The Trial
© Jeannie St. John Taylor
“When Lamech had lived 182 years, he fathered a son and called his name Noah, saying, ‘Out of the ground that the LORD has cursed this one shall bring us relief from our work and from the painful toil of our hands.’ Lamech lived after he fathered Noah 595 years and had other sons and daughters.”
Noah’s sons proceeded to the city gate at daybreak hoping to speak with Father before his trial. Shem’s stomach rumbled with hunger at the smells wafting from the open market, already bustling with early-risers. Inexpensive meat, left over from temple sacrifices, roasted over open fires. Bakers pulled cakes from earthen-dome ovens. Booths piled high with yellow corn, mounds of red papayas and oranges tantalized him.
“We could grab a piece of fruit and eat it on the way,” Ham suggested.
“No time. We’d have to haggle over the price.”
At the city gate, heavily-armed guards patrolling the area refused to allow them access to the dungeon. The brothers retreated into the shadows and leaned against a cold stone wall, waiting for the outer gate to open so Ham could return home as Father had instructed. Shem found himself wondering what would happen if Ham stayed. Could the two of them together do something – anything – to save Father?
“I won’t leave.” Pain lingered in the depths of Ham’s eyes and Shem felt a flash of affection for his brother. “I may never see him again.”
“You’ll disgrace Father.” Shem’s matter of fact tone belied the intense conflicting emotions he battled, but this was no time for wavering resolve. “Father trusts God and it will break him if we don’t show our trust also.”
But Shem wasn’t so sure he did trust God. The odds against Father were stacked too high. God couldn’t possibly rescue him this time. What influential person would care enough to satisfy the legal requirements by standing up for Father and paying the cost of his release?
Rizpah, Father’s childhood playmate?
Not likely. Wasn’t she the one responsible for the charges against him?
A small detachment of guards arrived and the heavy outer gate creaked open. “Time to go,” Shem said.
“If you have a chance to talk to him,” Ham’s voice broke, “tell him . . . tell him. . .”
Shem pulled Ham to him in a brusque farewell embrace before he climbed the stairs to the walkway at the top of the city wall. He leaned against the chest-high masonry, arms resting on the ledge, watching the receding form of his brother. A caravan trudging up to the city passed Ham, but the usually-gregarious brother didn’t acknowledge them.
A twinge of nostalgia mingled with sadness swept over Shem as he watched his brother thread his way down the mountain and disappear around a bend in the road. Shem couldn’t help remembering trips to the tar pits with Ham, Japheth, and Father to gather pitch for waterproofing the ark. He’d enjoyed them only slightly more than the forays into the forest with mother to collect herbs for drying and storing in the ark.
Voices from below interrupted Shem’s reverie. Before he descended the stairs and crossed to the Chamber of Justice, he craned his neck for one last look at the ark in the clearing on the very highest point of the opposite mountain. The ark stood as a massive memorial to the One True God. A memorial to Father’s obedience. Even from so far away the ark looked massive. He lifted his chin with pride. Father had succeeded in one thing: No one in the city could avoid thinking about Noah’s God.
The ark spoke out for the One True God every day.
People were already filing into the chamber in groups of threes and fours by the time Shem stole in unnoticed and pressed against the back wall, waiting for his father’s hearing to begin. The sounds of agitated voices echoed through the large elaborately-furnished room.
The entire place had been constructed of natural rock. The judge’s podium, chiseled from a single block of black stone and polished to a high shine, rose from the center of the room. Grapes entwined with vines and leaves wrapped around the rim of the piece. On one side of the judge, at floor level, stood a stool of the same material. Behind a barrior separating the judge’s platform from spectators, rows of seats ran the circumference of the courtroom. Most were smooth marble benches, but directly in front of the judge’s podium Shem could see several large seats with high curved backs. Colorful embroidered cushions adorned the seats. While the people sitting on the benches behind the judge might see nothing more than the his back, the people occupying those privileged places would have eye-contact, and influence, with the judge. Shem fully expected to see Rizpah and her cronies enter and lay claim to them.
Shem took his place at the end of the back row in the section facing the judge. If Father sat on the witness stool, Shem would be able to see his face during the trial.
