Shame of Man (30 page)

“What?” Baal demanded. He was young, but strong. He was the rain god, and the spirit of fertility. “I will be a slave to no one! Least of all to such sludge of the sea as this.”

Yam's minion eyed the impetuous youngster. “Yam will use thee to cultivate his oysters,” he said derisively. “Until thou learnest some manners before thy betters, in a few millennia, assuming that thou art less stupid than thou lookest.”

Others tried to calm Baal, to warn him of the perils in challenging the might of the sea, but he had been put on his mettle. He leaped up, drawing his knife. “I will cut off
thy
oysters!” he cried, striding toward the envoy of the sea.

But his sister Anat, the goddess of war, intercepted him. She alone could calm his fury, for she loved him as no other did, and was herself a formidable entity. She was garbed in the manner of the temple, though she
was a virgin, with bells on the hem of her robe to ward off evil spirits. “Thou must not do this,” she protested. “It would be a terrible violation of protocol. No mischief must come to an envoy in thy father's house.”

She was correct, and Baal allowed himself to be restrained somewhat. But he couldn't resist taking a whip in his left hand and lashing the buttocks of the departing envoy. That was an indignity that Yam himself felt, for an insult to his minion was an insult to the god of the sea.

Naturally Yam did not take long to react. He challenged Baal to individual combat by the edge of the sea. Now Baal, the heat of the moment dissipated, had some caution. The god of the sea was indeed formidable, and Baal was merely the god of the tiny drops of rain that fell to encourage the crops. So he sought some advice from a divine metalsmith.

“Have I not told thee, O Prince Baal, that thou shalt prevail?” the skillful craftsman said encouragingly. “Behold thy enemy, whom thou shalt smite. Thou shalt subdue all thy adversaries.”

“But I lack a weapon to match the trident of Yam,” Baal protested.

“Thou shalt have that weapon,” the smith said. And he went to work at his forge and crafted a mighty double mace. “Thy name is Driver,” he told the mace. “Driver, to drive the sea from his throne. Thou shalt soar and swoop in the hand of Baal, even as an eagle takes its prey. Thou shalt strike the shoulders of the prince of the sea, and break his power.”

Encouraged, Baal took the mace and went with his sister Anat to meet Yam at the appointed place. They performed the leaping dance as they went, to encourage their health and strength. The minions of the sea came out of the surging water and surrounded them, but Anat showed her weapons of war and made them retreat. “If thy lord can't fight his own battle, he proclaims his inadequacy,” she said.

Then Yam emerged in his glory, a towering figure bearing his mighty trident. He shed so much water that it eroded the sand of the beach, putting Baal at a disadvantage. But Baal waded in, swinging his mace. It struck the breast of the lord of the sea, a blow that would have killed any mortal man.

But Yam was not mortal. He laughed, showing no impairment. “Callst that a blow?” he demanded. “Such a toy can't hurt me!” And he struck the mace with the three tines of his trident, and knocked it out of Baal's hand, and it fell to the ground in a twisted mass.

Then Anat rushed to her brother. “The celestial smith made another weapon, in case of need,” she said. “I saved it for thee, and here it is: Expeller, to expel thine enemy from the field.”

Baal kissed her and took the new weapon. Then he went after Yam again, and this time the battle was long and hard. When he struck at the lord of the sea, his blow was met by the metal of the trident and repelled; when Yam struck at him, he parried with the mace, and it neither broke nor left his hand. At last he succeeded in catching Yam unguarded, and swung his mace with horrendous force, and struck the god between the eyes. Yam looked
surprised, and tried to laugh, but the blow had addled him, and he fell like a tremendous tree and crashed to the ground. His minions looked on, horrified; they had never anticipated this outcome. In truth, Baal was somewhat surprised himself, for the lord of the sea had seemed invincible. Only with the magic aid of the second weapon had he been able to prevail, and now he realized how tired he was.

Anat was jubilant. “Scatter him, O mighty Baal!” she cried. “Scatter him, O thou who mountest the clouds. Yea, the sea himself is our captive!”

