22. Bowie & Oakley

Marry mum??? Bonkers! Noah didn't know what to think of that. But his mother was persuasive. It was all a formality. They didn't have to go through with the marriage rites, the consummation haven; they just needed to make it official.

Tubal-Cain was dangerous, she convinced Noah. He was. Rigid and unmalleable. The monster man was an unwavering zealot. Unbending, blinkered and narrow-viewed. One plus one is two. And that was it. Unnegotiable. He killed his father because he reasoned that his father was weak protecting his youngest. Inconsistent. The law was the law. What was said had to be upheld. Not turned around. Period.

Noah faces punishment. Maybe death. Depending on the conviction of his uncle-brother. Hence Nyaamah acted fast. Other than visiting Azazel, she entered Tubal 1's, the bureaucrat's, chamber. She was glad they had something in common. Ambition. Even before Nyaamah made her move, Tubal 1 had cemented his. Knowing, like Lamech, Tubal-Cain hated to organize, Tubal 1 quickly offered his services and made himself indispensable. Now Tubal-Cain was free to hunt and ravage. He was rarely in Enoch city. This bought crucial time. Hopefully, when Tubal-Cain returns, probably with a T-Rex in tow, Noah would already be established on the throne, with his mother seated alongside. This was Azazel's pledge, provided Nyaamah married her son. But she could never be truly sure with that sneaky old man. Thus she covered all bases, did what she could to ensure safety, diplomacy and power juggled in her grip.

By the time Nyaamah buttoned up her blouse, the steward of Enoch city was an ally. She figured it best if she groomed an army of attendants to do the job. It can get monotonous and grinding at times, bearing breasts to bug-eyed administrators and diplomats. Politicians. Generals. But the results and rewards were worthwhile. Like it or not, she was already playing the game of thrones.

Tubal-Cain returned to a different Enoch city from the one he left. He was locked outside and forced to a siege. He had the forest wood to his benefit, and his smiths. They could bang weapons from the ore of mines. And perhaps mount and train mutant dinosaurs for an offensive strategy. But they didn't have numbers. That was Noah's advantage. The young debuting king's advisors predict a great slaughter by Tubal-Cain and his elite forces, but Noah would eventually emerge victorious. Tubal 1 had done the statistical calculations, and the odds were on their side. But the one demoralising factor no one inputted into the mix was Tubal 2 in Tubal-Cain's camp. It made sense however, with a bounty on the poet-maverick's head slapped on by Nyaamah. Tubal-Cain asserted his half brother's innocence by law; Tubal 2 had done no wrong. And incensed by the betrayal, Tubal-Cain boomed over the walls that he would raze the city alive, roast everyone as though they were fowl for a feast and personally boil and flay Noah, Nyaamah and Tubal 1 while keeping them conscious.

Noah shook in terror at the thunderous threat but Tubal 1 fainted in a fearful fit of epilepsy. Nyaamah decided he was a liability to be disposed of in that instant. The spineless older half brother of hers was so sure they could see off the siege. They had abundant food supply and resources, the unity of Sethians and Cainites who were tired of Lamechkian tyranny, Lamech's Watcher gold pile they could potentially buy armies of other hominin groups with, not to mention traitors in Tubal-Cain's own executioner squad whose god was money, and the Scapegoat's promise to Nyaamah. She had hoped it would rain fire from heaven, but a vain hope it was. Her own wits had to win. First on the agenda, remove Tubal 1 whose fainting spell was a downward spiral for morale.

She took a big risk with this one. The people were afraid after Tubal-Cain's message of utter destruction. Even more when they witnessed the master of coin convulsing uncontrollably. Nyaamah pinched Noah, hard, to stop him trembling. A king had to show poise even when in terror. She gave a speech and sang a song to her subjects after her brother had damned them, calming everyone. Magic tambourine in her palm like a high priestess, Nyaamah assured victory. She confessed that she had clairvoyance to the Scapegoat's presence, and he was not pleased. He was furious in fact. Putting words into Azazel's mouth, she proclaimed that the ancient angel demanded sacrifice. To prove her point, she sang in sequence of the song in transposition and beat the tambourine in rhythm, and to the surprise and awe of soldiers and serfs, Nyaamah disappeared in spectacle. If Tubal-Cain was to instill actual fear, she would sow a superstitious one. It worked. Now the people were more terrified of her than of Tubal-Cain. In their eyes she was the witch. Sorceress.

When Nyaamah reappeared, she chose the honoured vessel, the oblation to appease Azazel, the Scapegoat. He who bears the sins of a nation, an atonement, a sacrificial lamb to cast their fears upon; and since he was the lord of agriculture and livestock, it was only befitting that Tubal 1 was chosen. Nyaamah announced that it was not a fit of fear that consumed him but a holy reverence for Azazel the Scapegoat who had manifested through the spasming body of Tubal 1. It was a seizure of rage. For the sanctified name of the angel had been violated. And therefore his chosen vessel shook in anger and the yearning for vengeance.

Tubal 1 panicked but saw through Nyaamah’s act. But there was nothing the poor bureaucrat could do but scream. The guards seized him. His noisy protest only agitated the crowd who were already under his half sister's sway. There were loud motivating chants of victory, drowning Tubal 1's anguished cries, misinterpreting them as sincere worship from the lips of the ‘selfless one.’ God Azazel would heartily receive their gift, and together with a grain offering, Tubal 1 was to be dismembered alive and immolated. Barbequed. He gave the world abattoirs and farms, the art of butchering and grilled meat; in future, farmers will venerate him, slay the fattened calf and pour blood on the land in festivity of his name at the commencement of each planting cycle, but at this very moment, it was only right he returned to God by the grace of the knife, by the slaughtering blade of Bowie.

AI generated art prompted by author

Any similarities to persons and events are coincidental. Use of names of public figures, places and events are purely fictional and are not representative of them.