The Days Of Nimrod

By Nancy Gooding

The days of Nimrod is a fictional account fostered by my imagination. Mention of Nimrod in the Bible is limited but legend and folklore are prolific. Although not clearly stated in the Bible, Nimrod has since ancient times traditionally been considered the instigator and builder of the tower of Babel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jul 2, 2014
• ISBN: 9781631921223

Book preview

tongues.

CHAPTER ONE

It was a blistering hot day in early fall, certainly not a day one would choose for a coronation. Nimrod pulled on his tunic nervously. Disagreeable as usual, he pranced in front of a full length sheet of brass. The reflector was polished to a high sheen and to his delight reproduced his every movement. Fan bearers trying to follow him bumped into each other, which did little to improve his disposition.

Is the litter finally ready? he asked tersely.

Yes, your Excellency.

This blasted heat! Where is Semirimis?

She refuses to leave her room sir.

He stood for a moment weighing his options, sighed heavily in frustration and stomped out of the room. If he took the time to confront her he would be late. Lusty cursing punctuated his departure. She will regret that decision, he mumbled under his breath.

In all his conquests, his wife Semirimis remained the one person he could not conquer. For days, the Palace had resonated with their loud arguing. Tempers flared igniting a fire that burned in each of their souls with neither willing to give in. She wanted to rule, not only by his side, but as his equal. She knew he need only to say the words and she would be honored as his Queen... perhaps even a goddess but he had denied her saying, No living creature would share the honor of his royalty...not even Jehovah God himself!

All morning she had ranted, raved, and brought up battles she had strategically planned. If at one point he appeared to soften, her insolent and demeaning comments only hardened his heart.

When she realized he would not give in, she had stormed out of the room. Infuriated, she declared she would not go through the humiliation of riding in the litter or of watching him crowned king while she remained standing by his side as if she were one of the servant girls.

His last remark to her was, you will never be queen and will cease to be my wife if you continue to badger me.

And now it was time. The crowds were waiting in anticipation...thrilled by even a glimpse of him, their mighty hunter. And yet, the one whose approval he desired most, refused to give it. Believing herself to be the power and brains behind the throne Semirimis continued to hold Nimrod in disdain.

* * *

Watching the parade from her third floor window she hoped no one would look up and notice her. High enough to escape the dust and clamor yet close enough to evaluate the excitement, Semirimis studied the proceedings with resentment. Four-year old Timrah, daughter of her favorite servant Lendel, stood at her side.

Semirimis wore her dark hair piled high, carefully fashioned and intertwined with many jewels until her hair itself became the crown her husband denied her. As usual her dress was white with a tight revealing bodice, a wide belt of braided gold strands and a flowing skirt gathered high on each side to reveal her long lovely legs.

Timrah clapped her little hands excitedly as the trumpets began to play heralding the arrival of the King. Semirimis turned from the window just as the litter, all a flutter with skillfully embroidered curtains, came into view. The scent of perfume from huge bouquets carried by beautiful female slaves wafted into her open window. Little Timrah cried out in delight, Here he comes...the King is coming! But Semirimis, her eyes pooled with angry tears, swore softly under her breath and left the room. Lendel, mother of the child Timrah, stepped from the shadows where she had been watching. Taking Timrah’s hand she led her away from the window.

Come, she said, as the little girl tried to pull away.

But I want to see! the child insisted.

You have seen enough. Probably more than is good for you, her mother whispered. She picked up the sullen child and carried her out of the room.

CHAPTER TWO

While the emotional storm between Nimrod and his wife was at its worst, Ester lay in her extravagantly silk draped bed and grieved. Although Ester was the mother of Nimrod, it was a fact she was not proud of. She preferred to remain anonymous and begged that no title be given. As usual he completely ignored his mother’s pleas and insisted she be called Royal Mother. And when she tried to express how much she hated his arrogance and overbearing ways, Nimrod explained her protest away.

He told his loyal subjects she was too humble to enjoy a title and asked everyone in the Kingdom to ignore her demands and honor her. He even forged a coin depicting his mother holding a child who was assumed to resemble himself, and said there was a great mystery concerning his conception. He wanted people to wonder what it could all mean and said no more, choosing to whet their appetite in the realm of miracles before revealing his secret.

An invalid for many years, Ester lay listening to the clamor outside her bedroom window. Yes...she had heard the fighting earlier. Who in the Palace had not, but of course even if she had given her opinion, no one would have listened. Who had ever believed her...certainly not her husband...not even her own parents.

