Chapter 10

Eat this now, both of you.”

Noah groggily lifted his head off Emzara’s shoulder. He blinked, trying to orient himself. How long has it been since. . . . Unable to finish the sentence in his mind, he glanced at the sun, which was well past the peak of its path.

“Eat.” Nmir held out a platter filled with bread slabs topped with honey and dried vinefruit. The commanding tone of her voice pulled him from what seemed like relentless waves of thought threatening to pummel him into mental unconsciousness. The scent of her savory flatseed stew added a welcome greeting, further drawing him from his grief-tossed haze.

Limp, he watched as she set the tray on a flat grassy section at their feet. Awareness finally took root after she took out three bowls.

“Em, here.” He guided her gently to the ground. She moved slowly, almost as if she were a child, discovering certain motions for the first time. As they ate, some of his strength returned. Where is Tubal-Cain? I’ve never had someone close to me die before. Who could’ve done this? The image of Bayt and the long dagger on his belt flashed through his mind. Clenching a fist, Noah felt his temperature rise, and the urge to race off and find the man filled his body.

Breathing shallowly, he glanced at Emzara, and he knew he needed to stay by her side for now. She had managed to consume a half a piece of bread, but her bowl of stewed flatseed lay untouched, slightly askew in the grass. He reached over her lap and held the bowl out. “Please.”

Tears welled up in her eyes and, understanding her mute plea, he set the bowl back down. He looked helplessly at Nmir. “Thanks for this. I . . .”

She fidgeted, twisting the overwrap that was tied to her midsection. “I had to do something.” Dried trails of darker brown traced down her cheeks like the crooked texture left behind in the wet sand from a retreating breaker.

“Come.” His voice cracked and he tried again. “We share this sorrow.”

She took his extended hand and sat across from them. Time stretched on before she finally spoke. “There’s much to be done before nightfall. Time for grief will be later.”

“I don’t know what’s next. I’ve never done this before.”

Emzara looked up slowly, a distant look in her eyes. “I can only remember going to one burial. It was for the old innkeeper. I was only 15, but I remember them lighting the torch and the family standing huddled by it.”

“Torch?” Noah asked.

“It’s placed at the head of the burial mound and is kept lit for seven days in honor.”

“If you ask me, it’s to give the family something to do,” Nmir said.

Emzara’s wry, half-smile almost appeared. Trust Nmir to see the practical side of things. She’s often right. Noah tapped his nose with the broad side of his thumbnail, and his wife responded to their secret communication with a soft smile, declaring her love for him as well.

Gone. Ara and Aterre. They’re gone. The realization hit him afresh and anguish tore through his midsection. He had needed that lightness of spirit even if just for a moment, but the pain at remembering almost undid any good from the temporary reprieve.

Suddenly, Tubal-Cain’s strong hand squeezed Noah’s forearm. Standing next to him were Zain, Cada, and Garun, each with a shovel in hand. “We’ve come to prepare for the burial.” Tubal-Cain’s voice was deeper than normal, revealing that he had been weeping.

“Let’s get this over.” Cada’s flat voice matched his expression.

He lost his best worker, a friend, and his soon-to-be son. Noah shook his head in frustration, realizing for the first time all the suffering that would stem from this tragedy.

“Here’s a shovel, if you’re up to it.” Zain handed the tool to Noah.

“I’m coming too. I need to focus on something else.” Emzara stepped forward, face flushed, but Nmir grabbed her.

“I need you. We’ll have to fix up a meal for those who come to mourn, and I can’t do it alone.”

Tubal-Cain nodded. “Adira’s back at your house, Zara, with Kmani. They’ve got the linens for wrapping Ater —” His word caught in his throat, so he lowered his head and buried it in the palm of his hand.

“And Jitzel will come later with the rest of my family.” Cada’s stone face barely moved as he spoke. “She . . . needed some time still.” He leaned his head back as a tear ran down one of his dark cheeks.

Emzara nodded slowly and Noah dropped his gaze, finding it difficult to imagine what Jitzel was going through. What would I have done if something had happened to Em? He shook his head, trying to banish the dreadful thought from his mind. “Thank you all for coming. We . . .” He gulped and gestured to Emzara and Nmir. “We couldn’t do this without you.”

The group turned and the men made their way around the side of the house. Noah fell into step behind Garun, thankful for the momentary silence. Stopping beside the low grassy mound that marked the grave of Em’s mother, Noah pointed to the ground adjacent to it. “Right here.”

“And the other one?” Zain asked in a somber tone.

Forcing his thoughts to the task at hand, Noah glanced at Cada. “Here or at your place?”

Cada’s puffy red eyes looked away. “Here. I think it would be too tough of a reminder for my daughter at our place.”

