels good after the long walk. “If Semjaza moves among the sons of Cain, he will not choose a small settlement.” I do not think Jared appreciates my confidence, the sense that I can understand Semjaza. But it is the truth, nonetheless. He has not talked to Semjaza. He has not experienced the majesty of Semjaza, the feeling one has that with him all things are possible, and even more importantly, that Semjaza will not settle for anything less than spreading his wings at the top of the greatest mountain. And the only mountain worth having among the sons of Cain is the city of Enoch. Cain himself would be but a tame bird to Semjaza. Now Semjaza will show everyone that, not only can he have a daughter of Cain, but he can have a daughter of Seth too. And perhaps there will be more, when Tikvah loses her appeal. As daughter of a second wife, Naamah will bear it better than my Tikvah will. Our first clue that I am right comes the next morning. Coming our way is a whole crowd of men, traders, and ones who Jared and I have traded with. They recognize us. They are far friendlier than if we had just waved them down at the river. For we are all sojourners in a strange land and there is genuine pleasure in their smiles of recognition. “Jared, is it not?” says one of them. “And the lovely, Baraka. You are far from home!” We nod. My quiet husband does not give away the reason for our travels. So I turn my attention to the number of ox-carts they are leading, all empty. “Business is well?” I say. They nod enthusiastically. “We delivered supplies for the great wedding.” My spine goes cold. “The great wedding at Enoch?” It is Jared who says it. There is nodding all around. 193


“What an affair it will be!” one the traders calls out. “The groom wants the delicacies of the world at his table. His bride will wear a dress of silk made by a million worms. With pearls from the sea and diamonds from the ground.” “The man asks for things that are nearly impossible! A bloodred diamond for the bride's finger. A symbol of true love, he says.” “Flowers from along every river!” “Banners made of every colour!” The traders shake their head in good-natured revelry. This is splendid business for them, even if they are hard requests to meet. “When does the wedding take place?” I ask weakly. “In two days,” is the reply. Our group is starting to break up. Perhaps there are more things the traders have to bring back in the short time. But Jared and I are standing as still as stone pillars. “Walk carefully!” one of the traders calls back. “You move among gods now!” It is I who takes the first step. My husband seems to have lost his ability to move. “We have two days to get her back,” I say briskly. Jared just stands there. Finally he speaks. “We will only be able to bring her back with us if she wants to,” he says. I do not speak, but only stand waiting for him to form his thoughts. Because, of course, he is right. “She is now the . . . ” Jared searches for a word. “Queen of heaven! Pearls! Diamonds! Silk! And what will we bring her back to?” At last, he and I are of like mind on this issue. I think of our quiet settlement, spacious but with its dirt paths and forests with common mushrooms. Oh, but our forests are not common! Yah walks in them! But what is that to Tikvah who now stands as a goddess by her god? How will we tell her that Semjaza will only treat her as such as long as it pleases him to do so? And in one way, it is to her disadvantage that she has only seen a marriage like Jared’s and mine. Jared is not harsh with his 194

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wife. Tikvah is hardly aware that the hearts of men can grow cold and cruel. But even if she has, Semjaza's honeyed words will have assured her that he is not as other men. True. But perhaps in ways none of us can understand. “We must speak with her,” I say. Jared shakes his head. The talk with the traders seems to have taken all the life and hope out of him. “We must do only one thing, determine if she is happy. If she is not, we will die attempting to save her. If she is, we will return home before being forced to watch the whole wretched marriage.” I nod. Knowing Semjaza, he would probably invite us to sit at the head table. The two dowdy children of Seth, out of their element, as he lavishes splendour on their daughter. We will not submit to his wishes, so Jared is right. We must determine Tikvah's state of mind without encountering Semjaza. Though both of us feel tired, we start walking faster. Time is short. My first sight of Enoch makes me gasp. It has grown beyond recognition. Buildings now seem to stretch to the clouds. They are whiter and brighter than I remember. My first thought is, how could walls protect a city with buildings so high? But one quickly realizes that only a fool would attack Enoch. For it is peopled by giants. And the giants are armed. They carry leather shields and spears. Some of them even have copper helmets, glistening in the sun. Tubal-Cain has obviously expanded his expertise. I do not dare to talk to a giant but I feel safe stopping a farmer's wife about my age. She too is heading for the city with a horse-drawn cart full of produce. It is not market day. But perhaps everyday is market day now in Enoch. “We have come for the wedding,” I say to her, trying to sound light. “Do you bring supplies for it?” “Oh no!” she says laughing. “Our master Semjaza . . . ” I hear Jared gasp. “ . . . would never buy from us! He has his own farms. I bring 195


only to sell to all the visitors.” “She is a lovely bride,” I say. The farmer's wife nods pleasantly but her attention is on her horse. The stone pathway, though wider now, is crowded and she must keep her horse close. “But what an unusual name,” I continue. “Tikvah?” It is the first time I have uttered my daughter's name among the children of Cain. I am almost hoping that the woman will say that Semjaza is not marrying someone named Tikvah. But, alas, the woman nods. “Yes,” she agrees. “I am told she is a daughter of Seth.” “She is beautiful?” I say. “I do not know,” says the farmer's wife. “I have never seen her.” “Has anyone seen her?” I ask. “I do not think so,” said the farmer's wife. “She does not just roam the marketplace.” There is another merry laugh. And then we are all at the city gates, where there is much jostling as people and carts full of produce go in and people and carts that have been emptied go out. Giants guard but do very little to interfere. Normally, this would be a situation for irritation with so many people passing through this one narrow way, but there is a feeling of festivity and most people are good-natured about having to wait their turn to enter or exit the city. As we get closer to entering, we see that some of the giants are young, suggesting they are not the children of the brother's of Semjaza and the daughters of Cain, but of the giants themselves. But it is clearly an odd dynasty. They do not have the lovely features of the children of Cain, dark and distinct. Some of them look mutilated, deformed almost, as if clay and stardust have mixed together in a way never intended. Not all are ugly, but none are as beautiful as their grandparents. But the city itself is exquisite. Once inside, I do not recognize anything. It is all rebuilt, or entirely new. To add to its splendour, it has a festive feeling. Strings of flags, garlands of flowers, circle entire buildings. Poles have been erected from which hang colourful silk 196

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banners. Workmen are out replacing the plain glass of the streetlights with coloured glass. All for my daughter's wedding. There is one place I have to see again and that is Tubal-Cain's shop. It is almost beyond hope that it would be in the same location, by the central marketplace. Sure enough, when we follow the crowds, and end up in the city centre, though I look all around, I cannot see my brother's shop. But surely Tubal-Cain is still a well-known man. Jared beside me is silent, taking it all in. Among the sons of Seth, we have our pyramids. But we do not have cities like this. I ask a passerby where we can find the shop of Tubal-Cain, the metalworker. He shrugs and keeps walking. Maybe he is only a visitor himself. I ask a passing shepherd. They always knew where TubalCain's shop was. Gruffly, he nods and points to a huge white building. I thought it was an apartment building. Thanking him, I grab Jared's hand and we move through the crowds. Sure enough, “Tubal-Cain, Metalcrafts” is written above the store's entranceway. There are still the glass doors, but it is no longer the cosy store Namaah and I once worked in. The window displays are now filled with swords, spears and helmets. Going inside, I see that the store is several stories high. The first level has jewellery in cases as well as the pots and copper platters that every household needs. There is a whole row of iron stoves along one wall. I do not recognize the young woman and man behind the counter. We go up to the second level. It is almost entirely taken up with men admiring the weapons on display. There are more employees here – four young men are enthusiastically leading customers around and showing them all the various swords and knives in glass cases. Helmets are all lined up on shelves. Giants are here too, looking around. Jared takes a quick glance at one of the cases. I look long enough to see that the quality of TubalCain's work is still excellent. The third floor is quieter. It is a showcase for Tubal-Cain's craftsmanship. Exquisite iron railings, small engraved pots, a set of table and chairs, mirror frames that look as if they are made with metal thread the work is so delicate, a bed frame of elegant 197


iron. There is a detailed tree, the height of a giant, in one corner. I go over to examine it. Golden fruit hangs from it. Is it possible Tubal-Cain heard the story of how Hawwa chose the fruit from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil? Only one employee is up here, a young man, watching us carefully. “Can I help you?” he asks Jared. Jared shakes his head. “We have come for the wedding. But I have heard of the craftsmanship of Tubal-Cain.” The young man nods. “My grandfather's work is known among all the children of Adam.” “This is true,” says Jared. “And how is your grandfather's health?” I ask, cautiously. “He is well,” says the young man. “He is always busy.” I nod. I dare not ask any more questions, but oh! How I would love to see my brother again! But would he blame me for what has happened to Naamah? First, I abandon Semjaza, leaving Naamah to marry him. Now, my daughter marries him. It occurs to me that this is not a time of rejoicing for the house of Lamech. But looking around one final time at TubalCain's fine work, it is obvious that he is successful with or without the help of his illustrious brother-in-law. Jared seems to understand that it is sad for me to be among the children of my family in Cain and he takes my hand as we go back down to ground level. The marketplace has tripled in size since the days of my youth. And today, it is packed. “Will we even be able to find a place to stay for the night?” I say to Jared. He shakes his head. “I imagine every room is taken.” “Perhaps among the tent-dwellers . . . ” I begin to say but am interrupted by a man, his head lowered, who has just bumped into me. There is a foul odour to him and I recoil. At first I think it is a careless accident but then I notice the man has a desperate look in his eyes, hunted. His features are gaunt, but there is something familiar about him. “I thought it was you!” he says in a low voice. “Havilah! What are you doing here?” It is his voice that I recognize. 198

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“Qayin!” I say. He looks around, almost frantically. But no one is paying attention. “Havilah!” he says. “You must help me!” “But why, cousin?” I gently take his arm. He is not the man who Naamah once loved. I have never seen death before, but Qayin is what I imagine death to look like – fearful and at the same time, hungry. Jared, watching this all with concern, relaxes when I call Qayin, cousin. “You must get me out of here!” says Qayin. He almost collapses in my arms. Jared moves in quickly to support him. Jared and I look at one another. “He was once family,” I say. “Then we will help him,” says my husband. Together, we move through the crowds, each of us holding onto Qayin who seems to have lost all strength. At one point, Jared pauses to replenish our supplies. I am left holding Quayin, who, in addition to everything else, has lost weight. “We must get out of here,” he murmurs. “Soon,” I say soothingly. “We need food. You need food.” Now loaded with bread and bean dip and honey and dates, we make our way through the stone streets to the gate we entered through. At the sight of the guards, Quayin mutters, “Yah have mercy!” If he fears being noticed, it is unlikely. Wine is now being distributed in the streets and even the guards are hurrying forward to grab a cup. “The party has started early,” says Jared. I nod, stepping aside slightly to let an eager young man hurry over to the huge casks being brought by carts and erected on the stone benches along the walkways. Now that the drinking has begun, I am glad to be leaving the city. But oh my Tikvah! I look back with longing. Semjaza probably has her in one of the buildings that touch the sky. Who knows how many giants guard the way? Once outside the city, Jared hands me all the provisions and just picks up Qayin in his arms like a child. Qayin has nearly fainted anyhow. Although people glance at us, the news that wine 199


is freely available in the city offers an explanation for the curious. The man has had too much too drink. Besides, the tent-dwellers are too busy making their way into the city for some wine to care much about anything else. I do not want to encounter my half-brother Jabal or any of his children who might remember me as Aunt Havilah. So we stop at a tent with people who, though they are children of Cain, are unfamiliar to me. They are in the process of packing up provisions to take into the city with them. Apparently, the wedding festivities are going to last a week long. The news that they have started already makes them eager to hurry to Enoch. They are happy to allow us the use of their tent, for a fee. While Jared works that out, I take Qayin inside the tent and stretch him out on a fraying cushion. The tent has been emptied of all valuables and all that is left are the items of no importance. “Havilah,” he whispers. “I need water.” I nod. The tent sits alongside a small creek. Taking a clay pot, I hurry outside and fill it up. Qayin sits up to drink it, but the effort exhausts him and he falls back. “Oh Qayin,” I say looking at the once proud man. “What has brought you to this?” “It is that wretched Semjaza!” He speaks quietly, but with emotion. “The man is not human. And humans are bad enough. You should know, you left him.” “I left him because I discovered I was a daughter of Seth,” I say. Qayin shrugs, as if he barely cares anything about those days. Of course, I know that Semjaza bought Qayin as a slave for Naamah, but I can hardly imagine my gentle sister bringing him to this point. “With all the planning for the wedding, I managed to escape,” Qayin says. “But I had no place to go. I have been hiding in the sewers of Enoch.” He groans. “With all the people coming and going, I thought it would be safe to come up and see if I could get out somehow. And get something to eat.” Qayin moans. I reach for our provisions and hand him some bread. There is a point of hunger where a man will gobble something down. But Qayin is almost too weak to take the bread. So I break off small pieces and dip it in the bean sauce for him, feeding him like a child. 200

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But he is eager to tell me something despite his frail state. “When I saw you, it was like seeing Yah himself. I have never called out to Yah before, but I called out to him in the sewer. I felt silly, but I asked him to help me get away from this wretched city.” He has eaten only a few mouthfuls and he falls back now, wanting to sleep. But there is something I have to know first. “Qayin,” I say, my hand on his arm to keep him awake. “I must get to Tikvah.” Qayin looks at me blankly. “Tikvah,” I repeat. “The girl Semjaza is to marry.” “Oh her,” he says with indifference. “I must get to her,” I say. “Why?” murmurs Qayin, almost asleep now. “How do I get to her?” I ask. “You cannot,” he mumbles. “Why would you want to?” “Because she is my daughter.” His eyes open for a moment. “Then Yah help her.” He shudders and then is asleep.

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I repeat the conversation to Jared while Qayin sleeps. Jared looks grim as he glances down at the narrow form of Qayin, now sleeping so soundly one would almost think he was dead. “We will talk to him when he has had some time to recover. If he found a way out, then that will be our way in.” I nod. “But now we should rest,” says Jared, taking one of the cushions. I agree, stretching out on another. The encampment is quiet but there is noise in the distance from Enoch. Now is the time to rest. It is impossible to imagine what the next few days might be like. We wake up before Qayin. It is dark now, but the moon is almost full. Standing in the doorway of the tent, I realize that Semjaza plans to marry my daughter under the light of a full moon. The revelry continues in the city. I am joined by Jared. “We should wake that man and find out how he escaped,” says 203


Jared. “We have so little time!” As I look up at the moon, I realize something. “No,” I say. “Maybe we need to wait a little longer.” “What do you mean?” I turn to him. “Semjaza will have mesmerized her with his knowledge of the stars. She longs for him in a way we could never fulfil.” Jared may not like to hear this, but it is better to speak the truth. “Tomorrow, she will be the most important woman in this city . . . ” Jared nods slowly. “And if we bring her back to our dusty little settlement . . .” I continue. He nods again. “If we take her away before the wedding, she will always hate us,” I say. “We must give her some time . . . ” says Jared. “. . . to realize what she has gotten herself into,” I finish for him. “But how long?” groans Jared, returning inside the tent and sinking down on one of the cushions. Qayin stirs but he does not wake-up. “However long it takes,” I whisper. Jared and I are both quiet. I am imagining us as tent-dwellers, using our remaining stones to purchase a tent and some livestock. Perhaps never returning to Enoch and Edna and Methuselah. I settle down on a cushion. The feeling of urgency has changed to one of bracing myself for a long wait. Whatever action is required, I am encouraged by Qayin calling out to Yah . . . and Yah hearing him. Is Yah close to us, even here? I hope with all my heart that he is. I do not know how long we just sit, in semi-darkness, until Qayin finally wakes. When he does, he is ravenous and eats a full meal. I have to return to the creek twice with the clay pot to satisfy his thirst. Then I have to return four times with enough water for him to bathe and wash his clothes in. Then he sits back, wrapped in a blanket, satisfied and comfortable, and I see a glimmer of the man who used to scorn Naamah's love. But Jared is a man of strength and Qayin's shrewdness is not equal to my husband's determination. We have 204

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delivered him from Enoch, we have sheltered and fed him. Now he will talk. Now that Qayin is a free man, he settles back to his story with good-natured condescension. We are in need and he knows it. “Naamah is a silly little fool,” he begins. “She expected that beast to love her like a man. He was a monster to her.” “Did he hit her?” I ask, thinking of what Chaya has told me. Qayin snorted. “He did not have to,” he says. “I would have,” he adds. Jared looks at him with disgust. Qayin doesn't notice. “He tore the soul right out of her,” he says. “What do you mean?” asks Jared. Qayin looks thoughtful. “It is hard to explain. A woman can always control a man if she is determined enough. Most are not determined enough, of course, and so we dominate them.” This coming from a man who has only recently been liberated from slavery. “Naamah was born to be dominated. It was pitiful to watch her long for the beast. Her took her whenever it pleased him with no regard for who was watching.” Both Jared’s eyes and mine widen. “He kept her close enough that she longed for him but not so close that she ever belonged to him. That's what she wanted, to belong to him. Pitiful.” Qayin shook his head. “Did he ever let her visit with her family?” I ask. “I was her only family,” says Qayin. “I saw everything that went on between those two.” “How could you observe everything?” I ask. Qayin's jaw sets. “I was nothing more than a dog to the man,” he says. I do not want to inquire further into the nature of his slavery. Qayin says Naamah was pitiful. He has not had a chance to see his own state. “Sometimes, Tubal-Cain would come and insist on seeing her,” continues Qayin. “Semjaza would order her to dress and wipe the tears from her eyes. Then she would sit beside him, quiet, while Tubal-Cain and Semjaza would talk about expanding the mines. The criminals work the mines now. None of us are freemen anymore. If you are accused of a crime, you go to the mines. Murder. Stealing an apple in the marketplace. It does not matter. It is all the same.” “Why did Semjaza decide to marry again?” I ask, not 205


particularly interested in the mines. “Naamah is an old woman now,” says Qayin shrugging. “She spends her days crying. Her children pretend not to know her. Semjaza told her he would find a woman with some spirit. He said he wanted someone who would not weep so easily.” I am chilled and more so by his next words. “He is a cruel beast,” says Qayin. “He likes a challenge and he does not want a woman who breaks as easily as Naamah.” Then he glances at me. “Pardon, Havilah. I had forgotten that you said the girl was your daughter.” “Speak frankly, man,” said Jared. “What exactly did you see while you were the man's slave?” Qayin glances at me. Jared understands. “We will walk,” he says. If Qayin expects to use weakness as an excuse not to talk man-to-man with Jared, he does not have a chance. Jared is pulling him up and holding him by the arm, practically moving him along the ground. They leave me alone in the darkness. “Oh Yah!” I whisper. I am glad not to know the details. I only know that my daughter thinks she loves Semjaza. If we must bring her back broken in body and spirit, so be it. If only someone could help Naamah too and let her weary soul rest. I wish I were back in our own forest, yet, even there, Semjaza could reach us. But if Semjaza could move among our forest, perhaps Yah can move among the children of Cain. Weary, I drift off. When I wake again, it is morning. Jared is sitting upright, his face grim and pale. Qayin is not in sight. “What is it?” I ask moving toward him. For the longest time, he is just quiet. “I have heard things a man should never hear,” he says finally. “I have heard about evils that never crossed my mind. Oh Baraka!” He turns to me. “It is not hard for me to imagine some things, but what goes on in there . . . ” He nods toward Enoch. “I never could have supposed.” I lean my head on his shoulder and he puts his arm around me. Outside the tent, there is life in the encampment. Some people have returned to their tents to recover from the night's festivities. The people whose tent we are in have obviously chosen to stay in 206

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the city. Jared and I sit in silence. “I know the way in,” he says after a while. “It is through the sewer.” I nod. I figured as much. Though I do not care for the thought of actually trying it. “Where is Qayin?” I ask. “He left,” said Jared. “I could not keep him. He told me everything and then he said he was going to go as far away from this place as he could. I gave him some food and money.” “That was nice of you,” I murmur. Thankfully, my mind is not filled with the knowledge that Jared now has to bear. My daughter is getting married today! I look down. My clothing is worn. I look like any farmer's wife. I suppose we will stand in the crowds with everyone else and if her eyes fall on us, she may not even recognize us. “Tonight we will go into Enoch,” says Jared, before stretching out on a cushion to sleep. But I am wide-awake. I eat what's left of the bread and walk down to the creek for some water, both to wash up and to drink. Some of the tent-dwellers are out and notice that I am a new face. “Here for the wedding?” one woman asks. I nod and try to smile pleasantly. “Things will get out of hand,” predicts another woman. “I am staying here with my children.” “Your husband will not miss out on the revelry,” says the first woman. “What does it matter to me?” the woman shrugs. “Let him have his fun.” “I am staying here too,” says another woman. “I do not trust the giants when they have had too much to drink.” There is much agreement. The city will not be safe tonight. “Are you curious about the bride?” I ask. A couple of women shrug. “We have not seen her. We will never see her again.” I decide to be bold and gather as much information as I can. “I remember the days when Father Cain sat in the city gates,” I say. One woman laughs. 207


“Those days are long gone. He will be lucky if he is invited to the feast tonight.” “You are from an outer settlement?” a woman asks me. I nod. Let her think I still live among the children of Cain. She does not need to know how far I have come. “Life is better there, I think,” says one of the women. “Life is hard everywhere,” I say. Much nodding and agreement. And then the women must return to their tents with their water and all the responsibilities that await them. I have nothing to do except wait for Jared to wake up. I wonder how long I could stand to live here, just outside the city of Enoch, waiting for my daughter to realize what she has married. I am not afraid of hard work. I do not think myself better than these people, because I was once a child of Cain, or so I thought. But I miss my own home and the company of Enoch and Edna. And at home, there is always something for me to do. I have never been in this situation where I have nothing to do and am restless. I am tempted to walk straight into Enoch and demand an audience with Semjaza. He would probably shame me by denying me one. But arriving via the sewers will be even more humiliating if we are caught. I cannot imagine Tikvah welcoming me with open arms if I appeared in her home after a journey through the pipes that carry the waste. At long last, Jared awakes. We pack up everything that is ours in case we do not return. Then we follow the few people heading into Enoch. Most people are already in the city and the walls look as if they are going to burst there are so many people moving in the streets. Some have even used ladders to climb to the top of the walls. The people who are not drinking wine and carousing, are moving to the city centre. We follow along, holding hands to keep from being separated. The marketplace is filled. All eyes are on the largest and most ornate building. It is made of stone and it takes up one whole side of the marketplace. Even in the twilight, it is a gleaming white. Although it seems to reach up to the sky, the entire third floor has a balcony that juts out over the marketplace. All along the balcony's edge are lights and flowers. That's what 208

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everyone's eyes are on. We wait in the crowds as darkness falls. There is jostling and I hope that Jared has a good grip on our valuables because it is an ideal situation for thievery. Then, when the sky is dark and the moon is bright, we see movement. It is not Semjaza who comes out first, but some of his brothers. The crowds begin to cheer. The giants are followed by familiar faces. I recognize Tubal-Cain, older and stouter. Then Lamech with Zillah beside him, but not Adah. I guess that's one small dignity Naamah retains. She does not have to include her father's first wife. But it is humiliating enough that the family of Lamech must attend this event. Then it is Naamah herself. A few cheers go up for her. From a distance, she is still lovely and tonight she is wearing a shimmering red dress. And around her neck is the necklace, the one with the moonstones, crafted so carefully by Tubal-Cain all those years ago. The final person to come out is Semjaza. Now the crowds roar. They are calling out their adulation. There is genuine adoration among these people amassed here in the marketplace. I have no doubt that Semjaza has won them over with his eloquence. The crowds love him. But where is Tikvah? A shout from one of the streets that run off the marketplace answers my question. It is a procession. Giants are shoving bystanders to the side, hardly possible in the dense crowds, to make room for an enormous platform that carries a golden chair, and on it, my daughter Tikvah. The platform is high enough that everyone can see her. She looks solemn, and her white dress, trimmed in gold and pearls glimmering in the moonlight, makes her look like a newly born star. Like everyone in the streets, the sight mesmerizes me. The platform is being pulled by four white horses. I doubt I will ever see anything like this again. I glance up at Semjaza. His lips are twisted in a smile. This is obviously what he envisioned. He is creating the sense that Tikvah is worthy of him, although how long that illusion will last, I do not know. 209


I look up at Jared. But there is no pride on his face, only pain. He knows more than I do about what awaits our daughter and with much knowledge comes much sorrow. Then the platform arrives in the marketplace and the crowds must part to let it by. It would not surprise me if people die tonight under the feet of the giants who now use whips to make way for the horses. The platform is so high it is level with the balcony. When Tikvah stands, Semjaza himself moves forward to lift his bride over to his side. The crowds love it and shout their approval. It should be Cain who marries them. When I lived here, Cain married all his children, or if for some reason, he could not, then Enoch did. But today, I see neither man. Semjaza evidently does not believe there is anyone higher than him in the city. Holding Tikvah's hand high, he turns to the crowds. The crowds go quiet. “We come before you tonight,” he calls out, his voice carrying over the heads of the people. “And ask that you share our joy.” The crowds roar. It is almost deafening. I notice that Naamah does not look joyful. When the crowds quiet down, Semjaza continues to speak. “In Enoch, we are all equal. We are all as gods, knowing good from evil. We have eaten of the fruit of the tree and the tree has made us wise.” I recognize the words of the manuscript that my father carried, although Semjaza has arranged them in his own way. I wonder if everyone in the crowd is aware of the allusion. They are hushed, taking in every word. “We are called to fill the earth and to subdue it, to have dominion over the birds of the heavens, over every living thing that moves on earth.” Though it is Yah who has given us these words, Yah is not mentioned. “We are formed not as dust, but as stardust,” Semjaza calls out to the still crowd. Now that is not true. The manuscript says we are dust and God breathed the breath of life into Father Adam and he became a living creature. Hawwa was created from a rib from his side. “We are not cursed creatures,” says Semjaza. “But creators of our own destiny!” 210

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I know where he's getting that. Yah cursed his creation after Father Adam and Hawwa chose to eat the fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. Indeed, we are cursed creatures, and how much more as we stand here tonight? “We are called to be fruitful and to multiply,” continues Semjaza. “And so I come before you today with Tikvah.” The crowds cheer. Jared's hand tightens around mine. “I declare to you my intent to take her as a wife. And in turn, she declares to take me as her only husband.” Jared and I look at one another. We have both noticed the careful distinction. Tikvah is to have no other men. Semjaza is free to have as many wives as he wants. Tikvah nods, looking up at Semjaza with adoration. I can tell my girl is overwhelmed by all of this and is holding onto Semjaza for her strength. That seems to be the ceremony. Then one of Semjaza's brothers moves forward to make a small speech welcoming Tikvah to the family. Then it is TubalCain's turn to come forward, welcoming Tikvah to Enoch. I am proud of my brother. He is dignified regardless of what this means for his family. I notice that Lamech has lost most of his colour and is much thinner than I remember. The loss of prestige is affecting him heavily, no doubt. The crowd is respectfully quiet, but getting restless. On the balcony, Semjaza speaks one more time. “It is my desire that you all share in the festivities,” he calls out. Someone has handed him a glass of wine and he raises his voice, “I drink to your health, I drink to your wealth, and I drink to . . . life!” He downs the glass in one gulp and tosses it off the balcony. The crowds roar back. They love him tonight. They love the beautiful woman beside him, but they will never see her again. Then more wine is coming out from what must be Semjaza's home. This time, it is accompanied by food. The crowds move forward. Jared drags me in the opposite direction. On the balcony, the wedding party is moving inside. I have only a glimpse of Tikvah's dress as she disappears through the shimmering glass doors.

