Heavens Before (19 page)

Overcome, Annah stopped. Taking a deep breath, she continued shakily, “I had not spoken aloud since the death of my father. And when I called to the Most High, I could barely hear my own voice. But He heard me. I fell into the grass, face down—all my breath gone. I was sure I would die! I waited for Iltani to stab me with the knife. But she ran by me. She should have sensed me, but she didn’t.”

“The Most High covered you with His presence!” Noakh exulted, almost spilling the dish of lentil broth on the bewildered Methuwshelakh.

Unable to speak, Annah nodded agreement. Beside her, Naomi was weeping. But Shem laughed, pulling her into his arms and kissing her hair. Annah felt tears spilling down her cheeks. She thought she would never finish crying. Shem consoled her, whispering, “Annah, beloved … shhh. I think you need some time to rest and to mourn. Listen: stay here with my mother and rest for a few days. That will give me time to prepare a place for the two of us; then I will come for you.”

Annah stared at him, fearful. “Won’t I see you?”

He grinned, as mischievous as his younger brother, Khawm. “Don’t worry; I’ll be here at every meal.”

Her grass bag in her lap, Annah began to pick her precious shell carving out of its secret pouch. She felt better this morning. Rested. And lulled by the peace in the lodge of Noakh.
I’ve been here since yesterday evening and I haven’t heard one quarrel in this place
, she realized, freshly amazed, looking around.

Sunlight warmed the main room of the lodge, while Methuwshelakh dozed in his sheltered pallet behind the woven reed screen. She could hear Naomi in the storage area, humming—music from the heart of a contented woman.
Will I be like her one day?
Annah wondered. She hoped she would be as happy as Naomi.

But the fears bred within her over the past twenty-five years continued to affect all her actions. During the morning meal, she had to remind herself that she could look at Shem and his family and speak to them without fear of punishment. And she felt almost naked without her veil. Her fingers twitched with the urge to snatch it from her basket, but she fought the impulse. She wanted to prove to herself that she could live without its protection.

Pressing her lips together, Annah forced herself to concentrate on her precious shell carving. She picked out a few more stitches and found the leather cord. Triumphant, she eased the shell carving out of her grass bag.
I’d forgotten how pretty it is
, she thought, admiring its luminous pink and blue glow and its pierced, curl-carved edges. Delighted, she kissed the carving, pulled the cord over her head, and swept her hair off her neck.
Now
, she thought,
I can use my comb!

She found the carved, scented wooden comb still in its leather pouch and untied the knots holding it within the bag. Naomi’s gift of tools for handwork also was in
the bag. Annah spread these out, studying them while she combed her hair. The flat wooden needles and the cutting blade would be perfect for making garments for Shem and their children. Meanwhile, the old tunic she wore now, and the newer tunic from her mother’s storage chest would be sufficient.

“You can also use those to make baskets,” Naomi said, coming in from the storage area. She carried a large, flat basket stacked with dishes of beans, edible tubers, bulbs, dried fruits, nuts, grain cakes, and spices and herbs.

“Please, teach me to make baskets,” Annah begged Naomi. “Once I stopped speaking no one taught me anything except ordinary work. And I want to learn from you; your baskets are more beautiful than any in the settlement.”

“Baskets are like everything else,” Naomi said. “A lot of time and a little skill. With practice, you will do very well.” She set down her burden and handed Annah a dish of cakes, dried fruits, and nuts. “Here; these are yours. And don’t tell me you’re not hungry; you are too thin. Between last night and this morning, I saw how you don’t eat. A bite of this and a pinch of that won’t do!”

Not daring to argue, Annah tucked her comb into her bag and reached for the dish of food. Some of the fruit was sweet, some tart, and the cakes and nuts were crisp—a perfect match to the sweetness of the fruit. She decided she was hungry after all. As she ate, she watched Naomi prepare the midday meal.

