Vanishing Point

Katherine interrupted the flow of the story, saying, ‘Gee, you know your Bible. How do you remember all those numbers?’

‘Don’t interrupt. Yeah, I know me Bible well. Real well. All of it an’ I know what God tells me.’

‘Sorry,’ was Katherine’s chastened apology. She was surprised at the unexpected vehemence of Benjamin’s response to what she thought was a polite, almost flattering comment.

‘But there were a third battle an’ the men of Benjamin were ambushed an’ they lost. Gibeah was burnt an’ more than twenty five thousand Benjamites killed.’

Katherine did not realise the Bible had such bloodthirsty stories and was about to make a comment on the huge death tolls when Benjamin continued his flow, causing her to quickly shut her half open mouth.

‘Because of what happened the men of Israel swore a promise to God that none of them would give their daughters to the Benjamites as wives. Later they realised this would mean the tribe of Benjamin would die out an’ they didn’t want a tribe of Israel to vanish. After all, they’re the Chosen People of God. So they changed their mind but couldn’t break their solemn oath to God.’

‘Are you Jewish?’ Katherine asked, thinking that Benjamin might be relating this story to his own religious history.

Her question remained unanswered as Benjamin droned on. ‘The men realised people from one place, called Jabesh Gilead, were not there when the promise were made to God so didn’t have to keep it. So they sent an army there an’ killed all the men an’ their wives, an’ they captured the virgins to be wives for the Benjamites. But there were still not enough women so the Benjamites set up an ambush in some vineyards. When the women came out for a celebration an’ dance the Benjamites captured the girls an’ took them for wives. So wadda ya think of all that?’ Benjamin’s voice changed again and it was clear that the rehearsed story ended with the question. He turned and looked directly at her.

Katherine was nonplussed and unsure of how to answer. Her mind was still fascinated by the way in which Benjamin told the story, even to the names of the ancient biblical towns. ‘Well,’ she hesitantly ventured, ‘it’s a pretty bloodthirsty story. And I don’t think it says much for the people who felt that they could just go killing and raping and enslaving others just because they thought that they were chosen by God. It makes all the women seem just property, not people. I mean, the story makes it seem okay to hand over a wife and a virgin daughter to be gang-raped rather than stand up to a mob.’

She wasn’t sure as to what more to say. Cautiously she ventured, ‘I am not sure that the God those ancient people believed in is the same God we believe in today. I mean, do you think God would have approved of the killing, abductions and raping?’

Benjamin didn’t respond. After a while he said, ‘God don’t change. It’s people what change. People ignore the Bible rules an’ its teaching. Same God then as now.’

‘But what about the New Testament, I mean —’

‘God’s law says it is right. In Deuteronomy it’s written that if God delivers your enemies into ya hand, ya can take captives. An’ if ya see a comely woman among the captives and like her ya can take her as a wife. God gives her ta ya an’ ya can take her home. But before she can live there, she’ll shave her head an’ cut her nails an’ take off the clothes she was taken in. Did ya know all that?’

‘No, I didn’t, but that’s all the ancient words of the Old Testament. The New —’

‘I had me a wife once. She didn’t like livin’ in the bush an’ she upped an’ left. Took her to Perth to buy some clothes an’ stuff.

When we gets there, she jist turns round an’ tells me, I ain’t sticking ‘round in some godforsaken desert. So she jist walks off and never looked back. That were ‘bout five years ago. Bin on me own since then.’

‘Sorry to hear it,’ responded Katherine. ‘I guess it must’ve been pretty hard for her on her own out in the bush and even harder for you when she left.’

‘Mmm. But if ya make a promise to God, no matter what, like ta love an’ obey, in sickness an’ in health, then, well, it’s jist wrong to jist up an’ leave.’

‘Yes, I suppose it is. Didn’t you talk about where you lived and how hard it could be before you got married?’

‘Oh, yeah. I did. Guess she didn’t get how hard. Mebbe she thought I had money or summit. I did get some when me folks died. Mebbe that’s all what she wanted.’

The conversation waned. Katherine closed her eyes and thought of how to make contact with Alec in Ceduna. She felt pretty certain he wouldn’t have found help to return to the Kombi yet, so would be happily surprised to find her in town. She’d start searching at the garages. She knew the one he liked from when they passed through on their way north: the Ceduna Roadhouse and Garage.

The early morning sun behind the Land Rover caused its shadow to fall forwards and the vehicle hummed steadily onward as if trying to catch itself. The road surface became harder with hard lumps of what seemed like limestone, not only making the journey noisier but also causing the vehicle to shudder with every bump.

‘What makes the sparkles on the road?’ Katherine asked in an attempt to steer the conversation to a subject in which she could sensibly participate.

‘Gypsum,’ was the curt answer.

She realised the conversation had ended and, in any event, the noise made it difficult to continue. So she rested her head back and closed her eyes while firmly holding on to Carolyn.

She opened her eyes as the vehicle turned right at an intersection. ‘Do you know the Ceduna Roadhouse?’ she asked then realised that the turn had been on to the Eyre Highway. ‘Hey, aren’t we supposed to turn left, there, towards Ceduna?’

‘Yeah, I know that roadhouse.’

‘But aren’t we heading away from Ceduna now?’

‘Yeah, for a bit.’

It seemed a strange answer and Katherine felt troubled. She held Carolyn a little closer and kept her eyes open. Benjamin was frowning, his eyes cast straight ahead.