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The city of Enoch is the last place I want to be. It is Semjaza's city now. I think, perhaps, that we should try to get word to Tikvah that we are here outside of the city and that if she needs us, we will be here for as long as it is necessary. But Jared says we will go into the city and that is where we will stay until it is clear what we should do. I am concerned that we will be recognized by someone who once knew me and Semjaza will be told that we are here. At least Jared's plan keeps us from having to purchase a tent and make a home among the tent-dwellers. They have all returned home and we would not have been able to stay another night in their tent. But I am concerned about the cost. Living in the city will leave us destitute in a short time compared to the self-sustaining life of the tent-dwellers. I am almost afraid that Jared will suggest that we approach Tubal-Cain and ask for accommodation. Because I fear that Naamah's misery is entirely my fault. Had I stayed, her future would have been very different indeed. And Tikvah's marriage to Semjaza only increases my feeling of guilt. But Jared surprises me. The city is much quieter today. He 213


takes us right back to the centre, the marketplace and the home of Semjaza. We pass by Tubal-Cain's shop but there is no sign of him, though people are coming and going from the building. A small sign on a door of one of the other buildings says, “Room to rent. Inquire within.” Jared nods with satisfaction. “How did you know?” I ask. “I had a dream,” Jared explains, pushing the door open. I am still standing in the street. A dream? I would like to know more. But my husband is already in the shop, a pottery store, inquiring about the room. The proprietor tells us it used to belong to his son, but his son has left for one of the settlements to set up his own shop. He wasn't expecting to rent the room to two people. “We only need it for a few days,” says Jared. Why is he so confident? I look up at him, but his eyes are on the proprietor who is nodding slowly. “OK,” he says slowly. “Might as well make some money.” Then Jared is paying him and we are being led up a tiny staircase. These new buildings are not as spacious inside as the old ones that used to line the market. The giants must have their own places to live. I barely notice the narrow room with its single bed, I am so eager to talk to Jared. As soon as the proprietor closes the door behind him, I am opening my mouth. But Jared speaks first. “I prayed to Yah to bring this to a conclusion,” says Jared. “Our place is back at our settlement. Not here. Tikvah will never find happiness here.” “But Jared . . . ” I feel cold and scared. Jared holds up his hand. “Hold your peace, Baraka. I have heard things I wish I never knew. This must end and it must end soon. I have never asked Yah for anything.” “The price might be higher than we are willing to pay . . . ” I sit on the hard bed and put my face in my hands. “The price Tikvah is paying is higher than she realized,” Jared says, going over to the small window and opening the wooden shutters. It looks down into the marketplace and right across at the balcony where our daughter was married. Jared returns to sit with me on the bed. We both just stare at the balcony. My daughter entered that building a queen. What has 214


she become now? Something makes me certain that Jared will have his prayer answered. But Yah is a holy God, a righteous God, and I cannot think that this will end well. Darkness comes to the small room. Outside, the marketplace gets quiet. We finish the last of our provisions, purchased the day we encountered Qayin. Across the marketplace, in Semjaza's structure, lights start to come on. Some rooms only have diaphanous curtains and I gasp when I see the figure of a woman pass by one of them. But the longer we watch, we become aware that this building is home for Semjaza's brothers and their wives and children too. Many of the shadowy figures are giants. I do not see anyone who might be my Tikvah. With Jared quiet, as always, my mind wanders over the past. Like a fool, I think of all the wonderful little moments I shared with my daughter - the times we baked apple pastries together, or picked berries together, or just the way she used to follow me around when I did all my chores – on wobbly legs at first and then more certain. I am soon silently weeping and there is nothing for me to do but stretch out on the bed and beg Yah to deliver my daughter from evil. Let it cost me everything, let it cost her nothing, but deliver her from evil. When I awake, Jared is asleep beside me. I have no idea at what point in the night he gave up his vigil. He looks pale beside me, weary and worn, not like the master of a settlement and guardian of a star map. Sitting up, the first thing I do is look over at Semjaza's. The morning sun shines on its white stones, but there is no life in the windows. From down below, I hear the marketplace stirring and the early risers out and about. I take a few coins from Jared's pouch and make my way down the stairs to ground level. A farmer's wife has a blanket covered with fresh fruit, as well as some baskets for purchase. It has been a long time since we have had the fresh produce from our own garden. I take a basket and start to fill it up under the woman's watchful eye. I am half-done when there is the sound of a 215


commotion coming from the direction of Semjaza's house. The shriek of a woman causes my whole body to stiffen and I drop the basket. Now the entire marketplace has gone quiet. One of the curtains on the third floor has been ripped back. And I see my Tikvah. Except she isn't my Tikvah anymore. Her face is contorted in rage and fear. I cannot see it, but someone is holding her wrist. She twists it away and now there is desperation on her face. For only a short second, she hesitates, and then she pushes her slight body through the glass door. In the silence, as all stare, I hear the sound of shattering glass and I see my daughter tottering on the edge of the balcony, having pushed with all her might and lost her balance. Again, there is only a brief moment as my daughter makes a decision. And then over the balcony she goes. I scream. I am not sure if I scream for Jared or if I scream for Yah. But Jared is suddenly beside me and we are both moving in the direction of the still form on the stone ground. A crowd has gathered around. Jared pushes through and with no hesitation, has Tikvah in his arms. I look up. Semjaza is standing on the balcony. I think I see apprehension on his face, but it is too brief for me to be certain. And then he shakes his head and a cruel smile replaces the concern. Before our eyes can meet, he turns and goes back inside, carefully stepping around broken glass. I am expecting him to come down and retrieve his bride. But he does not. We carry Tikvah back to our small room, everyone parting for us. There is fear on their faces. Fear of Semjaza? Tikvah moans slightly. By the time we have her on the bed, the proprietor is banging on our door, ordering us out. Yes, it is definitely fear. He does not want us here, he tells us. We are trouble. My daughter, covered in cuts and barely alive, gets no sympathy from him. I leave the proprietor to Jared and concentrate entirely on Tikvah. On my knees, I am holding her hands, afraid to touch her, yet unwilling to not hold her in some way. She moans but her 216


eyes are closed and she is still. Frighteningly still. I have only seen death once in my life when Behemoth died. He went cold too and right now Tikvah's hands are the same temperature as the chilly river. “Oh my love!” Carefully, I place my head on her chest. She is barely breathing. Behind me, I am aware that the more insistent the proprietor is that we leave, the more stubborn my husband is that we will not leave. Finally, Jared hauls the man over to the window and points that there is absolutely no one coming out from Semjaza's house. We are entirely alone in this room and no one cares what is happening. Slightly soothed, the man says we can have the room for one more hour and then he will go get some giants to drag us out, if necessary. Jared does not even reply to this, turning toward the bed and joining me on the ground to look at his daughter. I do not think she is even aware of us. Gently, Jared strokes her forehead. This tender gesture almost starts me weeping. My daughter is dying in front of me. This is death. This is what the knowledge of good and evil brought us. Oh for Life! Oh Hawwa! Why did you have to make this choice for all of us? For one moment, I hate Hawwa, but then I realize, this is part of the knowledge of good and evil too. Then Tikvah is still. I put my head back on her chest, but feel nothing. Jared puts his hand over her mouth but does not feel the breath of life. “Is she . . . ?” I cannot bring myself to say it. Jared looks at his daughter. “I do not know. But if she is, we will not bury her here. And if she is not, we cannot stay here.” Jared surveys the room but does not see what he is looking for. He stands. “Do what you can for her,” he says to me, before going out the door. I have some oil left, a tiny amount. Very gently, I rub it on some of her wounds. Her dress is of the finest material, but it is too revealing. I wrap her in my second outfit and stroke her forehead while I wait for Jared to return. She is cold. I am glad her eyes are closed. I would not have wanted to see the life go out of them. 217


Jared returns with provisions and hands them to me. “We will walk until we are home,” he says. “So these will have to keep us going.” I nod silently and take the food. It is a large supply of goods to carry, but Jared is already picking up Tikvah. His load will be heavier.

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“He is like his grandfather,” I say comfortingly to Edna. “Jared was not a young man when he got married.” Over tea in my kitchen, we are talking about Methuselah. Though with a house and a clearing of his own, he seems content not to take a wife and start a settlement. “He talks to his father and his father says the end will come,” says Edna. “But neither of them seem to be able to tell me the nature of this end. But the effect it has on Methuselah is that he does not want to continue on as everyone does – marrying and fathering children.” “Well,” I say. “It is understandable. The earth gets more violent every day.” I sigh. Many of the giants are men of renown, protectors of cities in return for the glory it brings them. But we hear disturbing stories that settlements are at war with settlements. Thus far, no one has shown any interest in our settlement. It is by the grace of Yah, I believe. Edna nods. Jared and I are partners in everything, including sorrow, but it is Edna who is my best friend and my greatest comfort. Tikvah is 221


buried in our forest and she and I often go out to sit by the small marker we erected. Jared never does. It is too painful. But in his quiet way, he has rebuilt our life, replacing all the furniture that was sold to pay for our journey to Enoch. In some ways, it has been easier for me. I have forgiven myself and taken solace in the presence of Yah, who Enoch still walks with. If he is here, than everything must be as it should be. “Enoch simply is not concerned,” Edna continues. “It would be nice if he would share my desire for grandchildren.” I smile. That is one pleasure that I have known. Rasujal and Nava have three children. Nava refused to have anymore after that, although they are now the grandparents of three more children. Overall, I sense that Rasujal is a frustrated man. Pyramides and Kalah have both married and although Kalah lives in the settlement of Cainan, we still have Pyramides and his wife here with us. They have brought seven children into the settlement and their eldest son and his wife are now expecting their first child. “We are blessed though,” I say. Edna nods. She understands that I consider the presence of Yah to be of more value than ten grandchildren living close by. I push my chair back. “We should take some tea over to Nava,” I say. Nava does not care to have tea in my home with me, preferring the comfort and luxury of her own house, but I try to make a point of bringing some tea leaves over to her now and then. Edna shakes her head. “I am needed at home to . . . ” She searches her mind for some forgotten chore. I laugh. “Your home is spotless, Edna.” “It is because I have no grandchildren to mess it up,” she grumbles as we both stand up. It is true. I look around my house. Pyramides's three youngest were here yesterday and the house still has not recovered. It hardly seems worth it to restore everything if they are just going to return. Jared calls them violent little men and asks Pyramides 222

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why his children must play with toy daggers. I try to ignore the war games they play and just think of them as high-spirited. Nonetheless, Edna is not interested in a visit to Nava, so I set out alone with my offering of tea leaves. Rasujal's house has expanded with his lizard business so that now it is the biggest and tallest in the settlement. It is filled with the luxuries of the four rivers. I hardly bother to look at Nava’s treasures. I use wooden ladles in my soup while Nava has silver ones hanging above her iron stove. Except that she hardly uses her iron stove. One of her unmarried daughters does the cooking. It is one of life's ironies that two attractive people like Rasujal and Nava have produced three plain-looking children. Their son has married a giant woman and they live in our settlement. Rasujal is still looking for husbands for his daughters. They are both excellent cooks, but have lived so long in the shadow of their overbearing mother that they do not have much personality. It is also unfortunate that despite their physical shortcomings, they are not humble. Instead, they seem to spend their days waiting on their mother and exhibiting ill will toward everyone they come in contact with. I have no doubt that as soon as I leave their house, the three women discuss how dowdy my dress is, how tired my eyes look and what a poor grandmother I am. Nonetheless, this is my settlement, so I persevere in staying connected to all who are in it. If Hawwa can bear the lives of her children, I can bear the lives of mine. My granddaughter answers the door and receives the tea with grudging gratitude. I do not care how many valuables they have in their home, the tea from my garden is as good as anything sold along the Tigris. She shows me up to her mother's room where Nava is sitting on silk cushions and appears to be doing nothing more meaningful than examining her fingernails. “God's blessing to you, Nava,” I say, sitting down on a hard wooden chair, the only other seat in the room. “Hello Baraka,” says Nava, who has never taken to calling me Mother. “How is your health?” I inquire. It is a standard question. As long as one is alive, the acceptable reply is, “Praise Yah, I am well.” But Nava rarely answers this way. I await with interest her complaint for today. 223


“I could be mortally ill,” she says. “For all Rasujal would care.” Her voice is hoarse. “It would easily be cured by lemon tea,” I reply. “One of Pyramides's boys had the same thing. I gave him lemon tea and it cleared his throat right away.” “The little beasts were around here yesterday,” she said. “Feeding scraps to the dragons. No doubt I caught it from one of them.” This might be true, if Nava ever went out to where the dragons are caged. “I shall bring you some lemons,” I say. “One glass of tea with some honey will cure your throat.” “Not everything is cured by tea,” says one of my granddaughters, as she comes into the room with a tray holding a jug of berry wine and two small glasses. “I suppose that is true,” I say agreeably. Nava pours us each a glass of wine. This berry wine is her one contribution to the settlement, her only act of labour – to harvest the berries and process them into this delicious drink. I suspect that it has probably soothed many arguments between her and Rasujal. The conversation turns to Nava's daughter-in-law, the giant. “It is not right,” says Nava, shaking her head. “I can barely lift my grandson. He is only three and is already the size of a tenyear-old.” I nod sympathetically. The giantess and I have very little in common, although she was raised in a settlement among the sons of Cain. Mostly we discuss her children. She towers over me, but is mild-mannered and seems much like any other woman, only larger. I doubt very much that she has bruises on her arms. Her husband is two heads shorter than her. “But your grandchildren are strong,” I say. “No doubt, they will be of great help to Rasujal with his lizards.” Nava shrugs, refusing to see any good in the giants. I have noticed that the giants who do not come from Enoch have barely heard of Semjaza and have very little interest in their origins. They call themselves the Mighty Ones and their children are sought after for the armies built up by the bigger settlements. I inquire about the berries in the wine we are drinking. With enthusiasm, Nava tells me that this is a combination of 224

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blueberries, blackberries and raspberries. I tell her that it is excellent and she shows some pride. It is the only time I see her smile. I ask if she would like to take a walk with me sometime in the woods. I do not tell her that it is my opinion that she stays in the house too much. But she says she is too busy. I have no idea how this can be, but I do not push it. With very little in common, we are, at least, on good terms. Thanking her for the wine, I return to my own home and begin making a meal for Jared and myself. He surprises me after dinner by suggesting we go for a walk to the star map. “It is a full moon,” he says. I nod. A full moon is a festival to Yah, even if it is something we only keep in our hearts. It is a long time since the sons of Seth have gathered together under a full moon to dance to Yah. Even Tikvah's wedding under a full moon cannot taint the joy I feel on the nights I look up in the sky and see the round white moon shining down on our settlement. Jared takes my hand as we move along the path to the star map. The path is faithfully cleared by Jared for any traveller who comes our way and wants to worship among the pyramids, few though they be. My mind is still on Methuselah not taking a wife and Nava who refuses to leave her home for anything but her berries, but I do not share these thoughts with Jared. I have found that light talk does not usually interest him and he only wants to know something if it requires his attention. Since neither does, we walk in the darkness in silence. “Where is Enoch tonight?” Jared asks suddenly. “I do not know,” I say, startled. “With Edna, I suppose.” Though I know Edna has spent many evenings alone when Enoch is out walking with Yah. She does not complain. She knows she might be the only woman on earth as close to Yah as she is. “I need to talk to him,” says Jared. I wait to see if he will tell me why. He does. “He has neglected his star map and now his son does the same. His son does not even take a wife. I must talk to him, and maybe to Methuselah too.” So Edna's woes are in alignment with Jared's concerns. 225


“They are both still young,” I say. “Enoch is only 251-yearsold and Methuselah is 186-years-old.” “Do not think that I do not know that Enoch wanders the forests when he should be establishing a settlement. Of course, he cannot establish a settlement because he refuses to have any more children. So his settlement would consist of him and Edna. At least, Methuselah has a clearing of his own, but what does he do? Does he take a wife? No, he sits and . . . ” . . . and waits for the end to come, I think, recalling the strange meaning of his name. “. . . and feeds himself, I suppose,” Jared finishes. Jared knows that Enoch walks with Yah. I do not know how he found out, only that he did. But no matter that Enoch has this special connection, a son of Seth must still honour his father. I will be interested to know how this conversation with Enoch goes. Perhaps I will find out from Jared. Or perhaps not. But the next day there is big news. I am in the courtyard when Edna hurries in, her face glowing. In anticipation of a talk over tea, I quickly add some water to the pot that sits on the iron stove. “Methuselah is to take a wife!” Edna tells me excitedly. She has not even waited for me to brew the tea. “It is all to be arranged within a year!” “What is this!” I say, turning to her, the boiling water momentarily forgotten. It is only three hours after sunrise. Has Jared already talked to Enoch? I thought he was behind our house chopping wood. “It is true!” says Edna nodding. “Enoch talked with Yah in the night and Yah instructed him to take a wife for his son. Indeed, they are to have a child within a year!” “What does Methuselah say to this?” I ask. We return to my sitting room, the tea entirely forgotten. “Enoch has gone to talk to him now,” says Edna, leaning back on my cushions. “I do not even know who the woman is to be. But, oh Mother!” she grasps my hand. “I shall hold a child this time next year!” I nod. It is a great joy to hold a baby. It has been 186 years since Edna held her own child and I can understand her longing. Edna is in a stir. 226

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There has not even been a wedding, but already she is discussing the clothing she is going to make for the baby and the soft blankets she will knit together. I smile to myself. It is good to see Edna's face so lit up with joy. Jared is flabbergasted when I tell him the news. He has not talked to Enoch all day. He stomps off after dinner to find out what is going on. I sip raspberry leaf tea, waiting for him to return. When he does, he uncharacteristically wants to talk. “He is as calm as can be,” says Jared, falling into the chair across from me. “Yah has told Enoch to tell Methuselah to take a wife and have a son. That is all he will say. It is impossible for me to understand how a man who spends so much time talking to Yah can be so brief when recounting his conversations.” I watch my husband and realize he is jealous of Enoch's relationship with Yah. Jared is a good man, but he does not have what his son does. Perhaps it is because Enoch has unashamedly made everything else in his life less important than Yah. He has not required that Edna bear him sons, the acquisition of possessions means nothing to him, and even the star maps do not consume him. It is Jared who has had to hear the complaints of the pious sons of Seth that Enoch is not carrying on the tradition. No one can talk to Enoch because he is either not there to talk to or maddeningly indifferent to the controversy. “Still,” I say. “It is done. The line will continue.” “The line will continue,” Jared agrees. He reaches for the pot of tea and pours himself some. “Oh Baraka! Have you ever wished you had just stayed in the city of Cain and never walked among the sons of Seth?” The question startles me. “Not for a moment,” I say truthfully. “Good,” he says, reaching across the table to take my hand. “You could have been a goddess there. I do not think Semjaza would have done to you what he did to Naamah and Tikvah. He was angry that they were not you.” That is an idea entirely new to me. And surprising. “But who am I?” I say, bewildered. “Who are you to inspire such devotion?” he says smiling. 227


“You did to me the first time I saw you.”

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Methuselah's wedding is held at the star map. Conveniently, Yah seems to have told Enoch who the right wife for Methuselah is. I fear I will lose Edna to Methuselah's chosen wife. Her name is also Edna, but she does not mind Ena as a variation. “It is what my mother always calls me and it will make me feel at home if you do, as well,” she says. She is gentle and sweet and we all love her. Ena is, of course, not pregnant yet, but Edna is already doting on her as if she is. We are standing under a full moon. It has been a small wedding, but attended by Seth, as well as his son Enosh. Cainan and Mahalalel have also attended with their wives and some of their children. I am happy to be temporarily reunited with Kalah and her active children. Edna and I have prepared all the refreshments. Nava has been generous in sharing her berry wine. “Now, my dear,” says Edna, leading Ena to some chairs that have been brought to the star map for some of the older guests. “You must rest.” I smile. 229


“Edna, she has not conceived her child yet.” “But she might tonight,” says Edna, hardly noticing Ena's blush. But Ena is good-natured and sits to please her new mother-in-law. I am happy to see that Methuselah very soon joins her and is an attentive husband. Now that he has a wife, he seems to be pleased about the whole thing. Ena is not beautiful, but she has a lovely nature and he is obviously enjoying her company. My house in the meantime is lively again. Kalah's children mix with their cousins and soon even the stuffing is coming out of some of the cushions. Jared looks at me with exasperation, but I just shrug. After all, when they all go home, I can easily restuff them. I do not mind. Kalah joins me in the courtyard to complain about married life. Her husband is lazy. Her husband does not listen to her. Her husband is a poor example to the children. At least she does not have bruises on her arm. Her husband seems fine to me, his only shortcoming being that he prefers the company of men to the company of his wife. Right now, he and some of his cousins are out on the porch enjoying Nava's wine. I get some bread out of the oven and leave it on a table under a cloth. Everyone can make his or her own way to bed and down to breakfast tomorrow. Methuselah has already taken his bride home and Seth and Enosh and their wives are already asleep upstairs. “Would you like me to help you get the children to bed?” I ask Kalah. “I am just going to let them run until they are exhausted.” I nod and though I would rather be in bed, I stay with her in the courtyard, seated on a bench, talking about life in the settlement of Cainan. There is no doubt that despite my daughter's complaints, the settlements occupied by the direct descendants of Seth have a greater peace than the ones lived in by our Father Adam's other children. I point this out to Kalah, but she is not soothed. “But how have you put up with Father all these years?” she asks me. “I did not realize it as his daughter, but as a wife, I see that Father hardly seems to realize that you have needs of your own. For example, this courtyard is a mess. The stones are crumbling. Why does he not fix it? You spend so much time here and yet he lets the walls fall in.” 230

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I shrug. “I suppose I let him be who he is and just leave it at that.” Kalah shakes her head at this approach to marriage. “If I did that, the roof would fall in on us.” I smile. “I imagine your father would notice if the roof fell in.” “But by then the event would have happened,” grumbles Kalah. “It's the star maps,” she continues. “Cainan's wife complains of it all the time. Always the star maps. Cainan's house is collapsing on top of them, but he is too busy making sure the star map is intact. He has workers repairing stones on the pyramids but he cannot spare one to put some new shutters in his windows.” She rambles on into the night. I listen with half an ear. And then something stirs inside of me. An awareness. It is beyond me and near, at the same time. Yes! I do believe Edna is right! A child will be conceived tonight. And the line will continue. Whatever end is to come, there is still hope. Methuselah and Ena give me an honour that is almost too great. They ask me to name their son. The child was born almost nine full moons to the day after they were married. Edna, known for her own personal modesty and simple tastes, has outfitted him in robes fit for a trader of diamonds. Now, two weeks later, we are visiting them in their settlement. Though their settlement is only one home, a large garden and fields of grain, this new life has filled it with people coming to offer their warmest hopes for Methuselah's son. Holding the tiny boy, they leave me alone with him in their bedroom. I am grateful. I whisper a prayer to Yah to guide me in this decision. The name that comes to my mind is the one of the only father I ever knew, Lamech. It seems a strange choice, and yet, very few people know of my family in Cain, so they would not associate it with the city of Enoch. “Lamech,” I whisper. It means, man of prayer. And with a 231


world rapidly forgetting what it is to call on the name of Yah, he will be very needed. Everyone returns and I announce my decision. Jared looks surprised. Methuselah and Ena are pleased. Immediately they look down at the child in my arms and call him Lamech. The name will have new meaning for me now that it is my greatgrandson's. “It is a good name,” says Jared to me, when we are walking back to our own settlement. Rasujal told us to bring one of his dragons along to protect us in the woods but Jared said that the day he cannot travel between the settlements without a lizard to protect him is the day he would like to die. “I believe it is the name Yah gave to me,” I say, taking his hand. “The child is evidently the will of Yah,” says Jared. “True.” “I think, perhaps, the star maps do not bring us closer to Yah,” says Jared. It is an abrupt and startling statement. “It is a way to honour him,” I say, hesitantly, recalling how Enoch first saw Yah in the forest by the map. “I walk among them and I do not feel his presence,” says Jared. “They are a monument to us, not to him.” It is certainly true that it takes many men to create a pyramid. The men are strong, certainly, but the achievement is one that I have not seen or heard of anywhere else. Only the sons of Seth know how to, or even desire to, build them. “Perhaps the idea of Yah inspires us to create such things,” I say. Jared shakes his head. “I was the one who worked with the men, Baraka. They were not inspired by Yah. And look at the world now. Men use their energy to create walled settlements and arms to defend them. I suppose I would rather die among the pyramids than behind a wall.” I nod. Jared has never taken an interest in maintaining the wall of our settlement. That is entirely Rasujal's area of concern. Rasujal also puts great confidence in his dragons, saying if our walls are ever breached, he will release them from their cages. It is my opinion that his dragons would be just as likely to eat us as 232

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eat our attackers. “It is the Garden that interests me,” Jared says, thoughtfully. “The garden?” I say, surprised, thinking of my humble garden with its produce. He nods. “Eden.” “Oh! Eden.” My husband does not say anything. He is in his own world. “I suppose there is no going back,” I say, eventually. Again, my husband is quiet. I almost think he does not agree with me. “Is it Life you seek?” I ask. “Or is it Yah?” “Both,” he says. He stops walking. “But there must be a way, Baraka!” “A way to what, Jared?” I ask, bewildered. “A way back!” he says. “Would Yah do that? One choice? One chance? Murder and death?” “Enoch seems to believe an end will come,” I say. “In the year Methuselah dies, a judgement will come.” “Yes, there is that,” says Jared, slowly. “Will Yah then make himself known to us? Will he judge those who have forgotten him?” “It is a possibility,” I say. “Of course, if Enoch will not talk to his own wife about the matter, he will not discuss it with us.” Jared starts walking again. “I am almost tempted to return to the Garden myself,” says Jared. I picture my husband's life coming to an abrupt end when he encounters the flaming sword. “But I think I will call upon the name of Yah, instead,” he says. I nod. “That sounds good,” I say. “The sons of Seth have forgotten to call on the name of Yah,” he continues. “I will not travel to the Great Pyramid. I will do it anywhere . . . ” He stops and looks around. “Here, even.” Then he startles me. “Oh Yah!” he cries out. “I have forgotten you and now I remember! Show mercy to my family and me! We were building pyramids when we should have been calling out to 233


you! We let our children stray and they have paid with their lives.” I am quiet, thinking of Tikvah. “No longer!” Jared cries out. “No longer will I forget! I will call on your name until the day my voice is hoarse and I can no longer speak.” Then he grabs my hand and we walk briskly back to the settlement, my husband energized and determined. I do not know what this means, but it seems to me to be very good.