“Let Baal reign!” cried the people. And, indeed, from that point on, Baal was considered to be the proper ruler of the land, for he had proved his valor. They celebrated his heroic victory in their songs, and declared that this was the New Year festival, in honor of Baal's accession. They divided parts of Yam's old dominions into new lands and waters and kingdoms, and made up the Tablets of Destiny, that all might forever know and honor the new order.

But at the moment Baal just wanted to retire and rest, for he knew that he had not won by much of a margin, and he suspected that Yam was not completely defeated. This had been a battle he had won, rather than a war. “Just take me home to sleep,” he told his sister.

“But thou must not return to our father's palace,” Anat protested. “Thou art now the supreme god, and must have thine own elegant residence.”

“I don't care about that,” Baal said. And he went to El's palace and to his private chamber there, and fell down on his bed and slept deeply and long. Anat covered him with a blanket and stroked his brow and took care of him, seeing his enormous fatigue. But to others she said that Baal was merely considering how he should rule the world, and what changes he should make in the existing order. She did not want anyone to know that her brother was anything less than invincible.

When Baal woke, recovered, his sister's words returned to him. It was true: he should have a palace of his own, so that he could live in proper style for the chief of gods. Only from such a residence could he be what he was destined to be.

But only El could authorize such an edifice, and it was uncertain whether the creator would allow a palace to be constructed which would rival his own in splendor. So for a time Baal and Anat busied themselves with other things. Anat made a temple wherein she indulged herself in the pleasures of the sacrifice of young mortal men, for she as goddess of war delighted in dismemberment and blood. Then she sanctified the temple and retired to her toilet, scooping up water and washing with the dew of heaven and the rain that poured forth from the stars. Then she sprayed herself with the perfumes of a thousand mountains, and cast her slops into the sea. Yam might have protested about that, but he no longer had the power to enforce his outrage.

She did not neglect the welfare of her beloved brother. She brought him to her temple, where she made a sacred marriage for him with three marvelous beauties, ushering in the fertility of spring after the sterility of winter. She gave him a love charm, and delivered to him nymphs called Plump Damsel, who would produce the fattening of the land and its produce; Dewey, the Daughter of Showers, who brought the vital rain from the sky; and Earth-Maiden, the Daughter of the Wide World, whose soil nourished the growing seeds.

But even these marvelous creatures diverted Baal only so long. The time came when he remembered his lack of a palace of his own. “I must build the House of Baal,” he said.

“And I must help thee,” Anat said loyally.

“I will demand of my father that he let me build the palace.”

But his sister had the caution born of occasional reverses in battle. “No, it is better to be circumspect. Let's get our mother Asherat to intercede for thee; then El will surely agree.”

Baal realized that her counsel was good. So they foraged throughout the lands and assembled a vast array of precious and wonderful gifts, including especially things that Anat knew a woman would appreciate.

They loaded the gifts on pack animals and made their way toward Asherat's residence. The mother of the gods was a gentle creature who saw the long caravan of camels and horses bearing their burdens and was frightened that this was a war party. But Anat reassured her, and when the woman saw how rich the gifts were she was entirely won over, and agreed to present Baal's case to her husband El. And El, moved by his wife's plea, agreed that Baal could have his palace.

Now they sought an architect. This could be no other but the Skillful and Percipient One who had made the powerful maces for Baal. He designed a truly marvelous edifice with many great windows. But Baal was reluctant. “Suppose Yam peers into them, and sees my beautiful young brides, and steals them away to the sea?”

“But thou didst defeat Yam,” Anat reminded him. “He is no threat to thee anymore.”

Still, Baal was doubtful. He had defeated Yam at the margin of the sea, but would hesitate to challenge him in the deepest depths of it, where there was no place to stand. Still, perhaps he could cow the god of the sea, so there would be no incidents. So they went out to the edge of the sea, and Baal brought forth his terrible mace and hurled a challenge to Yam to come out and fight if he dared. Yam was there, but he knew he couldn't win that battle, so he lay low under the water and did not answer the challenge. So Baal was reassured, and agreed to have the windows.

