No Woman So Fair (10 page)

Abram leaned over to look out the window, having to bend slightly, for the ceiling was low. “It's getting dark. I suppose we should turn in for the night. The crew will be back at daybreak.”

“Yes…I suppose so,” Sarai said nervously. She had told the truth to her mother that she had no idea how it was between men and women on the wedding night. Thoughts flitted through her mind—stories she had heard some of the servants tell as they laughed and joked among themselves—and she found herself afraid. This was unusual, for she was not a woman easily frightened.

Abram turned and studied her face. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, and he came over and sat down beside her. He put his arm around her and sat silently for a while. They heard the gentle ripple of waves against the side of the craft as other boats maneuvered into the dock for the night.

He turned her toward him and kissed her gently on the cheek and then on the lips. Suddenly Sarai grabbed him and said, “I don't know anything, Abram.”

“You know you love me, don't you?”

“Oh yes, I know that!”

“And I know I love you. And I think that's all we need to know.”

Sarai stroked his cheek and said, “I'm too sharp at times, Abram. I know that. Just beat me if I ever get that way again.”

Abram laughed softly deep down in his chest. “I doubt if that will ever happen. But I'm worried about something.”

“What is it?”

“You've always lived in town, and I've made an agreement with my brothers that I will take care of the flocks, for the most part, while Nahor and Haran attend to business in Ur. We'll have to live in a tent outside of town.”

“I think that's a good arrangement. It's what you like.”

“I know, but it won't be as comfortable as you're accustomed to. And it'll be lonely.”

“You'll be home nights, won't you?”

“Days too, at times.”

She stroked his cheek, feeling the smoothness of his beard, and said, “My mother says I'm to always be on your side, no matter what happens, and I will be. I promise, dear.”

“And I'm always on your side. That's the way it should be with a man and wife. We may fight in private, but if anybody wants to get to you, they'll have to climb over me.”

“And I feel the same.”

The two sat quietly holding each other, and then Abram began to stroke her neck, sending chills down her back. She hardly realized she had lost her fear as she enjoyed his caresses. He made love to her with a gentleness that she had expected. But what was a surprise was finding out how passionately she returned his kisses, clinging fiercely to him with a desire he had awakened in her for the first time as they consummated their marriage.

Later, as they lay quietly in each other's arms and he stroked her shoulder, she whispered, “I'll always love you, Abram.”

He propped himself on one elbow and looked at her beautiful face in the moonlight coming in through the window. His eyes danced teasingly as he asked, “And what will you do when I run off with another woman?”

Sarai laughed and grabbed his hair with both hands. “I'll never let you do that,” she said, smiling. “I think I know how to keep you home.”

“I think you do,” he said, and then he kissed her with a passion that surprised them both.

Gehazi had been the chief herdsman for Terah's family as long as Abram could remember. He was a short man, as lean as a desert lion. The sun had cooked his skin until it looked like burnished leather. His age was impossible to tell—it could be guessed at anywhere between forty and seventy. He and Abram now stood on a rise, inspecting the sheep that stretched out of sight before them.

“The increase has been amazing, Gehazi.”

“Yes, it has, master. I've never seen a year like it,” Gehazi replied in his husky voice, which was no more than a half whisper. He had spent more time with sheep and goats than he had with humans—indeed, felt more at home with them than with people. Scanning the flocks, his deep-set eyes were narrowed and wrinkled at the corners from years of enduring the blistering Sumerian sun. He nodded with satisfaction and turned to face Abram. “You've done well, master. How long is it? Five years since you took over from Nahor?”

“That's right.”

“Well, you're a better man than he is.”

“I wouldn't say that,” Abram objected.

Gehazi had a special affection for Abram, having known him since he was an infant. “You'll have to make a good offering to Ishtar for this increase,” he said.

Abram shook his head. “I'm going to give
you
the bonus, not Ishtar.”

Gehazi blinked in surprise. There was a quality about his master that sometimes awed him but at other times troubled him, as it did now. “Don't do that, master.”