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Jared is different now. He stays closer to the house. It is in dramatic contrast to how much of his time the star map used to take up. Now we eat three meals a day together, whereas, in the past, he was often gone for two of them. If only Kalah could see her father now. He redoes our entire roof and repairs the columns in my courtyard. We make regular trips to visit with Methuselah and Ena and little Lamech. Lamech is a delight to play with. Jared has crafted him a set of blocks. He and I sit on the floor of Methuselah and Ena's spacious sitting room and build all sorts of things. The blocks continue to be a favourite toy even as he grows. His favourite animals are dragons, not the ferocious beasts that Rasujal raises, but the gentle giants like Behemoth. So Jared carves him a whole set of lizards and we make walls with the blocks for them to climb over. Edna brings Lamech a specially tamed kitten to play with and he and I make all sorts of obstacle courses for it to climb over, laughing with delight as it leaps over and balances on our 235


creations. Jared now sits for long hours with Methuselah, discussing Yah. Methuselah says his father, Enoch, knows Yah better than any man on earth. “Even Father Adam?” says Jared, sipping the delicious ginger tea that Ena serves us when we visit her. It is her own creation and she mixes in the sugar cane that has become so popular in all the settlements. “I think Father Adam knows Yah in a different way,” says Methuselah, leaning down to retrieve a soft ball. He rolls it across the room causing the kitten to chase it. Lamech laughs with approval. Today we are sitting on the floor making pyramids with the blocks. “No doubt he knows he has brought evil into the world and is determined to resist it in whatever way he can. But it is my father who trusts in the goodness of Yah.” Methuselah stands up to return his clay mug to the courtyard where Ena is preparing a salad for lunch. “I have been thinking something over,” Methuselah says, coming back into the dining room. “I am going to take Ena and Lamech to meet with Father Adam.” Just about to place a block on the top of a huge pyramid, I pause, startled. “It may not be a safe journey,” I say. Methuselah nods his acknowledgement. “But it is important I think. Father Adam and Hawwa rarely travel anymore. Even Father Seth has not met Lamech yet. So we will stop there on our way.” “This is all very true,” says Jared slowly. I do not like the idea, but I cannot deny that if Lamech is to meet those who came before him, this journey is necessary. “How long will you be gone?” Jared asks. “I am thinking that we should plan to be gone for at least twenty rotations of the earth around the sun.” “That long!” I burst out. Methuselah nods. “What does your father say?” Jared asks. “Oh my father thinks I should just stay put. I do not know if that is his opinion or the opinion of Yah. I think it is his own.” “But perhaps it would be wise to regard his opinion,” I say. “I honour my father,” Methuselah says. “But I make this 236

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decision for Lamech.” Edna will be heartbroken, I think. There are a few moments of silence, broken by Jared. “You are right,” he says firmly. “Enoch has never left the settlement because he has found Yah so close to home. The rest of us, however . . . ” He glances at me. “. . . have had to make a journey to seek the will and presence of Yah.” I nod. It is true. Had I not made my own journey, I would have never even seen a glimpse of Yah. I leave Lamech playing with his kitten and join Ena in the courtyard. “How do you feel about this?” I ask. She does not have to ask me what I am referring to. “I am excited,” she says, turning to me with a wooden bowl of salad. I take it as she turns back for a platter of bread. “To meet Father Adam and Hawwa, Mother of All Living! I never dreamed I would do such a thing.” I look back to Lamech on the ground. “He is very special,” I say. “He is a direct descendant of Seth, the son who replaced Abel. From father to eldest son.” Ena nods. “You have given birth to a direct descendant in this line too,” she says. “And you have also met Father Adam and Hawwa, Mother of All Living.” I agree with her as we take the food into the dining room. My journey was dangerous at the time but the world has only gotten more violent. Still, Yah must be sought even in violent times. We return to our settlement after the midday meal. My heart is heavy. The sparkle that came into my life when Lamech was born is about to be taken from me. And I dread Edna’s reaction to this news. But Jared does not share my sense of loss. He is whistling. “And why are you so cheerful?” I ask. “We are about to lose three people who are dear to us.” “We are losing them to the will of Yah,” he points out. “It is good that the sons of Seth will meet the child who carries their hope.” “But what is our hope?” I demand. “Our hope is in Yah,” says Jared. “Yah has promised an end to the evil. We wait for that.” 237


It is something to think about. Yah has promised a judgement when Methuselah is gone. I doubt we will live to see it. But the line of Seth is to continue, nonetheless. What form will the judgement take? Pondering these unanswerable questions consumes my mind on the walk home. As I anticipated, Edna is filled with grief at the news that her son and his wife are about to embark on a journey that could mean that she will not see her grandson again until he is a grown man. Nava's response to the whole thing is bewilderment. Why leave a settlement to go derelict? It is impossible to convey to her that, like Enoch, Methuselah is not overly concerned about his house and garden. Methuselah is busy harvesting his fields to fund the journey, although he plans to bring his farming implements with him to hopefully work while he is away. Jared does not think this is a practical suggestion. “He will be a migrant worker,” he says. “It is no life for a wife and a child.” I agree but I do not know what to do about it. We are in our courtyard. Jared is helping me clean the iron stove. He straightens up, streaks of ash on his arms. “Baraka!” he says. “Yes?” “The sons of Jabal!” I get up off my knees and join him. “What are you talking about, dearest?” I ask, grateful that he is willing to share this dirty task with me. “The tent-dwellers!” he says, grabbing my shoulders. “The ones we stayed with when we were outside Enoch!” I know where his mind is going. And I agree. “Yes! A tent. And some livestock, perhaps.” Jared nods. “It is a self-sustaining life. They can sell the wool and live off of that.” “It is not an easy life,” I say thoughtfully. “They will not find fields of their own where they are going,” says Jared. “If they attempt to farm on land that is not their own, 238

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they could be murdered.” “Livestock would be better,” I say quickly. “Come with me!” he says, grabbing my arm. “We must do this quickly! They could leave any day!” In our dusty state, we hurry out of the settlement and down the long path that leads to the river. I think I know what Jared is going to do. At the river, we wash up and wait for the traders. Sure enough, when they arrive, Jared says he has a house full of furniture which he would like to trade for a goat-hair tent and as many animals as he can. The trader looks interested but says it depends on the quality of the furniture. Jared is an excellent worker of wood, so I know this will not be a problem. The traders moor at the tiny dock and the head-trader joins us in the walk back to the settlement. “I am not a trader in livestock,” he says. “But I do have a tent. And if the furniture is good, I can give you coins to trade for the livestock.” Jared nods. The traders who handle livestock usually do not want large items. They want smaller items, like valuable stones. Their boat is too full of animals for much else. The trader is impressed with the furniture. “Did I not do business with you once, many years ago?” he asks. Jared nods. “As I recall, I had no problem selling your furniture.” He is circling the large dining-room table. “Too many people nowadays do not make their furniture with such care. My own dining-room table fell apart when one of my children jumped on it. I might keep this item for myself.” He returns to his boat to bring back his associates. And so, once again, I see the traders going through my home and carrying away all of its contents. But once again, it is the right thing to do. And replacing it will keep Jared busy now that he no longer is interested in maintaining the star map. We come back to our empty house with a large black tent and a handful of gold coins. That night, we eat on cushions, our plates on the floor. Only 239


the iron stove is left. Even our bed is gone. The floor is hard but Jared promises to start on the bed as soon as we have obtained livestock. Every gold coin is spent on the next boatload of animals that comes along. The traders are pleased, now able to return home without having to travel the length of the river. People usually only buy one or two animals at a time. Jared says we will take the sheep and the goats straight to Methuselah and Ena, stopping only at our settlement for the tent. Rasujal's eyes widen as he sees us with our herds. His dragons start to grunt and strain in their cages, eager to get out and devour the animals. Pyramides, his wife and his children all come out to see this unusual sight. Even Nava is leaning out of an upper-story window. Her son and the giantess and their children hear the commotion and come out to pet the animals. “We take these to Methuselah!” Jared calls out. “Will you not accompany us in wishing them well on their journey?” Edna joins us, teary-eyed. Even Nava joins the long procession through the woods. Each child wants to take responsibility for an animal, so we move slowly, but at least without fear that we will lose any of our precious creatures. “Will Methuselah know how to handle such a herd?” I ask Jared over the din. “It will serve him one way or another,” he says. “If he does not care for the life of a herdsman, he can sell the animals along the way.” I nod. It is a form of wealth that is rarely preyed upon – the wealth of a herdsman. Few people want the work associated with the animals and yet, everyone appreciates the wool or animal skins. Animals can also be used to carry heavy loads, so Jared is right. Methuselah will easily be able to sell the animals if he wants to. Ena is out in the field helping Methuselah with his harvest when we arrive. Even Lamech is helping to bundle the sheaves. The three of them stop and stare in amazement. “What is all this?” asks Methuselah, coming forward, 240

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surveying the flocks and the people. “This is for you,” says Jared. He has been leading the goat that carries the load of the tent. Now he hands the lead to Methuselah. Methuselah accepts it, speechless. “It is for your journey,” I explain, as Ena joins her husband. Lamech is laughing, already petting the sheep. “These are for us?” asks Ena in her sweet voice. Oh how I shall miss her! But how glad I am to know we can send them off with something that will sustain them on their journey. Everyone nods, enjoying the moment. Methuselah and Ena's gratitude eradicate our concern that we might have overstepped our boundaries. Ena is crying her appreciation. Methuselah is shaking his head and talking about, “the ways of Yah.” “I really did not know how I would meet the needs of my family,” he says to Jared. “I only knew that Yah wanted me to take Lamech to meet Father Adam.” Then there are hugs all around and everyone joins in to make a makeshift pen for the animals. Young Lamech already has the branch of a tree and is showing a remarkable aptitude for steering the animals and keeping them in a herd. I join Ena in the courtyard where she is preparing an impromptu meal for her unexpected guests. She smiles and nods toward the baskets of vegetables on the ground. “We were going to trade them tomorrow for some coins for the journey,” she said. “Now we will not have to.” She and I chop vegetables and make several dishes – a tomato soup, a mixed vegetable cobbler and a mushroom stew. Nava surprises us by sending her son and some of her grandsons back to our settlement to get her remaining supply of berry wine. Soon, we are all seated inside and outside the home, eating and talking and laughing. It has been a long time since we gathered together like this. Even Edna is smiling, although I see sadness shadow her face when she looks over at Lamech playing with one of his giant cousins. Later, she and I insist on cleaning the plates and cups, telling Ena to relax and enjoy the family time. “Oh Baraka!” Edna says, her arms in a large wooden basin of water. “I do not know how I will bear this loss!” 241


“Yah will make a way,” I murmur, cleaning out one of Nava's wine pitchers. “I know,” says Edna. “But he never seems to talk to me.” I nod sympathetically. Only Enoch is not here with us today, gone off in the forest with Yah. “And how did you and Jared afford to outfit them with a tent and herds?” she demands, her gruffness an attempt to overcome her pain. I smile and shake my head. She will know soon enough next time she comes to my house for tea. “You two!” she says, shaking her head at my reticence, almost sounding disapproving. But I know she is happy that at least her son and grandson will leave the settlement in strength, not as waifs. “There is so much for us to bear,” I say, putting away a pile of plates on some shelves. No doubt these plates will be left behind to gather dust but, in the meantime, we can leave things in a tidy state. “Oh Baraka,” says Edna, sinking down into a wooden chair. “I am selfish. We all have situations to bear and you do it without complaining. I have no reason to mourn. My husband, my son and my grandson are all in good health. I carry on as if they are . . . ” She does not want to say dead, in consideration for my memory of Tikvah. I put my arm around her shoulders. It is a heavy load for Edna to bear because when Methuselah and Ena and Lamech leave, she will lose everything. I still have children and now I even have a husband who is a continual companion. That night, though we are tired from the walk back and the floor of our bedroom is inflexible, I feel a rush of affection for Jared and the result is a late night of lovemaking on an unforgiving surface. Though Jared groans about his back the next day, I notice there is a sparkle in his eye.

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“He is fifty-six today,” says Edna. She does not need to tell me who. Lamech. Who I have not seen now for over forty years and who Edna has seen only twice since they left to be with Father Adam. But messages have come via the traders who deliver written communications to the settlements, for a small price. Lamech is a favourite of Adam's. The young man is often by his great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather's side, supporting him and assisting him. Edna sighs heavily. It is not easy to shake her out of this state-of-mind. “Nava is recovering nicely from her surgery,” I say, trying to give her something else to think about. Though our settlement is lacking any medical facilities, Cainan has recently employed four doctors and a surgeon for his, and the sons of Seth are now travelling down the river to be treated by them. Nava has always said that she suffers from poor health and insisted that Rasujal accompany her to the settlement for an examination. The surgeon agreed with her. He removed her womb saying it was the trouble. She did not share it with us, but 243


ever since her last child, she suffered from blood loss for 14 days at a time. I repent of any passing thought I had that she was just lazy and well-fed. Even Rasujal is showing more compassion toward Nava, insisting in our presence that she rest. It makes me wonder what he used to say to her when they were alone. Edna nods. “I saw out among her berry bushes. Her step is much lighter now and she actually looks cheerful.” But Edna does not look cheerful. “I never suffered as she did,” says Edna. “I would have happily borne more children.” I try again. “The sons of Avanim need more people for their coal-mines,” I say. “I think Nava's grandchildren might end up there.” Since the pyramids are no longer being built, many of the sons of Avanim have pursued other resources from the ground. They still have stone quarries but they also have coal-mines. “Nava has my sympathy,” says Edna dully. “I know what it is to lose a grandchild.” I strain my brain to think of something that Edna cannot connect to her loss of Methuselah and Lamech. She is still my closest confidante, but sometimes she gets in these dark moods. “Chaya tells me that her husband's brother is to appear before a jury,” I say. This has been an ongoing case. Chaya husband's brother killed a man and it has not been determined whether it was in selfdefence or a premeditated act. Only the sons of Seth bother to make distinctions between such acts on the basis of motive and circumstances. Usually, among the sons of Adam, it is simply a case of the strong man versus the weak man and the weak man ends up dead. Edna does not find this bit of news interesting. Jared and I have recently returned from Mahalalel's settlement and it is all that they are talking about there. I get up and go to one of my shelves. On it is a jar of the cocoa powder that Chaya always has on hand. She gave me the jar upon our parting. Tea lifts the spirits, but today, Edna needs something stronger. With the boiling water and some sugar cane, I prepare her a cocoa drink. While I make it, I discuss the recent news I received from Ena. She has joined with the daughters of 244


Eve in cultivating flax and creating a strong, but light, fabric called linen. “She has promised to send me some,” I say, bringing the clay mug over to Edna. Edna takes her drink with indifference, but visibly becomes more animated as her mug empties. Soon she is her usual self, discussing the birth of five new kittens. A side business has formed for her as a result of Rasujal's dragons. Many families who come to select a dragon to guard the outside of their home, end up purchasing one of Edna's cats as an animal for the inside of their home. Their children quickly become friends with her cats and I think it is good for them to have an animal companion. “I must come and see them,” I say. “It would be nice to have some life around the house. Perhaps I will purchase a couple.” “I would never let you do that,” says Edna. “They would be my gift to you. Two of the kittens are grey. They would be a delightful pair.” After our drink, we cross the settlement, meeting Pyramides's youngest grandchild on the way. She joins us for a visit with the kittens and we have an afternoon in Edna's house, on the floor playing with the lively creatures. Pyramides's youngest grandchild returns home with an orange kitten, sure that she can persuade her parents to let her keep it. I go outside with two squirming grey bundles under my arms. “Hello Mother,” says Enoch, coming up his steps and kissing me on the cheek. He laughs at my difficulty in holding the kittens. “Let me help.” He takes one and gets a scratch for his consideration. “Ouch. I hope you will be able to handle them, Mother.” He turns and we walk toward my home. “I am sure I will find a way,” I say, now able to get a more firm grip on just the one kitten. “Food is one way to bribe good behaviour.” “You will not have to worry about mice getting into your grain with these two fellows guarding the courtyard,” says Enoch. We walk in silence until I ask what his new with him. Eight years ago he turned 300-years-old. He is still youthful in his walk and ways. What I really want to ask is, what is new with Yah? “The world is not as it should be,” says Enoch. I smile. 245


Even I could have figured that out. “Like these rascals,” I say, holding out my frisky kitten. “I suppose they once had a much sweeter disposition.” Absently agreeing, Enoch hands me the second kitten as we reach my front door. With another quick kiss on the cheek, he is gone. I gasp. “It is true!” Edna nods. “Pyramides has just told me!” I have arrived at her doorstep with some freshly picked strawberries, partly as a thank-you for the kittens. Well, of course, it would be Pyramides. Enoch does not go anywhere near the river and the traders. He has no interest in what they offer and his home contains only the essentials for life. Edna is tearful. I would be too, if I believed it. It will take some time for the news to become real. Adam, the father of us all, is dead. “It is not possible,” I murmur, looking down at my basket with unseeing eyes. “But of what cause?” Edna shakes her head. “It is death,” she cries. “The punishment. No cause. Just death.” Not an accident. Not a murder. We did not know how it would end when Yah promised us death. “He just did not wake up,” continues Edna. “Even the traders are distraught.” “But what of Hawwa, our Mother?” I say. Edna shakes her head. “No one knows. She stays in her house. Oh the agony!” She puts her face in her hands and weeps. I am filled with a rush of despair. Oh Adam! Our Father! No more! And I am crying too. Enoch returns from the woods, concerned. He has heard weeping in the settlement. For this news has affected us all. We are all children of Adam. Through tears, I tell him the news. “I rejoice that Lamech was able to spend time with Father Adam,” he replies gravely. “We all knew he would not always be with us.” 246


“What do you mean?” I ask. “I did not know. We have death, yes. But who would dare to murder Father Adam? And if a man is careful, he will not have an accident.” “Father Adam was now 930,” says Enoch. “On the day he sinned, he died.” “That is something I do not understand,” I say. “You have not seen him recently, Mother,” says Enoch. “When Edna and I were there last, he was not what he once was. He was a tired man, weary. Methuselah told me he was too weary to work in the fields anymore. All his children helped, of course, but it seems the life was just leaving him.” I leave Edna to mourn with Enoch, returning home to find Jared waiting for me. “The whole world will mourn tonight,” Jared says slowly, covering my hand with his. I nod. As the traders slowly make their way down the rivers, the news will be carried throughout the whole earth. And we will mourn as one for our father. The next afternoon, Jared and I join the long procession of people travelling along the Tigris. It is Father Adam's children, returning to the birthplace of us all, to be with our Mother Hawwa at this time. The people are quiet. Sons of Seth mingle with all the sons of Adam. Even the sons of Cain are among the people. But I do not see the giants. Some people stop in awe at the sight of the Great Pyramid, but most move along in silence. The journey is slow and long and it is many days before we arrive at the fields surrounding the home of Father Adam and Hawwa. It is an awesome sight – a vast plain of people. It must be a comfort to Hawwa that her children have returned home to mourn with her. We sit on the ground, some weeping, others just still. Only small children provide noise and activity. Jared and I sit quietly, holding hands. Soon, others from our settlement find us and join us, but for the most part, we are all intermingled, the children of Adam, not sitting according to our father's. 247


We sit and wait for several days, waiting for all the children of Adam to return home. Then the announcement comes that tomorrow Adam’s body will be buried. Seth is the son who is given the task of burying our father. It is Seth's wisdom that he does not call upon his sons and grandsons to assist him, but upon all the sons of Adam. We see these patriarchs rise and move through the seated crowds to join their brother. There is a murmur through the crowd when one of them stands. I recognize the tired-looking man. It is Father Cain! Most in the crowd have never seen him, but it is a common story of how he built the first city after being banished from this land outside the Garden. I watch as he makes his way forward with his brothers. They are hesitant for only a moment, before he is welcomed as their eldest brother, with pats on the back and smiles of sympathy. He is now the oldest man on earth. I almost weep at the site of these older men, for now we all know how it ends. It just does. There is no way to protect oneself from it. Death comes to one no matter how carefully one may live. Quietly, the word passes through the people that Hawwa has prepared Father Adam's body with spices and wrapped it in linen cloth. He is to be buried in the ground, as Yah has said, “For you are dust and to dust you will return.” Though we are too far back to actually see Father Adam's body go into the ground, after his sons have buried him, we all form a procession to pass by the mound of dirt that he is under. For what purpose, I do not know. He is beyond awareness. One final goodbye, I suppose. By circumstances, Jared and I end up beside Father Cain's wife, Awan, in the line. She is also looking worn. I take her arm, though it is unlikely she remembers me from the days of Enoch. This is a day of deep mourning for her. For Father Adam is her father too, and she has not seen him since the day she accompanied Cain to the Land of Wandering. All the sons of Adam married a sister and so, her pain must be as great as any woman has had to bear. On the day she accompanied her husband and brother, she lost both her father and mother. She is trembling. I hold her arm and then put my other arm 248


around her to give her more support. We are both crying. When we pass the ground where her father lies, she will see her mother again after nearly 900 years of exile. The sun moves from overhead to low in the sky by the time it is our turn to pass by the ground that holds Father Adam. Hawwa is being supported by two of her daughters. A noise comes from Awan. It is a cry of anguish, so raw and so distressing that it increases my own weeping. Alhough by now Hawwa looks too weary to cry, and so many people have passed by her that we must all be a blur, the cry of her daughter reaches her. She looks over at me and the wife of Cain. “Mother!” The pleading of a child is in Awan's voice. She breaks from me and runs to Hawwa. With her own cry, Hawwa recognizes her lost child, her eldest daughter, and moves forward to embrace her. Jared catches me just as I am to collapse. I am so busy watching Hawwa's reunion with her daughter that I barely notice the freshly turned dirt as we pass by. The two women are still in each other's arms when I look back. Perhaps some good has come from this day. It takes time for the news to reach us. Father Cain is dead. And in the same year as his father, Adam. The news comes from the traders. It is only because Nava has some berry wine to trade that I am down by the river with her. Her husband is too busy to accompany her although we have one of his dragons for protection. The story told by the trader is that his house fell in on him. “The stones just came down right over his head,” says the trader, shaking his head. Nava hardly takes the news in. After all, who is Father Cain to her? She is examining a small piece of silk. “But what of Awan?” I ask the trader. “Father Cain's wife?” The trader shrugs. “I have not heard a report of her death.” Perhaps she was visiting one of her children at the time. Nava and I return to the settlement in silence. She is admiring her silk. I am thinking about the death of Father Cain. There is a striking justice to the matter. Cain killed his brother Abel with a 249


stone and now stones have fallen on him. Though Yah may not move among the sons of Cain, it would seem his justice does. If Awan still lives, perhaps now she can return home to her mother for good and no longer dwell outside his presence in the Land of Wandering.

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Chapter Twenty Eight

Enoch looks serious. I do not like the look of concern on his face. “Is it Edna?” I ask, immediately worried. He has shown up at my door and I fear the worst. “Mother,” he leans down to kiss my cheek. For a moment, I see the young boy in him, the one who comes to his mother with his concerns. But Enoch was never like that. “Come in, son,” I say. He is on the porch and obviously not going to talk to me standing outside. He comes inside and refuses an offer of tea, then changes his mind and accepts one. The offer was really a courtesy. I do not recall the last time Enoch and I sat across from one another and talked over tea. I hurry to the courtyard and start boiling the water. Glancing back at Enoch, I see he is moving through the house, almost aimlessly, his fingers running over the tops of chairs. “Father has done an excellent job of replacing your furniture,” he calls out to me. I smile, coming back into the main room and taking a seat at the table. “For the second time, yes.” 251


Enoch nods. “Methuselah will be home soon,” he says, taking the chair across from me. “Edna is overjoyed.” I smile again. It is all she has talked about. She and Nava have been at Methuselah's settlement, cleaning the inside of the house so that Ena does not have to catch up on over forty years worth of dust. Nava's new health has been a blessing in many ways. She and Edna have even gotten the garden going again – weeding out thorns and thistles. Edna's only concern is that Nava insists on travelling through the woods with one of Rasujal's chained lizards. Like Jared, Edna would rather risk meeting a ruffian than die by the whim of a dragon. “We must find Lamech a wife,” Enoch continues. “Did they not meet anyone for him when they lived among the sons of Adam?” Enoch shakes his head. I return to the water that is now boiling and prepare us some tea. With a plate of date cookies, I return to the table. “Thank you, Mother,” says Enoch. I do not inquire as to why he is here. It is enough that he is. “I am sure that Methuselah will find him a wife among the children of Mahalel, or perhaps, Cainan,” I say. “He probably wants to return here and settle back in before finding someone. And Lamech must build a home.” “I suppose you are right,” says Enoch. “Women seem to need homes.” We both smile. Enoch looks around. Again, I sense that he is seeing the room for the first time. Mostly, we sip our tea in silence. But it is something I cherish. The return of Methuselah and Ena and Lamech is celebrated. All our settlement travels through the forest with food and welcome – Nava with berry wine, Rasujal with a particularly large dragon to protect them, Edna with kittens. Even Enoch comes, carrying flour and other food essentials to keep them going until they reap the produce of the garden. The travellers have only been home a day. They still have livestock, but Ena also has her skill as a weaver of linen. Some of the younger women want to learn the skill and Methuselah is 252


planning on planting flax in his fields instead of grains. In the midst of the festivities, I inquire about Mother Hawwa. Sombrely, Ena tells me that she has aged considerably in the last few months. “The sorrow is written on her face,” she says. “It was her deception that resulted in death coming to her husband and children and I think she really feels it now.” I nod. “Lamech was of no comfort to her,” Ena continues. “So we had no reason to stay. She is comforted by her daughters now.” Only a woman can understand another woman's pain. The return of Methuselah and his family have brought us joy, but at the same time, it is a sorrow to think of Hawwa grieving for her Adam now gone. Despite Enoch's insistence that Lamech needs a wife, Methuselah is too busy to give it his attention. Nava's grandchildren have chosen to work in his flax fields rather than to go to the coal-mines. The giantess is pleased with this as it will be easier for her to visit her children. Enoch is so concerned about Methuselah's gentle resistance to finding Lamech a wife that he turns to Jared. One night, he arrives at our door after we have finished our evening meal. We join him outside on the porch. “You must talk to him!” Enoch says to his father. “It is essential that the line of Seth continue!” Jared looks at his son and then he says one word. “Why?” We are all still standing, although there are chairs lining the porch. “It is my one unfinished business,” says Enoch. “The line of Seth must continue,” he repeats. “To what end?” asks Jared. “My star map has weeds higher than my head. We no longer dance to Yah. Who are the sons of Seth that it is so important that the line continue?” “It is the will of Yah,” Enoch insists. “And it is something I must do before . . . ” He stops himself. “Before what, Enoch?” I move forward. He knows something. Enoch just looks at us. He is making a decision. “Before Hawwa dies,” he says finally. “Since she will no longer be around to inform the young men that it is their duty to marry 253


and have children.” It is his parting comment. He turns and walks away. He has not given us the real reason. Both Jared and I know that it has been a long time since Hawwa traveled among her children and even longer since she had a special talk with an errant man who did not do his duty to populate the earth. Jared shakes his head as we go back inside. “I have never really been able to understand him,” he says. I can sympathize. Over the years, Enoch has been a puzzle, but I attribute it to Yah. What seems contradictory probably makes sense when you know the mind of Yah. Since Methuselah's flax fields are where so many in our settlement are now working, Jared and I decide to visit there the next day. For a change, we walk by the river rather than in the forest. When we arrive at the path that will take us up to Methuselah's settlement, we observe that two of Rasujal and Nava's grandchildren, both giants, are in the process of constructing a dock. “Ena's linen must be selling well if they are making a dock for the traders,” I say. Jared nods. Despite being such a small settlement, it is busy with activity. Several looms are being constructed outside. There are groups of women weaving reed baskets, no doubt for harvest time and other needs. Several large pots over fires are being stirred by some of our grandnephews. They appear to be making the dye for the linen. When I go inside, there are two completed looms in the courtyard. Ena is instructing two of my granddaughters in the art of weaving. They all pause when they see me, but I wave them all to continue on. “Come have some coffee with us later!” Ena calls out. “I will,” I say, remembering the strong brown beans that I first experienced on my travels in this land. I go back outside and catch up with Jared who is on his way to the flax fields. He takes my hand and after a short walk in the woods, we come out to the spacious fields. 254


