“The Nephilim were on the earth in those days, and also afterward, when the sons of God came in to the daughters of man and they bore children to them.” Gen. 6:4
©Jeannie St. John Taylor
The pink marble temple with its elaborate carvings of winged horses and lizards loomed white against the threatening gray sky. Giant insects and frogs with human heads adorned the capitals of its towering columns. Stone serpents slithered up the circumferences. Lesser human gods of bronze frolicking beneath the portico were dwarfed by the statue of Gug, arms crossed and face contorted in anger. The statue rose as high as the temple itself and dominated the front of the building. Unable to wrest her eyes from the intricacies of the sculpted stone, Atarah stumbled over a slight rise in the pavement and reached out to steady herself. Her fingertips brushed the arm of a half-human lizard-god. At the unexpected chill of unyielding bronze, horror slithered into the pit of her stomach. Everything about the temple felt wrong!
But it wasn’t wrong.
The temple was magnificent. Temple
Except Atarah.
Because of what the Dream told her.
She paused on the wide, level path to gather courage. Her feet, clad in sandals crafted to release perfume with every step, rested on a mosaic of precious gems polished smooth from the feet of pilgrims. Turquoise, amethyst, mother-of-pearl, emeralds and rubies depicted worshippers writhing around one of the snake pits inside the temple. The artist’s use of color in the rendering of giants with serpents sliding around their arms and necks somehow made even those monsters enticing. The scene was strangely beautiful.
Glancing quickly behind her, she scanned the area for Dagaar. Had Father sent him to spy on her? Seeing no one, a wave of relief swelled over her. Unfortunately, the feeling evaporated as quickly as it appeared. This brief moment of freedom didn’t change what she had to do.
Atarah had managed to avoid this duty for years thanks to creative excuse-making and an understanding mother, but today she would go inside the temple for the first time. She had no choice. Her father had ordered her out of the house this morning, advising her not to return until she worshiped. “You’re an adult living under my roof,” he said. “I am responsible for you, and we’re both responsible to the citizens of this place. Yesterday one of the priests of Gug mentioned to me that he’s never seen you at the temple. He said he hasn’t called your behavior to the attention of city leaders yet because he’s a friend, but he’ll have to eventually. You can no longer put off your duty.”
Father was right, of course.
The world seemed topsy-turvy of late. Nights had grown colder. News from distant cities told of giants roaming the hillsides, breaking down city walls and ravaging the populace. More than a year ago locusts stripped the fields and trees for miles around. Fortunately, after citizens burned numerous children in the fire as a sacrifice to the god Ninlel the plague ended. The trees once again sprouted leaves and crops returned to normal.
Everything had seemed fine for awhile, but over the last few months the ground shudders had grown stronger and more frequent. Several times fingers of whirling wind had descended from the sky yanking up trees by the roots and obliterating houses. Her father said earth and sky proclaimed the gods’ anger and the gods had to be placated. The gods required more. Always more. Everyone had to worship now. The daughter of Ishan must do her part.
Enormous temple doors opened and two priests in women’s attire peered out. Atarah recognized them from Nympha’s tales of men who castrated themselves in frenzied worship and dressed as women afterward. The community so admired those priests that a few of them had risen to god stature -- though they weren’t accorded the importance of bronze temple gods or the glorious prestige of the Nephilim.
She breathed in the heavy incense drifting up from large urns lining the pathway.
With a sigh of resignation Atarah pulled her blue gauze scarf around her shoulders and shivered, forcing herself to place one foot in front of the other, eyes fixed on the door even after the priests withdrew and it closed behind them. The incense must be numbing her. Or maybe she was finally accepting the inevitable.
Dazed, she felt herself gliding toward her destination only barely aware of the rhythmic spray of spring-fed fountains close to the temple. Several cubits ahead, a man and woman left the walkway and mounted the stairs to the Nephilim Pavement where Nympha had first fallen under the spell of one of the beautiful creatures. Atarah couldn’t concentrate enough to sort out which of the elaborate benches overlaid with silver her precious sister might have reclined on that day.
