No Woman So Fair (17 page)

“No. I mean we're going to leave Ur.”

“Leave Ur? Why would we do that?”

Abram dropped his head, and Sarai gave him her full attention. She knew her husband well, and now she said quietly, “What is it, Abram? Is something wrong?”

“The Eternal One appeared to me again and told me that we must leave this place.”

Sarai was stunned. Both of their families lived in Ur, and she had many friends there. She loved to visit with her in-laws and her parents.

“How far will we travel?”

“I don't know,” Abram said quietly. “The Eternal One only told me that we were to leave.”

Sarai could not think for a moment. Confusion kept her silent, and finally she asked, “When will we have to go?”

“I think very soon.” Abram rose and came over to sit beside Sarai. He put his arm around her and said huskily, “I know this is hard for you, but it's the right thing to do.”

****

A few days later Sarai heard a strange sound as she was leaving her tent. She stopped to listen, then moved around to the back of the tent. It was early in the morning, and she was surprised to see Layona bent over vomiting. Sarai stood for a moment staring, and then when the servant straightened up, Sarai saw that the woman was pale, her lips drawn together in a pucker.

“What's the matter, Layona?”

“Nothing,” Layona said, but her face betrayed her answer.

Layona was a strong woman and never got sick. There was only one explanation for this illness. Sarai felt cold as she asked, “You're going to have a baby, aren't you?”

Layona dropped her eyes and could not answer. Finally she nodded, her whole body a posture of misery.

Sarai stood absolutely still, and her mind worked quickly. It was not at all unusual for servant women to become pregnant, even those who were not married. No one really thought about such things a great deal, but Sarai was struggling with a thought that intruded on her mind. It seemed to push its way in, and she felt the beginnings of doubt and anger.

“Who's the man?” she asked harshly. She waited, but Layona merely shook her head.

“Did you hear me? Who's the father of your baby?”

Layona was a meek woman and always obedient, but though Sarai continued to question her, she steadfastly refused to answer.

It could be Abram!
The thought would not leave Sarai's mind. She was well acquainted with the fact that many men in Ur and many of those who herded the cattle thought little of forcing themselves on their female slaves. When a child was born it was simply one more hand to help with the work, an extra slave at no extra cost.

Sarai stared at the girl, then demanded, “You'll have to tell me sooner or later!” Her voice was sharp, and she turned to leave, determined to ask Abram. But suddenly she stopped.

What if he says it's his baby?
Sarai found this possibility alarming. Her lack of a child had marked her deeper than she knew, and she decided not to go to Abram. Instead she went back into her tent, sat down, and remained silent, her thoughts writhing within her breast. Tears filled her eyes, and when they ran down her cheeks, she shook her head. “I'll never ask him—and he'll never tell me!”

****

Abram approached his father's house with trepidation. He had put off telling his family as long as he possibly could about his plans to leave Ur. He knew his father had no confidence at all in the existence of the Eternal One. Terah had as much religion as the average dweller in Ur—which was little enough. He went through the formality of making an offering to some of the gods, just enough to keep on the good side of them—not to mention pleasing the priests, who had ways of forcing a man's hand.

Abram entered the house and was glad that his mother was not in the room. It would be hard enough to deal with Terah without Metura's tears.

“Well, what are you doing here?” Terah asked. He was sitting at a table with some clay tablets before him, studying his transaction. He was genuinely surprised at seeing Abram, for his son usually spaced his visits far apart. “Something wrong? Someone sick?”

“No one's sick,” Abram said. He came to sit down opposite his father, saying, “I've got to talk to you.”

“Something must be wrong. What is it?”

“I don't know that you'd call it wrong,” Abram said, “but I've come to tell you that Sarai and I will be leaving.”

A blank look washed across Terah's face. It was as if Abram had announced that he was going to reach up and touch the moon.

“Leaving!” He immediately jumped to the obvious conclusion. “You've run out of pasture? You going to move the flocks farther away from Ur?”

Abram hesitated. There was no easy way to say this. “I know you won't believe this, but the Eternal One appeared to me.”

At once Terah's face hardened. He put his hands flat on the table and seemed to push against it. “You're still on that business, are you? You'd be better off to leave that alone.”

Knowing that it was useless to argue with his father, Abram said simply, “The Eternal One has told me that I have to leave.”

“Well, I suppose you can move up close to Uruk.”

“No, I think it's more than that. I believe I'll be going away from this whole part of the world.”

Terah stared at his son. “You're going to tear your whole life up and leave the only family you have because you've dreamed up some God, and he's told you to do it?”

“You spoke of leaving yourself—-you talked of looking for better business opportunities to the north. You said that change is good.”

“Bah! That was just foolish talk. Your mother would not want to leave, and business is picking up. You cannot leave—it will break your mother's heart.”

Abram saw how useless this discussion was. He sat listening as Terah spoke harshly, then finally he said, “You can tell Mother or I will. I think we'll be leaving very soon.” He got up and left the room, ignoring Terah's mutterings.

Terah sat at the table, stunned by what he had heard. He could not concentrate on his business, and finally he got up and went to the bedroom, where his wife was lying down. She sat up as he came in, and he said abruptly, “Abram was just here.”

“Abram? Was something wrong?”

“Yes, something's wrong. That son of ours has lost his mind.” He went on to explain Abram's intention and ended by exploding, “He's gone crazy! Lost his mind.”

Metura could not speak for a moment. She was not well at all, but her whole life was in Ur. She had married here, had her children here, and had lost one of them. Now her favorite was going to leave.

“We must do something, Terah.”

“
Do
something! I don't know what you expect me to do.”

Metura got off the bed, came over, and put her hand on his arm. Her voice was pleading. A thought had come to her instantly, and now she whispered softly, “Terah, couldn't we go with him?”