“This is where the star map would have been,” says Jared. I nod. I already know. I cannot tell whether Jared says it with any bitterness. One cannot deny the beauty of the fields. The plants have flowered and it is a field of delicate blue and green. Workers, my great-grandsons in fact, are planting in another field. Clearly, the plan is to have flax at various stages so there is always a field to harvest. Methuselah sees us and comes forward from the field in bloom to greet us. “Father Jared,” he greets my husband with the honorific title. “Dearest Mother,” he says, turning to me. He kisses us each on our cheeks. “Now how does this all work?” asks Jared. Methuselah waves a hand at the mature field. “We will cut the plants close to their roots and then winnow them to remove the seeds. We will then loosen the fibres from the stalks . . . ” Methuselah takes us through the whole process. Jared pays attention but my mind wanders. Once again, I am struck by how the direct descendants of Seth provide an oasis in a harsh world. The men in the field work cheerfully and diligently. The same was true of the men and women back at the house. “Now this is different,” says Jared, as we pass by a field of leafy green bushes with small berries. Some bushes have red berries, others are green. Some berries are lying on reed mats out in the sun. “Ah, yes,” says Methuselah. “It is Ena's second talent. She will roast these berries and grind them to make . . . ” “. . . coffee!” I finish. “Exactly,” says Methuselah. He turns to another field that contains a different crop. “And this is where we get our red dye from. You would not know to look at it, but it comes from the roots.” He points beyond that. “That is the plant that gives us our blue dye. With that one, it is from the leaves.” We carry on back to the house, passing a couple of young women, cousins of Ena, harvesting lichen from tree trunks for, as Methuselah explains, the green dye. Everyone at the house is having a coffee break. It is made in a large pot in the courtyard and sweetened to make it more 255


appealing. Everyone helps himself or herself and sits around in groups as they enjoy it. Methuselah, Jared and I also get a small cup and join Ena and my two granddaughters. “Is Ena a good teacher?” I ask, smiling. “Oh yes!” they assure me. They are two of the daughters of Pyramides. I am glad to have them here, safely living and working with Ena. Since it is obviously advantageous to have everyone who works at the settlement also live at the settlement, new homes are being built – one for the unmarried women, one for the unmarried men. There are a couple of men working on each home, more cousins of Ena. After the coffee, Jared joins them in erecting walls and seems to enjoy talking with the men who are also sons of Seth, but descended from one of Seth's younger sons, as is Ena. I sit under the shade of an ash tree. Occasionally, the men call upon me to hold something in place while they hammer it in. “We will go back tomorrow,” says Jared, on our walk home. When Jared and I arrive the next day, he goes straight to the new construction. I go into the house and find Ena preparing mid-morning coffee for everyone. She greets me with a hug and I tell her I am here to watch and learn – and help if I can. Soon I have grasped the basics of preparing coffee. “Would you like to try your hand at weaving?” Ena asks me. I shake my head. “I am too old to learn new things.” Ena vehemently disagrees but I tell her that I noticed her garden needs weeding and since that is something I am extremely skilled in, I will be doing that. It is soothing to be among the plants doing something familiar while all around me this settlement bustles with activity. There is industriousness and hope here. Ena already has a lunch in the process of being prepared, but I volunteer to make the dinner. There are enough things in the garden that are ripe and should be used right away. “I cannot thank you enough,” says Ena, gratefully. She is truly an artisan who would prefer to spend her days concentrating on her craft. 256


For my own part, I am happy to once again be able to prepare food for a greater number of people. Making soup for two is less satisfying than making it for the forty, or so, who eat regularly at Methuselah's table. Some are just passing. Today, at the midday meal, there are two traders who have come about a special order. They have brought plants for different coloured dyes. The matter is discussed over lunch. “It works for the cotton industry,” says one of the traders. “I am sure these plants will be useful to you.” Ena agrees and barely eats as she examines the sample plants that run down the centre of the table. The more knowledgeable of the traders points out different qualities of each plant. They range in price according to how scarce they are. “Now this one,” he says, “produces a beautiful rich blue colour.” “What is it called?” asks Ena, picking up the pot holding the leafy green plant with delicate blue flowers. “Indigo,” replies the trader. Ena nods and picks up another. “Now that will make a lovely yellow,” says the trader, reaching for another circle of bread. “It is called saffron.” Jared and I learn much over lunch. Ena is already using onion skin to make orange fabric; walnut husks to make dark brown; leftover coffee grinds to make light brown; and various berries to make pink. Apparently, it is mostly a matter of experimenting with what is in the forest and sometimes it works and sometimes it does not. But the traders insist that their plants are tested and true – and rare - so Ena trades them a bale of linen for all the plants on the table. After lunch, she and Methuselah carry them off to see about getting them into the ground. I am left to myself in the courtyard. I am simmering some tomatoes into a sauce and will serve it over potato spinach pie. Thankfully, Ena's shelves are stocked with all the essentials and soon I am rolling out dough and slicing potatoes. We share the evening meal before returning home. Methuselah says we should stay the night. They have plenty of extra cushions. But Jared says it is good for “old folks like us to 257


have a walk after dinner.” Methuselah laughs and thanks us for our help. “We will return tomorrow,” says Jared. “It is good to be useful.” And so it becomes our routine each day until the houses are completed. And even then, we continue to visit regularly. Edna is often there too. She is interested in the process of making dye and often helps Ena with her fabrics. For my part, I prepare the meals when I am there. Jared helps with the harvest in the fields. There is never a shortage of work. And there is never a shortage of linen either. The workers are paid in linen, in addition to their room and three meals a day. So there is much bartering when the traders dock at the settlement. The field workers trade their cloth as is. Some of the more industrious of the women use their cloth to make garments and thus increase the value of their share. Jared refuses any such payment for our work, telling Methuselah that we are simply family and should be treated as such. “You are the most active family I have ever entertained,” Methuselah says, laughing. “Surely there is some, even small way, I can return your kindness.” I put forward the idea that I would not mind a coffee plant for my own garden. When I leave that night, I am carrying a pot filled with the large-leafed plant, heavy with berries. “Oh Baraka,” says Jared, shaking his head. “Please tell me you are not addicted to that substance.” I smile, pleased with my plant. “Perhaps I am,” I say. “I enjoy the feeling of well-being the drink gives me.” Now we can have coffee even on the days we do not visit Methuselah and Ena. But we are in Methuselah's settlement on the day the sad news comes. Hawwa is dead. Everyone stops to mourn when the traders bring the news. The shock and horror that we had when Father Adam died is not as strong, but nonetheless, the sense of loss is great. Hawwa, Mother of All Living is now gone. There is no other woman that all mankind can look to as their mother. We are now, truly, a divided people, broken down by clans and no longer united by 258


common living parents. Again, a slow procession makes its way back home and seven days later, when the plains outside Adam and Hawwa's settlement are covered with their children, we pass by in a long line to visit one last time with our Mother. She is beside Adam in the ground, a single fir tree planted to commemorate both their graves. A sign reads, “She is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh.” It is said that Father Adam uttered these words when he first saw Hawwa. The weeping is more subdued, but it is moving as we meet together as the children of Adam and Hawwa for the second and last time. I am so weary by the journey and the loss that when we return to our settlement, I climb into bed and stay there for three days. In the meantime, Enoch still desires that his son find a wife for his grandson. One day, when I am tending my own garden, Enoch joins me. “What are you harvesting, Mother?” he asks me. “Mint for tea,” I say cheerfully. I have had my mid-morning coffee. “Have you been to Methuselah's settlement recently?” he asks. I nod, handing him the nearly full basket to hold onto while I harvest the leaves at waist level. “Yesterday. No, wait, the day before yesterday. All is well there.” “That is agreeable news. But the news I would like to hear . . . ” “I know,” I say, my eyes on my plants. “You would like to hear that Lamech is to be married. As soon as I hear that news, I will convey it to you.” “Time is short, Mother,” he says. Now he has my attention. “It is my understanding that the time remaining to us is the span of Methuselah's life,” I say. “Yes, in a sense,” says Enoch, nodding. “But it is not enough. Lamech must take a wife.” “And have a child, I suppose.” Enoch nods. I have stopped working. “You have never worried about anything,” I say, thoughtfully. 259


“And yet, you are concerned about this.” “It is of the utmost importance,” he says. “Are you certain it is the will of Yah?” “More certain than anything else.” “And yet, has Yah asked you to orchestrate this for him?” Enoch exhales and looks over my shoulder without seeing anything. “No,” he says. “Then I do not think it is something for you to be concerned about,” I say, watching my son. He nods slowly. “It is a matter concerning Yah, and so, of course, it concerns me too,” says Enoch. “And yet, you are right. He never asked me to do anything about it. So I defer to you . . . and to Yah. I will not push the matter.” With a slight bow, he gently places the basket on the ground and walks away. “Oh my son,” I whisper, as I watch his back. “What is it that you know?”

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It is just as well that Enoch no longer concerns himself with the marriage of Lamech. For the boy is now 100-years-old and there is still no talk of a wife. In fact, he has announced that he no longer has any desire to work in the linen industry. He will go to the Great Pyramid and study there. It is an option available to any son of Seth. The Great Pyramid does not just hold the genealogies anymore, but all the accumulated knowledge of the sons of Adam. They have maps of the whole earth, mostly based on the knowledge of the traders. Men with an interest in animals have sketched and recorded the habits of all creatures created by Yah. There are drawings of plants with their names and various known properties. It is a great centre of learning. For example, those who want to practise medicine must become knowledgeable in the medicinal plants. Although the star map project on the ground has been abandoned, the stars continue to be mapped on animal skins. Unfortunately, many use this knowledge of the stars to worship 261


the night sky rather than Yah who made it all. They speak as if knowledge of the stars is a gateway to insight on earth. Even some of the sons of Seth talk this nonsense. Of course, the only reason I can be so confident of its absurdity is because my son walks with Yah. For those who do not know that Yah still moves among the sons of Seth, it would be tempting to find meaning elsewhere. And so Lamech leaves again, much to Edna's sorrow. This time she is more philosophical about his departure. “He is a good man and perhaps he will find a good wife,” she says, to me over a mid-morning coffee in my house. I laugh, thinking that all of Enoch's talk must have had an effect on Edna, although I have not heard Enoch mention marriage for his grandson for years now. But at least Edna still has Methuselah and Ena and we often see her at their settlement, even after her grandson is gone. One day, she and I are in Ena's courtyard boiling raspberries for a pink dye when she tells me, “If it is possible, I think Enoch spends even more time with Yah.” “Tell me, Edna,” I say, tossing another basket of the fruit into the pot. “Have you ever felt . . . ” I search for the word. “ . . . disappointed in Enoch as a husband?” Edna shakes her head. “He is not like other men, I know that,” she says. “But I think that is a good thing.” “I agree,” I say. “He has always taken care of me,” she continues. “We have our garden and we do not go hungry. He is quiet, but he is thoughtful.” I nod. The same could be said for Jared. “So no,” says Edna. “I have never been disappointed. But I understand why you ask the question.” She stirs the pot gently to crush the berries and bring out more colour. And then something unusual happens. Enoch starts to join us at Methuselah's settlement. He and Edna are there everyday, although Enoch is always with his son out in the fields. One day I am picking the ripe beans from the coffee plants. Methuselah is nearby, harvesting the plant that gives them the red 262

Chapter Twenty Nine

dye. Enoch is absentmindedly pulling out plants by their root and saying, “No flesh is righteous in the sight of Yah, for he is their Creator.” Methuselah is nodding. “My son, your heart must be strong,” continues Enoch. “The good shall announce righteousness to the good. The righteous with the righteous shall rejoice, and shall offer words of hope to one another. But the sinners shall die with the sinners, and the apostate go down with the apostate.” “Well spoken, Father,” says Methuselah, as they both straighten up. “But all unrighteousness must come to an end,” Enoch continues. “It shall be pulled up as if . . . ” Enoch waves his hand toward the plants he is harvesting. “. . . as if by the roots.” “Father, these words do not make sense to me. Why speak riddles?” They have paused in their work. “Violence will increase,” says Enoch, speaking slowly and carefully. “Yah is just and would not judge the world unless the unrighteousness filled the whole earth.” Methuselah takes this in, nodding seriously. “You must walk in the paths of righteousness, not in the paths of violence. For all who walk in the paths of unrighteousness shall perish forever . . . ” They start heading back to the settlement with their baskets. Shamelessly, I make it my objective to be as near as I can to Enoch and Methuselah when they are together. Over the next few weeks, I hear my son instruct his son in matters of the sun, moon and stars. He traces their courses in the sky and explains that there are laws that govern their movement. Where has he heard these things? From Yah? From Yah, I decide. But it is not easy to hear most of what they say. I am needed in the courtyard more than I am needed in the fields. But Enoch is only 364-years-old. If he has decided to share the knowledge of Yah with his family, I will have my chance to hear it too. Edna is at my door, weeping. “What is it?” I ask, taking her arm. I feel sick with apprehension at what could be the cause of this. “Is it Lamech? 263


What has happened to him . . . ?” Thirteen years have passed since Lamech left us for the Great Pyramid. Yet he sends regular messages via the traders that he is doing well and increasing in knowledge everyday. It would be a shame if the boy does not have a son to pass all this knowledge onto. But he will not have a son if an accident has befallen him. Edna shakes her head as I escort her into my sitting room and ease her down on a cushioned wooden bench. “It is not Lamech,” she manages to say between sobs. Her voice is trembling. “Is it Methuselah? Ena?” Edna shakes her head. “Then what is it?” I ask, sitting down beside her. “It cannot be . . . Enoch?” My voice drops to a whisper. My son. My precious son. She nods. My legs go weak. It is a good thing I am already seated. I have not had this sensation of weakness since the time when we witnessed the death of Tikvah. “He kissed me goodbye this morning,” says Edna. “I should have known by that.” Then she is silent. I do not understand. But I do not want to speak. Jared kisses me every morning before going out to chop wood. The only time he does not is when we are going out together. But then, of course, for a solid orbit of the earth around the sun, Enoch has gone to Methuselah's settlement everyday. Why should he choose to go somewhere else today? Edna is staring at my brown walls. There is very little about my walls to hold her attention. “Where did he go?” I ask. “With Yah,” she says, dully. “But he is always with Yah.” “Now he will always be with Yah.” The subtlety of this reply is beyond me. What has changed? “The kiss was . . . different,” says Edna. “Perhaps you do not understand this, Baraka, but when a man like Enoch shows extra affection, it concerned me. I did something I never did before.” Now it is my turn to be silent. “I followed him,” she continues. “Right into the woods. I do not think he was aware of my presence and I kept well behind.” 264

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“Did you see Yah?” I ask, momentarily forgetting my fear and breathless at the thought that Edna might have glimpsed the Almighty One. Perhaps this is the cause of her tears! A vision so terrifying and wonderful that mortals can hardly bear it! Edna shakes her head. “Well, in a way, but I am not quite sure.” “I am sorry. I should not have interrupted.” I pat her hand to encourage her to continue. “He passed through the forest and to the star map.” This is a surprise. The star map is too neglected to enjoy and I never got the sense that Enoch thought it was of any value anyway. “What did he do there?” I ask. “He waited,” says Edna. “He stood in the shadow of the largest pyramid for the longest time.” I ponder this quietly. “I waited too,” says Edna. “What did you see?” I ask. Edna is quiet for so long that I almost think that she has sunk into a stupor. At long last, when she replies, I can hardly believe her. “I watched him disappear.” “Disappear?” She nods. “You mean, you turned away and then he was gone?” “No. He had been standing so still that I was startled to see him raise his arms in the air. Then he was taken away.” “Taken away? By whom?” In horror, my mind turns to marauders, violent men. “By Yah, I suppose.” This is not the answer I expect. “What do you mean, Edna?” “He was gone,” Edna sniffs. “Up, I suppose, though it is hard to say. It was blinding, a flash of light . . . ” And then she is sobbing again. It takes me another fifteen minutes to determine that when the light subsided, Edna looked for Enoch, more looking for his body, expecting him to be dead from such an experience, but found no sign that anything had happened on the spot where he stood. She is so weary from crying that I put her to bed in the room 265


that used to belong to Kalah. Sending her back to an empty house is not an option. First, Jared and I must determine what has happened to Enoch. I make myself a cup of tea and wait for my husband. Jared is stunned. “He came to me,” he says, sitting down beside me and my cup of cold tea. “I think it was around the time of the last full moon . . . ” He stops to think. Jared has a tendency to choose his words and talk slowly. Usually I am patient. Not today. “Yes! Yes! And what? What did he say?” “Something I did not understand, but praise to Yah, I do remember. He said to me that Yah will come with innumerable angels to execute judgement on all . . . ” My eyes widen. “And something along the lines of, to convict the ones who do not serve Yah of all their deeds of unrighteousness that they have committed in such an unrighteous way and of all the harsh things that unrighteous sinners have spoken against him.” My eyes widen. “Against Yah?” “I do believe so, yes,” says Jared. “He said many things that day. I had intended to discuss the matter further with him, but now . . . ” “But it is not possible,” I say. “A man does not just disappear into a flash of light . . . ” “Not all men are Enoch,” says Jared. That is so true. “But what was he trying to say to you?” “I think he was warning me, perhaps. Telling me so I would pass it on to the sons of Seth.” “Then he knew,” I say, staring into my cup. “He must have known. No wonder he was concerned about Lamech taking a wife.” “I would still like to go to the star map,” says Jared, standing up. Neither of us is thinking about an evening meal. Edna is still upstairs sleeping. Though the sun is low, we get to the star map in time to confirm Edna's story, at least the part of it that there is no indication that anything unusual has happened here. 266

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When we return to the house, I go upstairs to Edna's room. “She has left!” I say, hurrying back downstairs. Jared is drinking water from the well in the courtyard. “She probably went to her house,” he says. “Knowing Edna, I think it is more likely she went to Methuselah,” I say. Edna would seek consolation in her son. “That would be a foolish thing to do,” says Jared. I know what he means. The night animals are bad enough, but the marauders who travel along the river edge often stray into the forests at night. Hungry, they look for food . . . and anyone unfortunate enough to be in the woods. “We should make sure she has not come to harm,” I say. “I imagine she is beyond caring.” I am halfway to the door. “Should Methuselah lose a father and a mother in the same day?” I demand over my shoulder. He acknowledges this and follows me. “Should we bring one of Rasujal's beasts?” he asks, as we hurry across our settlement. I shake my head. “Surely it is better to die at the hands of men than by the claws of a beast.” My reply makes him smile. First, we stop off at Enoch's house. Edna does not answer the door and we are emboldened to enter the house. A quick tour tells us she is not there. “Yah be with us,” I murmur, almost to myself, as we enter the dark forest. Jared agrees, taking my hand. The moon is only a sliver and in the forest it would hardly help if it were full. My ears strain for sounds – the growl of an animal, the songs of drunken men, the cry of a woman calling for help. But the forest is quiet. We stay on the familiar path. Our feet break twigs and leaves crunch. Then I hear a low rumble. “It is nothing,” says Jared. “Only a bear. Kenaz says they have become more common here.” Only a bear? I do not agree with his assessment. A bear is 267


something to be concerned about. But Jared is right. The bear does not approach. Next is a snarl. “Wolves,” says Jared. Now I hear concern in his voice. He breaks off some branches from a nearby tree. I hear the snarl again. It might be two animals. Or more. Now I wish I had not been so flippant about bringing along a dragon. Rasujal boasts to potential buyers that his dragons consider wolves to be a light snack. “I think we are surrounded,” Jared murmurs, handing me one of the branches. Now I see the eyes of the wolves and realize to my terror that he is right. I do not know what to say, what direction to face. Perhaps Edna's mauled body is lying nearby and we are to be the next meal. And despite my prayer, doubt fills my mind. If Enoch is gone, perhaps Yah is too. Perhaps Yah took the only man he could talk to and the rest of us will be left to judgement . . . and death. But then I remember Enoch's sense of urgency. Lamech must have a wife. Which means Lamech must have a child! Surely Yah has not abandoned us if the line of Seth must continue! With bravery I have not felt since the day I set out from Enoch, I grip my branch and say, “Let them come!” The comment makes Jared laugh. It was spoken from the heart, but I see now how it must have come across. Baraka ready to fight off the surrounding wolves. I laugh and that makes Jared laugh harder and soon we are so weak from laughing that I do not think we could hold our branches tight enough to fight off one wolf, never mind the whole pack. My eyes are adjusted to the darkness and I see the wolves turn and amble away. “What happened?” I ask, when I have recovered. The laugh was as much nervous energy as it was genuine amusement. “No fear,” says Jared, simply. “They no longer sensed we were afraid and therefore we were not worth preying upon.” I take a deep breath and we continue walking. But neither of us tosses away our stick. When we arrive at Methuselah's settlement, all is quiet. We go straight to Methuselah and Ena's house and knock. After a few minutes, Methuselah answers. He is startled to see us and within 268

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seconds we learn that Edna is not here. “But why would she come here?” he asks, leading us into the dim home. An oil lamp has accompanied him and provides enough light for the three of us to see each other. “And what would bring you out to us this late at night?” Ena, hearing the voices, comes down the stairs with another lamp. And so it is our sad responsibility to tell Methuselah what his mother has seen today. His eyes widen. Ena clings to his arm. We all end up sitting on their linen cushions while Methuselah and Ena adjust to this news. “It is awful for Mother, yes,” he says, slowly. “But I cannot help but think that it is wonderful for Father.” This thought had not occurred to me. But it is true. And how true! Enoch has been taken by Yah! Such a thing has never happened to any man, not even Father Adam. Perhaps it will never happen again. “I must go to her,” says Methuselah, standing up. “She should not be alone.” Ena looks fearful at the thought of him traveling the woods at night. “If she is not here, she is back in the settlement,” says Jared calmly. “We will wait until morning and return then.” Since he is the patriarch, Methuselah defers to him. We settle down for the night and sleep well despite the unusual circumstances. The morning comes and the settlement awakens. Methuselah is up early, eager to go even before the morning meal. He embraces Ena with an admonition not to worry and to carry on as usual until he returns. She nods, tearfully. “Please bring her back here,” she says. “I will,” promises Methuselah. The walk through the forest is less threatening in daylight, but I am bracing myself for the discovery of Edna's body in the woods. Jared was right to wait until morning. If she is here somewhere, we would not see her in the dark. But there is no Edna. When we get back to the settlement, Rasujal is feeding live chickens to his dragons. Edna is still not in her home. 269


We divide up to look for her. Jared goes to see if she returned to our home. Methuselah goes to Pyramides's house. I go up the steps to Nava's house. Much to my surprise, Edna is sleeping on a plush sofa in one of Nava's sitting rooms. “She came to me last night,” explains Nava. “I did not understand her story. Something about Enoch disappearing.” Nava sighs heavily. “Men,” she says in disgust. “No consideration for women. I gave her some of my berry wine. It always helps me when I am miserable. She drank the whole jug.” Nava shakes her head as she looks down at the sleeping Edna. “She is not used to it.” I sit down and stroke Edna's forehead. “Dear Edna,” I say. She groans and shifts on the sofa. “Ohhh! My head!” “Methuselah is here,” I whisper. “He must not see me like this,” she moans. “You look fine, dear,” says Nava. “You just do not feel fine.” I nod. I help her to her feet. Nava runs a brush through her hair and pins it up for her. I fetch her a jug of water since she is thirsty. Then we all go over to my house. Rasujal has told the men that Edna is resting in his house, so Jared and Methuselah are no longer worried and are waiting for me and Edna at home. Edna manages a weak smile for her son and he embraces her. “Mother.” She clings to him. “Your father,” she says. “I know, I know,” he says, holding onto her. “It is not easy for us. But I will take care of you. Ena and I will be your family now.” Nava is watching this and I am sure she is left with the impression that Enoch has left Edna, not as an act of Yah, but as a faithless man. I prepare us all a meal and then we return to Edna's house to pack up all her belongings. She is surprisingly resilient now that a mug of coffee has cleared her head. Edna has not acquired much more than two baskets worth of clothing and personal items, so 270

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it is no burden for Methuselah to carry his mother's possessions on his back. She has little interest in the furniture and larger items but murmurs that perhaps they will be useful when Lamech takes a wife. We all nod and Jared and I walk with them to the edge of the settlement where the forest begins. With a kiss on both of my cheeks, Edna says goodbye. I promise her that we will come to visit her soon. She nods. And then they disappear into the forest. We walk slowly back to our home. And that is when it fully sinks in that I am not going to see my son again. My son! Enoch! No mother has ever had such a son! And my heart feels like it is breaking . . . again. I start to cry. It is a low moan that turns into a wail. Jared is practically carrying me up the steps and into our house. “Oh my son!” I am sobbing. There are tears in Jared's eyes too. He gently puts me down on one of our chairs and then walks away, to look out a window with unseeing eyes. Enoch was both of ours, but as it is with all grief for the children of Adam, we mourn alone.

