Abraham Allegiant (Chronicles of the Nephilim Book 4) (10 page)

“Will the high god Marduk join us?” asked Mardon.

“No,” said Nimrod. He knew his son despised Marduk. He was too much what Mardon wanted to be, a god without human weakness. Of course, it was what Nimrod wanted as well, but he could only imagine the havoc created on the earth if his son was able to procure the prerogatives of divinity.

Nimrod thought,
He would be a male version of Ishtar.

Marduk had been spending more time in his temple, Esagila, and less time around Nimrod as he prepared for the fast arriving “Convergence” as they called it. The Convergence marked the alignment of the planets
converging
with the cusp of the Age of Aries. But it also marked the convergence of heaven and earth, as the temple tower would open a cosmic portal to the heavenlies. As king of the gods, Marduk would preside over the entire twelve day festival so he had his preparation work cut out for him.

This was going to be one very important year in the history of gods and men.

In the desert outside Ur a lone figure stood before a fresh tomb in the rocky clefts of the lakeside area. In the tomb were two bodies. One was Emzara, who had died a few years earlier, and the most recent one was the body of Noah. The man who gave thanks to Elohim for the couple raising him was Abram. He was forty-eight years old.

He finished his prayer and laid a pack of his life’s belongings on the back of a donkey that would accompany his horse to the city of Ur. Abram had lived in seclusion with Noah and Emzara since he was an infant. They had raised him to know the Creator Elohim as El Shaddai, God Almighty, protector of the chosen seedline. They had poured their lives into their family offspring because they believed he was a new hope for their hope.

But they could not foresee the potential danger of raising a child in solitude to see himself as God’s special progenitor. It was the disadvantage of living as an only child. Abram was pampered, given total attention, and told over and over again, he was God’s special instrument. Abram had gotten the impression he could do no wrong. He had developed an overconfidence that lacked humility and almost presumed invincibility. After all, if El Shaddai was his guard and protector, who could slay him?

And if any human did try to take him on, Noah had taught Abram some secrets of fighting that had gone back to his distant ancestor Enoch the giant slayer. It was called the “Way of the Karabu” and it was a martial art that was revealed by the archangel Gabriel. Abram had a romantic view of himself as some kind of future king and adventurer with El Shaddai by his side clearing the way for his purposes.

It had been a lonely forty-eight years. But not entirely without human interaction. Though Noah and Emzara kept Abram away from the main cities of Sumer, they made sure to make trips to way stations in the desert. There they encountered trade merchants from all over the world, traveling through with their wares. Abram learned many customs and interacted with interesting people who told fabulous stories of their travels. He would have left the cave residence earlier, but wanted to bury both of his beloved ancestors before striking out on his own.

Noah had given Abram the name of Abram’s brothers, Nahor and Haran, in the city of Ur and told him to go to them with a tablet Noah had inscribed with a
toledoth of Abram’s genealogy. The brothers would take Abram in and introduce him to his father Terah when they had the chance. It was a bit risky, but Noah was always one for shaking things up, even in his ripe old age.

When Terah was inducted as Nimrod’s prince of the heavenly host, he had kept the family down in Ur under the pretense of being able to focus on his duties in Babylon. He would then visit them on a regular basis with the ostensible motive of reporting on the state of the Southern kingdom, in Sumer, to Nimrod.

But Terah had an ulterior motive as well. He had seen the danger of his situation and the soul trap that would be Babylon. He wanted to spare his family as much as possible from the detrimental effects of close proximity to the emperor Nimrod and his ruling city. He knew the capriciousness of the tyrant and considered distance the best protection against the impulsive reactions of royalty. Terah was a man of many masters and he tried to juggle them all with the intent of protecting his family at all costs.

The family of Terah ben Nahor of Ur knew nothing of their long lost relative Abram. They were told a child had died a generation ago and forgot about him entirely.

They were about to get the surprise of their lives.

It was a cool and cloudy day. Nahor and Haran had finished cleaning up their stall of idols in the marketplace and were returning to their home. They had carried on the family business of idol making after Terah had been drafted into Nimrod’s service. It was a tireless business of unending demand. People were constantly breaking their little terra cotta figurines of household deities called
teraphim
. But they were also constantly changing gods or just wanting more gods to ensure their happiness. And it was becoming more popular now to have stone carved life sized statues in homes, which fetched a higher price for their craft. It was a business with a sure source of consistent income because of the spiritual hunger of humanity.

When they arrived at their house, they were almost too exhausted to notice the man waiting for them. He asked, “Are you Nahor and Haran ben Terah?”

They stopped and looked at Abram. He was a wiry one, full beard, a bit unkempt, most likely a middle-aged bachelor — not a good sign. And he looked as if he had traveled a great distance.

They sighed. They knew the custom of hospitality, that one should welcome strangers into one’s home and feed them and provide shelter if need be. Provided of course, the stranger was not hostile, in which case you could kill them.

Abram held out a clay tablet and said with great confidence, “This is a genealogy of mine authored by Noah ben Lamech. I am your brother and the long forgotten son of Terah ben Nahor.”

The brothers were open mouthed with shock. Nahor took the tablet and looked at it. Haran looked over his shoulder in disbelief.

They read through the tablet and saw the colophon, “These are the generations of Noah.” It was the signature of their beloved ancestor. Was it a forgery? It had the family marking on it. Nahor handed it back to Abram.

“Well, then we have much to talk about,” said Nahor. “Please, come and have dinner with us.”

“No, I could not impose on you with such inconvenience,” replied Abram.

“As you wish,” said Haran. “God bless you on your way.”