In her struggle to focus, she failed to notice the town lunatic until she heard him shout at the couple. “Stop!”
Mobilized by fear, Atarah ducked into an alcove by the path and hid behind the wisteria draped over the arch. Where had the man come from? Trembling, she studied him through the purple blur of weeping blossoms. Even though his hair was white, his body remained trim and strong. He looked middle aged. Since the average life expectancy was about nine hundred, that would make him five maybe six hundred. She guessed he’d be about her parents’ age.
Atarah had never seen Crazy Noah before, but because she’d heard about him all her life she recognized him immediately. He stood with his feet apart, hands on his hips on the mosaic that depicted several Nephilim cavorting with human females at the pavement’s center. Words of the sage dignitaries who had visited her father’s home over the years echoed in Atarah’s ears.
“Crazy Noah is a putrid cistern of hatred.”
“The venom of a thousand cobras spews from his tongue.”
The unfortunate couple would have to go around him to get inside the temple. Would he harm them? “Do not enter this place,” Noah roared, fury flashing from his eyes.
The sight of those piercing eyes and the sound of Noah’s angry voice frightened Atarah. She pressed further back into the vine, cowering like a child. Which would be worse, she wondered, participating in temple activities or being accosted by this crazy fellow?
“The One True God sees your abominations!” Noah’s wild white hair, framed by one of the arches lining the marble portico, whipped in the wind. “He is the first and the last. There is no God besides him. He is calling you to repent and choose to follow him.”
Noah owned the giant wooden box that sat atop the highest mountain outside town and dominated the landscape for miles in every direction. Mother said Noah claimed it was a ship that would spirit him to safety when the entire world flooded. He regularly invited citizens to come aboard and escape with him when the Flood struck. Atarah shook her head at the absurd twin notions of a flood and a boat built on a mountaintop.
Noah called the structure an ark, a boat, and claimed the One True God had given him detailed instructions for building the simple chest-shaped structure which rose higher than five flat-roofed brick houses stacked one on top of another and ran many times longer than it was tall. The enormity of the thing took her breath away. Even more shocking, Noah’s ark looked like a giant sarcophagus. Like a coffin big enough to hold the entire population of the city.
The ark was a constant reminder that Noah rejected the gods of his people and arrogantly clung solely to the deity he called the One True God, despite the fact that by doing so he endangered the entire city. The whole countryside. Even though he knew, or should have known, a community needed many gods to protect it properly. Everyone said so.
The ark towered above the landscape as proof of Noah’s lunacy.
Noah’s voice broke into Atarah’s reverie. “If you repent and choose to serve only the One True God, he will cancel the disaster pronounced against you.”
The delicate scent of the wisteria seemed to clear Atarah’s head and she noticed the pair about to enter the temple hesitate. Noah must have seen it too because his voice softened and his eyes pled with them. “Don’t choose to do evil. This place is evil!”
The truth of his words shot into Atarah’s heart like a javelin and she staggered backward into the outstretched arms of a bronze life-sized god with serpent hair near the back of her alcove. Repulsed, she bolted away from the statue and almost back onto the path.
Noah was right! The temple was evil! She didn’t know how she knew, but she knew. She had known since childhood.
“Don’t join with the loathsome atrocities here. The One True God loves you. You are precious in his sight.” She no longer heard Noah’s voice as hate-filled. His words held compassion. The temple door opened again and one of the priests tossed a come hither look at the potential worshippers. The man’s expression hardened and the girl giggled.
Noah made no further attempt to restrain the couple and they hurried into the temple unhindered. Noah gazed after them looking grief-stricken. Atarah remained hidden, waiting for him to leave. Wondering about him.
Why wouldn’t he simply include the God of Noah in the city’s large collection of gods? The populace would gladly have moved over to make a place for one additional diety. In fact, many of the people already honored Noah’s God once a week. Noah was an outcast only because he insisted that the worship of all gods besides his One True God must be abandoned.
How ridiculous!
Except . . . Noah’s God didn’t command any of the rites that felt abominable to Atarah. If she could go worship Noah’s God today and leave out the rituals of all the other gods, would she feel sick at her stomach? Maybe not.