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“It was his final desire that you be married,” I say to Lamech. He nods gravely. “Great-grandfather has told me,” he says. “And I will honour my grandfather's wishes.” Lamech is now a mature man. Having studied at the Great Pyramid, he has returned home to catch up on over fifty years of family history. Edna has given him her former home, preferring to continue to live with Methuselah. He is one of the few people who know the true story of Enoch's disappearance. Lamech has been spending time with Jared and they have pondered Enoch's final words to his father, a seeming message from Yah to the sons of Seth. Knowing the skills of a scribe, Lamech has recorded it on animal skin. Furthermore, when going through Edna's house, Lamech found some more writings in the hand of Enoch. He may have been silent about his talks with Yah, but it would seem that he recorded many of his experiences. “They are incredible,” Jared says to me one evening as we are in our bedroom. He and Lamech have been reading them together all day. “If they are to be believed, our son has seen the 273


very heavens themselves!” “Why should they not be believed?” I say, sitting down on the bed. “Only in that they are fantastical. But some parts explain great mysteries. Enoch talks of beings in heaven called angels and angels who have taken women as their wives . . . ” He pauses to look at me for a reaction. “Semjaza,” I whisper. Jared nods. “It is something we long suspected, is it not? Enoch has seen the ends of heaven, a place of darkness and pillars of fire reserved for the angels who took wives from among the daughters of men.” He climbs into bed and pulls the cotton sheet over himself. “The giants are their children,” he adds. “We knew that,” I say, stretching beside him. “Well, yes,” says Jared. “But it is something he dwells upon. I do not think the end will be good for them. But it will be worse for the children of men.” I do not like the sound of this. “Father Seth must read these writings,” I say. Jared agrees. “Lamech is making a copy for the Great Pyramid. It can be studied more there.” He glances over at me. “And then he can take a wife.” “I would like to read these writings too,” I say. “Of course,” says Jared, yawning. And so, the next day, I am with them around our large table. The writings contain answers to questions I was never able to ask my son. My son did not just take simple walks with Yah in the forest. He was swept up into Yah's heavens, to walk crystal fields of fire, to see stars bound up for their disobedience, to talk with angels who watch over the people of Yah - such things that we never knew of on earth. And he saw the fiery prison reserved for the fallen angels. My heart is chilled by the fate that awaits Semjaza and his brothers. What pleasures could they gain here on earth that could possibly make it worth enduring this fiery bondage? Enoch also enlightens me about the nature of Semjaza's relationship with the children of Adam. I left before I could learn 274

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of his dark skills. I did not know that he has been teaching them charms and enchantments. No wonder Enoch did not speak. Who would have understood? Who would have believed him? And Jared is right. The giants, though benign in our area, have turned violent elsewhere. We have heard isolated reports, but Enoch's writings tell us that they consume the acquisitions of men and when men can no longer sustain them, they turn against them and devour the men themselves. “Is this to be taken literally?” I ask Lamech, who has, after all, studied and heard more from the traders than I have recently. “I am afraid that it is,” he says. “The traders have always been afraid of the giants, but there are rumours that men disappear and no one hears of them again.” “They devour like beasts?” I ask, in disbelief. “I believe so,” says Lamech. “Though please do not worry, dear Mother. We now know we have unseen angels that guard us against the evil ones.” I nod, hardly knowing what to say. On one hand, the news of the earth is disturbing and terrifying, even more so now that we understand the darkness behind it. But Enoch has seen the Glory of Yah, a magnificence, he says, that no mortal could look upon. Yah was surrounded by a fire that made him unapproachable. He was accompanied by innumerable angels that never left him. Is it possible that my forest pulsated with the life of heavenly armies every time I had a sense of Yah's presence? “It would seem they eat the flesh of animals too,” Jared says, his eyes on the writings, bringing me back to earth. “Yes,” says Lamech nodding. “Father was often able to sell his surplus livestock to the traders. I did not believe the stories at the time, but it was said that the traders freely gave the giants animals as a way to appease their blood-lust and thus save themselves.” I think of the gentle giantess living in our settlement and her children working at Methuselah's settlement. Surely, when mingled with the blood of Seth, some of these offspring of fallen angels have become no more than giant men? Jared points to another passage. “It would seem that the very serpent who deceived Hawwa lives among the fallen ones, this one known as Azazel who 275


teaches them the ways of war.” Lamech nods. “They are perhaps the same being,” he agrees. I am deeply saddened to read that Azazel teaches the men to make swords and shields and breastplates of metal for war. Surely then, my brother Tubal-Cain must work with him. Azazel's other interest is to teach women how to ornament themselves with metals, as well as how to paint their eyes and their hair. My sister Naamah, no doubt, has been taught by him as well. Finally, he teaches them how to beautify themselves with costly stones. I think back to the first day when Semjaza came into Tubal-Cain's store with his mysterious stones. We did not know what evil we were welcoming that day. My son, who never discussed Semjaza or my days in Enoch, records that Yah asked him to deliver a message to Azazel and his brothers and my son obeyed. I am startled, to say the least. Enoch, transported in some way by Yah, actually met with Azazel to deliver a heavenly message. The message was that since they had brought such destruction to the earth, they too would watch the destruction of their children. They would have no peace, nor forgiveness, though they plead for mercy for eternity. All my thoughts of peaceful walks with Yah have been shattered. My son, delivering messages to these fallen ones! And the reply of the fallen ones was that they wanted Enoch to represent them and beg Yah for mercy! And though Enoch created a petition for the weeping fallen ones, he could assure them that Yah would not receive it. In fact, later Enoch was taken to see the very chains prepared for Azazel and his brothers, the ones that will bind them in their fiery imprisonment. He met the four angels who will bind these fallen ones. This is the first day that I do not make a meal for the men in my home. I am so intent on reading my son's writings that I do not eat. Jared makes some tea for him and Lamech, but they too have little appetite. But we are finished reading by the end of the day and Lamech, who is staying in Edna's house, gathers up the writings and says that he will continue to copy them there. Little do we realize that the writings of Enoch are not yet complete. 276

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“Now I understand why Enoch named Methuselah as he did,” I say, over the morning meal the next day. Jared nods. Judgement was a large portion of Enoch's writings. Yah revealed to him that there would be a deluge of some sort. “I think I understand it better now,” I say. I am not cheerful this morning. The words of Enoch, or more accurately, the words of Yah, have settled in my mind. There is a place of holding for the dead. From there, the spirit of Abel cries out and Yah has promised that the seed of Cain will be destroyed in judgement. Had I grown up among the sons of Seth, I would not have understood this loss. And yet, in all fairness, I mourn only three people - my adopted mother, adopted brother and adopted sister. I do not mourn their offspring, for they have gone the ways of men and giants. “What I do not understand,” Jared says, “is why Hawwa did not choose the Tree of Life.” I sigh with agreement. It seems Enoch was transported to visit the Tree of Life. Enoch's report of it was that it was beautiful and fragrant, unlike any other, its blooms delightful in appearance. Hawwa's choice seems particularly tragic when one learns that this tree is now one of the seven that encircle Yah's throne. Oh when I think of how my heart longs to be near Yah! Yet an angel tells Enoch that the Tree of Life will be eaten, by the righteous, at the time of judgement. But I question whether it is the judgement at the end of Methuselah's life, for this one is a consummation of all things and a time when there is a temple to Yah. Such a word, temple, has never been spoken among us, though I gather it is to be a place of worship for the righteous. “From the sounds of it,” I say, “The Tree of Wisdom was attractive too.” On a different occasion, Enoch visited the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, still in the Garden. By a curiosity, it sounds very much like the tree that is now on Father Adam and Hawwa's grave. There is a knock at the door. Not surprisingly, it is Lamech. The document is safe in Edna's home, but he is red-eyed from reading it over again in the night. I decide that this is a good time to make a pot of coffee. 277


“I could not stop myself,” he says to Jared while I am in the courtyard boiling the water. “In all my years of studying at the Great Pyramid, we never knew the things that Enoch had seen.” “I still cannot believe that my son witnessed the heavens,” Jared agrees. “He speaks of the secrets of lightning and thunder,” says Lamech, waving his arms. “He has seen the chambers that hold the wind and clouds and hail.” Jared nods as I come back into the room. “And the chambers that hold the sun and moon,” he says. “He learnt the secrets of their orbit,” Lamech says, shaking his head. “He has listened to Yah call the stars by name. Has any man ever been so blessed?” “No wonder he had no interest in a star map,” I murmur. “As soon as I am finished copying the manuscript for the Great Pyramid I must take it to my father,” says Lamech. “My grandmother did not read these writings so she did not know that they were intended for him.” We nod. Enoch says at the end of his writings that these were written down for his son, Methuselah, and for all who were to come after him who remembered the ways of Yah. Though we came to the end of Enoch's writings late into the night, I still recall his final words. They are a warning. Yah loves those who do not love gold or silver. Yah loves those who do not love food but regard their lives as a passing breath. Yah tries them and their spirits are found pure so that they continue to bless the name of Yah. They love heaven more than their life on earth and though they are trodden under the feet of wicked men – being abused, reviled and put to shame – they continue to bless the name of Yah. They will be honoured by Yah for days without number. I cannot pretend that this is an easy understanding of Yah. While I once longed for a whisper from him, now he shouts to me in the writings of my son. Over many mugs of coffee, we drink and discuss the world we live in, particularly now that we know there have been events occurring that we were not aware of, that no other child of Adam is aware of. “It is troubling,” I say. I am still thinking of the final words 278

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that admonish those who love Yah not to love their lives. “Yet Grandfather wrote that our spirits should not be troubled because of the times,” says Lamech, squeezing my hand. He is a good boy. I smile. “Sin shall perish in darkness forever,” agrees Jared, also quoting Enoch. But despite these great truths, life goes on. After Lamech leaves, Jared and I must go down to the river to wave down the traders. We have a surplus of vegetables to trade and I need a small iron pot. While waiting by the river with our baskets of spinach and tomatoes and potatoes, we talk about Enoch. Jared admits he was always a bit jealous of Enoch's walk with Yah. “Yet, I have to say now, I do not know if I would have wanted to confront fallen angels. To take such marvellous journeys through the heavens, perhaps . . . ” The first boat that comes along is full of traders willing to take our vegetables in exchange for a small pot. The man also tries to interest me in some new items, strange little statues of the female figure. I have never seen anything like them. “They are made of the wood of the very fir tree that grows over Mother Hawwa's head,” says the trader. Jared's jaw drops. “But what on earth are they for?” I ask. “Fertility,” says the trader. “You will have no concerns with one of these,” he says, stroking it and then handing it to me. “I sell so many to women along the way and they all say they are bearing children for their husbands . . . ” I do not want to roll my eyes in front of him. I hand the statue back to him. “Is it possible they desecrate the very tree that grows over Hawwa's grave?” asks Jared, shaking his head, as we return to our settlement with our pot. “I doubt it,” I say. “The fir tree is found elsewhere. They know very few people travel as far as Hawwa's grave. They can say what they like.” “True,” says Jared. “They would certainly run out of wood if they could only take it from the one tree. But such foolishness.” His sigh is heavy. “Fertility because of a piece of wood.” 279


“But it works!” Chaya is insisting. Today, all the sons of Seth in the area have come to our settlement to celebrate the wedding of Lamech. Lamech, and his soon-to-be wife, Betenos, will live in Edna and Enoch's former home, so our settlement was chosen to host the wedding. Lamech has decided that his wedding will be held at the star map. He and Jared have spent months, nearly a year, in fact, clearing it of its weeds and repairing broken stones. Betenos, a descendant of Sofer who Lamech met when he was studying at the Great Pyramid, is a strong woman but with a gentle disposition. She will be loved and welcomed to our settlement. Chaya is talking to me in the courtyard, proud of her huge belly. She will be giving birth any day now. “It is the fertility statues sold to me by the traders,” she says. “I bought several from them and that very night I conceived.” I shrug. Who can argue with such logic? And I am too busy to argue. I have about five hundred people to feed. People have come from as far as the Great Pyramid to celebrate this day. Our settlement is filled with temporary shelters. “He is certainly old enough,” says Chaya, groaning and holding her back. I know what she is saying. Lamech recently turned 181. “I have given the bride one of my statues,” Chaya continues. I do not say anything. Hopefully Betenos will have the good sense to burn it. She is a sensible girl and knowledgeable in the ways of Yah, having studied in the Great Temple. She, too, has read the manuscript left behind by Enoch and has had many eager discussions with Jared and Lamech about its contents. Very few of the cousins know about Enoch's disappearance. Most believe him to be dead, although some speculate that he has left Edna for a more attractive woman. I am annoyed on her behalf, but she is so busy helping Betenos prepare her dress for the following evening that I do not think she hears any of it. But Jared and Methuselah and Lamech all agree that the patriarchs of the settlements should be told about Enoch's manuscript. So the evening before the wedding, they all gather in our sitting room to read it together. I serve tea and listen in from the courtyard. 280

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When they are finished reading it, the older men are quiet, looking at one other. This is as surprising to them as it was to us when we first heard these words. But Mahalalel has some startling news for us. “It makes sense to me,” he says thoughtfully. “He was young when he started having these visions.” “What do you know of it?” Jared asks, curious. “Before he was married, as you know, he came to our settlement.” We all nod. Ena is from Mahalalel's settlement. I join the men in the sitting room. I want to hear this. “He was sleeping in my house, in my room in fact,” Mahalalel says. “My wife was with Chaya, for some reason or another. Chaya always seems to need her mother. In any case, I was startled to hear Enoch cry out in his sleep and in concern, I woke him up. I asked him why he was crying out and making such a lamentation.” I lean forward. “He confided in me,” Mahalalel continues. “He had seen a vision. Heaven collapsed, was borne off and fell to the earth. And when it fell to the earth, earth was swallowed up in a great abyss. Mountains were suspended on mountains.” Eyes are wide. “Hills sank down on hills. High trees were rent from their stems and hurled down and sunk in the abyss.” Mahalalel looks at everyone as he speaks. “What he had called out was, the earth is destroyed!” Now Mahalalel looks down at his hands. “I said to him, you have seen a terrible thing, my son. If it is so, let it be so. But I said to him, my son, arise and make a petition to Yah, the Glorious One, since you are a believer, that a remnant may remain on the earth and that He may not destroy the whole. I said to him that I believed his vision, that such destruction would come on the earth . . . ” There is murmuring among Seth, Enosh, and Cainan. “As I recall,” says Mahalalel glancing at Jared, “Enoch did arise and pray and implore Yah for a remnant to be saved. I could hardly sleep, but I was still in my bed and heard his words. He was a remarkable man. After such a vision . . . ” Mahalalel shakes his head. “He prayed all night and when the moon and stars set 281


in the west and the sun awoke the earth in the east, he greeted it by praising Yah. He praised and blessed the Master of Judgement and sang praises to him because he had made the sun to go forth from the windows of the east and to ascend to the face of heaven and continue to traverse the path shown unto it.” What beautiful thoughts resided in my son! Mahalalel continues. “I was still in my bed and I heard his praises continue. He praised Yah as Master and King, Creator of heaven and earth. He praised him for his power and greatness and his dominion over all generations, now and forever. The heavens are his throne, the earth his footstool.” We are all silent. “I admit, I am ashamed,” says Enosh, breaking the silence. “Would I have praised Yah after such a vision?” “Why did it not bother him that Yah would destroy everything he had made?” asks Cainan. “I believe it was because he praised Yah for having made everything,” says Mahalalel, who has had many years now to ponder these things. “He saw Yah as ruler over everything and therefore, worthy to judge everything.” Mahalalel leans forward. “We have forgotten Yah, but Enoch never did. And Yah never forgot us. Enoch said in his prayers that day that Yah knows everything, sees everything, hears everything. Nothing is hidden from Yah. So Enoch knew that judgement was fair for the sons of Adam. He knew Yah was angry. He did not ask for judgement to be averted, only that a remnant survive and that such a remnant would come from his own flesh.” Mahalalel buries his face in his hands and groans before looking up again. “He spoke many words that day to Yah. He prayed that the earth would not be eternally destroyed, nor that it would be without inhabitants. He accepted God's judgement as just but begged Yah that uprightness be established as a plant of the eternal seed . . . ” “What did he mean by that?” Seth asks. “I do not know,” says Mahalalel. “It is clear that Enoch knew the secrets of Yah,” says Cainan. The men exchange uneasy glances. Every man in this room 282

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knows that Enoch walked with Yah and each cannot help but measure himself by this knowledge. And find that he fell short of such honour.

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Father Seth is now gone. Mourning consumes the sons of Seth and our settlements are united in grief. To grow old is to watch those ahead of you die. Each generation watches uneasily as the generation ahead of it slowly passes away. It is inevitable and unescapable. But joy comes to our particular settlement when a tiny son of Seth is born to Lamech and Betenos. Chaya is exuberant. “I told you, the goddess works!” I am visiting her and her new son, an energetic boy, rosy with activity. Rasujal had some business to do in the settlement of Mahalalel and I go along with him to deliver the wonderful news that there is a new son of Seth. “What is this goddess you speak of ?” I ask, holding her son on my lap. He is sleeping at the moment, otherwise I would have a hard time containing him. I am sitting in her courtyard and the boy has a firm grip on my finger. He has brought great joy to Chaya, both for his own qualities and for the praises she has received from her husband for giving him another son. “It is the way,” says Chaya simply. “The way for women.” 285


“I do not understand,” I say. “Oh Baraka,” she says impatiently. She is preparing us some cocoa to drink and is moving quickly around as she assembles the ingredients of the beverage. “You never know what is going on in the world.” “That is true,” I admit. “All women, except for you apparently, follow the way of the goddess. You are the only one who does not have a fertility icon.” I do not tell her that Betenos destroyed the one given to her by Chaya at the time of her wedding. “But who is the goddess?” I ask. “Mother Hawwa, of course,” Chaya says, impatiently, turning back to me with two mugs of steaming cocoa. Carefully, I put her son in his playpen and then take one of the mugs. “But Hawwa is dead,” I say. “She lives on in her icons,” says Chaya, sounding quite assured about it. I do not feel like arguing that this sounds impossible to me. So the conversation turns to Edna. “Has Jared found her another husband yet?” asks Chaya. “No,” I say. “She is not interested in such things. She has Lamech and Betenos, and now Noah, to look after.” I am seeing more of Edna now that we have a baby in the settlement. “She should have her own children,” says Chaya. “She is not too old. The goddess could help her.” Once again, I do not feel like commenting on this. So we discuss the name Noah, the name given to his son by Lamech. “What does it mean?” Chaya asks. “Peaceful,” I say. Chaya makes a face. “What a strange name,” she says. Her son's name is Mordecai, which means Warrior. Nowadays, people give their sons strong names in the hope of intimidating their future enemies. By contrast, naming a child Noah seems to doom him to ridicule. But the name gives me hope. Perhaps it will be a peaceful life for my great-great grandson. Since the judgement spoken of by Enoch is to occur at the end of Methuselah's life, it would seem that this new child, Noah, will live to see a new world, a world of peace. I think he is a comfort to us all. In fact, his father, when he 286

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first held him said, “This one will comfort me for all my trouble and work, and for the ground which Yah has cursed.” But one does not discuss such things with Chaya. Even the walk back with Rasujal is not one of two minds meeting in understanding. With him, I also discuss the mundane – the news of Mahalalel's settlement I picked up from Chaya, while he tells me of his business negotiations. He is aware that his brother left behind some kind of manuscript but has no desire to study it. Nor, it would seem, did Enoch expect that he would. The manuscript is addressed to Methuselah and the admonition is to pass it on, presumably to his son. We live in a world where brothers kill brothers. I suppose I should be grateful that my sons live in peace - if not in harmony, then at least in mutual respect. Rasujal is in a hurry to get home so we part as soon as we reach the settlement. I am looking forward to an evening in my room. Knowing that I was to be gone the whole day, Jared will have already had a meal, perhaps with Edna, Lamech and Betenos. “Havilah!” No one in our settlement calls me by that name. I turn to see Semjaza. I never thought I would see him again. Something about Tikvah's death made me think that we had paid the highest price to be left alone by these fallen ones. “You are not welcome here,” I say, terror beginning to swell in my heart. But I take a deep breath and think of my son, who while still living, confronted these beings. “I did not expect to be,” he says. “I know your ways,” I say. “My son . . . ” “I am well familiar with your son,” he interrupts. “He refused to intercede for us . . . ” “I know,” I say sharply. I am about to tell him that it is a right and just decision. “So I come to you,” he says simply. I detect something I have never heard in his voice before, humility. “We are condemned.” He is not looking at me, but slightly down. Or is it false humility? “Our children will fight one another until they destroy one 287


another. Oh Havilah!” Now he looks at me. “Would you want that to be your condemnation?” “I did not introduce enchantment and sorcery into the world,” I reply. For a moment, I see his eyes flash with anger and I am afraid. “Oh Yah,” I whisper. “You are everywhere . . . ” Then his voice changes, soft as silk, sweet as honey. “You are the one woman I trust,” he says, sounding genuine. And perhaps it is true. “I come to you as my only hope. Havilah, think of my children.” “Naamah's children,” I cannot help but point out. That is a mistake. “Yes!” he says. “Naamah's children. Think of your dear sister! She suffers as I do . . . ” “She suffers because of you!” I burst out, looking around. Where is everyone in my settlement? It is always quiet, but today everyone is either in their own home or over at Lamech's. His eyes grow dark. There is only Yah. Jared is nowhere to help when needed. Semjaza moves closer to me. “Will you help, Havilah?” he says. His voice is still smooth, but I detect a threat in the question. “No, I will not,” I say, knowing this may be the death of me. And for one moment, I do not care. The world is violent. I have played a part in its violence. By running from Semjaza, I brought violence to the house of Lamech. By bringing Rasujal into the world, I have been responsible for dragons ripping men to shreds. I feel his hand, just one hand, go around my neck . . . and squeeze. “Oh Yah!” is all I gasp. I feel close to losing all consciousness when I see Semjaza wince with pain. His hand loosens and he groans. I am gasping for breath, but I am not so dazed as to miss that Semjaza twists around and pulls an arrow right out of his back. With a glance at me - I almost see amusement in his eyes - he turns and walks away. I collapse. “What manner of man was that?” Kenaz, brother of Jared and Chaya, helps me to my feet. 288

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“Kenaz!” I stumble, but he has a firm grip on my arm. “What are you doing here?” He has emerged from the woods, his quiver of arrows on his back, his bow in his hand. “Your fool of a son left the settlement before talking to me. I come to impose on your hospitality and spend the night so I can speak to him.” “It will be no imposition,” I say, still weak. We are now heading for Jared’s house and mine. Again Kenaz asks, “What manner of man was that?” He looks back into the forest where Semjaza has disappeared. “One of the fallen ones,” I say. “The father of giants.” “You can kill a giant,” says Kenaz. He is still looking at the spot where we last saw Semjaza. “I do not think that one is so easily killed.” I think of the place of darkness Enoch wrote about and the chains reserved for Semjaza and his brothers. “No,” I agree. “They are not easily destroyed.” Kenaz shakes his head and we go up the stairs into my house. Jared is resting in our sitting room, oblivious of the whole drama that has occurred within an arrow's throw from our home. Kenaz is quick to dispel his ignorance. Jared is outraged that Semjaza should come here again and has to sit down when Kenaz gets to the part of glimpsing me being strangled by the fallen one. “And the worst part of it is,” Kenaz concludes. “I do not think I could have killed him, had I wanted to. He left by choice.” “Oh Yah! Yah!” Jared is murmuring. His face is in his hands. “It is all my fault. I am sure of it.” I am about to tell him that it is an unavoidable result of me having lived among the children of Cain, but then I realize, this visit was different. Semjaza visited me this time because I am the mother of Enoch and a daughter of Seth. So perhaps Jared has reason to feel he should have been more diligent to protect me from the fallen ones. I have recovered enough to make the two men a light meal. Kenaz eats with the appetite of a hunter and the resilience of a man who can face a beast and be philosophical when the beast almost gets the best of him. Jared, on the other hand, hardly touches the lentil soup and bread. Then I show Kenaz to one of the bedrooms. 289


He thanks me with true graciousness and warns me to be on my guard and not to travel alone. The fallen one may still be in our area. I nod and thank him for saving my life today. “Baraka, I believe it was Yah who saved your life today,” he says with a grin before wishing me a good night. It is Rasujal who delivers the shocking news. “Uncle Kenaz has been found dead!” he gasps for breath, practically falling into our courtyard. Jared and I look up, startled. We are making a large batch of sweetened fruit to have something on hand to trade with when necessary. “What do you mean?” asks Jared, slowly lowering the pot to the ground before turning to face his son. Rasujal nods. “I did not see him,” he says. “I went back today with a dragon and did not see him . . . ” He is not making any sense. Quickly, I push a chair over so he can sit. Rasujal is pale and shaken. Yesterday, Kenaz left us to return to his settlement. How can he be dead? A terrifying thought occurs to me. I remember his last words to me. Yah saved my life, but the fallen one may still be in our area . . . My head is spinning and I, too, need to sit down. “His wife was worried, naturally,” Rasujal continues, no longer out-of-breath, but not entirely coherent. “As they all are. But we all told her not to fear. He must be out hunting. I returned home, the same way, but saw nothing. But the wife must have persisted because they sent out a party to look for him in the forest and they found him . . . ” “Oh Yah!” I moan. I am trembling. This is all because of me. “Strangled,” says Rasujal. “Not an animal.” He is bewildered. “Who would do such a thing? He had no coins, no stones, nothing of value on him. Even his bow and arrows were left behind.” Rasujal is shaking his head. He looks dazed. If this were a distant cousin, it would not be so tragic. But Kenaz is an uncle, and a close friend to all of us. A congenial man. I remember the first day I glimpsed him in the woods and found myself among the sons of Seth. How could it end this way? “Although,” says Rasujal. “Whoever did this thing, for whatever reason, took one of Kenaz's own arrows and stuck it in his back.” Again, Rasujal is shaking his head. “What manner of 290

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person does such a thing?” I am moaning, almost unable to bear it. I cannot stop rocking back and forth and weeping. As I sink and fall off to the ground, Jared catches me and I remember nothing after that. Only Jared knows why I continue to mourn for a man who is neither my husband nor son. I did not weep like this when Enoch was taken and I was strong when Tikvah was lost to us. But that a man who showed me kindness should have to pay for it with his life is beyond my ability to endure. I weep all day and then am sick at night because of all the weeping. Edna brings me over vegetable soup and I only eat to please her and Jared. Jared is concerned but he does not order me back to my senses, and for that I am grateful. This despair must run its course. I cannot hold it in. It will kill me if I cannot weep until I am empty of tears and ready to live again. The rest of the settlement is bewildered. They too mourn Kenaz. All of the sons of Seth mourn him. He is Jared's own brother and Jared spends weeks in a mood of sadness. We all feel the loss. But that the loss should be on my account is the load I carry. Jared does not blame me. He blames himself. He blames Rasujal for not bringing me safely home but he never says a word to his son. We are the only two people who know who murdered Kenaz. I must confess, there was a flicker of pity in me when I first heard of the place of darkness and chains reserved for Semjaza and his brothers. But now that flicker is gone and is replaced by hatred and a longing to see the beasts chained up sooner, rather than later. But after weeks of lying in my bed in darkness and having time to think of Enoch and what I know of Yah, I do not want that hatred to live inside of me. Yah is just. Yah is good. Kenaz was a child of Seth, but he was not a child of Yah. Did not Chaya say his wife had bruises on her arms too? And even if the righteous should perish, Abel's blood cried from the earth and nothing but justice silenced it. After two full moons, I am able to get up again and return to the mundane tasks of living. But Jared and I are once again 291


united in sorrow. It is not a bad thing. He is the only other living person to know the evil that has reached our settlement. We have shared the loss of a daughter and then the loss of a son. Now we share the loss of the sense that we are untouched by the violence that torments the sons of Cain.