Terah suddenly turned to face her. “Would you be willing to leave here?”

“I can't bear to lose him.”

“He always was your favorite,” Terah grunted. He stood there for a moment and then said, “You know, I've been thinking of leaving here myself and trying to find a more profitable place for business. We've talked about it.”

“Then let's go with him.”

“We don't know where we'd be going. Business might be even worse.”

“We could sell out everything and just go with him. You could go into business in another city when he settles. I can't bear to lose him!” she pleaded.

****

In all truth Terah's business was in worse shape than he had admitted to his wife or to his sons. It was not that he was a bad businessman, but the competition for business was so fierce that it had become much harder than when he had first decided to become a trader.

One of the first things he did was go to his son Nahor and explain the situation. Nahor listened, but when his father finished, he snorted and shook his head fiercely. “You're getting to be as bad as Abram! My mother's not well, and you're talking about taking her out to who knows where!”

“Nahor, I'm at my wit's end. I might as well tell you the worst. When I sell out, I'll just about be even with the debts that I owe. We've got to go, and I want you to go with us.”

“Absolutely not!” Nahor said. “I'm not getting rich, but I'm making a living, and I think you'd be crazy to go with Abram!”

Terah felt his age. He was caught in a bind that he could not get out of, but he said finally in a defeated tone, “I've got to go. Your mother and I will hate to leave you, but perhaps we won't go far.”

Nahor shook his head. “You're going to go out to someplace you don't even know and all because some god that Abram's made up is telling him. You'll be sorry, Father. You'll be very sorry!”

****

As soon as Terah appeared at the camp, Abram knew something had changed. It had been two weeks since he had told his father that he must leave, and since that time Terah had been strangely silent. Abram knew that his father was not silent by nature, and now as he went to greet him, bowing in respect, he said, “Father, I'm glad to see you.”

Terah scarcely spoke but followed Abram into his tent. Sarai was there, and she at once began pouring him a drink of water from a pottery pitcher and asking about Metura.

Terah drank thirstily, then saw that the two were sitting silently. “I've been thinking about what you said about leaving, Abram,” he said. He cleared his throat and nodded. “I've decided that you're right.”

Abram smiled at his father, surprised. “I'm so glad that you can see it in that light. It's something I have to do.”

As though Abram had not spoken, Terah said, “And your mother has talked to me about this.” He looked up, sadness in his weary face. “She can't bear to be separated from you, Abram. So I've agreed. I'll sell the business, and she and I will come with you.”

Sarai immediately uttered a glad cry. “That's wonderful, isn't it, Abram!”

Abram tried not to show his feelings. As soon as his father had spoken of his plan, an alarm had gone off. The Eternal One had clearly said,
“Leave your father's household.”
But now how was he to do that? He cleared his throat and said, “Are you sure that's the wise thing to do? I mean…Mother's not in good health, and she's used to the comforts of a house. It's quite different living in tents.”

“We'll take care of her, you and I,” Terah said quickly. He knew Abram's intense love for his mother and said, “You wouldn't leave her behind, would you, not when she's begging to go?”

And then Abram knew he had no choice. He tried to pray.
O Eternal One, my parents cannot live long, and perhaps you meant the rest of my family. It must please you for a man to take care of his parents
. Desperately the thoughts raced through his mind but brought him no comfort.

Finally Abram smiled and reached out and embraced his father. “Of course, Father. It'll be good to have you and Mother with us.”

Despite Sarai's initial apprehension of what lay ahead for her and Abram, she had found the first few weeks of their journey exciting. Seeing new places fascinated her, and this was the first time she would be traveling north of Babylon. But as the weeks turned into months, her enthusiasm waned. The pace was slow, since they had to travel on land and the large group of travelers and animals could go no faster than the smallest lambs. They made their way tediously northward along the grazing grounds near the Euphrates River.

The sun burned fiercely, and Sarai adjusted her head covering, protecting her face from its damaging heat and the stinging sand swirling in the wind. She heard a cry and glanced up to see Lot running by. He was chasing a young woman named Meri, the daughter of one of Abram's herders. Sarai frowned. Her nephew was a good worker when he wanted to be, but there was a laxness in him that she saw as a weakness. He was a fine-looking young man and could have had his pick among the young women of Ur, but he had preferred the life of a bachelor and had gained a questionable reputation where women were concerned. Sarai narrowed her eyes and thought for a moment,
I ought to stop him. Meri's a foolish girl. She doesn't need to get mixed up with Lot
.

Sarai kept in front of the animals and the choking dust they raised. She thought often of her family back in Ur and Uruk, wondering how they were doing and missing them now as she realized more and more that she likely would never see them again. As the days of travel wore on, she also found herself worrying about her mother-in-law, whose health was suffering from the rigors of the trip. She had initially wanted Abram's parents to come along, but now she wondered about the wisdom of having subjected them to the hardships of travel. It was a demanding trip for a healthy person, and for a sick woman like Metura it was even harder. Sometimes they would stay several days at one site to rest the animals, and at such times she was glad to spend time watching after Metura.

Sarai turned suddenly and caught a glimpse of Layona, now large with child. Even as Sarai watched, she saw Abram, who had come in from the outlying flocks, stop and speak to the servant. Sarai's eyes narrowed as she saw the younger woman lift her eyes to Abram, and she could not miss the light that was in them. Just the sight of it sent a pang of jealousy through Sarai, and she muttered aloud, “He's more concerned for her than he is for me!”

Whirling around, she stalked away so that she would not have to endure the sight. The very thought that Abram had fathered a child with another woman was intolerable to her. Ever since she had married, she had longed for a child to present to her husband more than anything else in the world. Now the thought that Layona's child might belong to him angered and humiliated her.