The hall filled and the mood grew openly angry. Everyone seemed focused on attaching blame for all the city’s recent problems on Noah. They blamed him for the earthquakes and the changing weather. They blamed him for their business failures. They despised him because he accused them of evil and violence.
“Hatred bursts from the man like hot lava from a volcano,” a man directly in front of Shem shouted to the noisy crowd. Scattered applause came from the few who could hear him above the clamor.
“Not after today.” A sneer hardened the face of the woman beside him.
Shem marveled at the irony of the name of the hall, Chamber of Justice. Father would get no justice here today; everyone present intended to kill him. And Shem, alone in a gathering mob, was helpless to stop it. Even if Father were to change his mind and allow Shem to help, what could one man do against such a crowd? Reasoned logic wouldn’t faze anyone present, and a sword wouldn’t fare much better.
With all seats occupied and the trial ready to commence, Rizpah floated in wearing her signature crimson robe with dark embroidery at the neck. Nodding to onlookers on either side of the aisle, she led her entourage to the plush seats in front of the judge’s podium. The room quieted. Before settling herself she pivoted slowly, eyes searching the room until they came to rest on Shem. She arched her eyebrows to acknowledge him briefly before she flowed into her seat.
The room rustled with the sound of people twisting in their seats to follow her line of vision. All hopes of the safety that results from anonymity vanished. Shem muscles tensed. He clenched his fists in order to maintain control and stared straight ahead.
The judge entered and claimed his position of authority at the podium. “Are the witnesses present?”
One of the men flanking Rizpah spoke. “They are.”
“Bring in the accused.” The judge banged his gavel.
Soldiers escorted Noah into the courtroom, two leading, two behind and one beside him. Though obviously injured and stiff from two weeks in the dungeon, Noah walked slowly, but erect. His hands and feet remained shackled causing him to stumble every time the soldiers jostled him. Noah’s eyes searched out his son and crinkled with pleasure when he spotted him.
The scene felt dreamlike to Shem. Nightmarish. What had happened to his strong father who lifted beams single-handedly into place on the ark? Where was the man who plowed with seven teams of oxen? Why had Noah stopped resisting evil? Why wouldn’t he at least let his son fight for him?
Noah sat on the backless stool reserved for the accused. The desire to rush to the front and stand by his father gripped Shem. He involuntarily shifted forward, but clenched his fists and forced himself to stay put. The physical effort drew a line of sweat across his brow.
The judge called for witnesses.
Rizpah stood, her silk garments contrasting sharply with Noah’s worn goat hair tunic. When the judge gave her permission to speak, Rizpah’s satiny tones mesmerized her audience. “This man Noah threatened my life as well as the lives of other city officials.”
A man in a turban fastened with a large blue topaz confirmed her testimony.
Another gentleman near the end of the row rose to his feet. “You know the sacrifice my family is making for this crisis.” His voice thickened with sorrow and he dropped his head to compose himself so he could continue. “How dare we let this rabble-rouser go free when my innocent Gadreel gives everything?”
“Can anyone refute these witnesses?” The judge surveyed the room.
Shem locked eyes with his father who shook his head nearly imperceptibly.
The judge rolled up his scroll and tapped the parchment on the hard edge of the podium. “Very well then. Noah son of Lamech, son of Methuselah, you must die.”
Shem felt like a camel had kicked him in the gut.
“Would the prisoner speak in his own defense?” the judge asked.
“I would.” Noah’s voice rang strong. His shackles prevented him from rising without help so he addressed the crowd from the stool. “Disaster is immanent. The One True God loves you, but you serve false gods that have no power to save or help you. Believe on the One True God and escape the Flood.”
The crowd exploded and the soldiers guarding Noah closed rank around him.
Noah shouted above the roar. “There’s room on God’s ark for all of you!”
Suddenly Shem understood. Father had deliberately chosen this time and place to plead with as many souls as possible. The public trial might risk his life, but it offered hope to many who might not have heard him otherwise.
Rizpah’s face contorted. “He believes himself superior to us!”
Calls of, “Kill him!” “Butcher the hate monger!” rumbled through the room.
Extra soldiers muscled into the crowd, but the pandemonium thundered unchecked. Noah tried to speak. The crowd drowned him out. The judge banged his gavel repeatedly.