Nahor gave Haran a dirty look. It was custom to turn down an offer of hospitality as much as it was custom to reaffirm the offer right afterward. Nahor was being inhospitable.

“My brother is a jackass,” said Nahor. “Please ignore his rudeness and have dinner with us tonight.”

“Very well,” said Abram. “Thank you.” And he winked at an embarrassed Haran.

The household of Terah was large and well furnished. Several generations lived under his roof. As a member of the royal household, his family was given special treatment and lived in the wealthy quarter. And because of their idol making business, they had money to spare.

Abram sat before a spread of lamb, fish, fruits and vegetables, with bread and some beer to wash it down. He had not eaten so extravagantly in his life.

His two brothers, Nahor and Haran, entertained him along with several others of Abram’s cousins.

“This is Lot, my son,” said Haran, “my wife, Eliana, and my daughters, Milcah and Iscah.”

Abram said wryly to the adolescent children, “Hello, nephew and nieces.”

Nahor took over. “Milcah is my wife.” He then gestured to the woman serving Abram. “And this is Sarai, your half-sister.”

Abram was surprised. He had thought she was one of the servants. At least she was acting like one. But she finally sat down in the empty seat.

Sarai would not look Abram in the eye. Abram, on the other hand could not take his eyes off her. She was stunning. The most beautiful woman Abram had ever seen. Which, on the surface, was not saying much because he had been raised in obscurity in the desert. But the women he did meet were often foreigners in trading caravans. So he had actually been exposed to some of the most exotic and attractive members of the opposite sex.

But Sarai was far and away more attractive than any of them. Though she tied her hair up in a modest bun, she could not hide its blonde sun-like glow. She wore no make-up, but her bright white eyes with light green pupils were more penetrating than any traveling harlot he had ever been tempted by.

These physical traits were unusual for the area. Maybe she was the fruit of a liaison between Abram’s father Terah and one of those foreign traders passing through. Her lips were full and her neck, ravishing. It was all Abram could do to keep from imagining what wonderful figure was covered up by the plain boring wool robe she seemed to hide behind.

But Sarai was clearly older. It was not that she had the wrinkles or wear of age; it was her presence that emanated maturity beneath her molten comeliness.

“Where is your husband?” Abram asked Sarai directly.

Big brother Haran interrupted, “That is another story. Sarai ruined every chance she ever got to catch a husband when she was of marrying age. Now, we expect her to end up an old maid forever in the household.”

Sarai blushed with shame and continued to look down painfully into her food.

Eliana gave Haran a dirty look for his rude comments.

Nahor jumped in, “Which is probably good for us anyway, because she seems to enjoy serving her family.”

Abram could not believe it was possible. He was totally entranced by Sarai and for the life of him, could not possibly figure out what she could have done to remain unmarried with such astonishing beauty, a beauty that was causing the urge in Abram to bow down to the ground in worship of the majestic God who created such exquisite artistry. It was a beauty that caused a burning longing in his loins.

But the urgency at hand took precedence.

Nahor said, “Terah is coming down in a couple weeks for a visit.”

Haran threw in, “Mother died a few years back. We do not see him much anymore.”

Nahor said, “What will he do when he meets you?”

“Well, he was the one who hid me,” said Abram. “I doubt he will want to give me up to the king.”

Abram had explained to them what Noah told him. That Terah had saved Abram from death when Nimrod discovered that he was prophesied in the stars as the exalted father who would conquer kings and rule the world. He told how Terah gave one of the servant’s newborns in his place and secreted him off to the hidden cave of Noah the great patriarch. They heard how Noah told Abram of an endless war of seedlines that began in distant Eden and continued to this day. It was all so bizarre to Abram’s relatives. They could not imagine what this seed thing was all about.

Haran countered Abram’s doubts, “But if he gave you away to protect his family, then he would surely not want to face those consequences again.”

“He has not bothered to keep in contact with you for almost fifty years,” added Nahor. “That is pretty strong evidence that he does not want you back in his life,
or
in ours.”

Sarai muttered something too low for the others to hear.

But Abram heard it.

“Excuse me, Sarai,” said Abram, “did you say something?”

Everyone stopped talking. This was an odd thing for Sarai to speak up – or rather as Nahor would say, to ‘squeak up.’

“But Abram is family,” she said a little more audibly, finally giving a glance up at Abram. It sent a shiver down his spine.

She looked at me
, he thought.
She said my name
. It was more like she looked
through
him into his soul. But how could this be? He had just met her. As lovely a specimen as she was, how could she have that kind of sway over him?

He thanked El Shaddai that she had a different mother; otherwise, his rising feelings would be shameful.

Abram took another bite of lamb. It was savory, full of herbs and spices. Probably the finest lamb he had ever eaten — while gazing upon the finest looking woman he had ever imagined. It was a heavenly combination.

Meanwhile, everyone else was considering Sarai’s statement in uncomfortable silence. She was more than correct, she was morally right, as usual. Abram was family and as such could not be turned away, turned out, given up, or rejected. They were obligated to care for their brother, their uncle, their cousin.

Sarai got up and began to clear the table. Abram stared at her, watching her every move. She was grace in action. And when she walked out of the room, he watched her hips swagger. It was the only sensual thing about this overly modest introverted woman. She must have been unaware of her hypnotic power or she no doubt would have sought to suppress it.

Haran noticed Abram and teased, “Nahor, I think our brother is pleased with our half-sister’s service to our family. Although I am not sure why he is drooling.”

Abram snapped back into the conversation. “I intend to earn my keep here. What is the family occupation?”

“Idol making,” said Haran. “And we are quite good at it.”

Uh oh,
thought Abram,
That
was going to be a problem.