The palace was built, and it was the marvel of the ages. The workers went to Lebanon for its choice cedars, and used flame to forge silver into plates
and gold into blocks. The building took seven days, and on the first six days the mansion was bathed in fire, and on the seventh day the fire was doused and it was complete. They slaughtered sheep and oxen, bulls and rams, and fattened calves, celebrating the achievement.

At last they installed the roof shutter and the palace was complete. When Baal opened the windows, the heavens also opened, and rain fell to fertilize the earth. Baal, his power complete with this grand palace, thundered out his challenge to all enemies, real and potential: “O enemies, how dismayed art thou at the weapons of my strength?”

For a time all was well. But Baal realized that his power was not complete. He had defeated Yam, but there was another god whose power was greater and far more sinister. This was Mot, the god of death and sterility, whose abode was in the underworld. Baal ruled the land, but every year the land grew arid and the plants withered and died, leading to hunger. The land recovered each year, but his favored wives and servants grew old and died, showing that the power of Mot was present. There was no mortal who did not in the end descend to that dread realm. Baal concluded that his position would not be secure until he made an end to Death. Then the season of growing would last forever, and people would prosper without dying.

But this was no easy thing to accomplish. Mot was insidious, not standing where he could be attacked. Baal sent a messenger to challenge him: “I alone am he who will reign over the gods, yea, be the leader of gods and men. I call thee to thy grave, Mot!”

And Mot returned the message: “Though thou didst smite the primeval serpent, and vanquish the lord of the sea, the heavens will dry up, yea they shall languish. I shall pound thee, consume thee. Thou shalt be cleft, forspent, and exhausted. Lo, thou art gone down into the throat of the god Mot, into the gullet of Death, O beloved of El.”

Baal demanded that Mot come to the surface of the land and meet him in fair combat. But Mot, ever devious, countered with an invitation for Baal to come below and discuss the matter. “And thou, take thy clouds, thy wind, thy rain, thy Plump Damsel, Daughter of Mist, and Dewey, Daughter of Showers, and set thy face toward the Mountain of Concealment. Grope thy way under the earth and descend to the House of Corruption in the underworld. Thou shalt be numbered with those who go down into the earth. Yea, thou shalt know annihilation, as do the dead!”

This was a summons, whether it was more truly an invitation or a challenge, that Baal could not ignore, lest he be shamed as a coward. So he accepted the dare, and agreed to travel into the underworld to meet the lord of death.

“But thou must not go alone!” Anat protested. “I will go with thee, to guard against betrayal.”

But Baal did not accept this. “It is my courage Mot challenges,” he
replied. “I must show him and all the world that I fear nothing—not even the lord of death in his own dominion. I will go alone.”

She saw that he would not be moved. “Then at least prepare thyself, my beloved brother, for Mot is both crafty and treacherous. Cover thyself with red ocher to ward off demons, and exercise to enhance thy virility and strength.”

Her advice was good, so Baal did as she suggested. He smeared ocher all across his body until he was orange throughout, and the iron of it was like armor against anything the underworld might hurl. Then Anat brought forth a heifer, the fairest of virgin cows, and Baal undertook the ritual of copulation with her. So great was his virility that it was barely diminished by the first effort, so he repeated the act again and again, until he had done it eighty-eight times and begotten on her a calf-son, whose birth and growth would generate a bull the like of no other, to be worshipped seasonally by all the people. Now he was as strong as he could be, in every sense, and ready for almost anything.

He bid parting to his virgin sister Anat, who loved him so well that she was jealous of the heifer, and set off for the underworld. His route was through a vast deep cave that no others dared enter, for it was said it could be traveled in only one direction. He promised his sister that he would return in three days, allowing one day to descend, one to meet Mot, and one to return.

So concerned was Anat that she remained the whole three days at the mouth of that cave, so as not to miss an instant of his return. But when the third day came, Baal did not emerge. With growing alarm she continued her vigil through the fourth day, and the fifth, fearing the worst. She began to despair on the sixth day, and on the seventh she knew that her brother was lost. Mot had defeated him, and Baal would not return to the world of the living.

With heavy heart she reported the sad news to their father El. “Verily Baal has fallen to the earth,” she said through her tears. “Baal the mighty is dead! The prince, the lord of the earth, has perished.”