Now Baal's throne was empty. Who could fill it? Ashtar thought he could, for he was the god of irrigation who had sought to displace Yam before. So El allowed him to try the throne. But when Ashtar took his seat on the throne of Baal the Mighty, his feet dangled, not reaching the ground. Not reaching even the footstool. His head did not reach the top of the throne.
At last Ashtar himself was convinced. He got off the throne. “I must rule from the ground.”
Meanwhile the goddess Anat kept vigil by the vault where her brother was entombed. She saw that though the body did not move or breathe, neither did it decay. It remained unchanged, though many days passed. It was as if Baal were simply in a deep sleep, unable to be roused.
Then Anat concluded that her brother could not truly be dead. “Mot must have captured him by some stratagem, depriving him of his body,” she said. “If Baal is released, he will return to his body, and live again.”
The others did not credit this, thinking her grief-maddened. But Anat would not be dissuaded. She searched the Earth once again, this time for the spirit of Baal. She called to the god of death, pleading with him to release her brother.
Mot came to stand before her. “Why should I release Baal?” he inquired. “He sought to challenge my dominion. For that arrogance I have set him down.”
“But thou canst not rule the land,” she said tearfully. “Only my brother can do that. I beg thee again, Mot, free him!”
Mot pondered the matter. He studied the beautiful virgin goddess.
“Perhaps I might, for due consideration,” he said cynically. “What wouldst thou give me, for that favor?”
Anat did not at first catch his implication. “Anything, O Lord of Death! Anything in my power. What dost thou wish?”
“Come to my dominion, and be my concubine.”
“But I could not do that!” she protested. “I am the virgin goddess of war! I would lose my power.”
Mot shrugged. “No doubt I would tire of thee soon anyway. So depart, foolish creature; since thou dost refuse to yield to my desire of thee, thou shalt not have thy desire of me. Thy brother will remain forever cold in that crypt.”
Outrage overwhelmed her. “Thou wallowing pig!” she cried. “Thou didst never intend to free Baal!”
“Have it thy way.” Mot turned contemptuously away.
The underworld knew no fury like that of a goddess scorned. Anat reached out and seized the god of death. She clasped him in her arms and threw him to the ground. Then she drew her deadly iron sword and cleaved him in twain.
But the halves came back together. “Thou darest attack me?” Mot demanded incredulously. “Thou foolish girl!”
Anat took up a shovel and caught him on it, and winnowed him, separating his head from his body. But the head fell back onto the neck. “I shall surely punish thee for this impertinence,” Mot said grimly.
Anat struck flint stones together and made fire. The fire bathed the lord of death, parching him. But he did not die. “Thou art going to regret this, thou wild heifer,” he said, becoming annoyed.
Anat fetched millstones and ground him between them. Mot was squeezed and rendered into powder. “This is beyond reason!” he exclaimed as his head was drawn into the mechanism. “What makes thee think thou canst kill Death?”
Anat took the powder and scattered it across the field. “Come, creatures of the wild!” she called. “Come feast on Death, who used to feast on thee!” And the birds came to eat his remains, and the wild creatures consumed his fragments. They sundered remains from remains.
At last the last of Mot was gone. He could not reassemble himself, because the parts of him were scattered in the bellies of many living creatures. Anat had indeed slain the lord of death. Of course in time the animals would defecate those remains, and one fragment would cling to another, and eventually all the portions would be drawn back together, and Mot would be whole again. He might stink, but his power would be restored. But that would take a year, and meanwhile he would not be able to interfere with Anat's pursuit of Baal.
She returned to report the news. El was gratified. He slept well for the first time since Baal's loss, and dreamed that his son was alive. The worshippers were thrilled. “For Baal the Mighty is alive! The prince, lord of the earth, exists!” But no one know where Baal was. The lord of death had hidden him somewhere, and they could not find him.
This did not prevent Anat from wreaking savage vengeance on Mot's allies, now that the lord of death could not protect them. She made wastelands of their territories. “Just be thankful I'm not really angry,” she told them, “now that I know my brother will return. Otherwise I would treat thee unkindly.” But the truth was that she remained somewhat miffed about the continued absence of her brother. Possibly some of those wasted allies suspected that.
However, Anat's conquest of Mot had already freed Baal's spirit from its magic confinement, and he was busy in the underworld. He wrought vast desolation in Mot's realm, and emerged at last to reclaim his own still body in the crypt. When Anat returned to her vigil there, she heard him rising, and quickly let him out. “O my brother!” she cried, embracing him passionately. “Thou hast returned!”
Indeed he had. Baal resumed his throne, and the land prospered. The skies rained oil, the wadis ran with honey, and prosperity returned. Until Mot managed to get together again and make more mischief, and Baal had to destroy him again. So it went, from season to season, from year to year, with neither force remaining forever in control.
The story of Baal ended. Huuo found himself embracing Scylla, for they had animated the roles of Baal and Anat. And the afternoon was gone, the storm passed.
“But I must confess there is a small difference,” Scylla murmured, her eyes demurely downcast. “I am not your sister.”