“Why not?”

“You wouldn't want to get the gods upset.”

“Gehazi, do you really think that a piece of stone in a temple twenty miles away has anything to do with the increase of our herds?”

“It's not wise to question the gods. Who knows what they might do?” Gehazi muttered huskily. “And I'll tell you what. She's a female god, and that makes it even worse.”

Abram laughed aloud. “What do you mean it makes it worse?”

“Well, you know how women are.”

“No. How are they? You tell me. You've had half a dozen wives.”

“They get notions, that's what! They like to get us men in trouble.”

Abram laid his hand on Gehazi's muscular shoulder and said, “You're the one who deserves the bonus. Don't worry about Ishtar.”

“I don't like it, master. You're just asking for trouble.”

Abram shook his head to signify that the conversation was over. “I'd like to move the flock tomorrow over to that grass by the river. It's better this year than I've ever seen it.”

“I'll take care of it, master.” Then Gehazi scratched his head and asked, “What about your brothers? I never see them anymore.”

“Oh, they've become so busy with their business and trading in town that they don't care about coming out to see smelly goats and sheep.”

“They'd better care,” Gehazi said grimly. “This is what's real, not all that trading. A man can go broke and lose everything.”

“Men can go broke raising sheep too.”

“Not us,” Gehazi said firmly. He had few fixed ideas, but one of them was very solid: town was bad and the world of nature was good.

“I'll send some of the other shepherds over to help you move the flock,” Abram said. He turned and left Gehazi, feeling good about the increase in the flock. But as he made his way toward his and Sarai's tent, he began to think about how he had prospered. Even before he had married, he'd begun to doubt the power of the idols that kept their place in the temple. He knew with certainty now that a greater, unseen God heard his prayers. He said little of this to anyone other than Sarai, and he prayed more now than he had as a younger man. But it troubled him that he still did not know the name of the God to whom he prayed.

Threading his way through the flocks, he came to their large tent. It was bleached white to reflect the rays of the sun, and when he stooped to go in through the door flap, he smelled the fragrance of the incense that Sarai almost always burned. A sudden thought came to him.
I've been married for five years, and I've prospered. But Sarai isn't happy
.

He was more in love with her now than ever, and when he saw her lying facedown on their sleeping mat, he sat down beside her and put his hand on her shoulder. “What's wrong, Sarai?”

Sarai was wearing a light blue dress. She had bathed recently, for even in the desert Abram had made a tub for her out of animal skins set on a frame. He had assigned one of the shepherds the task of bringing river water and filling the tub up each day so that she could submerge herself in the coolness of the water. He knew she loved this daily ritual, but he also knew it was not enough to soothe her aching heart.

Pulling her up gently, Abram asked, “What's wrong, Sarai? I hate to find you like this.”

Her enormous black eyes glistened with tears as she told him bluntly, “I'm not a good wife.”

“Not a good wife? Why, you're the best wife in the whole world.” He put his arms around her and stroked her jet black hair. She laid her cheek against his chest and let the tears flow. “Of course you're a good wife,” he insisted, rubbing her back.

“But I've given you no son,” she cried. “Not in five years.”

“There's plenty of time for that. We're young. We'll have a dozen sons. You wait and see.” He knew how her barrenness troubled her. She wanted desperately to have a child, and Abram had often wondered why they had not. They were very much in love, and by all the normal ways of the world, they should have had at least one child by now, and probably more. But no child had come. Sarai remained despondent, though not once had Abram let her see that he was disappointed. He knew that she often cried when he was not there, but now, even in his presence, she could not hide her sadness.

“Look, Sarai, I've made up my mind. We're going to spend some time in town.”

Sarai brightened up. She had learned to live in the desert with her only companions the shepherds and the few other women who followed their husbands' flocks. They were not that far from town, and they went in from time to time for supplies and to visit their families. And yet she spent most days alone in their tent waiting for Abram to come home, after doing the few chores she had for just the two of them. She had found the loneliness overwhelming, and now she dashed the tears from her eyes. “Really?”