“May I help you?” Annah asked, wanting to be useful. “Do you need more water from the well?” By now she had discovered that Noakh and his family had their own wells: a distant one for the herds, and one behind the lodge for Naomi’s convenience. This was a luxury. All the
lodges in the settlement shared two wells. And Annah, a mindless-nothing-female, had never been trusted to carry water. Now she longed to do that task, to be considered trusted and normal.

“Finish eating,” Naomi scolded mildly. “You are supposed to be resting today, not working. You’ll be tired of well water soon enough.”

“Mother of my Husband,” Annah began tentatively, “if you have wells for water, why do you use the river so often?”

Smiling, Naomi said, “We rarely go to the river. The first day my son saw you, he and his brother decided they would enjoy using the river to soak the fibers for ropes. Of course it was the will of the Most High that my son see you there; we know that now.”

“Oh.” Annah blinked, grateful, but wondering at the will of the Most High. Why should He notice her?

Using a thin, fine metal blade, Naomi peeled the bulbs and edible tubers, humming beneath her breath until a sharp whistle sounded from outside the lodge. Her dark eyebrows lifted. “That’s Noakh. Something’s wrong.”

Annah scrambled to her feet, clutching her food. Noakh entered the lodge, raising his grizzled eyebrows at his wife. “We have visitors from the settlement.” He turned to Annah. “Child, please go look through the lattice in the storage room and tell us who these people are. Why should they visit us twenty-two years after forbidding us to enter their lands?”

Sick with dread, Annah went into the storage room and peered through the lattice of the far wall. In the distance, she saw one man and two women. Bachown, Tsillah, and Taphaph. Slowly, Annah faced Noakh and Naomi, who had followed her. “They are Bachown and
Tsillah and their daughter, Taphaph. My brother, Yerakh, wants Taphaph as his wife. But I think her parents would rather have you offer grain and sheep for her, as you offered them for me. That’s why those men pursued us yesterday, and why Bachown and Tsillah are coming to visit you now. I’m sure Tsillah will offer Taphaph to Yepheth or Khawm.”

Fingering his beard thoughtfully, Noakh said, “Then Yerakh will make trouble for us if we take his beloved. We must be rid of this family without giving offense.”

“I wish you could tell them that you’ve chosen wives for Yepheth and Khawm,” Annah whispered, deeply distressed, hugging her bowl of food.

“That would be a lie,” Naomi sighed.

But Noakh’s eyes shone, suddenly mischievous. “Thank you, daughter, for your concern. Now listen; go out the back of our lodge to the pen. Don’t be afraid, but run up inside that big door and hide there. We will come for you when this family is gone.”

Annah offered the dish of cakes, fruits, and nuts to Naomi, but Naomi flapped her hands vigorously. “No, take it with you; I expect you to eat it all by the time our guests have departed. Hurry. And don’t spill your food!”

Impossible!
Annah thought. But she slapped one hand over the food and scurried out the back of the lodge. She heard Noakh chuckling as she ran.

Twelve

ANNAH PAUSED to summon her courage before approaching the formidably vast structure her husband and father-in-law called the pen. The door of the pen was actually a long ramp of dense, multilayered wood stretching from the ground up to the inner level of the structure. Each layer and surface of the ramp was permeated with hardened black resins. Annah stepped on the ramp, testing its feel with her bare foot; it was warm, smooth, rock-solid, and not at all sticky. Reassured, she trotted up the ramp, her toes gripping the narrow holds built into the surface of the wood.

Reaching the top of the ramp, she crept inside the pen, wondering if Bachown or Tsillah and Taphaph had seen her.
Not that it matters if they did
, she thought defiantly. She resented their intrusion into the lodge of Noakh. Why had she believed she could be rid of the members of
the settlement just by crossing a river?
O Most High
, she begged,
please make them go away peaceably!

