The Days of Peleg (77 page)

He shrugged as best as he could in the confined area, and proceeded forward. He was committed now. He tried to wipe his face with his hands, but only succeeded in spreading additional dirt and blood.

A few minutes later he struck a stone surface and realized he had reached the seal. He could hear additional noises echoing from behind him and knew that soon someone would be sent in after him. However, he was certain that this seal was simply a weatherworn plate which should shatter if enough force was applied.

He punched at it several times with the heel of his hand, but it was soon obvious that he did not have the strength to break through.

Suddenly, a child’s voice rang down the tunnel from the chamber where the guards waited.

“
Seal him in, seal him in
!”

Tammuz! If Peleg didn’t make it through the seal, that psychotic five-year-old might
still
get his way! His hands flailed around, looking for a rock or something with which to strike the panel, but found nothing. As he twisted, a sharp pain jabbed him in his right chest, reminding him that he was still wearing his chest-pack under his suit.

His protractor/cross-staff! He twisted his right hand down into his clothing, and pulled his chest-pack free, untying the laces which held it in place. He retrieved the cross-staff, placed the bottom end against the panel, and began striking the stone plate, using the staff as a blunt spike—taking advantage of the focused, cylindrical force it provided.

At first, as he attacked the plate in the center, nothing happened except a thumping sound which echoed down the tunnel. Growing impatient, he moved the staff to the upper-right corner and continued pounding.

After several strikes, he was rewarded with a loud
Crack
, and three blows later, a small corner of the plate broke off and fell to the other side, revealing a painful stab of afternoon sunlight! He kept striking at the edges until almost one forth of the barrier had broken away and fallen to the outside.

He heard a woman’s voice, shouting from behind. It was Inanna’s. She was chiding Tammuz, telling him that sealing someone alive inside of a building was not nice. But her tone was that of an exasperated mother telling her impetuous son not to torture his pets. She then ordered someone in after Peleg, and soon he heard scrambling from the chamber behind him as a guard entered the crawlway.

Grasping the edge of the plate, he began alternately pushing and pulling on it, trying to wrench it free—or perhaps snap it in two. Suddenly, after a tremendous yank, the entire plate came loose—almost striking Peleg in the face. He jerked backwards, banging his head against the roof of the crawlspace, but after a quick shudder, he pushed the panel aside and moved to look out over the city. The plate was completely removed!

As his eyes adjusted to the brilliant outdoor light, he could see that he was indeed high atop the eastern face of the
Citadel
, overlooking the city, and could even see the Eastern gate from his vantage point.

But as his focus moved closer, his initial exuberance was replaced by dismay as he realized that his exit was still blocked. Two brass supports stretched across the opening, forming a ‘†’. The plate had apparently been fastened to it, and as he inspected the bars he saw that they were secured deeply into the surrounding rock.

The man who had been sent in after him was almost half way there. Peleg shook at the bars, but there was no way they were going to budge. And there was certainly no way that he was going to fit through the rectangles created by the crossbar.

Frantically, he looked out over the city again, and was stunned to recognize Shem and Bernifal walking under guard several blocks away! They should have been out of the city long ago! Pulling his face up to the opening, he shouted at the top of his lungs.

Shem had just turned away from the
Citadel
, when he heard a familiar voice shouting his name behind them faintly in the distance.

“
Shem!! Shem!!
”

He and Bernifal both turned around as Shem tried to imagine how Peleg could possibly be free. He scoured the area intently, but no matter how hard he looked, he could not see any sign of his great-great-grandson.

Somehow the guards had not heard Peleg’s calls over the din of the city, and they jerked Shem and Bernifal back around, steering them back towards the gate.

“
Shem!!
”

It was louder this time, and the guards heard it, too. As they all turned, Shem realized the cry was coming from above. He looked back into the shadow of the Citadel, and, after staring intently up at the structure, he suddenly saw Peleg’s face pressing out of an airshaft grating—up above the ledge on the third level! Portions of his face looked like it was covered with mud, but it was soon obvious that it was mixed with dried blood.

