The Wanderer Scorned: The Wanderer, #1

By Natasha Woodcraft

Sin is crouching at the door, ready to pounce. You must master it before it masters you.

 

Kayin is The Wanderer: a legend shrouded in a curse. A man untouchable, unable to farm or settle.

 

Centuries after the horrendous act that defines his life, Kayin recounts his soul-stirring chronicle, exposing the far-reaching fallout of his parents' expulsion from Eden and revisiting the moments that shattered his youthful faith. Then came forbidden love and rejection, driving a wedge irrevocably between Kayin and his brother, with tragic consequences.

 

Why did God scorn Kayin's sacrifice? What transpired during that final, fateful encounter in the field?

 

Special Features: Maps, Appendix, Book Club Discussion Questions.
On The Age Appropriateness Of The Novels: This biblical novel series is rated PG-13, appropriate for mature teens and above.

Length: 267 pages

 

'A beautifully written account of the world's first family seen sympathetically through the eyes of Kayin (Cain), the first murderer. A compelling read.'

Bobbie Ann Cole

 

'East of Eden, a loving and close-knit family live off the land. But the eldest son has a destiny they never dreamed of. The life of Cain as it has never been told before, by the man himself.'

Ruth Leigh

 

'Beautifully written, Woodcraft brings the story to life using every carefully crafted word to its best possible advantage…it was as if I could feel every heartbeat, thought and feeling of the characters.'

Wendy H. Jones

• Language: English
• Publisher: Broad Place Publishing
• Release date: Mar 28, 2024
• ISBN: 9781915034823

Natasha Woodcraft

Natasha Woodcraft lives in Lincolnshire in the UK with her family of boys and menagerie of animals. She holds a first class honours degree in Theology and believes stories have power to communicate deep truth and transform lives. Also a songwriter, Natasha peppers her emotional prose with poetry and song.

Book preview

The Wanderer Scorned

Book 1 in The Wanderer Series

ByNATASHA WOODCRAFT

Copyright © 2022 Natasha Woodcraft

The right of Natasha Woodcraft to be identified as the Author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.  All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any form without prior written permission from the author, with the exception of non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

First Published by WW&S Publishing 2022.

This Edition by Broad Place Publishing 2024

ISBN 978-1-915034-82-3

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Scripture quotations and paraphrases are from the ESV® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Cover by getcovers.com.

Model image courtesy of Leandro De Carvalho at pixabay.com.

Contents

The Wanderer Scorned

Copyright

Author's Note

Map of the east

Map of the Settlement

Characters

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Epilogue

Appendix

Acknowledgements

Reflection Questions

The Wanderer Reborn

About the Author

Books in this series

Also from The Publisher

Author's Note

Dear Reader,

This is a work of fiction. It is inspired by Genesis Chapter 4 in the Bible, but you don’t need to be a Christian to read it. I hope you will enjoy it, whatever your beliefs. The questions asked by Kayin are ones we all struggle with.

If you are a Christian, it is worth noting that this work is the result of my imagination and is not intended to replace or add to the Bible. I approached this story with trepidation, aware that some of the content may raise eyebrows. If you have difficulty with anything in the text, please refer to the appendix at the back where I discuss the reasoning behind my decisions.

This story is the first in a series. I have used British spelling and punctuation conventions throughout. Included at the start are maps and a cast of characters for ease of reference. Some study questions follow the appendix for those interested in reflecting further.

There are songs dotted throughout the book. If you want to know what they sound like then head to my YouTube channel.

As I have been writing, it has been my hope and prayer that this book will be used to bless you, the reader. Please read it with an open heart, safe in the knowledge that His love for you took Jesus Christ all the way to the cross.                          

N.W.

Map of the east

Map of the East

Map of the Settlement

Map of the settlement

Characters

Clarifications

Abbameans Dad/Father. It applies most often to Adam, but also to Kayin in the prologue.

Ima means Mum/Mother. It applies most often to Chavah, but also to Kayin’s wife in the prologue.

Elohimmeans God.Yahweh is commonly translated LORD, but is God’s name. They refer to the same being,Yahweh Elohim.