Finally, the room quieted and the judge spoke to Noah. “Your own words condemn you.” His lip curled in disgust. “I knew your father, Lamech. Good man. I praise the gods who in their mercy gathered him home to his fathers five years ago and spared him the shame of seeing you, his oldest son, the son he called his “comfort”, so filled with rebellion and stubbornness. His heart would break.”
Shem couldn’t believe his ears. Grandfather Lamech had lived with the family, hammered nails into the ark, waterproofed it with pitch. After he grew too full of years to leave his bed, he still snapped green beans for canning and prepared apples for drying.
“Your property now belongs to our great city” The judge banged the gavel twice to conclude the matter. “You shall die in our great temple before the sun sets unless, as the law states, a person of great influence redeems you.”
Shem sat unmoving. Helpless. Numb. He should obey Father and leave, but he could not move.
There was a commotion at the doorway and a large man with silver streaking his beard and gold threads woven into the collar of his striped tunic appeared under the arch. The crowd parted and he moved with authority to the front of the room, his head held high. A condescending smirk played over his face. Jeweled rings adorned every finger. “I am Paseah, judge of Heber.”
Shem recognized the name and heat rushed into his face.
“I choose to redeem this man.” Paseah snapped his fingers and a slave leading a heavily-loaded camel appeared in the door of the Chamber of Justice. Thick gold chains draped the camel’s neck. Bells tinkled from just above padded hooves. “What’s his price?”
“Ten thousand dremata,” the judge answered. Few earned that sum in a lifetime.
Silence descended on the chamber.
The crowd stared openmouthed as Paseah reached into his camel’s saddlebag and began counting gold and silver coins onto the podium. Shem could hear nothing but the clink, clink, clink of coin after coin dropping onto the mounting pile. Heaped-up gold spilled over the edge and clattered to the floor.
Why was he doing this?
Deliberately, Paseah lifted a single coin between his thumb and forefinger and held it over his head. “One thousand dremata.” He dropped it from that height onto the pile as his gaze slid around the room. “Any of you worth so much?” His mouth curved upward, but his eyes glinted with the hardness of black diamonds.
He started a second pile on the floor in front of the judge. When he finished, the camel’s adornments and two of the man’s bulky rings lay with the ten mounds of coins. “Ten thousand dremata,” he announced triumphantly.
The judge placed the scroll into Paseah’ hand. “Noah is yours.” He spat the words like a man expelling poison.
No one spoke. Shem held his breath.
The soldiers unshackled Noah.
And it was over! Just like that.
Stunned, Shem followed his father and Paseah from the room followed by the slave leading the camel. Shem stole a furtive look over his shoulder and saw Rizpah, surrounded by the subdued mob, glaring at them angrily. Not one person had moved.
Outside the courtroom they joined the caravan Shem had watched enter the city just before the trial. Without a word, Paseah mounted a camel and motioned for Noah to mount another. Shem tried to help him, but Noah shook him off and managed the feat without assistance. The two men rode to the iron gate and out of the city. Shem walked behind them in front of several slaves and camels, one of which no longer carried a load. Like a sleepwalker, he moved down the winding road he had watched Ham travel earlier.
No one spoke until they crossed the meadow and started up the ark’s mountain. With the city out of sight and almost a distant memory, Noah and the stranger dismounted and embraced. “I thought I would never see you again,” Noah said. Tears coursed down his cheeks.
“Nor I you,” responded Paseah, “though I do think of you whenever I pass this way and view your disgrace on the top of that mountain.”
“Come here, Shem.” Ignoring the stranger’s insult, Noah beckoned his son. “I want you to meet my youngest brother who I love more than life.”
“You are the oldest son, are you not?” Shem heard little warmth in his words.
“Yes.” How did he know?
“I’ve heard all about you from the locals. Whenever I pass this way on business, they are only too happy to discuss Crazy Noah and his family.”
“They know you’re Father’s brother?” Shem asked.
Paseah tipped back his head and let loose with a belly laugh. “Of course not! I would never share that information with anyone.”
Shem wasn’t quite certain how to react to this newly-found uncle who was willing to give up a fortune to save his father’s life while insulting him every chance he got. “How can I thank you for what you did?” he said. “God used you to rescue my father!”