Noah nodded. “Over here then.” He walked several cubits beyond the first mound, plunged the sharp blade of his shovel into the ground, and hoisted a scoop of fresh soil to the side. He simply watched the blade slice into the soft sandy soil and cleanly come up again. Slice. Lift. Drop. Slice. Lift. Drop. The repeated action consumed his mind as he zeroed in on the sounds and the fresh memory of Bayt’s crooked grin. The tool dove deeper with each thrust, allowing Noah’s anger to fuel his work. With each load his frustration grew and tears dropped freely from his eyes. Soon, the rhythm from his implement was joined by a second scoop as Tubal-Cain joined him. When Noah stopped to catch his breath, he scanned the group. Where’s Aterre? He dropped his shovel as the pain stabbed him anew and cut through him just like his spade had pierced the earth.

* * *

Wind from the sea just beyond rippled through his hair and whipped across his face. The salty fragrance brought Noah a measure of peace, and he inhaled desperately. The sun hung low on the horizon, but for the first time the radiant oranges, pinks, and purples brought no joy.

Deep within his soul, he silently pleaded with his Maker. Most High, You have made all things. Surely nothing is too difficult for You. Oh, how I wish the sun would return in its course to last evening and You’d stay the hand of the murderer and spare the lives of Your faithful followers. I don’t want to face another day without them.

Noah paused before placing a shovelful of earth over Aterre’s grave. The two fresh mounds joined the older grass-covered one. Each berm stood about knee-high and was several cubits in length, although much narrower in width. The bodies of his friends rested on separate wooden planks and were wrapped with linens. Aterre had been placed first, and then Ara, so that he was right next to Biremza’s resting spot. Silently, the men steadily piled soil on top, grading the surrounding landscape and packing it in tightly.

Using his forearm, Noah wiped sweat from his brow and resumed his work, eager to finish the task before losing the sunlight.

Emzara sidled up to him, an unlit lantern in her left hand held aloft.

“This one’s for Baba. We’re almost ready to begin.”

Cada carried a similar lantern toward him. “This is for Aterre.”

Hand in hand they stepped to Ara’s mound. Letting go for a moment, Noah drove the lantern’s post deep at the head of the rise, making sure it would stand. He paused, remembering the face that had looked so kindly upon him when he and Aterre first arrived. The face that had been firm but patient with him as he picked up the new trade and learned the skills needed for shipbuilding. The face that shed tears of joy as he gave his daughter away in marriage. The face that only yesterday had been so happy to hear of the new life. Uncontrollable sobs wracked him and he reached out for Emzara’s hand. Instead, her body crushed him with a fierceness born of deep pain, love, and even desperation.

A wail pierced the descending twilight. Then another one rang out. Soon several voices rose in their loud expressions of grief. The deafening sound caused Noah to hold Em even tighter as they too, joined in. Oddly, the incredible closeness of friends and family mixed simultaneously with the sorrow of separation. As the cries continued, a bucket of cool mud was passed to them. Emzara smeared streaks of it down Noah’s arms before marking her own. “This is to remind us that Greatfather Adam was formed from the ground, and we are made from the same substance. And because of his rebellion, we each die and return to that ground.”

In the dim light, people from town followed suit and covered themselves in long stripes of mud from their cheeks, down their chest and arms, to their legs.

Zain stepped forward, his streaked face illuminated by the torch in his hand. He spoke loudly, accentuating his words while lighting the two lanterns. “I light these lamps this evening to honor Aterre and Ara. They were our dearest friends, our family, and we loved them. And we know they loved us deeply in return. Our town wouldn’t be what it is today without Ara’s vision in his work or his wisdom on the council. And who of us hasn’t laughed along with Aterre, whether through his quick wit or his playful spirit. He gave us joy in life. To Noah, Emzara, Nmir, Cada, and Jitzel, you have our support.”

Zain hung the torch on the stake Noah had placed. Raising his hands, he continued, “Creator, receive these two men and enable us to be better because of their examples of faithfulness in serving You. We are again reminded of the ultimate price for disobeying You.” His voice softened. “We are also thankful for Your mercy that allows us to live each day.”

Sounds of assent murmured through the crowd and then died down as each paused in a lengthy silence. An old, bulky man stepped forward from the gathered throng. It took Noah a few moments to recognize Akel with the streaks of mud across his body. He carried a large wooden crate and placed it before the two newly raised places of earth. “Let each person here take a flower cutting from this box and place it on the sites where our dear friends lie. When you have finished saying farewell, the women have prepared evenfeast at Noah’s and Emzara’s home. You are welcome to gather there.”

Noah twined his fingers through Emzara’s. “Almost done. Can you make it?”

She looked up at him gratefully, her red eyes shining with tears in the light of the torches. “I have you.” She squeezed his hand, and together they moved to lead the procession in placing flower cuttings on the graves.