Was it possible Noah was not crazy?
Or maybe she was crazy, too.
Atarah had no idea how long she remained hidden wishing Noah would leave, but he stayed on the Nephilim Pavement attempting to dissuade anyone headed for the temple. No one listened, of course, but Atarah found herself admiring his tenacity.
Her brain fog now dissipated, a familiar anxiety replaced the numbness. She once again fretted over the task at hand and worried whether Dagaar had seen her. She couldn’t stay in the alcove forever, but she didn’t have the courage to continue on to the temple. And she risked her life if she returned home without completing her mission. What would she do?
After a while the murmur of voices coming up the path drew her attention.
A large group of men and woman robed in elegant wool and linen strolled past her hiding place, so close she could count every pearl sewn onto their robes, see the threads of gold woven into sleeves and collars, smell the cloying perfume. Atarah recognized several powerful city leaders and realized the harm they could and would do to Noah if he accosted them. Suddenly she fervently hoped he would remain silent, and safe, though she couldn’t figure out why his fate mattered to her.
He didn’t. Noah squared his shoulders and strode toward them, dangerously close to Atarah’s hiding place. Her knees gave way and she sank onto the carved stone bench next to the bronze god. Surely Noah knew what they could do. Why would he approach them?
Noah used to be wealthy, her mother had told her, but he wasted his fortune cutting down a forest and building his ark where the trees once stood. On a high place reserved for worship. On the loftiest most-honored mountain around. He had lifted a memorial to his God on the precise spot reserved for a temple to Ninlel. Whenever anyone glanced up at the ark they experienced the sight as a deliberately aggressive affront. With all that money, Noah could have been the most influential man in town. Instead, he constructed a boat – of all things -- as a monument to his One True God. No wonder everyone despised him. Noah was a stench in the nostrils of the gods as well as the populace.
A woman in crimson silk spoke softly from the group. “I wonder what new message the One True God has burdened Noah with this time?” Her voice dripped honey, especially when she spoke the words “The One True God” The corners of her mouth curved upward in a gentle smile. “The world coming to an end?”
Laughter rippled across the group.
Noah looked directly at her. “Time is short, Rizpah. Repent and be saved!” Atarah detected no malice in his voice, even though the woman obviously baited him.
The lady’s eyes narrowed, but she continued to smile. “I got tired of that message over a hundred years ago.”
A tanned man wearing a linen turban fastened at the forehead with a large blue topaz put his arm around the woman’s waist and glared at Noah. “How dare you judge us?”
Noah opened his mouth to speak, but the lady in red interrupted. “Every Seventh Day we worship your god.” Her pleasant façade was thinning.
Noah stepped closer, sparks darting from his eyes. “The One True God says, ‘I AM God. There is no other. Serve only me. Acknowledge me or I will send water from the sky to destroy the whole earth.’”
Clouds of laughter lifted from the group.
“Water from the sky!?” The turbaned man exclaimed. “I’ve seen the mist that rises from the ground to water our gardens. I’ve seen water bubbling up from the spring in the town square. I’ve even seen water in the sea five days’ journey from here, but water from the sky?” He paused and held up his forefinger as though a brilliant idea had just occurred to him. “No. Wait. I remember seeing water in the sky. And here it comes again!”
He threw his head back and hurled a glob of spittle onto Noah’s beard. The group exploded with laughter. Rizpah, seemingly weak from merriment, hung on him. “Your water didn’t stay in the sky long.”
Noah made no effort to retaliate. Ignoring the spit, his gaze swept the group sadly. “The One True God says, ‘Your necks are iron sinews and your foreheads brass. You feel secure in your wickedness, but you cannot deliver yourselves from the power of the water. It shall come upon you in one day, in a moment. I have spoken and I will bring it to pass.’”
“I know. I know. Water will cover the earth.” Rizpah shook her head wearily, but Atarah could see the anger smoldering in her eyes.
The turbaned man finished it. “And our decaying bodies will float above the mountains.”
