What I really wanted was to end the chapter with Cain taking his wife. Anyway, here’s the conclusion to this chapter . . .
Chapter 17: Part 2
As the first year passed, while watching the farmer ply his trade, Cain began to make suggestions to the man. At first the farmer was a bit put off that a mere apprentice would make suggestion about how to run his farm, but he was quick to consider that he did not know this boy’s full background and that he had been brought to the farm to begin with because perhaps he did in fact have some experience with raising crops. While he was not one to be disrespected in his own fields, he knew well the wisdom of listening to others whose minds had experiences, and therefore understanding, differing with his own. After seeing the probable wisdom in some of Cain’s suggestions, when the first harvest came since Cain’s arrival, he suspected it was more than mere coincidence that the yield was greater by far than he had ever seen in his life. And to his mind, the second harvest grown under Cain’s suggestions proved it.
After that first year, the farmer had a conversation with Cain. “Cain, you obviously have considerable talent when it comes to bringing life from the ground. You have a fine grasp of making tools, and you have come to know what is good here to grow with ease. If you are willing to relinquish to me half your yield for five years, and would perhaps consider to continue to throw some suggestions my way as to my own work, I’ll gladly give you, to start, three acres with which to grow your crops the coming year, and ten acres the following four to give you time to earn your own piece of land to tend. And of course I still have a trick or two to teach you, but, what do you say? Are you ready to start growing your own?”
Cain’s face suddenly came over pale, and he very noticeably hesitated before answering the farmer as he recalled his father’s words to him. The words echoing in his head ‘the ground will no longer yield its strength to you,’ Cain slowly responded. “Growvner, there is nothing more I should want in my life than that the Earth would yield to me It’s strength and Her fruits, but in my heart it is my surest belief that should I plant pomegranate, and sesame, and radish, only thistle would be yielded come harvest.”
The farmer spoke as though seeing his best friend recently drowned, “Your skills are sure as any I’ve seen. Your mind keener maybe than mine when it comes to the soil. Surely you’ll accept three acres for one year’s time that you may see the Earth bestow upon you her abundance. Be I wrong, which I cannot fathom, I’ll hold you to no harm for honoring me by an attempt.”
Cain stared straight into the eyes of his benefactor before acquiescing, “For you, who have given me food, shelter, clothing, and work as close to the Earth as I believe I am capable, I will assent to your extraordinary generosity, but understand, the soil bears no love for me though I love her from the entirety of my being. I will try for your sake, though I think the ground will not forgive me the single betrayal I unwittingly committed against her.”
Growvner smiled nervously to hear his friend speak of betrayal, and decided not to press him further that night. Though he was concerned to see the look in Cain’s eye in the shadow of the scar on his head, his heart was made gladdened that his apprentice had agreed to work a piece of his land.
. . .
And so, when the harvest did arrive, unlike Cain, the farmer was stunned to find that the only thing that grew on the land he had given Cain to tend was weeds.
“You have not tended this soil! Why would you not even try?”
“But Grovner, I did try. I have worked harder these past months than ever in my life, I tell you quite simply that I am cursed. Let the grooves in the ground show you my hands have labored even if the weeds do not!”
“If you had even thrown a handful of seed at the earth it would have proven more fruitful than this. You lie!”
“I do not lie! Try me one more planting season. Give me three rows of soil, just three rows next to your own land. Let me work with you as I have last year, and watch as I plant these three rows over the next several months by my own hand. Observe yourself if my methods or lacking, and watch as death rises from what I plant next to the life that rises by your hands!”
And acquiescing, several months later, indeed no food grew where Growvner had seen himself the skillful work done that should have yielded any plant at all worthy for food.
“What have you done, boy, that you are so cursed?”
“Sir, you have been fully good to me in every way, and I’d like to think that in some ways I have repaid that kindness in turn and done for you the best work I am capable of. Please, though, do not ask me to reveal to you my shame.”
The farmer paused in thought for several minutes before responding. “Kid, let’s head down to the inn and get a drink.” And the farmer never asked the question of Cain again.
. . .
At the inn a beautiful woman sang for the patrons of the bar. As Cain and Growvner and the inn-keeper drank together, Cain asked of the inn-keeper, “Who is this beautiful woman who sings like the bloom of the Rose of Sharon at daybreak?”
“That would be my daughter.” Responded the inn-keeper.
Cain looked the man in the eye uncertain what to say.
“Camphire, come here a moment.” The inn-keeper smiled to shout this at her as he continued to keep his gaze on Cain’s. When she walked over he introduced the two, “Camphire, this is Cain.” Cain’s face turned bright pink as he met her, but his color was hid by the darkness of the room, and his tone was bold when he said hello to the girl, and they began to talk. As they talked, Growvner took the inn-keeper aside.
“She is about the right age for marriage, and I tell you the boy is committed to his work and has a good, strong heart about him. I think he’ll be working with me for a long time, might you be interested in discussing a price by which they might continue getting to know each other for the rest of their lives?”
“You’re willing to pay for this boy to be a part of my family, Growvner?”
“I am, you wily old rascal, unless you have an objection.”
“If my daughter has no objection, than neither do I! I’ll expect to not have to worry about eating for the next several years though . . .”
“As long as you don’t mind me tasting some of the stronger results of my grapes on the house from time to time, I think we have an arrangement that will be a happiness for our town for times long to come.”
And Camphire had no objections.
Gendlebleth, watching alongside Zarnuchtron in the shadows outside of the inn, was filled with joy for the first time he could remember since arriving to existence in terms of human form. It was momentary, and quickly he began to shudder from the combination of that joy and the fact of the pain of the rest of his existence, but he was happy to see Cain on his way to having enjoyment in his life for the first time since he had been driven from his mother’s home.
. . .
Elsewhere, overlooking the town of Nod, Casarta was having a conversation with her mother. “Antagnous, we haven’t had meat to eat in a week. Can’t we just run one of us down to Zarnuchtron to tell him to bring some partridges to roast. Or won’t you allow me to sneak onto the farm where Cain works to steal a partridge or three for us to eat?”
“No one else of us eats as you do Casarta. I’d allow you to sneak off with a partridge as you request if not for the fact that if one of those in Nod see you with your skin, I think we will have troubles even worse than when Cain rose against his brother. If it were easier to communicate with the watchers below I’d put a word to them for your sake, but, I am confident Gendlebleth will bring us a bird in not too long a time; he’s very good about bringing you food. Meanwhile, I’ll convene a meeting about starting to raise animals up here since this hill may be our home for quite a while.”
“Antagnous, I do wish that a roast partridge were capable of materializing out of the winds themselves that my belly and tastes might be sated. Though I am grateful for the almonds and lentils I’ve had to eat this night, and know that you are right about Gendy bringing me good foods as he always does. It does seem like it would be easier for him to carry the birds, of course, if he were capable of killing them himself . . .”
Somewhere in the town of Nod a gust of wind blew past the covering of a front door as a family sat down to dinner. As that gust reached the table, the scent of a freshly roasted partridge filled the nostrils of the family looking on at the almonds and lentils they were about to eat. Before the gust passed by the table, several partridges appeared, brown and apparently moist. They stared at each other for a moment, then in unison thanked existence for the nutrition they were blessed to have upon their table, and began pass pieces of the succulent, aromatic bird around for all to share. They all thought that never had they tasted so fine a partridge, yet all noticed later that when they were done, they felt less than full; it was a feeling in their bellies as though all they’d eaten was lentils and almonds, and and only what little they’d eaten once they’d filled most of their bellies with bird at that.
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