He remained holding her a moment longer. “True. You are not. Yet you played the part of the raging goddess well.”
“I am a dancer,” she reminded him. “I am experienced in animations. You are the one who did well, for you normally merely play the music. Which you also did very feelingly.”
Huuo looked around, remembering Crystal, who had told the tale. But she was gone. She must have left as the story concluded, seeing that the way was clear outside. He would have to thank her for a fine afternoon's entertainment. He had never realized how detailed and interesting the Canaanite mythology was. He had viewed it with a certain disdain; now his tolerance was expanding. Baal was a better god than he had credited, and worthy of worship.
“I thought it would be a dull afternoon,” Scylla said, not trying to disengage. “But your servant is quite a storyteller.”
“Yes. Now I understand why the children were always so fascinated. I never really paid attention before.”
“We should separate.”
“Yes,” he agreed absently, not acting on it. There was something else about the story of Baal that nagged him, but he couldn't quite fathom it.
“If you do not release me,” Scylla murmured dulcetly, “I will not be responsible for the consequence.”
He looked at her. She was of course very close, being in his embrace, and lovely in the candlelight. “Consequence?”
“This.” She lifted her face to his and kissed him, lingeringly.
After a time their faces separated slightly. “This is how you show annoyance?” he inquired with a smile.
“It's how I show desire. It is clear that Anat's love for Baal was more than sisterly, though she could not express it. Similarly my interest in you is more than neighborly, though I have tried to spare you its expression. But enacting that story of Baal and Anat has stirred me beyond the bounds of propriety, and if you do not free me very soon I shall perhaps do with you what I should not.”
She was describing his own surging feeling toward her. “Why should you not?”
“Because I sought only to render the assistance to you that a friend would, despite finding you most attractive as a man. I know that you do not wish to—”
&n
bsp; “Let me be the judge of that. Act as you wish.”
She flung her arms around him and kissed him with doubled passion, her tongue finding his.
There were no words after that. They went to a bed—he wasn't sure and didn't care which one—and got their clothing off and embraced naked in complete sexual congress. Scylla kissed him throughout, never pausing even in the final throes of fulfillment. Her hunger was a scourge that drove him on, so that when it was done it wasn't done, and he was trying to emulate Baal's performance with the heifer. He did fall somewhat short of that, he believed, but wasn't sure.
The darkness closed about them, and they slept. At least he did; when he woke he was alone, and that was just as well, because he remembered that Annai was dead and not yet buried, and he had lain with another woman. What had possessed him? He felt his face and body burning with shame.
Unable to return to sleep, he got off the bed and groped his way to the lavatory. He was, it turned out, on his own bed, so the way was familiar. Scylla must have gone to her bed. There was some light from the candle in the main chamber, which it seemed had never been extinguished; that helped. He cleaned himself up, then found a fresh robe, and went to put out the candle.
There was Scylla, sitting beside it. “Oh—I did not realize you were here,” he said.
“I could not sleep,” she said. “I am mortified by what happened.”
“You mean I—I took you when you did not wish it?” he asked, surprised.
She smiled, wanly, in the light. “Oh, no! Because I took you when you did not wish it. You are in mourning, and I—I should have left you alone. I would apologize, were the matter not beyond apology.”
Huuo found himself arguing the other case. “You tried to demur. I gave you leave.”
“I pretended to demur. I desired you so much I could not pull myself away. I kissed you. I pressed my body against you. I seduced you, not giving you time to reflect. I am guilty.”
“But I am not a mindless animal!” he protested. “I should have withdrawn.”
“I should have let you withdraw. I knew you were not in your right mind.”
“My mind was right,” he insisted. “But not my emotion.”
She lifted her head, evidently coming to a decision. “I will move out tomorrow. I will find another temporary residence, so you can be alone.”
“But this is your house! I have no right to it, but for your sufferance.”
“I give you that gladly. I must leave you alone, and I may not do that while remaining so close. I do not want you to hate me after this is done.”
“I don't hate you! You blame yourself falsely. I take responsibility for my own action.”
“You are very kind. But I must spare you further mischief. I will seek another—”
“No!” he said, surprised by his own vehemence. “This is your house. You must stay. I must be the one to go.”
She shook her head. “I would not cast you out, Huuo. I want only to smooth your course, not complicate it.”
“Then let there be no change,” he said. “What happened, happened; let's place no blame for it. There is no need to dwell on this, if neither of us wishes to.”
She smiled, falteringly. “You are so generous. If you truly are satisfied to forget—”
“There is no fault,” he said firmly. “Now let's retire to our rooms. We need our sleep.”
“Yes. Thank you.” She rose and moved toward her room.
Huuo watched her walk, before snuffing the candle. For an irrational moment he wanted to follow her. Then he put out the candle and made his way to his own room. He thought he might have difficulty sleeping, but soon enough he was dreaming again. Of Scylla.
Crystal was disturbed. She had wanted to tell Huuo of her findings, suspicions, and conjectures, but none were sure and she didn't want to rouse his hope only to dash it again. In any event, Scylla had been there with him throughout, so there had been no way to talk privately with him.