What had they done to him
?

Peleg’s left arm was sticking out of the shaft, waving frantically, so Shem wrenched his arm free and waved back to acknowledge him. One of the two guards who
had
been in front, struck Shem’s arm from behind, and then grabbed it, to twist him back towards the gate. Bernifal’s two rear guards reaffirmed their grip on his elbows, and also gave him a shove.

Bernifal tensed and looked inquiringly at Shem. This time Shem nodded.

Peleg was so elated that Shem had seen him, that he almost forgot about the man who had entered the crawlspace to retrieve him. He suddenly felt a hand wrap around his right ankle, and Peleg kicked violently until the man was forced to let go. Several times the man tried (with first one hand and then the other) to grab something he could hold on to. Peleg continued kicking, occasionally making contact with the man’s flailing hands, until finally he pulled both of his legs in towards himself, waited a moment, and then stomped outward with full force.

He struck the man full in the face, and after a few moments of stunned indecision, the man slowly began to back out of the tunnel away from Peleg.

Maybe they would seal him in here after all. But most likely, they would keep sending men in to pull him out. Leaving him would be tantamount to giving up—and those in power never allow the helpless to remain in peace.

Bernifal’s first action was to kick the right kneecap of his right rear-guard while simultaneously reaching (with his suddenly freed right arm) for the other guard’s hand—which was still gripping his left elbow.

He spun around to the left, twisting the guard’s wrist, all the while clamping down on the guard’s hand so he could
not
let go. As he turned, he raised his arm (with the guard’s hand still attached) and then wrapped his fingers around the guard’s fingers while his left foot stepped back.

Bernifal wrenched the guard’s fingers downward, and the guard instinctively jumped up in the air to avoid the pain in his wrist, then dove headfirst into the ground to prevent his fingers from being broken—or ripped from his hands. It was now a matter of finesse as Bernifal took one more small step and aimed the falling guard on top the first one—who was valiantly trying to recover from his broken kneecap.

As the two guards collided together on the ground in a heap, the guard in front of Bernifal rushed in with his sword, but a simple sidestep and a punch to the throat forced him to join his comrades on the marble pavement.

He looked over to see how Shem was faring.

Shem’s right rear-guard had crumpled immediately after a simple elbow to the face. Shem had then tried to wrench his left elbow free from the other guard’s grip, but with amazing tenacity,
that
guard had somehow hung on, and was now suspended in the air, dangling from Shem’s upraised arm. Shem, in turn, placed his other hand over the man’s grasp, preventing him from letting go. It was almost a comical standoff, as the man was unable to hurt Shem from his elevated position, yet Shem was reluctant to harm the pathetic, helpless man. He continued to flail his arms and legs while Shem turned and looked at Bernifal, wondering what to do.

The final, front guard had been momentarily stunned by the fracas, but, as a result, had enough time to remember that he had a sword. He drew it and charged towards Shem, yelling loudly.

The guard was left-handed, so Bernifal ran towards him, palm outstretched, and slapped the back of the guard’s sword-wielding hand, gripping it tightly. As the guard twisted to face this attack from the side, Bernifal placed his other hand under the first, completely encasing the sword hilt—still held by the guard.

Bernifal stepped sharply to the right, twisting the guard’s hand and shattering his wrist bones. The guard screamed in pain as he flipped over backwards, landing immobile on the ground next to the other escorts.

Bernifal retrieved the sword from the suddenly limp hand and walked over to Shem, whose assailant was still hanging from his outstretched elbow. Bernifal stretched the sword up into the air, placing its tip just below the flailing man’s chin.

The man suddenly became perfectly still as the tip of the sword pressed slightly up into his neck.

“You can let him down, now,” Bernifal said to Shem, who nodded.