As her eyes adjusted to the filtered light inside the pen, Annah forgot about Bachown, Tsillah, and Taphaph. To her left and her right were endless rows of wooden stalls of varying heights and widths, built in orderly formations throughout this level of the pen. Each row of stalls was separated by long rows of what appeared to be covered water troughs. The trough covers were cut open at carefully spaced intervals, to allow the would-be occupants to drink comfortably. Above, long resin-blackened reed pipes hung suspended by ropes from the rafters; the ends of these pipes were jointed and turned downward—seeming ready to spill water into the troughs at any time. There were also open bins beneath each trough—feed bins, Annah decided. At the rear of each row of stalls, shallow gutters were built into the floor, as if to catch and contain animal waste. Annah frowned at these.

Do they really plan to keep their animals here?
she wondered, perplexed.
This pen is too elaborate for that, and these different-sized stalls don’t make sense
. Her feet pattering over the bare floor, she inspected large baskets and tall bins, also placed at convenient intervals near the stalls. These held an overwhelming abundance of coarse grains, seeds, pellets, dried fruits and vegetables, oddly dark grain cakes, twigs, dense bundles of bark, and countless varieties of dried grasses, leaves, and pine needles—all weighted by stones to pack them down tight within their containers.

Seeing this abundance, Annah remembered her dish of food. Randomly pushing the fruits, nuts, and bits of grain cake into her mouth, she chewed avidly while exploring several large herding areas. Apparently, these would allow selected animals freedom from the stalls.
As if
they won’t go outside
, Annah thought. There were also numerous large cages—barred with metal and built against the walls—completely separated from the more open stalls. Annah touched one of the chilling metal bars, baffled.
Why metal?

Turning from the barred cages, she studied the far walls of the pen. Here she found endless rows of stacked reed cages. Each cage had its own slanted board beneath, to propel animal wastes into long communal pits behind the cages.
These cages are for very small animals
, Annah decided.
And there are hundreds of them. Why should my father-in-law and my husband keep small animals of no practical use?

Curious, Annah approached the ramp near the center of the pen. This ramp led upward into the next level. Near it was a rail, guarding an opening in the floor.
Another ramp leading downward
, Annah realized.
There are three levels. Why?

Annah crept up the ramp to the higher level. Here she paused, sucking in her breath, awed. This level was much brighter, lit by a high, double row of raised, continuously roofed, open-shuttered windows, which extended the entire center-length of the pen’s gradually peaked ceiling. The clear, restful pink of the sky and the distant calls of birds filtered through the windows; Annah admired them while she finished her snack. Full now, she explored the upper level.

There were more cages and bins here. Annah gaped at the enormous netted enclosures at each end, hung with countless dried tree branches and more water pipes.
These are beyond understanding
, she told herself, gazing at the massive netted enclosures.
I’m sure I don’t want to know their purpose
. Near the enclosures, Annah noticed ladders built into the wall. The ladders, stout and sturdy, extended to
the high windows and also descended through the floor, accessing the lower levels.

Reluctant to try the ladders, Annah retreated, still exploring the upper level. She discovered several small cubicles built into the walls, equipped with open-holed seats—waste pits for humans. There were also four comfortably spaced rooms in this upper level, set far apart from each other like a vast lodge.
Does my husband’s family intend to abandon their lodge and live here?
Annah wondered.
There is no other explanation for all these supplies. Even so, why should they keep so many types of animals and foods? Have they stored food for themselves too?

Suspicious now, she eyed row after row of large, coiled storage baskets; the same sort of storage baskets her beloved had used to convey his payments of grain to Yerakh.
But there are so many more baskets here
, Annah thought, stupefied.
It will take years to eat all this food
. She peeked into basket after basket, bin after bin. All of them were filled with grains, beans, spices, dried fruit cakes, dried vegetables, gourds, dried olives, huge quantities of seeds, nuts, and—to her amazement—large clay jars of oil and wooden vats of honey. There were also large quantities of dried honeycombs. In addition, many bins contained scented resins and huge stacks of dried, fragrant wood, obviously intended for burning. Wondering, Annah looked for the hearth.