Chapter 10
Several years later . . .
Gendlebleth sat next to Cain sitting on the fallen trunk of a sycamore tree. “You again, person like me but sent from God?” He addressed Gendlebleth as he looked up at him from where his face had been in his hands just moments before.
“Why such sadness First Born of Our Common Creator Endlessness’ first Creation of It’s own likeness? Do you feel the pangs of loneliness because you have not a companion for yourself as Adam hast of Eve? Have your parents even told you of such companionship and how it is that those in form and mind like you are created from the companion pair proceeding you?”
“Yes, my parents have told me from where I and my brother have come. But, loneliness is not why I’m feeling sad today. Though, as my body has been growing, and certain urges have begun to develop, lately I have been hoping more and more that a sister is born soon . . .
“No, the annoyance of my body is well secondary to the fact that my brother seems to have the blessings of Our Common Origin All-Lovingness greater surpassing my own, and I do not know what I have done, or not done, that I am less pleasing to The Eyes That Know Already My Life’s Every Nuance.”
“Come again?” inquired Gendlebleth. “What has your brother that you have not?”
“As we offered to Our Perfect Commonness this morning the best of the results of the work of our hands, it seemed as though the blood of Abel’s lamb was preferred to the red, ripe seeds I plucked seed by seed, each perfectly intact, from the pomegranate I harvested, and the fullest ears of wheat that I reaped from last planting season’s yield.”
Gendlebleth stroked his chin hairs for a moment thinking over what Cain had spoken. “What makes you think that your offering was not enjoyed equally to that of your brother’s?” Gendlebleth considered that the Perfect All-Unity Infinite, if It were to have a preference, probably would be more inclined toward the offering of a work that didn’t involve pain and death to another living creature. Though, Gendlebleth next thought, he did have a personal bias, and it may be that there would be great enjoyment toward Abel if Abel had found a way to slaughter pain-cognizant food without said food being horror-filled in its last moments of limited awareness . . .
Cain turned to look at his friend in the eyes, “As the blood and Life of Abel’s lamb flowed up, and pooled into, our place of offering to That Which Enabled us Life, two pure, white doves appeared. They landed on the posts erected to signify where we offer the best of the work of our hands. Then, they began singing the sweetest melody I’ve heard from a bird, as though they were trying to speak the approval of our All-Common Creator. They made a show of flying together around the altar for a minute or two, then flew side-by-side upward toward the sun.”
“No doubt the only reasonable places to land for a mile around to two bird-brained beings involved in their traditional courtship ritual this time of year,” Gendlebleth responded helpfully.
“If that were all there was to it,” continued Cain, “I might agree. But, shortly after the doves were out of view, it was time for me to make my offering to The Fullness of Existence. And I did, as I said before, with my meticulously plucked pomegranate and shapely ears of wheat. I placed my offerings in the bowl, and nothing happened!”
“Pardon?” Asked Gendlebleth.
“You heard me, nothing happened! I waited there from mid-day until nightfall and not even a swallow flew overhead. Not a bunny hopped by. Not an ant crawled on the ground anywhere in sight of my offering. Not even a fly could bother buzzing by; not a gnat to feast on what I offered!”
“So you’re lamenting that you’re reaping the very result your brother was named after because a couple of pigeons decided to . . . mate near where he tortured a lamb to death, and you didn’t see any wildlife today after giving of your work?” Gendlebleth’s mood began to lighten as he began seeing a sadness for the first time in his life associated with no merit.
“Actually,” Cain reflected for a moment, “Abel’s method of slaughter seems to cause almost no pain to the animal. I kind of admire his ability to take a life without upsetting that life in the process . . .”
Gendlebleth considered his own previous thoughts as he continued his admonition which seemed to speak of its own accord now without the need to push it out of his mouth, “I mean, have you considered, perhaps, that peace is quite a blessing in itself and that that which created you has better things to do with its time that pat you on the head for a job well done? Your admiration of your brother does you harm if you compare your actions, very different in nature to his, in such a way that you think ill of what clearly is helpful actions on your part since you can feed your family even without the discomfort of taking a life. So the wind does not blow to indicate it is proud of you; how is it you do not take pride in your own work? You do something that is good in feeding your family, does that not fill you with joy enough?”
“Dad prefers the taste of lamb to that of bread. Mom seasons the lamb with the juice of my pomegranates, but it is the accompaniment to his work that is central as good in their eyes. And face it, my fruits don’t fill one’s blood with energy as my brother’s food does. It makes me want to take his knives that I can be commended for feeding the family for a change.”
“Again, you speak of your brother’s work in such a way that you devalue your own. I do not understand this. Your family clearly cannot eat meat every day of the week, where your bread is constant. The butter from the milk of your brother’s livestock is an accompaniment, a compliment, not a curse.”
“You mean what they add to the bread from my wheat that it tastes more pleasing and keeps them warm through the winter and gives them energy through the summer?”
“I mean,” continued Gendlebleth, “that your brother’s work and yours do not negate each other, they augment each other, make each other better. You do good work and it makes life better. If you were to do otherwise, it would not make life better. The results of your actions should be all the sign from Our Mother-Father Life-Giver that you require! It is hebel that you look upon your brother in this way. For an offering such as this I would think a buzzard fertilizing your head would be pleasing enough a response for you!”
Cain frowned, “You admonish me, yet my only desire is that I be recognized as great in character as my brother is. I have never done less than my best in thirteen years of my existence, yet my twelve-year old brother has more smiles of my father, and my fruits and grains cause my mother only more work! What am I to do that I be praised as highly as my brother, that I see myself as well in the eyes of my parents as they see him?”
Gendlebleth felt redness coming to his face as he lowered his tone to cool his own temperament. “It seems, Son Of Man, that you look for your creator to be grateful for your existence where gratitude should be coming rather from you. If you wish to curry favor with the Devine, you ought start by working harder and hebeling less. It’s not like you can just kill your brother, so stop crying in your bread and try to notice what joy you do bring when you’re not obsessing on plucking pomegranate seeds without puncturing their outer coating!”
With this said, Gendlebleth stood up sharply then pushed loudly through the high reeds of the field as he tried to cool his automatic reaction to the wrongness he perceived in Cain’s view of his own good works.
As he watched his back disappearing through the grass, one thing Gendlebleth had said stuck out as clear as the water flowing through the river before a heavy storm.
Shortly thereafter Cain invited his brother to the far side of the field to observe the beautiful flowers that grew in the spring sunlight. Shortly after still, a flock of doves rose high into the sky with a start, and took off toward whatever direction they pointed as though their lives depended upon the quickness of the flapping of their wings.
On the hill above Tartanuan gasped and called over his shoulder for Antagnous to call an emergency meeting. As Antagnous ran through their camp, Gendlebleth stopped her to ask the matter, to which she responded quickly, “Cain has taken the life of Abel.” As she ran off to continue her call to the others, it was then that the words he had spoken came flooding back into his mind. As they gathered to discuss the events of the day, as he entered the outer circle, Gendlebleth felt as though the circle he was joining was slowly closing in on him.
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