Shem released his grip from the other man’s hand, which allowed the man to let go of Shem’s elbow and drop if he wished. However, if he did, he would skewer himself on Bernifal’s raised sword, so he remained motionless. Shem began to slowly lower his arm, allowing the man’s throat to press harder against the sword tip. The man had not understood Bernifal, but it was clear that he was being lowered into a ruptured jugular. He could not let go of Shem’s elbow without landing on the sword, so he performed a one-armed pull-up, swung backwards away from Shem, and then released his grip—landing on the marble street several paces behind Shem.

Without even looking back at Shem, he jumped up and ran away, in the direction of the
Citadel
.

Shem and Bernifal began running towards the Citadel also, but they were intent on getting closer to Peleg. However, the man thought they were chasing
him
, and darted left at the next corner to evade them.

Soon Shem and Bernifal were near the Eastern base of the Citadel, looking up at Peleg.

Peleg was astounded at how quickly Shem and Bernifal had incapacitated their escorts. But as he watched them approach the Citadel, he began to wonder what he was going to do once they came near. They certainly couldn’t rescue him, and he certainly couldn’t make it to the roof and climb down. Somehow, he finally realized, all he wanted was to say “Good-bye”. And “Thank you”.

Shem had pointed him towards the
Creator
. A feeling of acceptance, completion, and even happiness filled him unlike anything he had ever experienced before. And it
had
to be real since it was so inconceivably in contradiction with his current situation. Somehow he could sense that his very spirit was being filled with a new kind of life. Waves of love and care washed over him in ways he would have never imagined or thought possible. He had always wanted to be accepted by the cosmos, and now, here he was, personally accepted by the cosmos’
Creator
!

For a second he felt unworthy, realizing he certainly did not have the perfection that the Creator must certainly demand. But, almost as if in response, the same voice which had said,
Turn Right
, suddenly said,
You have nothing that I have not given you. Take Peace. Rest in your advocate, the coming Zeh-ra
.

He listened as a new man entered the tunnel to retrieve him. Yet, strangely, a great joy filled him, and he began to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

He suddenly knew what he had to do. He was overwhelmed with a feeling of gratitude toward Shem, and desperately needed to express it. And he only had one thing
to
give.

Shem and Bernifal were now as close to the Citadel as the walls of the edifice would allow, and still be seen by Peleg.

“I have accepted the
Zeh-ra
!” he shouted down to them, waving.

Shem’s face almost split open as a large smile blossomed into a huge laugh—without a hint of its usual annoyance. He turned and said something to Bernifal, who, in turn, smiled as well, waving up to Peleg.

Peleg collected his chest pack (minus the cross-staff), rolled it up, tied it carefully, and pushed it out past the bars, launching it into the open air. It shot straight out like a fat arrow, and then dropped gracefully down the sides of the
Citadel
. Shem rushed towards the falling package and caught it expertly, cradling it in his elbow.

Peleg could now see additional guards from the
Citadel
rushing toward Shem and Bernifal. Shem looked up one last time, and Peleg was shocked to see his huge grinning face suddenly break into tears. With a final wave, Shem and Bernifal turned and ran from the guards, heading south back into the city.

The new man in the crawlspace finally arrived, grabbing at Peleg’s feet. But there was no real reason to fight now—and he certainly didn’t want to be left here to starve. This man had brought a rope, already formed into a loop, and placed it over Peleg’s feet, pulling it tight. With a tug, he started pulling Peleg back towards the chamber inside—and Peleg was sure that the rope was long enough to reach the room, and that there were certainly additional men ready to assist in pulling them back in.

He did everything he could to cooperate, since he didn’t want to be pulled, scraping against the side of the crawlspace. His suit tore as it caught on the walls, threatening to pull it up over his head as he moved.

His inexplicable joy remained. He hoped he would see his family again, but if not, he knew he could contentedly spend the rest of his life (however long that was) getting to know his Creator—and new friend—
Yahweh
.

His final thought, as he emerged feet-first into the chamber, was one of elation:

If the only purpose for his entire life had been to discover Shem and restore the Founder’s vision, then everything that had ever happened to him was well worth it.