Paseah spat on the ground. “God had nothing to do with anything. I alone am responsible.” His tone softened. “I owed my brother.”
Noah interrupted, “What brings you to our part of the world?” Shem recognized Father’s reaction as Noah’s way of avoiding the embarrassment of praise.
“I’m here because of a series of coincidences.” Paseah mused. “Strange. Very strange.”
Noah pointed at a bubbling spring a short distance from the trail and the brothers sat down on large rocks where they could catch up. Without a word, one slave filled a skin of water for Paseah and Noah before watering the camels. Another slave immediately hobbled the camel that had carried Paseah’ gold into the Chamber of Justice then dodged as the animal flattened its ears and hurled at him. A glob of spittle nearly as large as his fist darkened the ground inches from his feet. The slave scowled and retreated to a safe distance.
The camel was without question the biggest and nastiest Shem had ever seen.
“Coincidences?” Noah asked.
“Well, five days ago, a runner came to my neighbor’s house offering an opportunity to make a great deal of gold. My neighbor is greedy and would never have shared the information, except . . . ” Paseah grinned. “His wife died the week before and the mourning period wasn’t over, so he couldn’t take advantage of the opportunity. Plus, I needed to search for a runaway out this direction.
“So,” Paseah continued cheerfully, “I agreed to make the trip and consummate the deal. He thought we could share everything.” He grinned slyly and leaned toward Noah. “And I just might if there’s anything left after paying my brother’s fine.”
A shudder of distaste skimmed Shem’s
heart. Uncle was very different from Father. “You’ve got that same self-righteous look on
your face your father always used to
heart. Uncle was very different from Father. “You’ve got that same self-righteous look on
your face your father always used to
have.”
Shem colored. “I’m sorry I didn’t . . .”
“You think I cheated my neighbor?” Paseah’ question was aggressive as well as rhetorical. “I risked danger from robbers and injury. Did he? No.”
“We’re not criticizing you brother,” Noah’s stepped in. Shem could tell he desperately wanted this reunion to go well. “Tell us the rest.”
“There’s not much left.” Paseah relaxed and launched into his story again as though nothing had happened. He appeared to love the sound of his own voice. “I gathered a few slaves and camels, traveled here and transacted my business. Fortunately for you, as we were passing the Chamber of Justice we heard you hysterically offering rides on your ark. I decided to treat old Buzz with kindness by lightening his load.”
Paseah smiled and winked, seeming for the first time since they left the city as the gracious gentleman who had rescued Noah. He slapped his brother on the back. “You sound exactly like you did four hundred years ago.”
The ups and downs of his uncle’s personality left Shem dizzy. “Buzz is the camel?”
“Yup. That humungous nasty disaster of a camel was carrying the gold I paid for your father. Meanest camel I ever owned, but I think it’s the meanness that makes him so strong. He carried a thousand dremata in gold like a load of feathers.”
“Where’d you buy him?” Noah asked.
Paseah laughed again. “Didn’t. I took him from a slave trader who made a habit of beating the poor thing until he bled. Found Buzz standing over him by the side of the road early one morning. The fellow was dead. Looked like he’d been trampled. I figured maybe he beat old Buzz one too many times, but you never know. Could have been robbers.”
They proceeded up the trail toward home again, Paseah walking between Noah and Shem with slaves leading the camels a respectful distance behind. Buzz, his legs unshackled, moved forward with a rocking motion, ears flat against his head, shouldering another load of gold taken from two other camels to ease their loads.
“You haven’t said anything about the coincidences.” Paseah said. “Impressed?”
Noah beamed. “Don’t you see? Coincidence didn’t bring you here. God did. He wove circumstances so we’d meet again.”
Paseah narrowed his eyes and bunched his lips.
Noah didn’t notice. “God has given you one more chance!”
“God!?” Paseah snapped. “I’m the one who saw you in the court room. I paid my good money to rescue you because you wasted your own fortune on that monstrosity up there.” Red-faced he nodded toward the top of the mountain. “You’re just like Father. You have no common sense. The shame you created for the family forced me to relocate.”
Noah recoiled as though his brother had struck him. Shem half-expected a red welt to rise on Father’s cheek. Shem understood Noah’s pain. Father was terrified that his own brother might die in the Flood.
