Chapter Fourteen

Eudocea

“Have I any pleasure in the death of the wicked, declares the LORD God, and not rather that he should turn from his way and live?” Ezekiel 18:22

“I told you he’s fine.” Shem spoke to his brothers in an undertone, teeth clenched. “You know scorpions always hold their stingers up like that. Nothing touched him.”

A short distance ahead Father trotted apologetically beside his enraged brother as they descended the ramp and headed in the direction of the house at a furious clip. The unhappiness on Father’s face wrenched Shem’s heart. He could barely endure the astonishing stream of blue expletives aimed at the man who never swore.

 “Does he ever shut up?” Japheth muttered.

“Sometimes.” Shem’s mind cut back to Paseah huddled on the lift, too terrified to utter a sound. He didn’t feel a lot of respect for his uncle at the moment.

“He’s making a big fuss about nothing,” Ham said.

“Not exactly nothing.” Shem increased his speed to catch up with Father. “Uncle was nose to nose with a lion. I was scared, too.”

“First bears and then lions. What’s going on?” Ham asked.

“I can’t figure it out.” Japheth’s eyes narrowed in thought.

Ahead of them Paseah paused his diatribe long enough to bark instructions to slaves who immediately sprang into action. Camels bellowed and grunted. Harness bells jangled while Paseah continued to berate his brother. Noah hovered about his brother, despair written all over his face and posture, saying nothing to protect himself against the vicious tirade.

A bit of Father’s oft-repeated wisdom shimmered in Shem’s mind’s eye. “Do your best to talk to a fool” Father would say, and then in the next breath, “Don’t talk to a fool.” In the past it had sounded nonsensical to Shem – like one of Father’s jokes, but it made sense now that he’d seen that piece of advice in action. Earlier Father had tried to talk his beloved brother into accompanying them on the ark. But now what would be the point of saying anything? Paseah was in full attack mode, ears clamped shut.

Paseah strode on toward the house, modulating his topic only slightly to include Noah’s small home and accuse his brother of forcing his family to live in poverty so he could direct all his resources toward the ark. “It’s little better than a shack and you’ve made your wife live there for at least – what? a hundred and twenty years?” He slowed long enough to give Noah eye contact. “No wait! Let me guess! Your wife had to help you lug rocks to build it, didn’t she?”  When Noah didn’t answer Uncle’s lips curled into a sneer. “You’ve never even bothered keeping a few slaves to spare her, have you?”

Every insult hurled at Father vibrated through Shem. Yes, the house was simple, but welcoming. No, Father didn’t approve of slavery, though he had hired workers for the first few years before his boys grew enough to work hard. But Mother never complained. She often mentioned how she loved the little home where she’d raised three sons.

Every fiber of Shem’s being pulsed with the urge to throttle his uncle, but he held his temper. Any confrontation would only make things worse. Besides, Father wouldn’t allow him to disrespect Paseah.

Shem attempted to pick up the thread of his brothers’ conversation to calm his emotional turmoil. “Yeah, I can’t figure out what’s going on with the lions and bears either, but it’s more than just them. I’ve never seen scorpions on the ark before, have you? Think their appearance has anything to do with the Flood?”

Ham and Japheth didn’t respond and Shem recognized emotions identical to his own playing across his brothers’ features and in their clenched fists. They probably hadn’t even heard him.

Mother came out of the house wringing her hands. Shem hoped she could not make out Uncle’s words at that distance, but she must have heard the racket or she would still be inside dipping candles with Japheth’s wife.

The abuse continued. “You really believe your god will rescue you! He’ll make

me king before he lifts a finger to help you.” Paseah’s mocking made the hair stand up on the back of Shem’s neck. “Who do you think told me to come up here so I’d believe all the things our brothers and sisters say about you? Your god! He told me you were delusional, and you are. What an idiot I was to give all that gold for you!” Paseah sneered in disgust and cursed using the name of the One True God. Uncle had been arrogant in a way that felt almost endearing when they first met. This was entirely different. “You’re going to die of old age with that outlandish monstrosity still stranded on dry land on the top of a mountain.”

“Think he realizes how he’s hurting Father?” Ham asked.

            Shem shook his head. Not in answer to Ham’s question, but because the entire episode was unnerving. He understood that fear prompted Paseah’ behavior, but what difference did that make? They were seeing his true character. The cruelty inside him had pushed away the pleasant facade and poked out its ugly head. With all control gone, Uncle could no longer disguise the evil in his heart.

A clamor from the slaves drew Shem’s attention. They were gesturing toward a lone figure coming up the mountain. A woman. One of Paseah’s slaves ran to her and she collapsed into his arms. “It’s Eudocea!” the slave shouted.

