Author's Note: I apologise for the wait. I had the chapter more or less finished several days ago, but I felt weary of publishing it as I felt I should have my historical facts in order before venturing any further into this religious mix. Luckily, my mother is a walking encyclopedia of religious and historical knowledge, and I now have all the facts I need. I realise that referring to God as Yahweh 4000 years ago was a mistake, as this name was spoken to Moses, who wasn't born for some 700 odd years. But no matter. I can't be bothered to fix it. All the same, enjoy this chapter.

MaiaMadness

Chapter Three

Epheriel

"Do you know what blasphemy you spoke?" said Balthamos angrily. He was back in his own form, and they were in Baruch's hut. "You lied in the Lord's name! You are not sworn to Yahweh! If he hears… Oh, if they had heard… Do you know what would have happened to me?"

"Would you have preferred me to wed Merriam?" asked Baruch, spinning around to face the angel. "You told me to decline. I had to say something! I did what I must, Balthamos. And it worked, did it not? No fights, no arguments, and no one was hurt. And I am watched by angels."

"You are watched by one angel."

Baruch fell silent. He turned his back on the angel and took a deep breath. "But you are here," he said, turning to face the angel once more. "You will not leave me, will you Balthamos?"

"No, Baruch," replied the watcher with a sigh. "I will not. But I cannot protect you. I can only watch. I am much weaker than any human being. My physical form is of softer material than yours."

"But you can take other forms," said Baruch, turning back to face him again. "Could you take the form of a man?"

"Perhaps," said Balthamos. "I have never tried. But the fact that I can shift my form at will is proof of how inconstant my physical form is."

"Yes…" said Baruch. They both fell silent. "I am sorry, Balthamos," he said. "So sorry. I do not wish to cause you any trouble."

He began to undress to go to sleep. Balthamos turned around the way he had that morning, not wishing to intrude on his privacy.

"I thought about what you asked," said Baruch. "Who could hold a grudge against me." He sat down on his bedding and carefully began to sharpen his knife with a stone. Balthamos looked at him again. "I could think of no particular person," Baruch continued. "These are good people. I know each of them. Last year, when the Babylonians sought to overtake our village, I faced them. I spoke to their leader and they left, deciding that our village was nothing special. The people believe that I fought them single-handed. They would not listen when I told them that I did not. They thought I was just being modest. So I let them think what they want. This is why I am considered a great warrior, but I am not. I am just a hunter. I bring home food. I cannot understand why one of them should dislike me."

"The minds of men are curious things," said Balthamos, sitting down next to him, and Baruch felt something like a chilly breeze against his shoulder. "Men are jealous beings. It could be that your strength and kindness is what would make someone hate you."

"I do not understand my people," said Baruch, sheathing his sharpened knife. "I do not understand men or women." They were both silent for a few moments. Then Baruch spoke again. "Why did you wish me to decline the Elder's offer?" he inquired.

If Balthamos was human he would have blushed. But he quickly composed himself and replied, "A woman would make it harder for me to watch you and warn you of danger. I would not be able to speak to you while she was present. And a woman would mean pleasures of the flesh… It would be inconvenient."

Now Baruch blushed and turned away to conceal it. "I have no interest in such things," he mumbled. "Merriam does not intrigue me in the slightest."

Balthamos felt a certain pleasure in hearing this.

He stood up again. "You must sleep now, Baruch," he said. Baruch nodded and crept underneath the furs. Balthamos sat down underneath the window hole.

Somewhere half way through the night, Balthamos sensed a presence on the roof. It was not the evil thought. It was not a human presence at all. He recognised the presence, and presently he flew out of the window hole and up onto the roof. The fireguards were facing in another direction, sleepily. It was good that they could not see the being on the roof. Balthamos immediately knew him.

"Balthamos." The angel who met him embraced him gently.

"Epheriel!" Balthamos, although not very surprised, was pleased to see his old friend. Epheriel was a higher-class angel, the kind who looked as though he was illuminated by a light from elsewhere. The light that shone on Epheriel was silvery in colour, and his great wings were of the same nuance. Next to Epheriel, Balthamos looked even more grey and shadowlike, but he had never minded that. Epheriel was the only friend he had ever had. Friendships were not usual among angels.

"So this is your post, is it?" said Epheriel. "And in there sleeps the man you have taken upon yourself to watch." He pointed down through the smoke hole.

"So you know…" said Balthamos. "Do they know?"

"Of course they know!" said Epheriel. "They know everything. The Lord sees everything. You should know this, my brother."

Balthamos looked down. "Have you come to deal me my punishment, then?" he whispered.

"No," said Epheriel softly. "They wish you to continue what you are doing. There is something here which is not good. Our job as angels is to purge the world of evil. Do your job, Balthamos."

Epheriel dropped to the ground and looked in through the window hole at the sleeping form of Baruch. Balthamos followed.

"I can see why he attracts you," said Epheriel. "He glows."

"I know," said Balthamos. "He is so good it pains me to see. You or I could never be as good as he."

"You desire him." It was not a question, but a statement. Balthamos looked away again. It was true. If Epheriel could see it, so must any angel.

"Is it sin?" asked Balthamos in a hushed voice.

"Angels do not sin. That is a human matter." Epheriel turned to him, and embraced him again. "Do not worry, Balthamos," he said. "And Metatron said to send his regards!" Then he took to his wings and left Balthamos alone. He went back inside to watch his charge, who slept peacefully throughout the night.

Near dawn Balthamos was dozing himself (angels do not need sleep in the way humans do, but for an angel to nod off is not unheard of), when suddenly he felt it again. The thought. The evil thought. He stood abruptly and stared out of the window hole. He could see the two fireguards and a few night birds and bats, but no one else. But then he saw the shape coming out of the forest. The figure was hooded and ran over the grass towards the village. Balthamos could not see his face, and then he disappeared among the huts, and Balthamos could not see which one he went into.

Baruch stirred. "Is it morning?" he asked sleepily. He saw Balthamos' shadowy form by the window hole. "Is something the matter?"

Balthamos told him what he had seen.

"That cannot have been one of us," said Baruch. "I shall have to ask the Elders if any strangers have arrived whom I have not met."

"You are naïve," said Balthamos, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"Rather naïve than cynical," replied Baruch. He stood up and got dressed, fastening the knife at his belt as usual. Then he picked up his water skin and walked down to the stream as the sun began to rise.