More laughter. Noah eyes lingered on the man then moved from face to face in the group. Obviously he knew them all. He’d preached to them before. Most looked about his age. Atarah knew many of them because they had attended Father’s parties. Atarah guessed Noah had endured their ridicule much of life and yet he cared enough to continue to warn them. Yes, his words sounded terrible, but Noah warned against what he perceived to be real danger. He may be crazy, but he was far from hate-filled.
“Well, I know I’m excited about floating over mountains!” The turbaned man’s widened eyes and raised eyebrows mocked Noah. “I’ve always envied birds and now I get to fly too!”
Several in the group chuckled at the joke.
The man’s eyes narrowed and he clenched his fists. “But I’d rather not decay for another five hundred years, thank you.”
A low rumble of voices swelled like the buzz of hornets emerging from a fallen log. Atarah had been concentrating on Noah and hadn’t noticed how large the crowd had grown or the hostility surging through it.
Anger now thickened the man’s voice. “How dare you threaten city officials!” Fear for Noah shot through Atarah.
“I’m tired of this,” Rizpah said to Noah, then turned to the crowd with a soft-yet-commanding tone. “You heard him. He threatened city officials.”
“With death!” someone bellowed. “They can’t decay till he murders them!”
“We need to insure he can never threaten anyone again,” Rizpah said.
A murmur of agreement fanned the crowd. Two officials stepped forward and seized Noah’s arms amid chants of “Arrest him! Arrest him!”
Atarah felt numb. The charges were trumped up. Noah had been saying the same thing to them for years, anyone could tell that. They would kill him knowing he meant no harm. Atarah didn’t realize she had slipped out of her hiding place and circled the crowd to get closer to Noah until his piercing brown eyes locked with her sapphire ones for a brief moment.
“God speaks to your heart, child,” he said.
She lurched backward. How long had Noah been aware of her? Had anyone else heard him? Men twisted Noah’s arms behind him and dragged him in the direction of the dungeons under the city gate. The mob followed.
Atarah ran down the path leading away from the hatred of the mob, away from the high place. She turned onto the cobbled road. The law gave officials the right to execute Noah if they chose; and they definitely intended to take advantage of that law. Any threat on a city official was punishable by death unless a powerful person intervened. Who would do that? Everyone hated Noah. They all wanted him dead. They wanted his ark destroyed. If he was convicted and executed all his property would belong to the city—including the ark.
Breathing hard, Atarah averted her gaze as she sped past the grinning bronze statue of Ninlel with his arms outstretched, waiting for the next child to plunge screaming into the fire in his belly. She thought of her beloved nephew and shuddered. “You’ll never get Gadreel. He belongs to me, not to you. And not to Nympha.”
As Atarah ran faster, her thoughts rushed back to Noah. The sound of the treacherous mob pierced the silence even at this distance. If they did kill him, they wouldn’t destroy the ark. They were too superstitious, too scared. The ever-present image of the ark cast a pall of fear over the city. Everyone had heard rumors about the ark from the time they were little. Children had nightmares about the ark. Grown men traveled an extra day’s journey to avoid touching the hill on which it was built. Any animal lost on Noah’s mountain had to be destroyed lest the beast spread the curse of the ark to its owner.
Atarah once heard of three boys who were struck dead when they plotted to burn the ark with torches. She didn’t know if the story was true or not, but, like everyone else, the ark terrified her. There was something eerily fearsome about it
Slowing so as not to draw attention to herself, she passed the open market without buying the pomegranates she usually bought as a treat for her mother. Then a short distance from home, she stopped to splash water on her face at a stone fountain built over one of the city’s many natural springs. She pulled in a calming breath and released it slowly, concentrating on the sound of gurgling water rushing through the arched tunnels that channeled springs under the streets.
She glanced furtively right and left for Dagaar before pausing under the jasmine-covered arch in front of the large home she shared with her parents, sister, and nephew. Still no sign of him. Inhaling deeply of the fragrance, she pressed the back of her hand against her cheek. Hot. Did she look flushed? She couldn’t afford to attract attention. If her father suspected she hadn’t gone to the temple, he would force her to go back.
Or kill her. Fathers had the legal right to execute rebellious daughters.