Ham’s bride!

Paseah stopped mid-sentence. “Eudocea?” Anger forgotten, he hurried toward her, beckoning his slave to bring her closer. “Why is she alone?”

Ham stood frozen, all color drained from his face.

After recovering from his own shock, Shem slugged his brother’s arm. “Go!” The younger man shuddered into action. Easily passing his older slower uncle, he reached the woman ahead of Paseah. Tenderly lifting the still form of his betrothed from the slave, Ham gathered her to him with an anguished moan.

“Is she alive?” Shem asked.

The slave shrugged, concern etching his forehead.

Paseah brushed gray powder from her hair. “Ash!”

Holding her close, Ham hurried toward the house. The woman’s arms bounced limply. When he neared the front door, Mother held it open for him. Ulla was already wiping the girl’s forehead with a cloth as Ham carried her inside.

 Though it was difficult to ascertain anything with confidence from that distance, Shem could tell her eyes remained closed. But he’d seen enough to know she was beautiful, and if she lived Ham would be enthralled with her. Devoted to her. Ham didn’t worry as much about character and purity as Shem did.

Paseah stumbled toward the trailhead, confused. “Ash . . . in her hair.” He spun in a circle searching the sky. “Where was the eruption?”

“You won’t be able to see anything from there.” Noah guided his brother by the elbow. “This way.” They climbed a rise where they could look over the trees.

Paseah scanned the horizon and pointed at a distant smoking mountain. “My home. I’ve lost everything.” His words were garbled. Unseeing eyes darted wildly about. “Have to go!” He staggered toward his already-loaded caravan on wobbly legs, moaning audibly.

 “Dear brother.” Noah gripped Paseah’ shoulder, his voice soothing. “Stay with us.”

“I have to . . . go . . . salvage something.” Paseah shrugged Noah away and lifted unsteady hands to his temples. “Claim my property.”

 “No, Brother.” Noah’s eyes spilled over with love. “Only devastation awaits. Live with us.”

Shem could almost hear what Father was thinking. Paseah’ family and home had almost certainly perished when the volcano blew. All indications were that the Flood would begin soon. So even anything that survived would still be wiped away. But if Uncle believed Noah – believed God – and stayed, at least his life would be spared on the ark. And as soon as the heavens opened and the deluge began, he would see the promises of the One True God fulfilled with his own eyes. Paseah would have no choice other than believing then.

Grief twisting his features, Paseah tentatively reached out to hug his brother. “If things are . . . gone . . . I’ll be back.” They clung to one another for awhile and when they separated tears washed both faces. Finally, with the help of one of his slaves, Noah’s beloved brother climbed onto the back of a camel. With a loud protest, it rocked to its feet and swayed down the mountain, the rest of the camels and slaves following.

Out of respect Noah, Shem and Japheth waited until the caravan disappeared from sight before turning their attention to Eudocea. No one had come out of the house to tell them anything about her condition.

“Uncle didn’t wait to find out if she’s dead or alive,” Japheth said as they walked toward the house.

“I’m not sure he cares,” said Shem. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the differences between Father and Paseah. Why had all Father’s siblings turned away from God? It made no sense when Noah and Grandfather Lamech loved God so much. At the memory of Grandfather, unexpected relief washed over Shem. “I’m glad he died when he did.”

“Grandfather?” said Japheth.

“Yes.”

“Because he did not have to watch Paseah?” asked Japheth.

“That’s right.”

“Hard to believe he’s been gone five years.” Father’s voice was quiet. “It’s indescribably sad. I miss him.”

Shem could not tell if he referred to Grandfather or Paseah, but didn’t matter. It was all sad. “Very sad,” he agreed.

But not as sad as Ham would be if Eudocea didn’t make it.

Shem tried to lose himself in the shrill music of crickets as he watched Ham pace in front of the split-log bench beside the house. Back and forth. In and out of the lamplight streaming from the window. Each time Ham stepped close to the opening, light illuminated his worried features. He kept his eyes averted, giving the women in the house privacy as they fought to save his future wife’s life.

Father sat with hands clasped in front of him, head bent, elbows resting on his knees. Japheth mirrored his pose. Shem pressed a sore spot at the base of his back against one of the stones jutting from the wall of the house and wondered when or if Eudocea would gain consciousness.

Nights had grown darker over the last few months, but for some reason tonight seemed darker, even with light from the fire pit continually changing the shapes of rocks and trees. And faces. Shem watched Father’s wrinkles shift with the moving light. Interesting that Father could appear so youthful, so fit and yet boast so many wrinkles.

