“I still don’t have a theory about what’s supposed to fill the jaws of the lion though,” the scion admitted.
The librarian seemed undeterred. “It doesn’t matter. One problem at a time. Maybe if we can figure out where the island tower is, the rest of the riddle will make sense.”
Daniel finished his ale. The warm glow in his stomach gave him a reassuring sense that, with Chris’s help, he would have no trouble solving the riddle and finding the next relic.
“So, are you ready to stop studying comparative religion and tackle this riddle now?”
“Right after lunch,” Daniel agreed. “But first, can I have another glass of ale?”
Chris gave him an apologetic grin and slid off his barstool. “Sorry, Danny Boy. I think you’ve had enough for one day. We both need to keep a clear head. There’s a treasure at stake.”
Chapter 7—Special Delivery
Annabeth smiled with secret satisfaction as she gazed down at the baby cradled in her arms. He was only a week old, but he was about to change her life. He slept so sweetly, so blissfully unaware of the difference he was going to make in his mother’s rank among the consecrated brides of the Blessed Nephilim. In fact, he had already made a difference. Ever since his birth, Annabeth had received a steady stream of visitors to pay homage to the new arrival. Even her husband Daniel had made an appearance to congratulate her and gaze admiringly on the child. He had torn himself away from his precious library because, for once, Annabeth had done something that captured his attention. It wasn’t every day that a son was born to the future diviner of the Blessed Nephilim.
She heard a sharp knock at the door to her quarters. A tall, elderly woman swept into the room.
“Hello, Annabeth.”
Annabeth attempted to rise from her rocking chair, but the woman gestured for her to stop.
“Don’t get up, child. I only came to see if you needed anything.”
“Why, n... n... no, Mother Rachel,” she stuttered. “Thank you for asking.”
This was a high honor indeed. The diviner’s principal wife had come to visit her. Annabeth hadn’t realized that Mother Rachel was even aware of her existence, yet here she was paying a social call just as if they were old friends. Father Abraham possessed over thirty spouses, but Mother Rachel had held the rank of his principal wife for more decades than anyone could remember. Among the consecrated brides of the Blessed Nephilim, she occupied a position second only to the diviner himself. She had ascended to that honor by giving birth to ten children—nine of them male.
One of the diviner’s other wives had also produced ten offspring, but half of them were girls, so they didn’t count as much. It was unlikely anyone would eclipse Mother Rachel’s record of baby boys. She was no longer Father Abraham’s favorite. She had lost that distinction in the early years of their union, but it was of no consequence. The diviner was growing old. The number of pregnancies among his wives declined each year. That made Mother Rachel’s rank in the community, and in the celestial kingdom to come, all the more secure.
The old woman leaned over Annabeth’s rocking chair and peered at the baby as if she were inspecting an undercooked pot roast. Taking glasses out of her apron pocket, she perched them on her nose and leaned in even closer. Annabeth noticed the deep grooves around the woman’s mouth and the wrinkles cutting furrows across her cheeks. She seemed ancient—much older than the diviner himself. Annabeth wondered how Mother Rachel must have felt when the aged diviner wed Hannah who was barely fourteen at the time. It was common knowledge that he doted on the girl. Would Mother Rachel have been jealous? Worried about losing her rank? Annabeth thought back to the brief time when Hannah had been married to her own husband Daniel. She remembered her feelings of jealousy and fear. Praise God, Hannah had succumbed to the temptation of the devil and run away. Both Mother Rachel and Annabeth had good cause to rejoice in her absence.
“Hmmm, looks healthy enough.” The old woman straightened up, folding her glasses and putting them back in her pocket. Then she turned from side to side, looking around the room as if she had lost something. “You also have a daughter, don’t you? Where is she?”
Annabeth shrugged vaguely. “I don’t know. I think one of my sister-wives is looking after her. She was always underfoot, and now that the new baby is here, I can’t be chasing after her all the time. Someone else will have to keep her for a while.”
The old woman nodded, satisfied with the explanation. Then she took a cursory stroll around the small quarters, inspecting everything with a practiced eye as she went. The cheap pine dresser, the thin coverlet on the bed. Finally, she gave a soft “tsk, tsk.” Wheeling around, she fixed Annabeth with a decisive look. “This won’t do. Such a chamber isn’t suitable for the principal wife of the scion.”
Annabeth felt her heart thrill with pride. Respect at last. As the principal wife of the scion, she was owed certain privileges. All because her husband Daniel was the heir to his father’s title as diviner. When Father Abraham passed from this life, Daniel would assume leadership of the Blessed Nephilim and Annabeth would be standing right behind him. She stole a glance at the bundle of joy that had made her elevation possible.
Mother Rachel was still talking. Annabeth refocused her attention.
“I’ll select something more fitting for you and your son.” Mother Rachel drifted toward the door. Apparently, her visit was at an end. Over her shoulder, she remarked, “The diviner told me to extend his congratulations. He’s relieved that