Cast in order of appearance

Chanoch    (cHa-no-cH)    Eldest son of Kayin (Also city name)

Lamech    (La-me-cH)    5th generation descendant of Kayin

Adah    (Ah-dah) ​    1st wife of Lamech

Tzillah    (Tz-il-lah)     2nd wife of Lamech

The Wanderer    Byname of Kayin (see below)

Adam    (Ah-dom)    1st man (Usually called Abba)

Chavah    (cHa-vah)    1st woman (Usually called Ima)

Kayin     (Kay-in)    Eldest child of Adam & Chavah

Havel    (Ha-vel)    2nd child of Adam (Twin to Awan)

Awan    (Ah-wan) ​    3rd child of Adam (Twin to Havel)

Chayim    (cHigh-yim)    4th child of Adam & Chavah

Avigail    (Ah-vi-ga-yil)    5th child of Adam & Chavah

Shimon    (Shim-on)    6th child of Adam (Twin to Channah)

Channah    (cHan-nah)    7th child of Adam (Twin to Shimon)

For more details on Character Names, please see the appendix at the back of the book.

Prologue

U

npleasant laughter erupted from the throng of bodies filling the expansive hall. Chanoch was beginning to feel uncomfortable. The heat was stifling, smoke was drying his throat and the mingled smells of meat and sweat sickened his stomach. Chanoch loosened the neckline of his tunic and coughed, just as his host – a large, burly man with a thick dark beard, tinged with hints of red – rose from his seat and lifted his voice.

‘Adahand Tzillah, hear my words; you wives of Lamech, listen to what I say!’

No-one paid much attention, so Lamech grabbed the waist of a woman standing near him and pulled her against his side. He murmured something into her ear which made her squirm. She was fine-looking. Her skin, the colour of iron-rich clay, shone in the firelight while jet-black hair, plaited into several braids, fell the length of her back. Chanoch knew her well – Adah, Lamech’s first wife.

Chanoch’s eyes darted to a different woman nearer him, serving wine from a large, clay pitcher. Her hair was free and wild with bronze curls cascading around her neck, and she wore a low-cut tunic nipped in at the waist. Witnessing Lamech’s behaviour, Tzillah placed the pitcher on a trestle table and threw her hands up. ‘Lamech, you old fiend! Leave Adah alone.’

Tzillah picked her way across the room, dodging the bodies slumped in various positions and stepping over one or two reclining on the floor. Raucous tittering followed her, with several men grabbing her ankles and almost pulling her down. Unfazed, she kicked them off or swatted them over the head, providing further entertainment.

After ascending the raised platform on which Lamech stood, Tzillah planted a firm kiss on his lips and allowed his spare arm to grasp her. Lamech released his first wife and encircled Tzillah in his arms before pulling her roughly in for another embrace. A drunken cheer followed their display. Adah stood behind them staring at the floor; her face flushed.

‘That’s better!’ Lamech proclaimed loudly. ‘Now I have the attention of both my beautiful wives, and the rest of you despicable lot, I have an announcement to make.’

He stepped into the centre of the stage, ensuring all eyes were on him, then lifted one arm in an oratory posture and spoke with a clarity that echoed through the hallways of the house:

Adah and Tzillah,

​Hear my words;

You wives of Lamech,

​Listen to what I say!

Today – this very day – I killed a man merely for wounding me,

​And also his boy for striking me.

If Kayin is avenged sevenfold,

​Then may Lamech be avenged seventy-sevenfold!

Chanoch’s mouth dropped open. He knew his host had slipped into underhand measures to gain his position in the city, but he never expected Lamech to brazenly admit to murder. His eyes scanned the room, waiting to see how people would react. Several of the revellers were shifting uncomfortably or muttering under their breath, but some had begun to smile, even chuckle. The murmur was escalating into acceptance.

A prominent member of the city elders stood and raised his cup. ‘To our fearless brother Lamech!’

Then, as a mob follows its master, the majority decided Lamech’s announcement was hilarious and erupted into hoots, laughter and catcalls.

‘May he live forever and ever be avenged!’ another declared above the noise.

Lamech rewarded his audience. ‘Refill the wine!’ he shouted, to further cheers. His wives quickly dispersed to the storehouses. Lamech sauntered down the steps, into the crowd, to relay more details of his triumph.

Amidst the revelry, Chanoch slipped out unnoticed. The cooler night air tickled his skin as soon as he left the main hall, giving considerable relief. Tiptoeing down some steps, he entered the dim corridor that led through the centre of Lamech’s complex, trying to keep the slap of his leather sandals to a minimum. He then traversed several courtyards before reaching the guards watching at the gate.

Chanoch didn’t need to say a word; they understood his instruction intuitively. A guard exited and returned a moment later with a saddled creature. After mounting it, Chanoch rode out of the gateway, stealing into the darkness of the night. He quietly navigated the city, passing numerous dwellings belonging to his kinsfolk which rose on either side of passageways cluttered with pots, pitchers and animal fodder.

