Ark(44)

Noah poked at the embers with a long, weathered stick, its tip blackened and cracked and hard from years of fire-prodding. The embers flared, sparked and spat orange flecks. Noah’s face was a rough thing in the dim light, all angles like chipped stone and deep lines like crevasses.

Japheth lay with his head propped on his hand; Aresia curled in sleep in front of him. His brothers were spaced around the fire; their wives also asleep nearby. Zara sat cross-legged next to her husband, listening and staring at the coals. Neses sat away from the fire, in the shadows, her hair in a thick braid dangling over a shoulder, her eyes downcast, intent on scraping the hide of the sheep slaughtered for the evening meal.

“If He is wiping the earth clean of His creation, then why the boat?” Japheth asked.

Noah jabbed the fire in irritation. “It is an ark, Japheth. A boat is a vessel built for a journey, meant to arrive somewhere, to go somewhere. The ark is meant only to float upon the floodwaters.” He stabbed the fire again, but less vehemently. “I build the ark on His command.”

“Why is the ark so big, then? If it is only meant for you, why is it so big?”

“It is not meant only for me,” Noah answered. “Elohim spoke to me, one night. I was out in the fields, watching stars fall from the sky in a silver rain, and I heard His voice. All my life I have believed in Elohim. My father Lamech, my grandfather Methuselah, and his father Enoch . . . all of them walked with The One God. Enoch, he was taken from this life without death, removed to the heavens by the very hand of Elohim. Long have I worshipped, long have I prayed, and long have I believed. But never had I heard the voice of Elohim with my own ears.”

A pause, as Noah recalled the moment, his gaze vacant, remembering, staring into the fire. “He spoke with the voice of the stars, and their lights pulsed at His breath. The moon shone brighter with His words, until it was blinding. He spoke to me, Japheth—His words . . . touched my soul. He has . . . Elohim has made a covenant with me.

“He spoke to me, and He said: ‘Behold, I will bring a flood of waters upon the earth to destroy all flesh which is the breath of life under heaven. Everything that is on the earth shall die. But I will establish my covenant with you, and you shall come into the ark, you, your sons, your wife, and your sons’ wives with you. And every living thing of all flesh, you shall bring two of every sort into the ark to keep them alive with you.’”

“So . . . you’re building this ark, and you’re going to fill it with animals, and then all of us are going to get on it, and then, what? Some kind of flood will come? It will rain for months, or years? And we are meant to live on this boat? For how long? How does this work?” Japheth was struggling to keep his voice level, but none of it made any sense. “How are you supposed to get the animals onto the boat? And what about the dangerous ones? Will you bring the lions, too? Will they come to your call like a palace dog?”

“You mock, Japheth,” Noah said, with more patience than Japheth remembered him ever possessing, “But you do not mock me, you mock The One God. The truth is . . . I don’t know. I don’t know how it will all work. I don’t know how the animals will get onto the boat, or how the waters will come, or for how long, or anything. All I know is what Elohim has told me—build the ark, He said, so I build the ark. He is Elohim, The One God, the Creator, He of many names and all names and the One Name. If He wishes to bring two of every animal on this ark, then He will do so. He made them all with His voice and His breath, just as He made you and me and all things. Do not mock the will of The One God, son.”

“I’m sorry, Father,” Japheth said, truthfully. “I didn’t mean to mock. I just find it . . . hard to believe.”

Noah shrugged. “Your belief is not necessary. His will remains true and constant, whether you believe or not. I have my work, and I will do it whether you assist or not. Shem came a year ago, and he, much like you, mocked and remained skeptical, but now he too believes. Ham believes. Your mother, and Sedela, and Ne’eletama, they all believe.”

“And what about you, Neses?” Japheth looked at Neses, glancing at her for the first time. “What do you think?”

She started at the sound of her name from his lips, and then looked up hesitantly, gazing into his eyes for a long moment. He saw hurt, and disapproval, and anger there.

“I believe Elohim can do all things,” Her voice was small and quiet, but confident. “Elohim has not spoken to me in an audible voice as He did Noah, but . . . I have heard His voice nonetheless. His will does not depend on our approval.”

Japheth shifted uncomfortably. Her eyes remained on him, watching him, examining him; she was supposed to be his wife, but he held another woman in his arms. Neses’s eyes flicked down to Aresia and then back up to Japheth, the pain in her eyes deepening and sharpening until she returned her gaze to the hide she was scraping.

“I cannot tell you what to believe, my son,” Noah said, after a long, awkward silence. “If you do not believe, then do not help build the ark. But, if you are to remain here, under my roof, then you must help the family in some way. You can help with the harvest, perhaps.”

“I thought you said we had to remain apart?” Japheth asked.

“I did, and I would prefer it, but we don’t have the time to build a separate dwelling.” Noah glanced at Neses, who was scraping the hide with more force than was necessary. “It is unfortunate, but it is the way it must be.”