The Book of Heaven: A Novel (50 page)

“She kept the image of this child in her mind during No's outbursts, knowing she could make an occasion to see her again. Every time she returned to the town, the child had a new feature or expression or gesture, like a book whose story was so true that it was capable of turning its own pages.

“Malista was doubly grateful for this unexpected grace, as her husband was becoming more and more irascible and distracted. He was sleeping fitfully, woken by fearful dreams; he went through the days with the red-rimmed eyes of someone tortured by sleeplessness, and called earlier for his wine, in order to substitute unconsciousness for sleep. Instead of drinking the wine reclining in his courtyard in the fresh early evening, he took his cup outside, and stood overlooking the sea, or walked, sipping and gesticulating as if he were in conversation with someone. He grew thin, as if a giant were feeding on him.

“Several times, Malista brought him out a plate of hot food, but each time, he waved her away, and ordered her back inside. ‘I have no appetite,' she quoted him, reporting to his sons and daughters-in-law at the table.

“She tried a fourth time. That evening, he struck the plate from between her hands, and then slapped her across the face. ‘God is talking to me,' he said. ‘I am talking to God.' He turned away from her, and she saw him put his right hand on his heart, in a pledge-making gesture. She retreated and saw the household safely into sleep.

“She was shaken awake by No himself in the dark of the night. ‘Beat the drum, and assemble the household,' he told her. ‘I have seen what God has shown me. God's will be done.' She dressed and hurried into the courtyard, lit the torches, and took down the large drum whose sound was the signal for all living in the complex to gather. No one straggled; they came, frightened out of sleep, and sat at his feet.

“No spoke, his face transfigured, his words burning. ‘I have seen God this night. It was not for the first time. But tonight, God made a promise. He promises to destroy the world.'

“‘“I hate my creation,” He said. “I have come to hate mankind, except for you, No. You alone, and the family you govern, are worthy in my eyes. I will kill these others, who have become nothing more than parasites. But I will not kill you, No, or any of yours, if you do as I command.”'

“‘“From you, I will make a new earth. The floods will rise even over the peak where your house stands, and all will drown, except for you, No.”'

“‘“You will build a great ark, and on it, you will store seeds of all the plants of the earth. You will house all the species of all the animals, insects, birds, and reptiles of the earth, a pair of each for breeding. And above them all, I have chosen you. You alone will be the seed of new humanity. You are my vintage. But if you deviate from my command, I will pour you out. You will surely die. You have no time to lose. The waters are already rising.'”

“As soon as it was light enough to see, the men set out to choose and cut timber for the ark. The women began the work of examining the breeding stock to select the finest specimens. They picked the finest pair of swans from the silvery pool No had had dug, and the cow who gave the richest cream, the bull with the noblest physique. They took cuttings from the oldest vines, and from the newest.

“No's little grandsons fought over whose puppies, kittens, and baby lambs would have the honor of frolicking over the new earth. And the ones who had hesitated in their hearts that night looked down and saw with awe that the waters were indeed already rising.

“Malista directed the labor of the women, with the impeccable energy and attention to detail she had always contributed to the household. She worked even more scrupulously, because she had a secret to keep at all costs.

“She had begun to have her own visions; she realized with a profound sense of sin that there was no terror for her greater than this salvation. She dreamed, those nights, of the remnant floating in precious safety, drawing draughts of pure air deep into their lungs, as they sailed on the waters of annihilation, taut beseeching arms fathoms below clutching dead children, anguished faces of the invisible dead the foundation of the burnished, purified new earth.

“Yet, God had given No a sign and a command. And as God commanded No, so it was her holy vocation to fulfill her husband. Every day of their marriage, she surrounded him with invisible services and protections, enslaving herself so she could free him for God. With every tray polished, every vine pruned, every loaf kneaded, she had avidly measured the extra hours of life on earth she had given him for life in God.

“Now the day began with the sound of hammers on wood, the carpentry of the ark, unfamiliar animals braying, cawing, farting, and growling—and the waters whispering the messages the winds gave them. The waters rose steadily, inexplicably, a foot a day. They had already laved Malista's beach at the foot of the mountain, except now the tide did not go out.

“She wondered what Ember and the people of the towns that lay at the base of the cliffs thought was happening. She should warn them, at least, to go to higher ground. But she hesitated. What good would that do them? They were not among the elect. Perhaps her interference would prolong their terror to no end. And they would see an evasion in her eyes, the false expression of hope from kin at a deathbed. Someone would intuit and scream her forbidden question: What is God going to do with all this death?

“Still, their faces remained in acute detail in her mind, even as she watered the newly acquired peacocks, and watched her prized fig trees savaged by the vegetarian giraffes. She thought of Ember and the silk shawl embroidered with grapes that her quiet husband had given Malista as a gift. She thought of their son, Wing, always running so lightly and so fleetly that she fantasized he might be able to run weightlessly across the rising waters.

“She thought of the teachers and the cheating baker, who had too many children. She thought of the town drunk, who still tippled steadily, but with exquisite deliberation, almost philosophical pleasure, when he was given a ruby glass of No's vintage. These were the first people among whom she had dared not to keep her own counsel.

“Most of all, she thought of Ember's new baby, who had just begun to smile, and followed certain faces with the expression of rapt delight with which she would never have the chance to dazzle a lover. She did not know what she would tell them, but she could not let them vanish as if they had been imaginary. Even if she told them nothing, she would see them, and hold them helplessly, remembered, but unrescued, in her gaze.

“In the frenzy of preparations, she had far more than her usual opportunities to slip away unnoticed. But in her terrible knowledge that God had chosen only the Noan clan to outlive his deluge, she hesitated. She did not have the courage to warn them.

