Abraham took a pace or two forward. “And when did I give you your first wife?”
“When I was twenty,” Daniel mumbled.
“Ten years,” Abraham mused. “In ten years your wives have only produced three children. That’s unheard of!”
Daniel shifted his position slightly. “I’m sorry, fa—”
The old man cut him off. “We are charged with the obligation to be fruitful and multiply—to extend His dominion over the earth. We must increase our numbers. You cannot hope to claim a place of glory in His kingdom otherwise. Surely, you don’t wish to bring shame on your family.”
Daniel shrunk back in his seat.
Abraham was standing above his son now. “Remember who is watching.” He gestured toward the portrait. “Your grandfather is watching you even now from heaven. God, himself, is watching you.” He paused for effect. “He is watching us all. He sees the secret sins of our innermost hearts, Daniel. He sees all, and he will punish all!”
Daniel gulped and nodded. “Yes, sir. I understand. I will pray for more issue.”
“And instruct your wives to pray as well!” Abraham observed his son silently for a few moments. He seemed satisfied that he had made his point. “Good, that’s settled then.”
Metcalf walked to the wall cabinets. He took a brass key out of his pocket. “I am told you are quite the scholar. You have distinguished yourself above your brothers in the study of ancient languages.”
Daniel seemed to puff up a bit at the encouragement. “Yes, it is the subject I love above all others. Translating the word of God.”
“That shows a proper spirit,” Metcalf nodded approvingly. “Come here. I have something to show you.”
Daniel obediently walked over to join him.
Abraham unlocked one of the cabinets and withdrew the stone ruler. “What can you make of this?” the old man inquired, handing the object to his son.
Daniel held it up to the meager light coming through the windows. He examined the markings with great intensity. When he looked up again, his expression was one of dismay. “The script isn’t Aramaic, or Hebrew, or Greek, or Latin. Not even Egyptian judging by the pictograms.” Daniel now seemed a bit afraid of the ruler. He held it out toward his father as if he thought it was contaminated. “This is some heathen relic.”
Abraham made no move to take the object back. He stood with his arms folded across his chest. “Yes, I know, Daniel. But the Lord has charged me with the task of finding out its secrets. And now I charge you with the task of translating these strange markings into some language that a Christian can understand.”
The young man scrutinized the pictures and lines and loops again. “Do we know where it comes from?” he asked tentatively.
“Only that it was found somewhere in the east and that it is very ancient.”
Daniel thought of something that caused a look of apprehension to cross his face.
“What is it, my son?”
“Well, it’s just that we have nothing in our library that could explain this. Do I have your permission to go into the Fallen Lands? I will need to search in their libraries. Because it is pagan, they may have records that show what language it is.”
Abraham sighed. “My heart is heavy at the thought of sending you into their world. So many temptations. So much you have never been prepared for. But it is God’s will that this be so.” Abraham’s eyes bored into his son’s face. “Daniel, you must find a way to translate this. Everything depends upon it. Do you understand?”
Daniel gulped. “Yes, Father, I will find a way.”
Chapter 10 – Photographic Memories
The grandfather clock in the hall was chiming noon when Faye heard a gentle knock on her front door. She hobbled over to answer it as quickly as her aged feet would carry her. Standing on her porch was a girl in her late teens dressed in blue jeans, a pullover, and a light spring jacket. She was about Faye’s height with the slender build of a gymnast. Her shortness and tiny frame gave her the air of a pixie.
The girl smiled hesitantly. “Are you Faye?” She tilted her head slightly to flip her hair out of the way. It was parted to the side and seemed to want to cover her face like a curtain. The color was a dark shade of brown. There was nothing remarkable about her features though they were uniformly pretty. Nothing remarkable but her eyes. They were large and grey, but not a clear grey. Opaque as sunlight struggling to burn through fog.
“Please, do come in,” Faye offered.
“My name is Cassie.” The girl held out her hand.
“I’m delighted to meet you, my dear.” Faye shook her hand warmly. “It’s such a lovely day for early spring, don’t you think? Almost warm enough for me to remember what summer feels like. Why don’t we go outside and talk in the garden?”
Cassie followed her toward the back of the house.
“Would you like some lemonade?” Faye asked over her shoulder as they passed through the kitchen.
“Yes, thank you. I would.”
She helped the old woman carry a pitcher and two glasses through the screen door to the back yard.
Spanning a full acre, Faye’s garden was a world of its own. Fruit trees, evergreens, and tall shrubs lined the eight-foot privacy fence, muffling sounds of traffic from the street. There were leafy rose bushes just starting to wake up to the season. Stepping stone paths skirted flower beds blooming with crocus and narcissus. At the far end against the fence was a newly cultivated plot of fresh dirt for summer vegetables.
“This is quite a yard you’ve got,” Cassie said in amazement. “From the street, you can’t even tell this is here.”
“That’s the idea.” Faye smiled. “Shall we sit over there?” She led the way to a latticework pergola in the middle of the flower garden which contained a wrought iron bistro table and two chairs. The roof of the