Dear God in heaven forgive me. I should have strangled the strange child at birth, but what right did I have to end the life of any living creature...even one like him. Half man, half beast or half god as he proclaims. Cush wanted a son and so I gave him one. No question has ever been raised as to his parentage, except by me. I know, but they have always said it was a nightmare...said it was a mere delusion born of my guilt. I will not deny the truth. No one has ever convinced me. Now, soon all will know because the evil he has unleashed will destroy the earth. Who can stop him? It is too late and no one will believe me.

She tried to roll over to find a more comfortable position, but in the heat it was impossible. Lying on her bed, she listened to the trumpets being sounded over and over in honor of her son. What can I do? Dear God Jehovah forgive me. I am a sick, old woman. How could I have stopped the horrific chain of events that have led to my son becoming the first king in the new world?

The hot hours crept by and she dozed. It seemed only moments but when she opened her eyes again she saw her maid Drin, closing the curtains to keep out the dampness of the night air.

What is that noise? she murmured softly, as she absent mindedly watched a black and yellow newt scurry across the top of the curtain rod on the other side of the room.

It is the merrymaking in the street below, my Lady, Drin answered, as she continued to watch through the partially closed curtain.

"When will it end?" the old woman sighed. It was not a question but a despairing cry made from a heart heavy with the implication of not the noise itself but of all it symbolized.

The King has ordained three days of merrymaking, my Lady, Drin answered innocently. The streets are filled with those who love him. She reluctantly turned from the window and started to light the lamps in the lavishly furnished room.

Sensing her patient’s distress, she turned from her lamp lighting, smoothed the silk sheets, fluffed the pillow, and helped her frail patient to a sitting position.

Would you care for some wine before your meal, my Lady?

Perhaps a little, it seems to help with my digestion, the old woman answered in her gravelly voice.

With cool gentle hands Drin rearranged the bed clothes. The old woman watched through eyes dim, more from sickness than from age. The beautiful, slender servant girl glided back to her lamp lighting and then poured the wine for her.

I was like her once upon a time, the old woman thought as she looked down at her own gnarled deformed hands. When you are so young, so beautiful, you think it will always be so, she mused. I am old before my time because of my sin.

Her memory floated back to her youth. She was the youngest daughter of Mizmiram and Amah, the granddaughter of Ham and the great granddaughter of Noah. Her marriage to Cush had been arranged. He was much older than she, but a kind man and she didn’t mind too much at first. As the years went by and there were no children, she began to daydream of how her life would be with a younger more vital husband. The other women chided her sullenness. They often brought to her attention her husband’s devotion and his wealth he generously shared with her. Still...her barrenness was an accusation unsaid. Cush had cherished her and made few demands. He constantly spoke of his love and tried to reassure her that he did not need a child to be happy, but Ester would not be comforted.

Now she was old and as she lay on her bed she remembered the day everything had changed. Although generations had passed, the day of her disobedience seemed as if it were yesterday. The guilt of it was still intense and had never been even slightly eased by the years.

That day so long ago, had started as any other day. It was actually a day much like today. Ester had been so young, so lovely...the envy of many but she was not happy. Languishing in bed, she ate her breakfast and watched as her maid, Romi, went about her room straightening, filling the vases with fresh flowers and singing softly to herself. While she watched she couldn’t help but notice. Once again Romi’s body was swollen with child.

Another baby is on the way I see. She sighed with jealousy and sarcasm.

Yes, my Lady...and soon, Romi giggled.

And this makes how many?

Seven, my Lady.

And the secret is?

Oh, she answered breathlessly, I go to the temple of Bel. I receive the power to entice my husband and soon I have another man child growing inside of me. She rubbed her protruding belly for emphasis.

You have no fear of the God Jehovah? He is a jealous God you know. Ester almost whispered the warning, for her awe of Jehovah was great.

Romi shrugged her shoulders and continued dusting. What has he to do with me? she answered flippantly.

How, how do you worship your god? Ester’s voice caught in her throat as the fear of even asking such a question almost made her mute.

Romi turned to her with a glowing face. It is a beautiful temple my Lady. I bring flowers and sometimes bread and wine for the priests. they bless me and soon I am with child again.

You have no blood sacrifice?

Romi scowled, Why would there be blood?

Our sacrifice is in blood to cover our sins.

I don’t believe in sin. Whatever is right in my own eyes, I do, she answered resolutely.

Where do you worship? she questioned tentatively.

Would you like to go with me? Romi answered excitedly. I will take you... soon you will also be with child, she said with assurance.

Ester pushed the food around her plate picking at it critically and then asked, What about tomorrow morning? the words seemed to come from her mouth unbidden and she could barely believe she was speaking them. Yet, when she did, a raging excitement began to rush through her. Her heart was beating so loudly she was sure Romi could hear. Leaving her bed, she walked to the window. Trying to conceal her trembling hands she folded them tightly in front of her. Cush will be...will be out of the house, she said, gazing into the hills. He has a meeting with the elders.

