Nimrod stood there and hearkened unto the counsels of the queen; and though the design was not wholly pleasing to his heart, he perceived that such a course was now beyond avoidance. Therefore, fixing his gaze upon her eyes, he spoke:
"Wise indeed is my queen."
These memories yet burned within him when, alone within his tent, he stood in wonder before a polished mirror. At the dawn of the day that followed his crushing victory over Akkad, messengers from Babylon came once more and startled him—this time bearing tidings that shook the very pillars of his being.
A rider was brought before him, and without delay declared:
"Hail, my king. I bear word from the queen, who commands thy immediate return to Babylon."
Nimrod read the truth already written upon the man's face, and knew the news was ill. A pallor came upon him, and he asked:
"What cause brings thee hither?"
The messenger lowered his eyes.
"Prince Tammuz hath been struck by a wild boar, and his life hangs by a thread."
The Ethiopian heard, and his countenance hardened as stone. For a moment he spoke not; then, after deep thought, he asked:
"When came this to pass?"
"Yesterday, my lord, shortly before the setting of the sun."
Then Nimrod smote his breast, and within him his heart wept in silence; for he recalled the prophecy uttered by the Akkadian elder, ere he had set fire to the city of the sons of Adam. Like a tempest unbound he burst forth from the tent and commanded his generals to strike the camp. Gathering his swiftest and most enduring horses, he chose his finest men, and with them rode forth at once toward Babylon, while the greater host followed after.
When he came unto the city, he went straightway to the royal house. There he found Semiramis in bitter lamentation, bent over the lifeless body of the child Tammuz, who lay upon a bed in stillness. Nimrod drew near, and lifting the body of his only heir into his arms, he raised his voice in grief, though he restrained his tears:
"My son! My only son!"
And Semiramis cried out in anguish:
"I have wrought every enchantment within my power, yet none could bind his soul unto his body!"
Nimrod laid the boy once more upon the bed and stepped aside, gazing upon him from afar, marveling at his beauty. Fair indeed was the child—yet only eight years had he dwelt in the world ere death devoured him.
Then Nimrod spoke, half to himself:
"The God of Shem hath come into my house and slain my firstborn!"
But Semiramis rebuked him:
"Speak not such folly! A wild boar hath done this deed."
Then said Nimrod:
"At the very hour when Akkad fell beneath my hand, and the flames consumed the city, an elder stood before me and prophesied, saying that the lamp of Babylon would be extinguished when fire was kindled upon the dwelling of the sons of Adam."
The queen listened and hastened to comfort him:
"Lay not blame upon thyself. Thou hast done what was needful. Every war hath its cost, and this is the portion that hath fallen unto us."
Then Nimrod sat upon the edge of the bed and said:
"What then shall we do?"
And she answered:
"We shall proceed as we have purposed. But first we shall bury our son, and all the families of the realm shall share in our mourning. I have already commanded the lords of the kingdom, and they proclaim in every city that every firstborn child of eight years or less shall be offered in sacrifice in honor of Tammuz. I would that every mother in my dominion should feel the grief that now consumes me.
"Moreover, we shall change the reckoning of times and seasons, and the month of Tammuz's death shall bear his name. I have also summoned the greatest magicians of Babylon and Egypt, that they may cause visions of him to appear before many, so that it shall be said that Tammuz hath not died, but ascended unto the heavens to dwell among the gods in the constellations."
Nimrod bowed his head in assent:
"All shall be done according to thy will. Is there aught more?"
"One thing yet remains. Thou shalt invade the land of the sons of Asshur, and thither shall we remove. There we shall build a new city, and establish the dynasty of divine kings."
And the son of Cush did not fail her:
"So shall it be, my queen."
Canaan and the Cave
Canaan tethered his horse at the mouth of the cave and entered therein to gather the few possessions he would carry upon his journey. Disheartened by the events that had come to pass, he sat upon a stone and gazed long into the flames of the fire he had kindled.
He had heard from wandering men that in the land of the Amorites there lay regions where peace might yet be found. And he knew these tales to be true, for his son Sidon had spread his lineage throughout those wide lands, and with one voice they testified that the soil was rich and fit for vineyards and olive groves, and for wheat, barley, rye, and all that might be sown.
Thus he resolved to go thither, and to build a city, and within it a sanctuary unto the God of Shem. For now that Nimrod had risen to the heights of power, and he himself had become a wanderer—cast out from Phoenicia, Egypt, and Babylon alike—it seemed wise to take upon himself a new name and a new identity. Yet this he would consider later; for the moment, it was enough to gather his things and depart.
But as he turned toward the cave's entrance, he beheld a figure standing motionless—the boy whom scarcely an hour before he had laid in a tomb amid the ruins of Akkad.
Heber came toward him and said:
"This cave is mine."
But Canaan scarcely heard him. Instead he stepped forward, wonder and disbelief upon his face:
"How can this be? Art thou truly alive, my son?"
Heber, uncertain of his own condition, replied:
"Should I not be? I remember a dagger driven into my shoulder. I remember hanging by my ankle from a tree, great pain, and then darkness. When I awoke, I was in utter blackness, and after a time I understood that I lay within a tomb. Yet the stone was not so heavy, and I was able to come forth."
Then Canaan embraced him, shaken with awe:
"Indeed! It was I who laid thee in that tomb!"
"Was I then dead?" asked the boy.
"As dead as any in thy house," said the old man. "There is something in that sepulchre… Ah! Why did I not think of it before? Yet now that thou livest, it matters little."
Then, pointing to a stone, he said:
"Come, sit—and tell me all that befell. Ah, forgive an old man's prattle. My name is—"
"I know who thou art," Heber said. "I saw thee in Akkad, when thou camest to speak with my father."
With the gentleness of one newly born, Canaan answered:
"Then thou knowest thou mayest trust me."
"My father trusted thee—and so shall I. Yet why should it matter to tell thee what befell Akkad in its final hour?"
"It may matter greatly," said Canaan, "for we may be facing a peril beyond reckoning. Certain things I have observed, yet cannot fully understand. My suspicions have grown, and I deemed that if there were truth in them, Nimrod would not delay in assailing Akkad. Therefore I came to warn thy father. And time hath proven me right—save that I did not foresee how swiftly that accursed son of Cush would act."
Heber regarded him and said:
"Is not this Nimrod thy nephew?"
"To my shame and sorrow—he is," Canaan replied. "Yet know this: I have become hateful in his sight and in that of his queen, and they seek my life without ceasing."
Encouraged, Heber sat and recounted all in detail—from the moment he beheld Nimrod's armies in the desert to the hour he fell unconscious. And when he had finished, Canaan said:
"Thy father acted as the moment required. Yet thou shouldst not have returned so soon unto Akkad."
"He warned me of that also," said Heber. "Yet what could have gone amiss?"
The old man looked long upon him before answering:
"There were traitors among the people of Akkad. I had meant to warn thy father of this as well. My suspicions now stand confirmed—and most wondrous of all, I am persuaded that the relics of Adam do indeed exist. Aye, they must! My lord Shem spoke of them often; yet never did I dare enter his tent."
"And even if thou hadst," said Heber, "thou wouldst not have found them—for they were kept within the sepulchre of Adam, our father."