So she braced her husband instead. “Something is amiss,” she said. “I don't know what to do.”
Carverro had had a hard day working at his metal sculpting, but he knew better than to try to balk his wife. “Tell me. Maybe I'll have an idea.”
“You know how the raiders burned out Huuo's house and killed Annai and the children,” she said.
“Of course. You have been depressed ever since. It must be about time for the funeral.”
“Yes. Huuo asked me to locate the bones without removing them, so that he will find them promptly. This morning I went there and poked all through the ashes with a staff, dreading what I would find.”
Carverro waited, but she was silent. “And you found them?” he prompted her.
“No.”
After another pause he prompted her again. “You looked more carefully then?”
“I looked as carefully as I could without putting those ashes through a sieve. I found no bones.”
“Could someone have taken them?”
“No. There was a light rain not long after the fire, wetting the ashes in place, and they have been undisturbed since. I watched that fire die; I do not think anyone was there, ever.”
“Was the fire so hot it burned even the bones?”
“Not that hot. Not to entirely burn up fresh bodies.”
Carverro looked at her. “Something is amiss,” he agreed.
“Where are the bones?” she asked.
“From what you tell me, there are no bones. That suggests something remarkable.”
“It suggests what?” she asked, not volunteering anything. She wanted him to say it.
“That the hill folk did not slay the family. That instead they took them away to be slaves or hostages.”
“Then they could be alive,” she said.
“They could be alive,” he agreed.
“And I couldn't tell Huuo,” she said.
“Just as well. They could have been carried away, wrapped in cloth to fool the gatekeeper, but you know that Annai would not have submitted to slave-girl use. No highborn Philistine would. So the barbarians might well have killed her.”
“And what of the children?”
“Better we not inquire. Death might be preferable.”
Again he had echoed her concern. “But before I returned to try to talk to Huuo, at that woman's house, I inquired.” She paused, but this time only briefly. “There is still no news of any marauding hill folk in this area at this time. They have been minding their own primitive business. In fact most of their men are with that upstart ruler, Damon.”
“David,” he said. “King David. Upstart he may be, but he did just defeat the Philistines in battle. I hear it was a grievous loss.”
“Yes. So it wasn't a raid. It was just a cattle trading day that got out of control. But would such ruffians, suddenly running wild, have taken the trouble to carry away a Philistine family?”
Carverro opened his mouth, and paused, considering. “No,” he said after a moment. “That's not the way the hill folk are. They don't plan ahead; they just rampage when they get the chance.”
“Then why no bones?”
Carverro shook his head. “Something is very strange, here. Very strange.”
Crystal gazed at him. “So what could I tell Huuo?” she demanded.
He spread his hands. “Your observation. Your suspicion. He must be the one to judge.”
“That is what I concluded. But that woman was there, and—”
“You think she could have something to do with it?”
“I don't know. But she met him so conveniently, and just happened to have that house to sell, and she's so interested in him. She's even trying to be left-handed, because of her pretended injury to her right hand. I almost wonder if she didn't buy that house, so she could pretend to have inherited it, so she had a pretext to come here at this time. But that suggests such a monstrous plot—”
“Monstrous indeed,” Carverro agreed. “But it does fit your observations. Some plot to
abduct Huuo's family, making it seem that they were dead—”
“So that woman could seduce him,” Crystal concluded. “I have hesitated even to imagine such a thing, yet—” She shrugged.
“And you couldn't tell him, in her presence,” he said. “Yet there must be a way, because this is too important to let pass.”
“I thought I had found a way. I was caught there by the storm, and they craved diversion, so they prevailed on me to tell a story.”
“Prevailed on you?” He laughed, “As if you could ever be shut up!”
“They did ask me,” she said, somewhat stiffly. “And I realized that there is an aspect to the history of Baal that might relate.”
“When he seems to be dead, but returns to life!” Carverro exclaimed. “As just might be the case with Annai!”
“Yes. So I told them that—they took it as fantasy, of course—and dwelt on the aspect of the seeming death. But I fear it had a different effect than I wanted.”
“Different?”
“When I left, they were so interested in each other that they didn't notice me at all.”
“Well, you must admit that the goddess Anat is as fair a morsel of sex appeal as any woman, and if Baal did it eighty-eight times with a heifer, how much better to—” He broke off, seeing that his wife wasn't with him. “Evidently the male perspective differs. But I can say that if I were a widower in the presence of a woman as healthy as that Philistine is said to be, a veritable Delilah, and I heard a rousing rendition of the loves of Baal, I would be interested. We must be realistic, Crystal.”
She realized that he was trying to be helpful. “But suppose Annai lives? Then what of such seduction?”
Carverro assumed a serious expression. “If I thought you died, and a woman seduced me before your funeral, and I then learned you lived and that she was implicated in the ruse, I would kill her. To redeem my honor.”
And so would Huuo, she realized. “I think I had better not tell him. Not without proof. But how can I, a mere Canaanite woman, ascertain the truth?”