Romi clapped her hands excitedly. "Yes...Yes...it will be great fun and you will see...Bel will not fail you.

* * *

The trip with Romi seemed uneventful, certainly benign, and almost innocent. That was until the visitation. Others called it a dream...told her she was crazy. The evil being had come to her in the night and told her he would enter her and become her son. Of course she had heard the stories. Everyone knew of the Nephilim. She knew at once he was one of them...one of the messengers in rebellion to God, one from before the flood. She had cried out, No, I do not want this! But the deed was done.

The time for Ester’s menses did not come that month and she realized in horror it was true. She was with child and she was sure it was because of her turning from the one true God, Jehovah. She had wanted a child at any cost but now the cost was too great to pay. She prayed for a miscarriage... did everything in her power to bring it about and when the child was born insisted her husband take him out of her sight. Against her husband’s wishes she named the child Nimrod, meaning The Rebel. Cush named the child Amrafel, but no one ever seemed to remember. He was called Nimrod by all.

From the moment of his birth she refused to look at him or nurse him and so, a wet nurse was hired. Ester closeted herself in seclusion with only a few servant girls. She remained this way for over a year.

Cush was confused and hurt. At times he would bring the child to see her, believing no woman could reject her own son. She would gaze at him fearfully for a few moments and then return him to his father’s care.

She tried to convince her husband from the very beginning that the child was not of his loins. She confessed all to him and explained that the conception was from a depraved deity but he scoffed at her fears. There was no way Cush could understand the guilt that dictated her every decision or the depression that sat on her, like a monstrous obstacle to her sanity.

In time she welcomed her husband back to her bed. the humble, gentle man went to her, offering his heart and his love and eventually she conceived again. She named this child Seba and poured into him all of the love she had denied Nimrod. Almost immediately, she conceived again and another son was born. She tried to see the blessing of her sons as a sign of reprieve from the almighty but in her mind, the forgiveness was never sufficient to erase her past sins.

The blessing of the additional sons seemed to offer mere droplets of relief in comparison to the overwhelming ocean of accusation. And so, she continued to reject Nimrod as her child and the monster she believed him to be became a reality, as his anger over her rejection intensified.

From the beginning, no one believed her incoherent ranting concerning the child. Cush was overjoyed with each of his children but Nimrod remained his favorite. He never understood his wife and only knew that from the very beginning of her first pregnancy she had become more and more strange. For the most part he left her alone and rejoiced in the sons of his old age, lavishly bestowing on them every gift they desired.

The great grandparents, Ham and Ziah as well as Mizraim and Amah, often took the child Nimrod, giving him special treats and attention. Each grandparent would bemoan the evilness of the mother’s rejection.

Both grandparents and great grandparents ignored the warnings of the patriarch Noah, who objected to the child having special privileges with little or no restraint. Because of their misplaced sympathy the child was never punished and so became more insolent and willful as the years went by.

The child Nimrod grew and developed his skills with bow and spear until his reputation as a mighty hunter was well known. Few knew he believed his supernatural ability came from wearing special clothing.

These cherished garments were those provided by God when Adam and Eve sinned in the garden. They were handed down from generation to generation and finally given to Noah. Ham stole them from the tent of Noah shortly after the flood and passed them to his son Cush, who bestowed the honor of owning this special apparel to his favorite son, Nimrod. It was spread far and wide that Nimrod could do the impossible. Often summoned to defend the honor of the weak or innocent, he was lauded for his skill, ability and wisdom at an early age.

His conquests were both alarming and exciting. All the while his pride was growing and no one guessed he believed the tale his mother told of his birth, or the faith he placed in the garments he wore. Everyone who knew Ester saw her as weak minded and delusional.

Nimrod alone believed her and even as he grew in fame, he also grew in faith, faith he indeed was the son of a god. Conquering everything in his path while still a young man, he turned from conquering animals to conquering the souls of men. the adoration he received from the crowds was seen as his due, but there were some who knew better and one in particular who was horrified...but who would listen to an old man...an old man seldom remembered, a man named Noah.

CHAPTER THREE

Lendel ran from the Palace as if she were being chased. Carrying Timrah on her hip was exhausting and as soon as she was far enough from the Palace to slow her pace she sat her down.

Why did we run mommy?

I thought it would be fun, Lendel answered breathlessly. The child frowned, mulling this over in her mind. She was a bright child, bright beyond her years and each time Semirimis called for her to visit she became more and more enamored with her.

The fear in Lendel’s heart was not because of jealousy or competition. Most domestics would be honored to have a child chosen to accompany the wife of the great Nimrod.