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The young child is precocious. Or maybe it is just his attentive father and mother. Lamech and Betenos pour themselves into their son, Noah. Lamech has all his years of study at the Great Pyramid to pass onto his son. I think, in a way, we all look at Noah with hope and try to pass on the best part of ourselves to him. I teach him what I can about gardening and edible plants in the forest. Jared shows him how to construct furniture out of wood. Edna dresses him like a prince. There are also frequent visits to Methuselah's settlement where Methuselah and Ena dote on their grandson. Despite our attention, he is a modest child. Jared, Methuselah and Lamech always include him when they are discussing matters of Yah. He is well familiar with the writings of his great-grandfather. When he is fifty, Jared brings up the topic of a wife for Noah. But his father shakes his head and says, “Not now. Not now.” Uncharacteristically, Jared loses his temper. “Not now! Not now! If not now, when? Why does everyone 293


seem to have secret information that they do not share with me? If there is something you know, by all means, disclose it!” He is gesturing wildly. I stifle a laugh. The four men are sitting around my large table. I have never seen my husband become this emotional. “Does Yah speak only to you and never to me?” Jared continues. “Am I not also a son of Seth and . . . ” My husband abruptly runs out of words, and anger. We are all smiling. “I have no special message from Yah on the matter,” says Lamech. “I only know that the woman for Noah must be special and I have never met her.” Noah nods shyly. It is a valid point. The daughters of Seth are swept up in the enchantments that have been brought into the world by Semjaza and his brothers. Their eyes are painted and they are given over to the worship of the goddess, as they now call Hawwa. I have a special girl in mind, though. But she is young. A mere child, really. Her name is Emzara and her father is Rakeel. They are a quiet family who live in Methuselah's settlement, children of Seth, of course. The mother is one of Ena's weavers and Rakeel helps in the fields. Little Emzara is a sweet child who I often encounter in Ena's courtyard. She is curious about everything – how to make coffee, how to make pink dye, how to feed a goat, how to embroider linen, how to make a mug . . . I enjoy her lively questions. But I know better than to suggest anyone at this point. I think Lamech does not want a wife for his son yet and if it is to be Emzara, she must grow to adulthood first. So Noah turns his attention to raising animals. It is a knowledge passed onto him from Methuselah who still has a small flock that he maintains. Noah also starts a vineyard and soon his wine becomes a regular feature at our get-togethers, although Nava maintains it lacks the depth and complexity of her berry wine. Noah is good-natured and always defers to her, saying it is a poor effort on his part, to be sure. Violence touches us once again, although, praise to Yah, we are not harmed. There is an altercation down by the river, between some traders and some passing young giants. The giants were unarmed but fearless. Although it happened near our 294

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settlement, we do not know how it started, only how it ended. The traders had spears and hurled them at the giants. Two were killed. Enraged, the other giants waded into the rushing river and promptly sank the traders's ship. What was left of the whole conflict was a collection of spears on the shore. Bodies and boat all disappeared into the river. The giants continued on to their destination, mercifully, not opting to pay a visit to our settlement. Noah took the spears and with a little help from the tools at Methuselah's settlement, shaped them into pruning hooks. He even made a present of one of them to Nava, for her berry plants. She declared it “gruesome” but I notice she uses it frequently. It is Noah who becomes the centre of attention at our family get-togethers. He has a way of bringing us all together, whether it is to celebrate a harvest or a new moon. There is always a reason to celebrate with Noah, a reason to celebrate Yah. I see more of my children as a result. Rasujal and Pyramides and their growing families always come out for the celebrations. The star map grows over once again, but we have meals outside under the stars themselves. Lamech and Noah take great pleasure in pointing out the different stars. “Each has its own glory,” says Noah. “It is quite different from the glory of man. The sun rules by day, the moon and stars by night, we observe it all and Yah's love endures forever.” Such talk in a violent world is soothing to the spirit and those who love Yah cannot help but be drawn to the young man. He does not walk with Yah as his great-grandfather did, but he seems blessed with favour nonetheless. Even Kalah and her husband journey more often to be with us, although I fear for their safety every time they travel. But if Yah does not move among our settlement anymore, hope does. And soon Kalah and her husband and their extended family are back with us, staying in our home until they build themselves a house from the timber in our forest. My house is full again and my days are busier. “It is different here,” says Kalah to me, now a mature woman and hardly my daughter anymore. “I cannot explain it.” “It is Noah, I am sure of it.” Surprisingly, Kalah agrees with me. It is rare to have that. Usually if I am of one opinion, she takes the opposite line of 295


thought. “He worships Yah under the stars while the rest of the world worships the stars,” says Kalah. Today, I am in my garden harvesting spinach. Noah and Jared are sharpening their tools near my garden and discussing the way earthly bodies and heavenly bodies differ. “What can we deduce from this?” Jared is saying as he sharpens his scythe with a stone. “I think it suggests that though this body is perishable, there are imperishable forms . . . ” “But how can this be . . . ?” I take my basket of spinach and return to the house. These conversations can go on for hours. While the men take an interest in Noah, I cannot help but focus my attention on Emzara. The girl is engaging, and unlike the others of her age. When we are at Methuselah's settlement, I take the time to talk to her. She has so many questions! Alas, I do not always have the answers, but I seek them out for her. I am afraid her parents consider her a bit of a bother with all her questions and most of the other people at the settlement just ignore her because she is a child. But they cannot ignore me! My knowledge of plants is limited to my garden and the ones in the forest, but for Emzara's sake, I talk to the cousins and aunts who know about the medicinal qualities of plants, as well. When I have exhausted all of their knowledge, I turn to Lamech himself and with good-natured humour, he shares some of his Great Pyramid education with me. Today, we are working side-byside in his father's flax fields. “And what is the reason for all these questions?” he asks, at last. Ruefully, I grin. “It is for the sake of a precocious child.” “A precocious child?” he says, straightening his back and groaning. We have been bent over for two hours now, pulling weeds, a necessary but backbreaking job. “I know of only Noah.” “The one I am thinking of is a girl.” “A girl?” Lamech is puzzled. “The daughter of Rakeel,” I say. Lamech glances across to another field where the father of my special friend is also 296

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weeding between the flax plants. “Does she really need such knowledge?” he asks. I nod. “She is special.” Lamech continues to stand there, looking thoughtful. At that moment, I know I have planted an idea in his mind. Emzara. A special girl for his special son. I will speak no further to him about the matter. It is better that he thinks it his own idea. We continue weeding and I continue asking him about the genealogies at the Great Pyramid. It is a topic that has always interested me since I learnt of my true father's mission to the city of Cain. Of course, the genealogies are far more extensive now, but Emzara has taken an interest in her origins and wants to know all she can about not just the sons of Seth, but the other children of Adam too. I have shared what I know of the different sons and daughters of Adam, and Emzara has listened with rapt attention to my story of the journey from Enoch to the settlements of Seth. I am able to share all that Lamech can tell me as well. Emzara is even learning to write and she and I practise writing out what we know of the sons of Cain and the sons of Seth. We use leftover dye that makes nice ink when you dip a feather from a bird into it. There is a bark that makes a lovely surface to write on and soon she and I have a collection of writings. When her interest turns to metal and all the things that you can do with it, I share my knowledge of the craftsmanship of my brother, Tubal-Cain. Other men have mastered the art now and so the metal products are not always made by him or his craftsman anymore, but he was the father of them all, whether they know his name or not. Perhaps it was my conversation with Lamech, but Noah occasionally joins us. The young girl is growing up and though his talk is light, I sense that he might be looking at her with different eyes. One thing is certain, there is no other candidate for a wife in his life. Mostly, Emzara and I work in the courtyard. There are always meals to make for the flax and linen workers and I teach her everything I know about preparing food, which is not a little at this point in my life. 297


I know my efforts are not in vain when one day we are in Ena's garden, harvesting tomatoes for the sauce I want to make. Noah joins us. Although he lives at Jared’s settlement and mine, he has been here at Methuselah's settlement almost as often as we have. No man has every joined us in the garden. But Noah is not an ordinary man. He is soon filling up Emzara's basket with such speed that I envision at least three days worth of sauce out of this batch. Though slightly awed at having this masterful assistant, Emzara remains her delightful, unassuming self. She asks Noah why the stars are so bright. He pauses and says that they are all, as far as we know, similar to our sun and completely able to provide their own light, unlike the moon who's light comes from the sun's reflection. Emzara boldly asks him why some stars are brighter than others and this causes Noah to immediately begin to share everything he knows on the topic of celestial bodies, which is significantly abundant. I smile to myself and return to the courtyard with some of the tomatoes. Emzara still seems to have stars in her eyes when she joins me several hours later. It is obvious to me that I am no longer the only one who thinks that Noah and Emzara would make the perfect couple.

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“There should be a wedding,” Jared grumbles. “In time, in time,” I say, soothingly. The whole settlement knows that Noah's attention is focused on Emzara. “She is still young,” I say. Not really. Emzara is a full-grown woman. I am just having a hard time letting go of the lively little girl that used to ask me a hundred questions between the midmorning coffee and the mid-day meal. Now she asks Noah all her questions and what he cannot answer, he finds out from someone who can. But I can understand Jared's concern. The sons of Adam are multiplying at a rapid rate, and yet, since Noah, there has not been the birth of a direct descendant of Seth in our settlement. “He is certainly not getting any younger.” My husband coughs. It is a new thing for him, this cough. We are feeling aches and pains that we have not known in the past. “He is 179-years-old.” “Not much older than you when you asked me to marry you,” I tease him. He acknowledges this with a sigh. He is now 775-years-old and it seems a long time ago. But that afternoon, news comes 299


from upriver that seems to make his point about Noah and the need for a wedding. It is not traders who bring the news, but a grandson of Cainan, who arrives with the sad announcement that his grandfather is dead. Jared is also a grandson of Cainan and we welcome his cousin into our home. He tells us more. “He has suffered ever since he turned 900,” says the grandson. “That would be about . . . ” Jared pauses to think. “Ten years ago?” The grandson nods. Turning nine hundred is an unsettling experience. It is the indicator that one is nearing the end of his life. Adam made it to 930, Seth to 912, and Enosh to 905. “And how is your father?” the cousin asks Jared. It is a pertinent question. Mahalalel is now the oldest of the sons of Seth. “He is well,” says Jared, clearing his throat. “Though I cannot say the same for myself.” “Oh we are young men!” says the cousin, heartily. I think it is more to reassure himself than to make any statement of truth. After a night in our home, the grandson of Cainan moves on, now accompanied by Jared, to take the sad news to Mahalalel's settlement. “I will be gone a few days,” says Jared, giving me a tender kiss and a wave when we say goodbye the next day. I nod. I expected as much. Kalah and her family have their own home in our settlement now. I will, perhaps, spend some time with Kalah. Her children are all grown, some with children of their own. It is with a heavy heart that I move through my quiet home. Death again. And it will continue to come to each one of us. Mualaleth, Cainan's wife, died a few years ago. It is almost a routine matter now to hear a report that someone has died. Almost. I have not quite gotten used to it. Despite my initial thought that I might spend some time with Kalah, I never actually make it over to her home. She seems oblivious of the obvious destiny of us all. For my Kalah, death is something that happens to other people. She will have new 300


curtains to show me or a dish of pickled beans she wants me to try. And right now, I have no heart for everyday living. Jared returns to report to me that his father seems to be enjoying his status as the oldest son of Seth, although he is genuinely grieved by his own father's death. “But, of course, they do not see each other very often, so his loss will not be felt right away.” “It takes time for the idea of someone being gone to settle in,” I say. I have spent the last few days in a listless state, hardly able to even prepare meals for myself. Only Edna and her kindhearted attention has been my company. Having Jared home helps. He is someone to take care of and gradually the death of Cainan recedes from my mind and I can get back to visiting with my family and helping them in any way I can. My days of instructing Emzara over, nonetheless, she is to become a large part of my life. The circumstances that bring it about, however, are sad. Her mother is still young and one of Ena's finest weavers. She becomes pregnant and when I do see Emzara at Methuselah's settlement, she is excited about having a brother or sister in the near future. We talk in the courtyard as we make the midmorning coffee for everyone. “I wish Mother would rest more,” sighs Emzara. “She loves making linen too much to take a break from it.” “No doubt she has made something special for the baby,” I say, smiling. Emzara nods. “A beautiful embroidered blanket will welcome him, or her. I prefer a sister.” I nod. “How is Noah?” Emzara asks, shyly. “Busy with his livestock, as usual,” I say. “You are the only woman in his life, but I am afraid you will always have to compete with his interest in livestock and grapes.” Emzara laughs. “Emzara! You must come quickly!” It is Ena suddenly appearing in the quiet courtyard. “Your mother needs you!” Immediately, Emzara follows, looking concerned. I am right 301


behind her. “Is it her time?” I ask. “I was under the impression she had a few months to go.” “She does,” says Ena. “But I think the baby may be coming early.” That is not good. We go into Ena's house and she takes us upstairs to one of the bedrooms. Emzara's mother is stretched out on a bed, propped up by cushions. She is pale. “Emzara,” she moans, reaching for her daughter. Emzara hurries to her side and takes her hand. “Where is the midwife?” I ask Ena. “We have sent for her. But she is in the settlement of Cainan and it will take time. She was not planning on coming to the settlement for another two months . . . ” Ena has had only one child but I have had enough to know that this is not going well. Giving birth is never easy, but Emzara's mother is as white as a sheep. “Is it the pain, dear?” I ask, moving closer. She barely has the strength to nod. “Do you feel the birth pains, though?” I ask. If she is in this much agony, she should be close to giving birth. There should be intense cramping. But Emzara's mother shakes her head. “Only pain,” she whispers. I am not a midwife but there is no one else who seems to know what to do. When I was giving birth, the child in me struggled to come out. I crouch down beside her but feel no movement in her belly. Although I have no experience with animals, I recently watched Noah assist a sheep giving birth. Like Emzara's mother, the sheep seemed to be unable to do it herself. It was messy, but Noah reached right in to get the lamb out. I take a deep breath. “Bring me water,” I say to Ena who has been standing still. She hurries off. “And clean linen!” I call out to her back. “Can I help?” asks Emzara, pale but calm and determined. “Hold your mother's hand. Tell her it is going to be fine and she will soon have a child to hold.” Emzara whispers soothing words to her mother. Ena is back with water and cloths. Just in time. I have pulled my fingers out of the birthing area and though I can feel that she 302


is definitely ready to give birth, there is no indicator that the baby is trying to come out. “Oh Yah!” moans Ena as I wash my hands and tell her what I have discovered. “What are we going to do?” I think for a moment. “Get Noah!” I say suddenly. Ena looks at me as if I am out of my right mind. “He has done this before,” I whisper. “With his livestock.” I find out later that one of the young men is sent to run all the way back our settlement and ordered not to stop even to take a breath. By afternoon, Noah has joined us in the small room. Emzara's mother is near to death. I can sense it. I see the life seeping out of her eyes and her body is getting weaker. For all her pains, none of them are producing the necessary labour to bring forth her child. Noah moves to the mother's side and speaks gently to her, stroking her forehead. She responds slightly. We have been putting cool damp cloths on her forehead but Noah's firm touch is reassuring. Everything he does is tender, but with assurance. When he is done checking on the child, he turns to us and quietly says, “I am not sure that the child still lives. But her pain will not stop until we bring it out. I have done this before.” “Would you like us to stay?” Ena asks bravely. Noah glances at some fresh water in a bowl and the clean cloths that have just been brought in. “No,” he says, simply. So even Emzara, supported by Ena and myself, leaves the room. Emzara's mother is so weak now that she only whimpers in pain. And that is the last thing I hear before the door closes. Wearily, we go downstairs. Morning coffee was long forgotten and the whole settlement now knows that Rakeel's wife is in labour, but that it is not going well. The house is subdued, the workers having turned instead to quiet reflection or soft prayers to Yah. Emzara is led to her father who sits alone on a couch, his head in his hands. She puts her arm around him and he reaches out to grasp her hand. It seems like a good time to go into the courtyard and make a 303


large pot of mint tea, a soothing drink for a troubled time. The tea has barely been distributed before Noah comes downstairs and asks that Emzara and Rakeel accompany him upstairs. We all look at one another in hope. Has a child been born? Will the mother's strength return? Already I am thinking about milk for the child. A wet nurse will have to be found for him or her if the mother is not strong enough. Or, if the situation is desperate, the midwife who attended me told me a story of how she used goat's milk to feed a child until a wet nurse could be found. Certainly, we can find a mother goat . . . Quietly, we sip our tea and wait for some news. But instead of the cry of a child we hear the cry of a man. Now the looks we exchange with one another are of horror. It is Rakeel. Noah comes downstairs looking drained and joins me in the courtyard. I hand him a sweetened cup of tea that he finishes in one gulp. “Now tell me,” I say, taking his arm. “The child is dead?” Noah nods, his eyes troubled. He does not speak. “Please, Noah,” I say to my great-great grandson. “The mother is well, though?” He shakes his head. “But surely, with the child out of her, she will recover her strength? She was always a strong young woman . . . ?” Noah shakes his head again. “Not when it really mattered, dear Mother.” He kisses my cheek and returns into the house where he will have to deliver the heartbreaking news. I stay by myself in the courtyard. Poor Emzara. Now without a mother. And death. Once again, death. But this time, far too young. On weak legs, slowly, I return into the house. “I have heard it happens. Every birth is a risk.” “She was the sweetest of women. But did she really need another child . . . ?” “Poor Rakeel. But he is young. He will find comfort again . . . ” It is all very natural, the comments. I think it is a way to distance themselves from the news of death. 304


I go upstairs to see if I can help. Rakeel and Emzara spend the rest of the day weeping. Emzara is holding the dead child, a tiny girl. It is not until morning that she is willing to give her to me. When she and her father finally return to their rooms, Ena and I are left alone with the mother and child, both so white and lifeless. Gently, I put the baby in the mother's arms. Though by now, we are both exhausted, Ena and I prepare the bodies for death, wrapping them in linen. The child is in the blanket that her mother so lovingly prepared for her. Then Methuselah is summoned to talk to Rakeel about having his wife and child buried in the settlement. Rakeel dully agrees and the burial plot is prepared by Methuselah and his grandson, Noah. In the afternoon, the whole settlement gathers for the burial. Rakeel, too grief-stricken to do anything but stand supported by Emzara and Ena, allows Noah to speak. And Noah gives a beautiful talk about how every woman is like Hawwa, Mother of All Living, risking her life to bring life into the world. He speaks of Emzara's mother's last moments. She knew she carried a girl and was able to hold her for just one moment before she herself drifted off. “I do not think she realized the child was not alive,” says Noah, his voice cracking with emotion. “She had hope and joy in her eyes when she held her child.” Many standing by the burial plot are now quietly crying as Noah continues. “For Rakeel and Emzara, you may know that she did not die of pain, for at that time, her pain had passed. And she did not die in hopeless despair, for at that time she was holding the one she loved, the one for whom it was worth the pain.” Now all the settlement is weeping. Emzara's mother died at that moment of joy when a mother is rewarded for her labours and holds her own child in her arms. But as I weep for the dead mother, I weep for myself. For it would seem that the moment of birth is the only time when the child is wholly your own. The child grows. The child goes his or her own way. Even Jared by my side cannot take away the pain of bearing children who I can no longer call my own.

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And so, Emzara comes to live at our settlement. She has a room in our house and though she is in grief, I am more than happy to have her with us. It is not just the death of her mother that has nearly shattered her, but the shocking remarriage of her father to one of the other linen weavers. Emzara can in no way understand how her father could so quickly turn to another woman. For weeks, we listen to her rage against this other woman and against her father. Noah is entirely sympathetic and proves his nobility by only listening and not commenting. It is left to Jared, in the end, to say one night at dinner, “Your father has found comfort with one woman. He believes he can have the same comfort with another woman.” Emzara's eyes flash anger, first at Jared (who is oblivious to it, his focus being on his pea soup) and then at her father who is, of course, not with us. She stirs her soup vigorously, almost spilling it on the table. And then, a calm comes over her and she shrugs and turns her attention to the soup. Her time of mourning over, she is soon seen with Noah, laughing and helping him with his grapes or his animals. Now that they are in the same settlement, they are together daily and Jared finally goes over to Edna's house where Noah is staying and firmly tells him to start building a house for his bride-to-be. Good-naturedly, Noah agrees. But first, he asks Emzara if she is willing to marry him. Of course, she is. “He is the only family I have now,” she says to me, on the day that she agrees to be his wife. “I have lost my mother and my sister. My father is a stranger to me.” “You will have a new family with Noah,” I say, patting her hand. Noah surprises us though. Jared assumed he would build his house in our settlement. But Noah requests that he be permitted to build his home by the enormous portion of land that was designated for Enoch's star map. It is a vast forest, waiting to be cleared, except that Enoch never carried on the tradition of his fathers. “What could he possibly want with all that forest?” Jared muses, one night while we sit on our porch watching the stars 306


come out. Noah and Emzara are eating with Edna tonight. “And surely it is safer to be living with us?” I murmur possibility. The sons of Adam are rapidly claiming the earth and perhaps Noah just wants to make sure that the portion of land stays with the sons of Seth. “I always have the feeling that my children are not telling me everything,” complains Jared. I laugh. “Do you think that Yah has told Noah that he should claim the land and the forest for some unforeseen purpose?” I ask. Jared shrugs. “I would not be surprised. And he would certainly not tell me if he did.” I do not know whether it is Yah or Noah he is referring to. In any case, it is an idle conversation and we slip into comfortable silence as we watch the stars. The wedding is not the celebrated event that the marriage of a son of Seth has been in the past. For one thing, Seth himself is gone, as is his son and grandson. So it is Mahalalel who presides over the ceremony and the guests are mainly from his and Methuselah's settlement. The festivities are held at our settlement so once again, I am preparing food for larger numbers. Though Noah is a man who seeks Yah, it strikes me how little Yah plays a part in the day. He is mentioned in the wedding ceremony itself and then after that, hardly referred to again. Instead, the talk among the sons of Seth is about personal security and wealth. One could hardly accuse Methuselah of being a man who pursues wealth but he is held up in high esteem for the success he and his wife have had with their linen industry. The only comparable success is one of the cousins in Mahalalel's settlement who has become well known for his pottery and the delicate designs painted on his pieces. He and Ena have much to discuss about various dyes that they use. For me, the conversation leaves me listless and heavy. I have no interest in the matters of the world and I hardly expect anyone to inquire about my daily routine, nor indeed, would I want to talk about myself. But everyone else, it seems, is eager to 307


boast of their achievements, or else the achievements they aspire to. The women, if they have no ambitions of their own, certainly have many for their children. Emzara joins me in the courtyard and I shoo her away. “This is your wedding day!” I say. “Relax and enjoy it!” She shakes her head and smiles as she starts to arrange some almond cookies on a platter. The girl is like me, I realize. Bored by the conversation and restless for something higher and more noble. Her father is here, among the men, with his second wife and their newborn son. The second wife does not seem interested in including Emzara in the raising of this half-brother. Emzara fills a bowl with dates while I make a cauldron of tea. Most people are drinking wine, but after it has worn off, some will want the soothing effects of the tea. We work in silence, but it is an understanding silence. I do not inquire about her and Noah's future plans. Many of the men have asked Noah already how he will make his fortune. He smiles and says it is in Yah's hands. While I think it is a splendid answer, the men take it to mean that Noah has no idea what he will do and that he and Emzara will be eating roots and berries from the forest to survive. I do not point out to them that, though Nava has contributed some jugs of berry wine to the festivities, the majority of what they are drinking is from Noah's vineyard. I imagine he will be busy beginning another vineyard by his new home. He will take with him the livestock, and he and Emzara have already created a garden of their own. But I know what Noah means. He is a direct descendant of Seth. When he was born, his father was inspired to cry out, “This one comforts us concerning our work and the toil of our hands, because of the ground which Yah has cursed!” It is not a simple matter of subsistence, but perhaps, of doing something great for Yah, something yet foreseen.

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Again, the settlement is quiet and routine carries us from dayto-day, month-to-month, year-to-year. My husband is convinced that he has enough aches and pains in his body that he will not outlive his father. But then, one day, the news comes to us, Mahalalel is dead at 895-years-old. Jared, now 830-years-old, is the patriarch of the family. “He did not even make it to 900,” says Jared grimly. I nod. It is a sobering thought. The last time we saw Mahalalel, there was talk of the celebration that his settlement would have when he turned 900. Jared spends several days in deep thought and then makes a startling announcement. He and I will make a journey to the Great Pyramid, and beyond. It will be a river journey and we will follow the water until we come to the Great Sea. “But why, Jared?” I ask. I am not opposed to the idea as much as I am curious. I cannot expect his words to come out in a rush, so I wait patiently. We are eating soup and bread for our evening meal and have the table to ourselves tonight. “All my life I have believed the stories,” says Jared, slowly. 311


“The Garden, the two trees, a flaming sword guarding the way to the Tree of Life . . . ” I nod. It is the most familiar of the oldest stories. New stories of recent exploits get passed on now, mostly tales of the Nephilim, but the prudent patriarch still takes his newly-born grandsons and great-grandsons and great-great-grandsons and tells them the most ancient story of all. “But I must see it for myself,” says Jared. “If there is a way to Life, I must take it, no matter what the risk.” Now it is my turn to speak slowly. “Yes, I see what you mean . . . If it is only a matter of a journey, albeit a difficult one . . . perhaps Life is still possible.” If such were the case, though, what about the people who have already died? But then I think of how Enoch had such little interest in the everyday matters of life. And he walked with Yah. Perhaps it is time for me and Jared to abandon the cares of this world and seek Yah. This time, there is no need to find a trader to take our furniture. Noah left us with a healthy vineyard and Jared has diligently tended it and reaped its fruit. Some of its harvest was eaten as grapes, but most of it was turned into wine. Since festivities are few in our settlement (I cannot say the same for the rest of the sons of Adam!) Jared sold the wine in wooden casks to the traders and now has a small fortune of coins in a chest under our bed. Coins are the means of exchange now. They, too, are a metal product and if Tubal-Cain is still alive, he must be a wealthy man if he has anything to do with the production of this currency. The advent of coins has also brought a form of security. The traders themselves organized it. It is bad for the economy to have people living in fear and stockpiling their coins. So the trading districts of any town are generally guarded by giants and anyone who steals, either coins or merchandise, can be assured of a bloody end. The trading boats are also manned with armed men who do not hesitate to rid the earth of anyone who should rob either a customer or a merchant. For an added fee, you can have one of the armed men escort you right back to your home with your purchase. Jared and I do not tell anyone of our real reason for the 312

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journey. I think Jared does not want someone to tell him that he is being absurd and that it is an impossible quest. For my part, I feel hope. Enoch's writings say that he visited the Garden once. So it cannot entirely be off-limits to the children of Adam. Everyone understands Jared's desire to visit the Great Pyramid, though. He is the oldest son of Seth, and perhaps even the oldest man on earth. And so, one day, we quietly take passage on a trader's boat and set off down the Tigris. It has been so long since I have travelled any further than Methuselah's settlement. In fact, that is our first stop. Bales of embroidered linen are exchanged for bags of coins, the whole transaction being carried out by Nava's giant grandchildren, now older men, and well-established members of Methuselah's community. They grin and give us a wave as they head back to the settlement. I doubt anyone will attempt to deprive them of their bag of coins. They are not only large, but they have long metal daggers at their sides. Their loose linen pants could also hide knives strapped to their legs. Over the next few days, we spend most of our hours along the boat's railing, waving when we recognize someone. These are our people, the older ones anyhow. We do not recognize all the younger faces. The Great Pyramid is still a hub of activity and learning. Most of the star maps are now waist-high in weeds and grass, but here, everything is cared for and the grass is regularly trimmed. This is where we encounter our first obstacle. The head-trader had assured Jared that we would spend a day or two in the vicinity of the Great Pyramid. Thus assured, Jared had paid our passage for a journey to the Great Sea. However, arriving at the Great Pyramid, there is no one at the dock and so the traders just drift right by. “I thought you said we would stop!” says Jared, watching in horror as the dock gets further and further away. The head-trader shrugs. “It is unusual not to. But there was no one here today.” “But I need to stop!” “I can stop,” says the trader. “But only to let you off. There is no one to trade with.” “So you would just carry on and leave us?” 313