Shem changed positions to gaze into the pitch black night. Concentrating on crickets failed to distract him -- he empathized too strongly with his brother. Maybe the thick darkness came from the bleakness of evil and uncertainty surrounding them.

 “How long has it been?” Ham asked.

“Five, maybe six hours.” Father answered.

“Will she be okay?” Like a young boy pleading for reassurance from his daddy, Ham beseeched Noah.

“We’re praying.” Father was gentle, but confident. “And Mother has exposed the infected wound to flies.”

“How long before the maggots hatch?”

“A couple of days. And then it’ll take two or three more for them to eat away the infection.” Father answered the questions even though Ham should know how events would unfold. They’d used that method of healing infected wounds for years.

“I’ll haul water to flush it as soon as the blood turns bright.” Ham said.

“Good.” Father said.

Ham’s words hit Shem like a fist to the gut. Saying he’d haul the water alone was Ham’s way of telling his brother to stay out of his business. Things had changed. The two of them would no longer function as a team. Ham and Eudocea would be a new team.

Without Shem.

A zing of loneliness shot through him, and he pushed it aside. Ham was right. Eudocea was Ham’s wife. Ham should be the one to take care of her. Doing anything he could to help her heal would make Ham feel useful.

“She’s in God’s hands, Son,” Father said.

“She’s so pale.”

“God can and will do whatever he chooses,” Father reminded him.

“I don’t even know the color of her eyes.” 

“You know God loves you.”

“And Eudocea,”  Ham said.

“Yes. He loves Eudocea.” Father said.

“If she . . . ,” Ham didn’t finish the thought.

The angst in his brother’s voice tore at Shem. Ham might get on his nerves occasionally, but somewhere down deep he loved his brother. He wanted happiness for him. A wife, that’s what he wanted for Ham. He wanted Ham’s future wife to live. Sitting idly on a bench in order to show support for his brother was ridiculous. A silly custom. He couldn’t stay here a moment longer.

And Ham shouldn’t either.

Abruptly, Shem rose to his feet and stretched his back. “Those bears aren’t going to rummage around and find the right room without our help.” He and Ham both needed to get busy. It’d get their minds off Eudocea and help them think about something else. “Let’s go lock them up, Ham.”

“It’s dark,” Ham protested.

“What difference does that make? It’s always dark inside the ark.”

“I’ll go with you.” Japheth was already beside him. “Ham should stay.”

“Let’s go then.” Shem lit a torch at the fire pit, hoping his voice wouldn’t betray the anger he felt for Japheth right now. What was Japheth thinking? Ham needed to work off stress, not Japheth.

They hiked in silence, light from their torches chasing darkness in a circle around them. A raccoon lumbered across the dirt path and Shem hopped sideways to avoid tripping over him. He continued to simmer. He didn’t want to work with Japheth. He wasn’t accustomed to Japheth’s work rhythm since the two usually concentrated on different tasks while he and Ham worked as a team.

A bemused smile lifted the corners of Shem’s mouth at the thought of thinking of himself as a team with Ham. Evidentially he cared more about his brother than he realized.

“What are you smiling about?”

“Nothing.” The last thing Shem needed to do was chat with Japheth.

“You could have sent for a wife, too.” Japheth’s accusation plunged into Shem like a spear.

“Straight to the point.” Ice edged Shem’s words, but he remembered Paseah and ground his teeth to keep from saying something he’d regret. Evidentially Japheth thought he resented Ham because Ham found a wife and Shem couldn’t. Shem didn’t believe himself capable of that kind of jealousy and didn’t want to consider the possibility.

“Well, you could have. It’s your own fault.” Persistent, that Japheth.

“Point made. Now you’re bludgeoning it.”

“Face the truth.”

Shem turned to face Japheth instead, lifting the torch to better see his face. His brother’s simple statement had reminded him why he’d never charged Japheth with deep thinking. “The truth is, I could not have done what Ham did. I need more.”

“What are you talking about? She’s beautiful.”

“Yes, but who is she? Inside, I mean. We know nothing about her.”

“Who cares?”

“Because of the way she looks?”

“Of course because of the way she looks.” Japheth stopped walking and turned to Shem with a perplexed expression. “You think it’s better to spend the next eight hundred years alone while the rest of us raise families?”

“Maybe.” Shem sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know.” The compassion he recognized in his brother’s eyes made him realize he’d judged Japheth unfairly. Japheth was a solid guy. He might not understand Shem, but he wished the best for him. It wasn’t Japheth’s fault that he couldn’t comprehend how much Shem longed for purity and righteousness in a wife. Why had God made him so different from other men?

Look for an additional chapter on Wednesday this week.