As he neared his own dwelling near the city gate, he hastily called his groom, requesting a second animal. When it arrived, he grasped the halter’s end in his free hand then scratched the animal’s stubbly forelock. It snorted, unhappy to have been roused from slumber, but Chanoch pushed on. Once outside the gate, he pressed his mount into a faster pace, and, encouraging the second creature to keep up, rode until he reached the foot of a hillside, half a day’s walk outside the city. Then he allowed the two cloven-hooved animals to pick their way up the narrow path until the mouth of a cave appeared. He dismounted, secured the beasts together and entered the cave.

Inside, the remains of a simple meal sat alongside the dying embers of a fire. The embers gave just enough glow to reveal an elderly man and woman lying huddled together under linen blankets and sheepskin. The man slept on his side, his head tucked into a folded arm. The other arm draped over his wife. Chanoch knelt next to the couple and gently placed his hand on the man’s shoulder.

‘Abba,’ he whispered, ‘wake up.’ There was a groan as he persisted shaking his father’s shoulder. ‘Abba, please wake.’

The man turned and squinted, trying to make out his features in the dark. ‘Chanoch? What are you doing here?’

‘Abba, I’m sorry to wake you, but you need to come with me.’

‘In the middle of the night? Why?’

As the draped arm lifted from her body, his wife stirred. She groaned and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. ‘Chanoch,’ his mother said.‘What a lovely surprise.’ She sat up and drew him into an embrace.

Chanoch’s back, doubly stiffened from his ride, clicked as he leaned into her.

‘Listen to you; you’re getting old,’ she chuckled. ‘Sounds like you need to eat more fish.’

Chanoch laughed. Trust his mother to be thinking about such things. She was right, though. He was nearing his seven-hundredth winter, and although time had been good to him, there was no denying he was not as sprightly as in the youth of his first few centuries.

Worried about delaying further, Chanoch told his parents about the events in Lamech’s home that night, urging them to return there with him.

‘Should I know this Lamech?’ his father asked.

‘Lamech is the son of Methushael. He has become one of the most wealthy and influential people in the city.’

‘Hmm. I have no desire to visit that house, son. Methushael’s people have wandered a long way from the truth. No good can come of me going there.’

Chanoch continued his plea. ‘That’s exactly why you must come!’ His journey could not be in vain; the city depended on it. ‘Abba,please reconsider. They need to hear your story. Perhaps if they do, they shall turn from this evil.’

‘And what makes you think they’ll listen to me?’

‘You are the founder of our people. You may not be a city elder, but your word still holds sway.’

His father sighed. Chanoch knew he hadn’t ventured into the city for many moons, yet hoped he could see the wisdom in going now. As his father glanced sideways, his mother nodded and offered a gentle smile of encouragement.

‘Alright, I shall come,’ he relented. ‘Do you have a kavash?’

‘I have two,’ Chanoch replied. ‘You may both come.’

Once outside the cave, they mounted. Chanoch’s mother was slight, so she swung up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. They carefully descended the hill and, once on the plain, rode fast back to the city.

As they arrived at Lamech’s complex, the sounds of intoxicated merriment could be heard from the outermost courtyard. A strange mixture of relief and anticipation flooded Chanoch’s stomach. The party was not dying down yet. They surrendered their mounts, then Chanoch led his parents through several large fire-lit archways and looming colonnades. Stopping before the main entrance, they huddled together for a moment, speaking quiet words into the night. Then they negotiated the dark passageway before reaching the steps leading to the hall.

A wolf-like creature lay there. It jumped up, growling. Chanoch’s father recoiled in fright, but Chanoch held out his hand to the animal and called its name. As soon as it recognised him, it wagged its tail and, after a brief welcome, went back to dozing on the step.

They entered the hall. His mother’s eyes flew to one corner and she gasped. Six people sat there, playing musical instruments. Some blew reeds with holes along the length. Others plucked strings suspended on carved wooden crescents, producing a perfect harmony. For a moment her face lit up, before she caught the words sung by the musicians. They were sensuous and lewd. Several people danced around the floor in response, barely covered by their clothing, clasping cups of wine which they sipped during their display.

‘Those are Juval’s friends. He is a gifted musician, yet has ceased to use that gift for good things. His mother is Adah,’ Chanoch said, indicating Lamech’s first wife. ‘She is an honest woman, but the evil of her husband seeps into her children.’

Chanoch watched as his parents scanned the rest of the room. He knew that such company would shock them. On the opposite side to the musicians, the fire was still lit inside a stone circle. Suspended above it was a tall spit made of wood and pointed with hardened bronze. Hanging from one end was the upside-down head of a boar, its tongue lolling out. Its body was carved and those surrounding it were eating the cooked flesh.