The trader nods. Jared looks grim. He is making a decision. Finally, he sighs and just turns back to the rails. The head-trader takes that as the indicator that the discussion has ended. When he has gone below, Jared explains to me why we are continuing on with the traders. “I do not think that any of the maps in the Great Pyramid would have the precise location of the Garden. How could they? No one knows for certain where the Garden is, only our deceased Father and Mother. It seems prudent to carry on right to the Great Sea. From there, we will have to figure out where the Garden is.” But that very evening, he is discussing the matter with the head-trader, who though not a lover of Yah, has certainly seen the world. “I have never known anyone who knew where it was,” says the head-trader, thoughtfully. We are now sailing down the Pishon River. It surrounds the land of Havilah, my original name. Despite its reputation for violence, the night is quiet. “My understanding is that the Garden of Eden is on the edge of the Great Sea,” says Jared, to the man. It is an interesting phenomenon that my normally quiet husband finds it easy to share his desire to find the Garden with a trader and not his own kinsmen. This particular one says he has seen most of the inhabited world and even knows of some men who have chosen to explore the Great Sea, although, beyond sight of the shore they say it is just water, water and more water. “My understanding is that one large river came out of Eden,” says the trader. “In fact, that it watered the garden. And then outside the garden, it turned into the four rivers.” “True, true,” says Jared. “Has nobody sought after it?” The trader laughs. “There is no profit in seeking out Eden.” “No, but there is Life,” Jared murmurs. “That is your greatest strength,” says the trader, still smiling. “Let everyone know your destination and surely you will travel unmolested. All will think of you as lunatics and there is no profit in lunacy.” “I could be wrong,” says Jared, that night in our tiny cabin. “What do you mean?” I ask, glad that we brought along my favourite cotton sheet to sleep under. It is needed along the river 314

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where the breeze can be cool at night. “The Great Sea,” says Jared, climbing into bed with me. We almost have to sleep on our sides to both fit. “I should not be seeking the Great Sea. The point where the Pishon meets the Great Sea is not necessarily the location of the Garden. The trader is right. One river came out of the Garden. I need to find the point where the four rivers meet.” “I suppose you are right,” I say, yawning. Despite the trader confessing that for all his travels, he does not have the slightest idea where the four rivers meet, he and Jared continue to talk. I am left standing on the deck by myself. We are moving through a well-populated area and there will be many stops today. “What on earth is that?” I ask, pointing to a towering structure. It is similar to a pyramid but looks like it is made of earth rather than stone. The young man who I ask glances at it and says, “It is a temple to the goddess.” “I have never seen such a thing,” I say. The young man grins. “They do not have such things in the settlements of Seth. We always find it dull to pass through your villages.” “Dull?” I ask, surprised. “What do you mean?” “You have no women,” he says. “Women?” I say. “We have many women!” He laughs. “Not the kind you find in there,” he jerks his thumb in the direction of the temple before moving along to coil some loose rope. Our first stop provides us with an unsettling example of what life is like for many of the sons of Adam. Herded to our boat are a small group of people, a family consisting of a mother and her four children. “You know I do not handle slaves,” says the head-trader to the man who wants to sell them. I am bewildered. Selling people? I look down at the woman. Her head is bowed. She looks broken by life. The children cling to her and she seems helpless to protect them in any way. The young man who told me about the temple sees the 315


expression on my face. “You do not have slaves in the settlements of Seth either, do you?” I shake my head. With worldly knowledge, he leans on the railing and explains it to me. “They are being sold to pay off debts. Probably the debts of that man over there.” He points. A tearful man is being held back by two men. Such a thing should not surprise me. The sons of Cain had the same system. And yet, looking at this small family and the terror on the children's faces makes me feel as if I have never seen anything as evil as this in all my life. Jared has been standing behind me and now he moves forward, down the ramp to the man who wants to unload the slaves on our boat. “How much?” he asks the man. The man looks at him with interest. “Fifty silver pieces for the woman. Ten for each of the children.” It is a huge sum of money. It may be all that we have. But at that moment, I want my husband to hand it entirely over if it means saving these people from slavery. Our head-trader hurries down the ramp to stand by Jared. “That is a ridiculous sum, you cheater.” The man grins, like, “I tried.” “Twenty for the woman, then,” he says. Our head-traders is still glaring at him. Finally, it is worked down to five pieces of silver for the woman and one for each of the children. “I still think you got cheated,” says our trader. “But, at least, you have yourself some healthy slaves.” He glances at the mother and her children huddled under her arms. The father is quietly weeping, no longer being held back, but certain that he has lost his family forever. “I have no need for slaves,” says Jared, patting one of the children on his head. He waves at the father and calls out, “They are yours now.” The father looks at him in disbelief. Then, slowly, he realizes his family is free. And then he is laughing and embracing his wife 316

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and children. I have never been more proud of my husband than I am at this moment. But the young trader beside me is shaking his head. “Your husband is a fool,” he says. “Next time we pass this way, they will be up for sale again.” “You are saying the man will run up his debts again?” I ask, concerned. The young man nods. “Greed is an addiction,” he says. “It is why we are so wealthy.” He goes off to help his fellow traders weigh anchor to move on. We are on one of the large boats that do not just rely on tying up at the dock to stay steady. “Is that true what he says?” I ask the head-trader who has been listening to our conversation with interest. He nods. “I am afraid so. I have known men who sell one family to pay off their debts and then turn around and take a second wife and do it all over again.” We are moving on the water now and he glances back at the man walking away with his family, carrying a child on his shoulders with his arm around another. “But perhaps this situation will be different.” I hope so. It is not for the sake of the money that Jared spent, but for the sake of that poor woman. Unfortunately, we see many other wretched sights as the Pishon carries us all around the perimeters of the land of Havilah. The young man seems to take particular glee in pointing out to me the various fields worked by people who have made themselves bonded servants to a strong man. Many of them are young children. “These are violent times,” says the young man. “No one can be his own master. In these parts, anyway.” “So they band together and work in some man's field in exchange for protection?” I say. I am watching the scene. There are as many armed men as there are field workers. “It is not a bad life if you have the right master,” the young man says. “But that young girl back there . . . ” I am leaning over the railing to see what looks to me like a baby out harvesting cotton. 317


I have lost all interest in cotton now that I see who must work to bring it to me. “They are only expected to work twelve hours a day and the rest of the time is their own.” “Twelve hours a day!” I say, looking at him incredulously. The fields provide no relief from the blazing sun. Our settlements are shaded, but here, the trees have all been cleared to increase the number of fields. “Such a hard life . . . ” “A young girl can have the soft life in one of the temples,” he says, pointing at yet another abomination to Yah on the horizon. “Please,” I say, holding up a hand. “Do not tell me more about the temples.” He grins. “It is not all about the goddess. Some of them are erected to honour the moon, others the sun . . . ” “They are all Yah's creation,” I burst out. “The woman, the moon, the sun. Where is the temple to Yah?” The young man shrugs. “As far as I know, no such temple exists.”

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One thing that astounds me is how, despite the cruelty of the world they live in, the women flock to the boat of the traders to buy the fertility goddesses in order to bring more life into this fallen world. The head-trader assures them all that each fetish is made from the same fir tree planted above Hawwa's grave. “A remarkably huge tree,” I say to him drily one day. “With an amazing capacity to replenish itself,” he says, grinning. Jared spends his evenings making a map based on the stories of some of the traders. The head-trader is relatively young, only about 300-years-old, but has seen more than most men. In addition, some of the older men enjoy sharing with Jared all that they have seen and heard. That night, in our cabin, Jared shows me the map he has put together. “We will come out here,” he points on his map. He has a shoreline with the Pishon running into the sea. “The oldest man here tells me that the Gihon runs around the whole land of Cush. He has travelled it many times but he could not tell me at what point it runs to the sea, if at all. We ourselves know the 319


point where the Tigris and the Pishon meet but this offers very little clue as to where all four converge . . . ” He is musing to himself. “It would have been a lot easier had we stopped at the Great Pyramid to look at the maps,” I say. “The more I think about it, the more I am convinced that the information would not be there. How could it be? Why would Father Adam tell Seth where the four rivers meet?” says my husband climbing into the bed with me. Reluctantly, I pull the cotton sheet over us. When I get home, I am exchanging all my cotton sheets for Ena's linen sheets. At least I know they were made by workers who are not slaves to fear. For I am sure that even if this cotton comes from Dalath, the hearts of men there are the same as in Havilah. “Perhaps we will learn more at the sea,” says Jared. “They tell me it is a place of great exploration. The bravest take their boats and set out looking for new shores. Perhaps, along one of those shores, they have seen the Garden . . . ” He is still looking over his map as I drift off to sleep. It is five days later when we arrive at the Great Sea. It is a remarkable sight, both the city and the water. I have never seen so much water and it stretches on forever. We moor at one of the hundreds of docks lined along the shore and step out onto the rocky ground. We wish the traders Godspeed and with genuine warmth, the head-trader wishes us well in our journeys. Jared takes my hand and we walk along the shore. “What a marvellous vision of Yah,” says my husband. His way of putting it is perfect. It is a scene of infinite splendour, the light playing on the water's surface. But all around us is the bustle of boats being loaded and unloaded with merchandise. We have to walk quite a distance to get to a quiet spot. There are some large rocks, and of one mind, we sit and watch as the sun goes down. Perhaps we are fools for letting the day slip away before finding a lodge for the night, but we have never seen the sun set over such a vast panorama of water. In any case, the city is filled with life and light at night. Many traders stay here for a few days before returning down the river. Taverns are full. We do not peek in to see what pleasures they offer for the passing traveller. Instead, we head up some stairs to 320

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a tall building offering rooms by the day, week or month. We enter into a large foyer with some chairs and tables scattered around. But it is quiet. This seems to be the one place in the city by the sea that does not want to stay up. We notice a door and a notice on it that says to “Knock for Service.” We comply. But the sign is misleading. We do not receive service as much as a begrudging acknowledgement of our existence by a tiredlooking older woman who says to come back in the morning. “I suppose we will have to sleep in your lobby,” says Jared. “We are good people and we will not take refuge in a tavern.” The woman sighs. She tells us to wait and returns with a key for a room. “One night?” she asks. “A week, I think,” says Jared. Our room is on the top floor and offers us an incredible view of the Great Sea. “I will enjoy the sunsets,” I say. Jared nods. But he is already pulling out his map and lighting the oil lamp in order to study it. I examine the bed. It will be a much more comfortable sleep than the one I had last night on the boat. The next morning we set out for breakfast. The taverns offer nothing by way of morning meals. They are closed and some of them even have men sleeping in their doorways. The marketplace is waking up and we buy some hot bread and a mug of sweetened coffee from a woman who has a small but thriving eatery. Benches and tables are filled with people all eating the same as us. There is nothing else on the menu. There are a lot of single men here, young and old. Jared starts talking to one of the older men, asking him if he has done a lot of sailing in his life. The man shakes his head. He does not want to talk and keeps his eyes on his mug of coffee. A young man speaks up. “I have sailed all four rivers,” he boasts. Jared's eyes light up. But he quickly discovers that it is an idle boast. The youth hardly knows anything beyond the Pishon. We stay longer than any of the patrons and Jared makes many attempts to get a conversation going. I notice that the large, red321


headed lady who runs this establishment is washing mugs and watching us with amusement. “You are seeking information,” she says when we are, at last alone. The morning meal has passed and it is a natural lull in business for her. “Yes, I am,” says Jared earnestly. He is not aware that she has been following everything that has gone on so far. “My husband is a sailor,” the lady says. “That is why I came here. I got tired of never seeing him.” She shrugs. “Now I see him a few times a month.” “Would he be able to tell us where the Garden of Eden is?” Jared asks eagerly. The woman just stares at him and then laughs. “The Garden of Eden!” she says. “I thought that was just a myth!” “No,” says Jared. “It is real. Our Father Adam lived there.” “Our Father Adam,” says the lady, shaking her head, as if she doubts his existence too. “Then I take it your husband would have no idea where the Garden of Eden is,” I say, leaning forward. Perhaps this conversation would go better if it were woman-to-woman. The woman snorts. “Oh, you can talk to him and he will tell you some wild tales. I expect him back two or three days from now . . . ” “We will be back,” Jared promises. We pay for our breakfast and head out into the sun. We are still within sight of the sea, even in this bustling market. Every street seems to lead down to the water and there is moisture in the air, a quite different sensation than being by the banks of the Tigris. The city is as big as Enoch, but with the feeling of being less permanent, more of a trader's outpost. Only the occasional giant is here and they are security guards escorting rich traders. “What do we do now?” I ask. Jared glances at the stores surrounding the crowded plaza. Many of them have sea products – shells, huge bags of salt, sponges, edible sea plants, skincare products. Most of the business here is related to boats – whole stores devoted to rope, anchors, pitch to prevent leaking, replacement rudders and oars, barrels, baskets. The final industry that thrives is weapons and shields for defence. 322

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As we keep walking, we pass a whole yard full of planks for boat repair. A signs advertises boats made to owner's specifications. Jared turns in to the yard. It is fenced in and there is a giant on guard at the entranceway. “Yes?” he grunts. “We would like to talk to someone,” he says. At first I think that Jared has decided that we need our own boat for exploring. I am semi-alarmed. “Your oldest employee,” Jared continues. The giant grunts again and we end up in the office of the yard's manager. “Now,” he says, folding his hands on his desk. It is filled with blueprints for boats. “Would you like your own boat, then?” Jared shakes his head. “I am looking for the point where the four rivers converge. I was wondering if any of your men might have come across it in their travels.” The manager just stares at him and then laughs. “I will tell you a secret,” he says. Jared leans forward. “The best boatbuilders are the men who have never sailed the Great Sea.” I sigh. Jared looks disappointed. “Why do you want to know?” the man asks. A cunning look crosses his face. “Is there money to be had in discovering the point where the four rivers meet?” Jared shakes his head. “It is only a personal journey.” He stands up. “I am sorry to have taken up your time.” “Think nothing of it,” says the man, walking us to his door. “And remember to come to me if you ever need a boat.” Jared agrees and we are soon back on the street. “We might have to seek out the more disreputable places,” I say. “I do not want to do that, Baraka,” says Jared. “And no one would give the information away for free. The love of money would cause many to fabricate a story and how would we verify it without actually travelling . . . ” His voice drifts off in discouragement. 323


My eyes scan the streets. Dilapidated signs above tavern doors advertise wine, beer and female company. “Maybe we are talking to the wrong people,” I say. I take Jared's hand and drag him into a tavern. He resists at first and then follows me, but looking at me as if I have lost my reason. I go straight up to a long wooden counter where a middleaged man is cleaning some mugs with a cotton rag. “No service until afternoon,” he says. “We do not want a drink,” I say. “We want some female company.” Jared and the man are equally as shocked. “Well, that is a first,” he mutters. “I suppose I could dig up something for you, though most of the ladies like to have a sleepin after their late nights. Any preference? Golden hair? Dark hair?” “Grey hair,” I say, grinning. “Grey hair? We do not have too many of those.” “OK,” I say. “I just want to, er, visit with your most, how shall I say this? Mature lady.” “Well,” says the man. “There is Mara and I daresay she will be awake. She does not get too many customers these days.” “Perfect,” I say. “Can we see her?” “There is a matter of money,” says the man, putting down the mug and the rag. “But since you are clearly crazy and Mara will be thrilled to have some customers, I will give you to her for the low price of one bronze coin.” It is the same price as our breakfast and Jared passes the coin over to him without complaint. I think Jared figures out that I am trying to go at this a different way. Mara is hardly prepared for company, but the man thoughtlessly opens the door on her and calls out, “Customers!” I see the surprised look on the older woman's face. She is, perhaps, only 500-years-old, but her face is worn with care and rough living. Her presence here is, no doubt, a testimony to the tavern owner's kindness in continuing to provide for the women even after they are no longer desired by his customers. “What is this?” says Mara, staring at Jared and I. She is seated on the edge of an unmade bed, wearing a robe that slips off her shoulder in a provocative way. She has a dresser covered in skincare products and cosmetics, as well as a mirror to apply them in front of. 324

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I glance back to make sure the man is gone. “We just want to talk,” I say, sitting down beside her on the bed. Jared remains standing in the doorway. “I have not done anything wrong,” she says, looking first at me and then at Jared. “I know, I know,” I say quickly. “It is just that my husband and I are on a journey and we thought that you might be able to help us.” Mara is just staring at me. I cannot imagine what she must be thinking right now. “We want to find the Garden of Eden,” I say quickly. “And we know that it should be near the point where the four rivers meet. We were hoping that you might know of a sailor who has been to that location.” Mara continues to stare at me. “That is all?” she asks. “That is all you want?” I nod. “Well, that is easy then,” she says, tossing back her long greying hair. “The man you want to talk to is Harpatka.”

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I do not know if it is customary but Mara gets another bronze coin from us and a warm thank you for directing us to Harpatka. He is an old sailor, “older than me,” says Mara. And from what we gather, he is her only steady customer anymore. They go way back together, to the days when Harpatka first arrived in the city. He is one of the few people who now makes the city his permanent home. He had a wife and a child in Cush, but Mara gathered that the wife died when giving birth to a second child and her parents would not let him have the first child since they never particularly liked the idea of their daughter marrying a sailor. “But he has seen more of the earth than any man I know,” says Mara. “Those were the days when the traders were looking for new routes. Now they just stay on the Pishon and the Tigris. It became a dull life for men like Harpatka. I am sure one day he will buy his own boat and disappear on the horizon.” With this thought in mind, Jared and I hurry to the one other place where Mara thinks we might find Harpatka. She has never been to his apartment, but she knows he favours a tavern along the water when he is not visiting with her. 327


It is too early in the day for Harpatka to be frequenting the tavern, the bartender tells us. Like the one at Mara's tavern, he is cleaning mugs before his customers begin arriving again. “But he will be here when the sun goes down,” the man assures us. “I get the impression he has very few other places to go.” We nod and say we will come back later. He eyes us and says we are not the usual type of people that frequent his establishment. I think he is concerned for our safety. Jared acknowledges this with a nod and says, “That is the price we must pay.” This enigmatic answer intrigues the man and we end up staying longer in his tavern. In fact, he serves us a free meal, the conversation becomes so interesting to him. He apologizes for the simple fare – seasoned potatoes and breaded onions, both fried in oil. They are excellent accompaniments to his beer, he explains. Being seasoned with salt, they make his customers thirsty so that they order more beer. Although, to us, he offers some sweetened wine that he purchased from the traders. Our plan to journey to Eden fascinates him. “I am so tempted to drop everything and just join you,” he says, his mugs forgotten. “I have to admit, very few people talk about Yah here, but one of the reasons I came here was to find something. I do not know what, really, but to hear you talk, I honestly believe it is Yah that I wanted to find.” “You are welcome to join us,” says Jared. The man stares out at the water. He has a magnificent view of the Great Sea. “It is that water that made me stay,” he says, after a moment or two. “It was so vast and grand, I suppose I mistook it for Yah. Do you suppose we can know him through his creation?” Jared stares out at the ocean. It is a profound question. “No,” he says, at last. “He made the Great Sea just because he is that way. But to know him we must meet him. My son Enoch knew him.” “Yet you came here to look for him,” says the man shrewdly. Jared nods. “I missed my opportunity. So, as you say, now I am here.” “Trying to return to the Garden,” the man muses. “Yes, I think Harpatka may be able to help you. He has seen the world. 328

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But his god is adventure, not Yah.” “I think to know Yah is the greatest adventure of all,” I say. The man looks at me and nods slowly. “You could be right. But to whom does Yah grant that adventure?” “I have ceased to ask that question,” says Jared. “I only know that I must pursue him or die in the attempt. Life is meaningless, otherwise.” He glances at me. “My wife and I have seen a lot and heard a lot, but none of it is of any value to me unless I see Yah and hear his voice. If he is the last sight I see and the last thing I hear, so be it.” The man grins at us. “Your devotion is commendable and you almost had me convinced. But I think I cannot travel as far as you are willing to.” He looks back out at his spectacular view. “I have my sea and I think that will be all of Yah I ever know.” We part on good terms, promising to come back in the evening. The Great Sea is too tantalizing to just return to our room. Today I feel as if I have seen my husband's heart. I take his hand and we watch the scene in silence. Again, activity is everywhere as crates and baskets and casks and huge clay jars are loaded and unloaded from ships by muscular men. Jared suggests we stroll along the pathway by the docks again. When we arrive at the rocks where we sat the first night, we discover that, by day, the sea is for swimming in. The water is filled with bathers who are splashing around, although some of them, further out, are doing strokes with their arms that keep them above water. I have seen swimmers on the river, but these ones seem braver to me. The river has the comfort of a shore on either side. We walk even further until we come to a quiet spot and once again, just sit and watch the waves on the water. It is both soothing and mesmerizing, like watching the flames of a fire. There is randomness and yet, an unseen hand controls it. This vast, mighty sea has its boundaries set in place by Yah. When the sun starts to drop to the horizon, we return along the water's edge to the tavern. The tavern owner greets us with a smile and nods his head slightly toward an older man sitting at the end of one of the long 329


tables. We sit beside him. “Buy you a beer, my friend?” says Jared. Harpatka looks surprised. “I do not usually get such an offer. But I will not say no.” Jared smiles. “I have an ulterior motive.” “Everyone does,” says Harpatka, draining his mug. A woman who puts me in mind of Mara comes to our end of the table to see if we want anything. Jared orders beer and potatoes and onions for all of us. Harpatka looks impressed with this act of generosity. “We are looking for the point where the four great rivers meet,” says Jared, not wasting any time. Harpatka looks amused. “And you thought that I would know of such a point?” Jared nods. “I do not know who you have talked to . . . ” I am expecting him to tell us that we have been misinformed and am surprised when he finishes by saying, “. . . but you have come to the right man.” “Then you do know?” says Jared, eagerly. “Oh yes,” says Harpatka, nodding. “In my younger days I did a lot of travelling. It is one of the many sights I have seen and a mighty sight it is.” The woman returns with our drinks and food. “Would you be able to take us there?” Jared asks as Harpatka downs half his mug before it even makes it to the table. Harpatka shakes his head. “Only a fool would go there.” “What do you mean?” “It is death.” We wait for him to explain. “I only narrowly escaped dying there myself. There was a time when we could navigate it. Not that there was any good reason to do so, just the thrill of passing Eden . . . ” Jared grips my hand. “And some of the animals still live there,” continues Harpatka. “It was a good place to get animal hides too, when they came down to the water. But it was a bit of a wild place. We always came in on the Gihon. A choppy, white river . . . ” 330

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I can tell that my husband is eager to ask questions but is masterfully restraining himself as Harpatka seems lost in his own thoughts. “And then, one day,” says Harpatka, his eyes on his mug. “A few of us spotted some zebras in the woods, along the shore of the Pishon. Now, at that time, no one knew of zebras. Horses, of course, but not zebras. We all agreed that if we had some of those hides, the coins would fill our pockets to overflowing. But the creatures saw us and they began to gallop along the banks of the river. The wind was with us and we pursued them until they were tired and paused to drink.” Jared nods understandingly. “We were all pretty good with a bow and arrow, but the water had become too choppy to take careful aim so there was fear that we would miss. We agreed that we would shoot from the shore, rather than the boat. The only question was, how to retrieve the hides? We were now within a bow's shot away from where the four rivers turn into one. One of the more brave sailors suggested going to the point where the rivers meet and then coming upstream on the Pishon, before returning to pick us up. Naturally, for a feat like that, we would all share in the profits.” More nodding on our part. “We took our position behind some bushes and waited.” Harpatka's eyes are on the wall but in his mind he is back along the banks of the Gihon. “The boat carried on. It had never gone that far before. It was a matter of pride to always go past the entrance of the Garden. You always got a glimpse of the cherubim guarding the entrance to the Garden on the east side and it was a fearful sight. None of us would admit it, but it was. Almost looking at the thing made my knees go weak. I cannot imagine what the experience would be to face that thing head on. But we were men and we proved ourselves by turning the boat around at that very point where you could see the terrifying light that the heavenly creature gave off. This was the only day we went further.” I look at Jared. His eyes are wide, no doubt, as wide as mine are. “At first, my eyes were on the zebra. But then we began to realize that something had gone wrong for our men on the boat. Very wrong. The boat wasn't turning around, it was twirling 331


around and the men on board were helpless to do anything about it. We watched with increasing concern. We stood up, forgetting about the zebra. But there was nothing we could do to help. We watched in horror as the boat turned faster and faster until finally it was sucked right into the great river.” Harpatka drains his mug and stares into his empty cup. Jared quickly hands him his own untouched mug and Harpatka begins sipping it without even looking at Jared. All around us, the tavern is bustling with rowdy patrons. Like the tavern that Mara lives in, this one also has women and private rooms. The patrons enjoy calling out lewd remarks to any man going off to one of them. But at our little end of the table, it is quiet. “I do not think any boat has returned to the spot,” says Harpatka, at long last. “We spread the word, of course. It took us about one full turn of the moon to get back to a point where a boat could pick us up. Even in those days, very few people went that way, except a few crazy adventurers like ourselves. Eden is probably a trader's paradise if one could get past that cherubim. But no one has tried, as far as I know.” Again, we fall to silence. It is Jared who breaks it this time. “Would you be able to make a map of how to get to that point?” “Of course,” says Harpatka. He glances at us shrewdly. “I am a little behind on my rent. It would be helpful if I could pay up til next year. I work down by the docks but my back has been giving me trouble and I would not mind taking a rest.” “And how much rent would we be talking about?” asks Jared. Harpatka thinks for a bit and decides that two pieces of silver would give him a nice long vacation from the docks. Jared does not look annoyed at this extravagant request. “That is acceptable,” he says. “If you make the map, we will return tomorrow with the two pieces of silver.” I admire the wisdom of my husband. He has all our money in a hidden pouch, but it would not be prudent to pull it out in this rough environment and even if he did, we would not have a map. Harpatka agrees to meet us tomorrow at the same time. Jared and I set out, in the breezy night air, for our room. I breathe a prayer to Yah for protection, both now and in the days to come. A whirlpool! What sailor is going to risk his life, and his 332

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boat, on a journey to Eden? Jared is thinking the same thing. “We will need a small boat,” he says. I smile in the darkness and reach for his hand. “Are we sailors now?” I see him nod. “Now we just need a map.”