“She would go, she promised herself, when the waters themselves had delivered the secret. She would go when the threat was so unmistakable that they would already have understood there was no hope. She would announce neither their condemnation nor offer false hope. She would only go to say good-bye to the ones who had been her friends. And to the ones who had not been her friends. And to the ones she had never known at all.

“She waited, meaninglessly storing precious household items, carpets, jewels, copper trays with domes incised with images of vines, inside the cupboards concealed in the stone walls. None of this would survive. It was forbidden to bring on board anything that could not grow or breed, but she had been the custodian of these objects, and had prized them. She wrapped them and fastened them, and put them gently away, as if she were putting children to sleep. She felt an embarrassment at her triviality; these things were precious to her, but not to God.

“At last, when she judged that the town would soon be unreachable, when the great ark was nearly ready to be launched, she made her way on now muddy paths to the place that had once been her refuge.

“She found the place in a chaos of packing and of weeping, frightened children; they saw they had no choice now but to move to higher ground. The place they had lived would be swept away, but they imagined they would at least keep their lives.

“She made her way to Ember's house; Ember was struggling to pack as much food as possible compactly enough to carry, along with her medicines and her other healer's instruments. The men were absent, having climbed the cliffs to make a temporary encampment well above the waters, where they would take shelter.

“The women embraced spontaneously and silently. Malista looked and could not bear to look at the dismantled house, as if she had caught sight of someone naked. Ember saw her discomfort, and shrugged bitterly, trapped in a disorder not of her making.

“Ember took the baby from her cradle, and the three stepped outside to escape the ruin of the interior. Ember, exhausted, sat for a moment, and handed the baby to Malista while she rested.

“‘You are lucky,' Ember said. Malista shivered involuntarily, and looked at her, startled. ‘You will surely lose some vineyards, but no waters will reach you on your cliff. You can at least stay where you are. You can at least salvage your household. We will be ruined.'

“‘We are leaving our household, too,' Malista blurted out, in a futile impulse to share her friend's hardship.

“‘But why?' Ember stared. ‘From where you live, there is no place else to go.'

“‘There is one more place to go. My husband had a dream. He was given the idea to build a kind of floating house. So the dream was built. We will live inside it until the waters recede.'

“‘We might have done that for ourselves. Now there is hardly time to try. Why didn't you tell us about his dream?'

“Malista could not answer. Her tears welled up and fell in heavy drops on the baby's face. Overwhelmed, she confessed the truth to her friend. She told her about the dream God sent No, about the ark and the seeds and animals. She told her about the end of the world. ‘So you must tell them to climb, tell everyone to climb. Our buildings will be empty. Our grounds can hold many more. Eat from our garden. Take your meat from the animals we are leaving behind. Take refuge there. God may yet relent. I will pray for it.'

“She held the baby out for Ember to take. ‘I don't dare stay longer. I will be missed. But no door will be closed to you. I will see to it that nothing is locked. Climb there. May God have mercy on you.'

“‘Then I have a favor to ask of you.' Ember put her hand on Malista's forehead, and touched it in the traditional gesture of beseeching. ‘Take the baby,' she said. ‘Take the baby onto your ark.'

“Malista hung her head. She could not look at Ember's face.

“‘Please. Let the baby live. Take her into your husband's dream. Save her. I know you can do no more, and I do not ask for more.'

“‘How can I defy God? Or change my husband's dream?'

“‘In the beginning, I could not believe him. Like a good wife, though, I did as I was told to do. I gave everything expert in my hands to his mad project. I hoped he would wake up from his dream of death. But he was right. This world is lost. You see how the waters are rising, just as he said they would. The rest must happen—will happen—as he saw.'

“‘There are things he may not have seen. God sends thousands of dreams. For nine months, this child was in me like a dream, and now I hold that dream breathing in my arms. Look at the face of this child, who does not know death exists. She may have been in some corner of the dream unnoticed.'

“She put the child into Malista's arms, her head against Malista's heart. Malista involuntarily looked into the baby's sleeping face. Like a cloud, her malleable features softened and altered perpetually as she slept, responding to all the unmediated influences of the world passing over her and through her.

“She had an eerie sensation as she held this creature that was still shaped like a handful of apples, its face like a fruit articulate with feeling. It is not only ghosts that come from the unseen, but also the children who are its other messengers, creatures not of afterlife, but of the life before.

“Malista felt her heart matching the rhythm of the baby's heartbeat; it was as if she had been given a second heart outside her body. And in that second heart, there was a reservoir of courage, decision, and passion utterly beyond Malista's own meager resources, so abundant that it could coexist with the fear of what she was about to do. ‘I will find her a place,' she said.

“The women exchanged glances. Malista had regained her fear of death, the fear denied to the elect of the ark. She had become once again Ember's equal. She turned and began to climb the path home, terrified, holding her courage in her arms.

“She reached the great lake where the divinely imagined ark was now moored; it was a great floating fortress, its deck railings ornamented with mounted shields, for defense against potential hordes that might try to swamp the vessel.

“Yet the decks themselves were the bearers of paradise, five stories of fruit trees, flowers, sown fields of grain, an outdoor garden that was a record of creation. When the seawaters rose high enough, as they soon would, the ark would be ready to be carried off from the surface wherever God willed it to go.

“They had begun to board the animals when she arrived; they were so preoccupied with the skittish, rearing horses, bleating lambs, and scratching cats that no one took notice of her at first. Malista made a makeshift hammock for the baby, and hid her in one of the builders' lean-tos on the shore, praying she would not wake and cry. She had no better plan than to simply carry the little girl on board and hide her until there was no turning back.

“Then she walked toward the ark, allowing herself to be discovered. She joined her daughters-in-law, folding and storing blankets and warm clothes for the voyage in chests that were carried aboard as soon as each was filled.