“Yes. We've had a good year, so we're going in, and we're going to buy you a whole new set of clothes, some jewelry, and a beautiful ring, and we're going to see your mother and your family again. Maybe we'll take a second honeymoon on that boat. Would you like that?”

“Oh yes!” Sarai threw her arms around him, and Abram patted her shoulder. At least for a time this would take Sarai's thoughts from her barrenness.

****

The fact that Gehazi was completely and utterly dependable permitted Abram to leave the flock for an extended time. He took Sarai to her home in Ur, where they were royally greeted as always. Her mother, especially, was delighted that they could stay for a while, and they spent two weeks there being entertained. After that they went upriver on the same boat they had used for their honeymoon. This time they went even farther than Babylon, and when they returned, the boat was loaded with gifts for everyone. Babylon had a thriving market, and Sarai had spent days there picking out the most delightful gifts she could find.

When they returned, they stayed at Terah's house in a large room built especially for them. They were comfortable, and yet there was a sadness in being with Abram's family. Milcah, the wife of Nahor, had given him three sons, and Dehazi, the wife of Haran, had borne him a son, whom they called Lot. Sarai loved babies, and she spent every minute of her day helping to care for the two infants and playing with the older nephews. She tried to keep her sadness from Abram, but he was aware of it all the same.

After staying a month at Terah's house, Abram's father approached him, and Abram knew almost instantly that Terah was troubled. The older man insisted that they sit down, and he asked a servant to bring wine. For a time they talked of the flocks and herds and of the family trading ventures. It was the kind of talk Abram expected from Terah, for his father was primarily a man of business. His father acted nervous, however, and Abram kept waiting for him to bring up what he really wanted to talk about. Finally Terah cleared his throat and got to the point. “Son, I spoke with the high priest yesterday. He's been asking about you.”

“Oh? What about, Father?”

“I think…” Terah faltered and lifted his cup. He drained it and said, “Well, he told me you haven't made an offering to Ishtar in a long time.”

“Well, that's true enough.”

Terah stared at his son, waiting for an explanation. Abram gathered his thoughts, then asked bluntly, “Father, do you really think Ishtar has any power?”

Terah's jaw dropped. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean just that. Do you really think that a block of stone has any feelings? That Ishtar knows anything?”

“It's dangerous to talk like that, son! The goddess might hear you.”

“Father, Ishtar is made out of stone. Her ears are stone. How can stone ears hear anything?”

Terah was stunned by what Abram was saying. He himself was a solid individual who thought of little beyond the profit he could turn in a day. He liked his comfort, and he was fond of his family, but like all other dwellers of Sumer, he was deathly afraid of offending the gods. He lived in a world that was filled with catastrophe. Droughts burned up the crops, and floods wiped out whole communities. Sickness could come without warning, ravaging populations. Wild beasts could tear a man to bits. Terah had seen all these things happen, and although he had no deep feelings about religion, he was faithful to make offerings. With his voice lowered, he said urgently, “I hope you don't say things like this to anybody else.”

“Only to Sarai.”

“That's good.” Terah breathed a sigh of relief.

“But think about it, Father,” Abram protested. “Some man made Ishtar. A worker in stone took a chisel and a block of senseless rock and made a statue. And then after he made it, he bowed down to it—the very thing he himself made.” Abram leaned forward and said, “Father, I'm desperate to find the God who made
me
, and it certainly wasn't Ishtar.”

Terah was shocked to the very depth of his being. He had once been upset with Abram for paying too much attention to the gods, and now he was upset because he was paying none at all! He also knew that Rahaz, the high priest, was a powerful man in the community. He had ways of getting at people who did not bring their offerings to the temple. He had grown wealthy on such offerings, and for some time Terah tried to persuade Abram to at least make some outward gesture of appeasing Ishtar and the high priest.