Just then, Tzillah caught sight of the newcomers and stopped in the centre of the room. ‘Well. If it isn’t The Wanderer, come to grace us with his presence at last. Lamech, witness who has entered our humble halls!’

Lamech was lounging on an impressive chair that stood on the same raised stage where he had delivered his earlier speech. A young woman – not one of his wives – was reclined on his lap, feeding him grapes. At Tzillah’s shout, he rose abruptly from his chair, threw off the girl, and stood proud and tall. He began uttering words of perplexed welcome.

Chanoch held his mother’s hand as his father walked calmly across the room towards their host. As the older man ascended the steps, his height dwarfed that of the person before him. For although Lamech was of impressive physical stature, Chanoch’s father stood a whole head taller, and, despite his age, had a muscular form from many years of toil and constant movement. Here was someone not accustomed to rest. Strength and authority exuded from him.

Lamech’s garbled greeting silenced. The one they called ‘The Wanderer’ turned to face the people and, one by one, the revellers took in the scene and ceased their activities. As silence descended, Lamech retreated into the shadows.

‘People of Chanoch!’ The Wanderer began. ‘My son, the most senior elder of this city, has called me here tonight to tell you a story. We may be here a while, so I suggest you take a comfortable seat.’

Chapter 1

I

t all started with the banishment.

As soon as the truth was known about their disobedience, my parents were driven from the Garden planted for them by the LORD God, Yahweh Elohim – a garden pleasing to the eye and filled with every kind of food. Yet, for them, it had not been enough. And so, Yahweh banished them from His presence, from the place where He had walked with them.

For a time afterwards, they dwelt just east of the Garden and could still see the flaming sword if they went too close – the blade held by the cherubim that turned every which way to prevent access to the Tree of Life. The sword was a constant reminder that the way was barred; that immortality and glory were just out of reach.

Season after season passed. My parents wandered, rarely settling in one place, but moving between areas of trees they could harvest. They gradually moved south, following the River of Life that flowed from Eden, passing through arid areas before turning east again into fertile hills studded with olive trees. Continuing south, they came across the mountains that border my childhood home. These magnificent highlands, covered with mighty oaks, were cold in the winter, so they huddled together in caves, creating fires to keep warm. Once the weather improved, they wound their way down through the mountains.

Here, streams formed as springs combined with the melting tips of the highest peaks. Had they followed the streams, they would have discovered them running to join the gushing Euphrates that branched off from the River of Life.

When winter approached once more, they moved southeast into the valley below the mountains. There the air was less bitter, and forests of pine, pistachio and terebinth grew on the nearby hills. When they realised my mother was with child, they finally settled, and my father began tending the ground.

In accordance with the curse, my mother gave birth to me in excessive pain. Such pain as humanity had never known before. When telling the story in later years, my father recalled the night in horror: seeing his wife in distress, helpless to do anything, knowing nothing about the workings of a woman’s body or how he could relieve her of the child. However, his face changed at one point.

He would recollect how, after having intense pains for an entire cycle of the sun, towards dawn my exhausted mother cried out for mercy. Now expectant of death, Elohim’s name sprang to her lips, and she screamed for Yahweh to fulfil His promise: to spare her so she could fill the earth.

Moments later, a man appeared. Abba glimpsed a ray of sunlight as the covering over the cave entrance was lifted. The newcomer said little but gathered water and cloth. Then quietly, calmly, he guided my mother through the birth. After he cut the cord and wrapped me, the man simply left. In this way, I was born, and my parents finally obeyed the blessing to multiply.

When I heard the story for the first time, I questioned Abba about that man. ’Did you see him again?’ I asked.

‘We did not, son,’ Abba replied.

‘Why not? Why didn’t he stay?’

Abba sighed and gazed into the distance. ‘He could not. He cannot. It is all part of the banishment; this must be our fate.’

My face must have looked bereft, for he put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it. ‘It is not all bad. That day was the first time we called on Yahweh after He cast us out. He provided for us then and gave us you.’

‘So, the man won’t come back?’

‘No, son. I don’t believe so.’

My mother named me Kayin, meaning acquired. For she said, ‘I have acquired a man with the help of Yahweh.’

For my parents, the years of my childhood were sweeter than those before. My mother doted on me, forgetting what she’d been through to bring me into the world. I rarely disobeyed, having no cause to, as I had my parents’attention most of the time. I didn’t realise until later that true happiness rarely graced their faces, for I knew no different.

We settled in a cave, not a quarter day’s walk from the smaller river which lay between the two great ones and