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Except that Harpatka does not appear the next night. Or the night after. We ask the tavern owner if he has any idea where the older man might be, but he just shrugs, not interested. We even go back to Mara's tavern. But she has not seen him. “If you do, send him my way,” she says with a wink. When he does not appear at the tavern the third night, Jared and I have to conclude that we probably will not see him again. We have also had morning coffee and bread every morning at the same establishment, but the woman's husband has not returned and she is grim. “He does this some time. He could be as far as Enoch by now.” “Well, that is that then,” I say, back in our room. “No map.” “Not necessarily,” says Jared, pulling out the map that he put together on the trader's boat. “I was assuming that the coast runs from north to south. We are here.” He points. “But I have been thinking of this logically. The Pishon runs into the Great Sea. That is what made me think that this must also be close to the point where the four rivers meet. But what if . . . ” 335


He runs his finger north of where we are, and then slides it east. “What if the coast turns this way?” I am paying close attention now. “It would be the only way,” I say slowly. He nods. “If the Pishon joins up with the other rivers, it would have to do so at some point far east of here, some point in our travels that we have not visited. Therefore, the coast must turn at some point . . . ” Now it is my finger that is tracing that speculative route of a coastline that turns rather than continuing straight. “So we can do this,” I say, looking up at Jared. “But why go north? Why not go south and then east?” Jared shrugs. “We are south and yet I have never heard of anyone who has seen Eden, or even mentioned passing near it.” I nod. “That makes sense. So we will go up the coast then,” I muse, still staring at the map. “We will avoid the whirlpool that way,” says Jared. “And we will be most cautious.” “It is a good thing we talked to Harpatka,” I say, “or we could have easily decided to navigate the one river, rather than return home down the coast.” Jared is silent. Perhaps he has no intention of returning home. But, in any case, the next few days are too busy for us to think about home. We go back to the boatyard and the manager is pleased to see us. We tell him we want to do some sailing on the Great Sea, but do not need anything large as it is just the two of us. “What adventurers!” he says with approval. I rather doubt he has ever been on the water himself, but he proves himself worthy by showing us a small boat that he acquired in a wager. It has both a sail and a rudder to steer it. “You would have to use the oars if the winds were against you,” he says, looking at us with doubt. Perhaps we do not look strong enough to row. He does not know how many trees Jared has felled and split into firewood, nor the number of hours I have worked in my garden and courtyard. 336


“I never cared for this boat,” says the trader turning back to the boat. “But it was either that or sell the man into slavery to get my money. And I am not a harsh man.” He beams at us. “I will give it to you for five pieces of silver, which is what the man owed me. And for an extra piece of silver,” he adds, “I can have my men go over it and make sure it is seaworthy.” That seems like a good investment, so we leave our boat with him and promise to return the next day for it. The remainder of the day is spent purchasing supplies from the market, dried fruit and oil and flour and whatever else we can find that will hold up to a long journey. We will certainly not be able to prepare any food in our small boat, so we will be going ashore anytime we want to make a fire, or even sleep for that matter. Unlike Harpatka, the owner of our boat is trustworthy and we return the next day to find it ready to go. He tells us that his boatyard has a dock, number 157, and if we carry the boat down to there, we can use it to load our supplies. We thank him and two men help us to turn the boat upside down so that we can carry it ourselves, on our shoulders. Among the settlements of Seth, we would be a strange sight moving through the streets like this, but this is a city devoted to sailors and boats so we do not cause anyone to take even a second glance at us. By midday, we are loaded and ready to go. Having never sailed on our own, it is a matter of trial and error. In order to navigate these heavily populated waters, we start with me at the rudder and Jared with the oars. Thankfully, dock number 157 is on the north side of the city and very few people, if any, go in the direction that we are headed. Everyone either goes south, where it is heavily populated with villages, or down the Pishon. “Just the fact that very few people built settlements on the north side of the Pishon makes me wonder,” says Jared, who has turned his attention to the sails. “There must be a reason, even if it has long since been forgotten.” He licks a finger and holds it up to the wind, then sighs. “The wind is against us, I am afraid. It looks like it will be the oars for us.” Jared arranges two sacks of potatoes on either side of the rudder to keep it in place, while we each take an oar. At least it is 337


calm along the coast. I would not want to venture out too far though. Who knows what the water is like past the horizon? After years of working separately, it feels right that Jared and I should now be doing something together. We get a rhythm of rowing going and then we talk. There are new sights – different trees and bushes, even some animals we have never seen before. As the sun gets lower on the horizon, Jared is keeping an eye on the shore for a place for us to land and spend the night. Finally, at twilight, he sees a cove. Most of the shore is rocky, but here, the rock has been ground down into fine sand and we can just drift right into it without doing damage to the bottom of our boat. “How far inland should we go?” asks Jared, grinning. Our boat is safely on the sand and I am going through it to see what to have for dinner. I turn to look at him. We passed a settlement of some sort about an hour ago and since then I have not seen a single person on the shore. But we did see some animals that I would not want to encounter. Adam might be able to tame a lion but I am not so sure that Jared and I would be naturals at calming the beasts with our words. Still, God gave Adam and his children dominion over the animals. I grin back. “I am willing to go as far as you are.” I call his bluff. After collecting some fallen branches for our evening fire, Jared is content to get comfortable on the sand. I roast some potatoes. We brought freshwater along with us, but we will have to keep our eyes open for rivers that run into the sea so we can replenish our supply. We stretch out on the sand, with me using Jared's chest as a cushion. He is soon asleep but I find it difficult to sleep. It is not just the discomfort of the ground, or even the real or imaginary sounds coming from the forest. It is more a matter of not knowing where this is going to end. I would be content to find Yah in our own forest, but perhaps Jared is right. Perhaps we must go further now to find Yah. Though my mind is prepared to stay up late into the night mulling these things over, my body is exhausted and sleep comes. I awake to a small bear licking my face. My scream wakes Jared and the creature runs into the woods. “I am sorry,” I say, now almost laughing as I wipe my face. 338


“He startled me. Such an odd little bear. He had black circles around his eyes, like a mask.” We boil water for tea and eat some of our bread before starting out again. I feel stiff and sore but soon we are both pulling in rhythm and making good progress. We pass a settlement but do not stop. “Perhaps we should stock up on more supplies,” I say, turning around. “I imagine they are self-sufficient and not used to traders,” says Jared. “We have not passed any other boats since the Pishon.” That night we make camp in a small grassy patch by the water's edge. It has the advantage of a small stream running into the sea. I want to conserve our supplies and move into the forested area to look for something edible. A line of acacia trees are growing near the edge of the forest. I harvest some of their pods. “I think you worry too much, Baraka,” says Jared, following me, no doubt to protect me from small masked bears. I nod in the dim light. “I probably do,” I say. “It is one of my few faults. No dear, that one is poisonous.” Jared has selected a particularly lovely large mushroom. “Nava learnt that the hard way and Edna and I had to purge her with mustard to get it out of her system.” Jared tosses the mushroom back down on the ground. I hand him my basket and he holds it as I fill it with herbs and edible mushrooms. “Oh good,” I say, as we encounter an almond tree. The rest of my basket is filled with as much of the fruit as we can reach on the ground. “We will save these.” We head back to our spot by the stream. I mix some of the rice in with a stew of mushrooms and herbs and acacia pods. Sleep comes easily after a hard day of rowing, with only the light of the moon and stars to illuminate. No animal disturbs my sleep tonight, but I am well aware that they are in the forest, moving around its edges. Our fire is the only deterrent to them coming any closer to us. 339


“I was not aware the earth was so large,” says Jared. We have been rowing or sailing, depending on the wind, for three weeks now. There have been no more settlements. Right now we are taking turns rubbing each other's stiff shoulders. “At least your theory that the shore curves east was proven right,” I say. Jared groans, as I massage his aching muscles. “It certainly appears that way, yes. Though we would need a bird's view to be sure.” I nod. I had thought that we would encounter the Great River in our first week, thinking back to the time when Father Adam and Mother Eve were expelled from their first home. I doubt they travelled any further than a week. But now I am realizing that the settlement I visited was probably not their first home outside of Eden. My theory is that they moved on when Cain did. After all, I never saw any kind of marker to indicate the burial site of Abel when I was there. Perhaps it is the memory of this first murder that makes this land undesirable to settle in. We are in desperate need of fresh water so my mind continually dwells on the hope of the Great River. Tonight, what has saved us from despair is the discovery of a cucumber vine growing near the edge of the shore. Jared and I devoured three cucumbers each in our thirst. Tomorrow, before we set out, I will harvest the rest for eating in the boat. “I have been a fool,” Jared says the next day. The sun is high above, we are down to our last cucumber each. There is no river flowing into the sea. I shake my head as we continue to row. Today, the air is still and sailing is impossible. “Pursuing Yah is not foolish.” “I am dragging you to your death,” says Jared. “I came along willingly.” “You are a mother. You should be home with your children.” “My children stopped needing me years ago.” Jared sighs and pauses to rub his eyes. I take a break too. “Oh Baraka, I will not . . . ” I do not know what he is going to say because suddenly, I hear a noise. It is distant. I would not have heard it except that we 340


stopped rowing. The coast takes a sharp curve so we cannot see what is ahead. But I can hear it. So can Jared. His eyes light up and there is new life in him. He does not have to tell me to row. We just both start and do not stop until we have made it around the bend. There, an awesome sight is waiting for us. It is the majesty of one river pouring into the sea – a river that is wider than the Pishon, Gihon, Tigris and Euphrates all combined together. “We will be pushed out to sea!” murmurs Jared. Already, the force of the river is carrying us out further from the shore. With all our strength, we row against it and manage to make it to the water's edge. Jared uses his final bit of strength to haul our boat up with us onto the dry land. Then, with the sound of rushing waters so close by, we both fall onto the ground, exhausted. I move first and look over at Jared. Reaching for his hand, I move closer to him and in his half-asleep state, he puts an arm around me. “We made it,” I whisper. “We did,” he whispers. Slowly, we sit up and look at where we are. The river is terrifying. Where it meets the sea, it is frothing and foaming. I can see why only the adventurers chose to come this way, while the traders who wanted to come back alive did not take a scenic detour to Eden. “But how do we get across?” The side we are on is not Paradise. In fact, there is a thorn bush a few feet from my head. Jared stands up and looks inland at the raging river. “We will walk down the bank,” he said. “There will be a place to cross . . . ” But he sounds doubtful. I stand up and join him. “As long as we avoid the whirlpool,” I say. “We will,” he says, starting to pack up our small camp. “We will have to carry everything. So hopefully it will not be a long trek.” But it is a long trek. And as we struggle under the load of our boat, the Garden is on the other side. The plants are lush, overgrown, and my impression is they are more vibrant in colour 341


than what we have in the fallen world. Jared is also captivated by the Garden. His eyes do not leave it. We stop occasionally so that Jared can toss a stick into the river. The stick gets carried away by the water and does not disappear into a whirlpool so we know we have not passed it yet. But when we do encounter the whirlpool, we need no stick to tell us that this is the spot where Harpatka witnessed the demise of his fellow-adventurers. We put down our boat and stare in awe. “I have never seen anything like that,” says Jared. It sounds like a whisper but he has had to shout to be heard. The waters swirl at the point where the one river turns into four. Cautiously, I step back further from the bank. No one would survive such a force should they have the misfortune to lose their footing and fall into the water. “Perhaps we will be able to cross one of the rivers,” says Jared, looking further inland. But immediately we see the problem. The rivers go in different directions. The most natural course for us to take is to follow along the banks of the one closest to us, the most southern one. In fact, its shore and the shore of the one river are the same. We would have to walk quite a distance before we could cross it because it is still a raging river in its own right. But crossing over the smaller river will not bring us to the Garden, only to more land and the second river. We will end up having to cross all four rivers in order to get across to Paradise. “It is not an easy undertaking,” I say. Jared shakes his head. “It makes me wonder if Yah has intentionally put this whirlpool here as a deterrent. And what more obstacles await us if we choose to continue?” I look across at the Garden. It is only the outer edges of it, but it is different from the land surrounding it. Longing overtakes me. It is not the effortless greenery, as much as it is the presence of Yah. Does Yah still inhabit this one piece of His perfect creation? Jared looks down at the boat. “Let us leave this here and walk on until we know what to do.” I am happy to leave behind this burden. We have no more supplies, so we will be able to walk completely unencumbered. 342


Able to move faster now, we walk for an hour, maybe two. And then there is a flash of light on the other side. It pierces my heart and I grab Jared's hand. Wordlessly, I point. But he has seen it already. It is only a glimpse of light, but I feel terror. Not the terror of Samjaza's fingers around my throat. This is a different sensation, one of holy terror and awe. Jared hesitates. Part of him wants to get closer, part of him wants to run. “Harpatka saw the being and survived,” he says to himself. “But we cannot see it,” I say. “We are not close enough.” We have the disadvantage of being on the river that is furthest from the Garden. “There must be a way to get closer . . . ” says Jared, looking around. For my part, I do not need to see the heavenly being. But Jared does. He has now turned away from the river and is examining some of the tall trees that run along the edge of the forest. “Surely not . . . ” I begin. “I know I am not as young as I once was,” says Jared, already reaching up for a low branch to pull himself up onto. From there he moves up with surprising speed, driven by eagerness to see the entranceway to the Garden. I stand below and watch him. He reaches a sturdy branch and uses it as a ledge. I am expecting him to call down a report, but he does not. He just stares and stares at a fixed point. There is a loud roar that fills the sky. I jump and Jared grips the trunk of the tree. I scan the sky for signs of a flying lizard or any other menacing creature. Then I look back up at Jared. Jared is scanning the whole area. Then he comes down a lot slower than he went up, looking pale and weakened. He sits right down on the ground and I join him. It takes a few minutes before he can speak. “Such a thing I have never seen,” he says finally. “Tell me!” I say eagerly. “Such a face.” Jared just shakes his head. “And not just one, but from what I could tell, four faces! All of them different.” “How could this be?” Jared has to think before answering. 343


“One was a face unlike any I have ever seen. Then there was a second face, more human. Then a third like a lion.” I think of Adam's pet, Ariel. “The fourth was more like, well, like an eagle.” I just stare at him. He looks down at me and nods. “It is incredible, is it not? And the creature had wings.” “What was that noise?” I say. “That was the creature moving his wings. I think he was looking at me.” I stare across the river, though I can see nothing except the water and the green. “I was terrified,” says Jared. “But I had to see the Garden. So I looked. I thought it might cost me my life.” He takes my hand. “But I had to see it.” I nod. “And what did you see?” I ask softly. “Paradise,” he whispers. I sit and say nothing. My husband has risked all for his one look of what Man has lost. I will not pry and tear the memory from him. He is just staring at the mighty river with unseeing eyes. “Perhaps this is the closest we will get,” says Jared at last, sounding almost normal. I am fine with that. This is not my journey. This is his. I have felt Yah's presence in our very woods at home. I long, just the same, for this Garden, but do not know if Yah would ever let us see more than what we are looking at now. “Life is on the other side of that river,” says Jared. “But Harpatka is right. Certain death is in front of us.” We continue walking, following the bank of the southernmost river. But it will not take us closer to the Garden, only further if we keep following it. Like Harpatka, we can see some wonderful creatures emerge from the foliage of the Garden. The enormous grey creatures with huge ears, long white tusks and noses that look like hoses. Large cats like Ariel but with stripes. Brown bears that would tower over us if we were beside them. Now I am glad there is a river between us. The creatures come to the edge of the Gihon for a drink before ambling back to their refuge. For surely, there 344


is no safer home for an animal than this Garden. But we are no closer to Paradise on this side of the river. “We will return,” says Jared. And so we go back, tightly holding hands as we pass the flash of light. After a couple of hours, we are back to the whirlpool and our boat. Jared sits down in the dirt on the edge of the forest. If we had been on the other side of the river, we would have verdant grass to lounge on. “This is where Yah has put the obstacle, so this is where we will stay?” I say to him. “Something like that,” says Jared, half-smiling. He detects the amusement in my voice. “I still have not seen Yah.” Yah does not appear to us, but there is enough to keep our minds occupied. Birds swoop down from the tall trees of the garden – colourful, exotic creatures that I have never seen before. As far as I can tell, they fly for the sheer joy of it. No doubt, the Garden provides them with their food and they are spared the hunt for insects and seeds that occupy the birds outside of Paradise. It is not until nighttime that I have my encounter with the Divine.

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346

Chapter Thirty Eight

“Baraka! Baraka!” It is a whisper. I look around. We drifted off to sleep, not easy with a swirling whirlpool nearby and nothing to eat. I fell asleep practically in the forest, having no desire to accidentally roll into the river in the night. But Jared chose to stay closer to the shore. He stayed up later than me too, tending the fire, his eyes on the Garden across the river, watching and waiting. By the light of the remaining embers, I can see he is still there, now stretched out sleeping. A rustling in the trees makes me look up. “Baraka.” The voice is in my heart, not in my ears. “Yes, Yah?” I whisper. “Go home.” It is a gentle admonition and I do not get the sense that it is due to any urgency back home, only that what we are seeking is not here. “Yes, Yah,” I whisper. The rustling in the trees dies away. The night is still. I crawl to where Jared is sleeping and shake him awake. “What!” He sits straight up. “Did you see something?” 347


“No,” I say. “I heard something.” “It was just an animal,” Jared murmurs, lying back down, obviously tired. “Sleep here by me, Baraka, if you are afraid. Do not worry so much.” I sigh. The message from Yah was for me, not for Jared. I try to get comfortable on the ground, but sleep does not come easily. Will I turn around and go home by myself tomorrow? I suppose I will have to. Jared may be prepared to remain here on the riverbank for the rest of his life. The next morning, I do not know how I am going to present the idea to Jared that I am going home. We are sitting by the cold fire. There is no food to merit starting it again. Water is not a problem though. Jared has bravely gone to the shore and scooped us out enough to quench our thirst. There is even some leftover to cook something in, if we had anything to cook. I stand up to go forage in the forest. Jared stays by the riverside, moodily staring across at the inaccessible Garden. This forest does not offer anything edible near its edges. It is unusual for a forest. Usually, you can expect the sun-loving plants near the boundaries to yield some fruit. I go deeper into the forest. There is not even a mushroom on the floor. My eyes are scanning everywhere. But, though there are trees and growth, there are no seeds, no fruit. I ponder this. And then it occurs to me with stunning clarity that this must have once been part of the Garden too. The manuscript my father carried said that the four rivers flowed from the Garden. But today, my search for food, for seeds of life, has shown one thing, that the Garden is dying. Though it may offer shelter on this side of the river, it no longer rejuvenates itself. In time, all life here will simply die. Returning to Jared, I report the interesting phenomenon that although there be an abundance of plants, they do not contain any seeds for me to glean. He looks up. “That is ridiculous, Baraka,” he says. It is the first time he has questioned my judgement on such a matter. I have fed him now for hundreds of years so I feel confident in my abilities, even if Jared does not at this moment. 348

Chapter Thirty Eight

I shrug. Jared stands and goes into the forest with me right behind him. “What about that one?” He points. “It is poisonous.” “Look! A raspberry bush!” “It has no fruit.” “Are those not asparagus?” “They are ferns. Alas, not one of the edible kinds.” Finally, Jared has to admit we are defeated. We will starve if we stay. “Well, that is that,” says Jared. “Home it is.” And so, with one final longing look at the part of the Garden that is still fertile, we pick up our boat and carry it along the river's edge. Our first task when we reach the Great Sea is to find something to eat. “Back to the mundane,” says Jared, as we forage along the shore. “The world of mortals. Dust we are and to dust we shall return.” I smile sympathetically. There are tears in my eyes. It could be the salty water or it could be the failure of finding our Tree of Life. There is plantain, as well as some kelp, for our late morning meal. We eat it in silence. Shared experiences have always brought us closer together, but it is a sharing of sorrow. What joy we would have shared had we succeeded! But I cannot dwell too much on the possibilities of what we missed. Yah has spoken to me and shown me that our home is among the sons of Seth.

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350

Epilogue

1422 years after Creation Jared was 830-years-old when his father, Mahalalel, died. I think, in a way, Jared died that day too. He never found pleasure in being the oldest of the sons of Seth. For him, it was just a reminder that life was ebbing away. Today, Noah turned 365. He reminds me so much of my son at that age, a man who seeks after Yah. A sense of tranquility surrounds him. Yet, I do not think it is Yah's intention to carry him away as he did Enoch. There is no reason to celebrate Noah's day of birth. Birthdays come and go. It is a private matter in my heart, to observe the birthday of my eldest son's great-grandson and to watch him as he goes about his life. In the last few years, we have journeyed often to his settlement. It is still just him and Emzara. Yah has not blessed them with children, but I am sure he has his reasons. But on this day of Noah's birth, everyone in our settlement, including Noah and Emzara, is gathered in my home. Jared is in bed. It is such an unusual event. My husband has complained of 351


aches and pains, but he has never taken to his bed like this. He is 962-years-old and he has no illusions about his situation. “I am dying, Baraka,” he says simply. I sit by his bedside holding his hand. I nod, anticipating the people that will be arriving soon from the other settlements to say their goodbyes, once the news goes out. I barely have the strength to receive them myself. Then Jared makes a surprising recovery. The next day, Noah and Emzara help him downstairs and he sits in one of the chairs he has made so long ago. Emzara will not let me into my own courtyard to make tea. She has been a delight these last couple of days, preparing all the meals and letting me sit by my husband. But I am numb. I have been with Jared too long to be able to imagine life without him. Methuselah and Lamech and Noah are all in the sitting room. Soon, Methuselah will be the patriarch of the sons of Seth. If there is any wisdom to pass onto him, the time has passed. My husband sits quietly while the others talk. We are joined by Rasujal and Pyramides who arrive together, without their families. All their children were here yesterday to kiss Jared's forehead and mutter their goodbyes. Jared's two sons pull chairs up to be closer to their father. I can see the concern in their eyes. They are old themselves, but they did not have to think about it until this moment. Not only will they lose their father soon, they will join the oldest generation. But even more than that, I can see the sorrow in their eyes, the sense of lost opportunities. I almost start to weep at the softened hearts. Kalah also arrives alone and comes over to kiss her father on the cheek. She seems to forget about me. I think they all just take it for granted that Mother will carry on as usual. But within, my heart is failing. Kalah joins Emzara in the courtyard and soon they are returning with a tray of tea. The conversation is gently and meandering. In the final days of Jared's life, they do not discuss the everincreasing violence in the world or any pending judgement. Instead, they talk about everyday matters. Rasujal asks Noah about his grapes and there is a conversation about the upcoming harvest. 352

Epilogue

“The earth is full of Yah's steadfast love,” says Jared suddenly. There is a murmur of agreement among the men, even from Rasujal and Pyramides. “When I was younger,” Jared continues. “I did not see that. But I see it now. It is everywhere.” “True, true,” the men agree, nodding. “His mercy will surely prevail,” Jared whispers. Respectfully, they wait for him to continue, but that is all he has to say. Then the conversation returns to life around the settlement. At this point, I excuse myself, saying I am tired. Respectfully, the men, even Jared, rise as I leave the room. It is not until I am upstairs, stretched out on my bed, that I begin to weep. I weep for my firstborn son, my precious son, who I have not seen for 435 years. I weep for the world that has become so wicked and for my kind husband who is dying. But most of all, I weep for Yah, who I have not encountered since that night across from the Garden. I think it is time to sleep. Noah has given me hope, but still, I am tired. It is time to rest now. Before he was taken, Enoch knew his time had come. I have the same premonition. One last prayer and then I will close my eyes. “Oh Yah!” I whisper. “Come soon. Come soon.” THE END

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Author's Note: Controversy surrounds the Nephilim. All that is really known is that the Nephilim were giants. They reappear after the flood of Noah, in the land of Canaan, when the Israelite spies report that they “saw the Nephilim – the sons of Anak, who come from the Nephilim – and we seemed to ourselves like grasshoppers and so we seemed to them.” (Numbers 13:33) But were they the children of the union of the sons of God and the daughters of men in Genesis 6:4? I chose to interpret the passage as, yes, they were. The controversy is really centred around the term, “sons of God.” In other passages in the Old Testament, this term is used to describe angels. Some people have preferred to understand the Genesis passage to mean that royalty was attracted to the daughters of men, or even that the sons of Seth took wives among the daughters of Cain. I don't think this is consistent with the Hebrew and so chose the more sensational interpretation that angels and women produced a race of giants. The apocryphal book of Enoch (quoted in Jude 14-15) supports this idea too. The New Testament offers interesting insights into the topic. First Peter 3:18-20 and 2 Peter 2:4-5 indicate that some of the angels sinned at the time of Noah and were held in chains in darkness until a time of judgement. Jesus says in Luke 20:35-36 that angels do not marry which would explain why it was considered a sin for them to do so. In Joshua 15: 14, three of the descendants of Anak were driven out of Hebron by Caleb, an event that is also referred to in Judges 1:20. This is the last we hear of the enigmatic Nephilim.

Other novels by Jennifer L Armstrong

The society for the betterment of mankind Revolution in C Minor Pink gin Somewhere between Longview and Miami Last king of Damascus The Unlikely Association of Meg and Harry Death Among the Dinosaurs Prophet A Good Man The Kent family adventures

The Treasure of Tadmor The Strange sketch of Sutton The Hunt for the cave of Moravia The Search for the sword of Goliath The Buried gold of Shechem The Cache of Baghdad The Walls of Jerusalem The Missionary’s Diary Non-fiction by Jennifer L. Armstrong

Dreaming in Arabic (A non-fiction narrative)

I t i s r u mo u r e dt h a t Y a hmo v e s a mo n gt h es e t t l e me n t s o f S e t h .

Havilahlivesandworksinthefirstcity—Enoch.Nearby,men

t o i l i nt h ec o p p e rmi n e s ; wh i l eh e rb r o t h e r( T u b a l Ca i n )c r a f t s e x q u i s i t ep i e c e so fb r o n z ewo r kt h a ts h ea n dh e rs i s t e r ( Na a ma h )wi l l s e l l i nt h ema r k e t p l a c e . Af t e ras h o c k i n gr e v e l a t i o n ,Ha v i l a hr e a l i s e sh e rp e r s o n a l c o n n e c t i o nt ot h eb o o ko f f o r g o t t e nk n o wl e d g e —t h a t h a sb e e n k e p ti nan e g l e c t e dt r u n kb yh e rf a mi l yf o ra sl o n ga ss h ec a n r e me mb e r .S e e k i n gd e e p e ru n d e r s t a n d i n g ,s h ewi l lh a v et o l e a v eb e h i n de v e r y t h i n gf a mi l i a ra n df i n dHa wwa —t h emo t h e r o f a l l l i v i n g .

Among the sons of seth

Seth

Seth

Fortune Of Seth Savage

The Seth Material

Sons of the Oak

Sons of the Oak

Sons of the Blood

Sons of the Wolf

Sons of the Oak

Sons of the Titans

Sons Of The Soil

War of the Sons

The Sons of Mars

Sons of the Oak

Sons of the Wolf

Sons of the Wolf

Raising Seth

Chasing Seth

Seth-Apophis

Chasing Seth

Switching Seth

Seth-Apophis

Sons of the Oak

Sons of the Oak

Sons of the Oak

Sons of the Wolf

Sons of the Oak

The Sons of Bingaloo

Sons of the Wolf

Sons of the Blood

Among the sons of seth

Seth

Seth

Fortune Of Seth Savage

The Seth Material

Sons of the Oak

Sons of the Oak

Sons of the Blood

Sons of the Wolf

Sons of the Oak

Sons of the Titans

Sons Of The Soil

War of the Sons

The Sons of Mars

Sons of the Oak

Sons of the Wolf

Sons of the Wolf

Raising Seth

Chasing Seth

Seth-Apophis

Chasing Seth

Switching Seth

Seth-Apophis

Sons of the Oak

Sons of the Oak

Sons of the Oak

Sons of the Wolf

Sons of the Oak

The Sons of Bingaloo

Sons of the Wolf

Sons of the Blood

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