Rachel and Leah (Women of Genesis) (10 page)

Derkah looked down her nose at Zilpah. “What kind of favors have you been doing for that man, that he offers you such an honor as this? There are girls far better born than you who are being passed over.”

“Every girl and every woman in this camp and half the dogs are better born than me,” said Zilpah defiantly. “But the only favor I have done for my master’s steward is to give him my obedience, my respect, and my earnest labor, like every other good servant in this household.”

Derkah smiled, but there was still something hard in her eyes. “You’re a good listener. You’ve got the elegant speech down—something your mother never mastered.”

Zilpah curbed her resentment of the slur against her mother and smiled. “Thank you for helping me to do honor to our master’s guest tonight.”

“The effect must be one of chastity,” said Derkah. “And cleanliness.”

“I could bathe.”

“There’s no time for that. But your face could use a washing. And I’ll get a girl to work on your hair while I choose your clothing. You’re young, we want your hair to swing free but stay out of your face and out of the food. We’ll braid here and here and bind the braids behind.”

It all went very quickly then—hands working on her hair doing things her mother had never done, and so firmly and deftly. And the dress was a beautiful one; she wondered why
no one had ever worn it before. But of course it would have been stored up against such an occasion as this—the arrival of the greatest guest these tents had known.

When she pulled it on, though, the fit was wrong—the neckline was low enough to shock even Zilpah. She would never be able to raise her arms while wearing this. Whomever the dress had been made for, she must have been older, with a bosom that had already settled into a much lower position on her chest.

But Derkah didn’t seem to notice the problem. “Very nice,” she said. “Yes, yes, he chose well, having you serve. Can you manage to bring in all the food and carry it away without spilling?”

“I never spill,” said Zilpah. “I never trip. I’m surefooted and my grip is strong.”

“Well, make sure you
kneel
to serve. If you bend over in that dress somebody might try to take two melons from the top of the bowl and put them on his own plate.”

Zilpah blushed. Derkah
did
know how revealing the dress was. So much for an air of chastity! All these years of trying to conceal from other women how she teased the men, and it turned out that when they dressed her up to make the best possible impression, they openly used her body the way she had used it on the sly!

Or were they, perhaps, using this gown to repeat the same offer Reuel had thought she was making earlier in the day?

No matter. They were giving her the best chance of any girl in the camp to catch this man’s eye.

And despite her confidence, she practiced kneeling and rising from her knees several times, holding heavy objects as she did, to make sure she knew how to balance in the gown
and not trip over the hem or bow too low. It took great strength to keep her back vertical as she sank to her knees, and a great deal of balance to keep from falling over backward as she rose again to her feet.

While she had been footwashing and plotting and getting dressed, apparently Reuel had been able to get word to the village of Haran, for the dinner included four of the great men of the town—though Haran
was
just a village, and not a city. Also, Laban’s older sons, Nahor and Terah, had arrived home without even the time to change clothes—and that was unfortunate, because Terah had apparently spilled something down the front of his tunic. Clearly he resented being put on display before this guest in something other than his best clothes. Whatever quarrel there had been over it, though, Zilpah would have to find out later—there had been nothing of it in the tent where she was being dressed.

As the chief cook put the first bowl into her hands, Zilpah said, “This is not enough for all the men at dinner.”

She looked at Zilpah like she was crazy. “Ignorant girl, do you think you’re wearing that dress in order to serve villagers and those rowdy boys? You will serve only the master and his great and honored guest. You kneel between them, and offer it first to the master. He will make a great show of directing you to serve Jacob first, which you will do. Then you offer it to the master again, and when they’ve taken what they want from the bowl, you bring it back to me and don’t you
dare
offer it to anyone else on the way in or out, even if there’s plenty left. Do you understand? One of those boys is perfectly capable of trying to trick you into humiliating their father by serving them from the same bowl as the honored guest, but don’t you do it, or I’ll stripe your back for you!”

Why hadn’t Reuel mentioned
that?
Did he think that Zilpah already knew it? Or was he hoping that she’d make some gross mistake and get a beating?

But she drove her annoyance out of her mind. Grace, chastity, beauty, modest manners, and just under half of her bosom—that was what she was to show tonight, not pique at the foolishness of people who don’t tell you all that you must know to do your job properly.

From the first bowl she carried in, the dinner went perfectly—or at least her part of it. She sank straight down to her knees with each bowl and platter, offered it to each man as she was instructed, and held it firmly and steadily. When they jabbed with a knife to pierce some choice piece of meat, she offered just enough upward resistance that it was as smooth as if the platter were resting on a table. When they ladled soup from a bowl, she followed under the ladle just far enough to keep anything from dripping onto the carpet or their clothes—but never so far as to bump into their bowl.

She behaved with perfect modesty, and when—as predicted—Nahor called out for her to bring the plate of cheese to him, she did not so much as hesitate in her path. It was as if he had not spoken. Though she was not so intent on her task as not to notice the way Laban glowered at his son’s rudeness.

By halfway through the meal she was so sure of her perfection that she allowed herself to listen to their conversation. At first it had all been about their mutual ancestors and reports of Rebekah’s and Isaac’s health, so it’s not as if Zilpah much cared what they were saying anyway. Later, though, as they grew more sated and the winebibbers from the village of Haran—not to mention the winebibbing Nahor and his
wine-spilling brother Terah—began to doze in their places, the master began the serious conversation.

“To journey all this way, surely you will live with me now as my brother. All that I have is yours!”

This of course was merely courtesy, Zilpah knew, but it was wonderful how sincere Laban sounded as he said it.

“And I am ashamed to have brought no gift better than my service among your flocks and herds.”

“Does a beggar ask a prince to hold his cup?” said Laban. “It is I who should serve
you
.”

And so on and so on. But when it came down to it, Laban insisted that Jacob would only serve him so as to teach him and his men the herding lore of Isaac’s house, so that he was bestowing a great favor on Laban’s house. While Jacob insisted that he was here only to learn from Laban’s mastery of the husbandry of beasts, so he could one day bring this wisdom back to his father’s house.

Then there were the compliments about the meal—Jacob insisting that such a feast had never been seen at his father’s house, and Laban insisting just as firmly that he was sure that this feast would seem inconsequential.

“But my dear brother Laban,” said Jacob, “I can never learn from you properly if you put on feasts like this for me every night! I must eat a shepherd’s simple fare, or I’ll become so languid that a pregnant ewe could outrun me.”

Laban laughed at that, and then went into a fit of choking and hiccupping that was funny at first but quickly became alarming.

Laban’s face turned red. Zilpah was frightened. Should she set down her bowl and run for help? Or was Reuel watching from the tent door? Would he rush in and …

Yes, the steward rushed in, but before he could get to his master, Jacob had reached over, seized Laban by the shoulder with his left hand, and drove his right palm forcefully into the older man’s stomach.

A chunk of meat popped out of Laban’s mouth and flew into the bowl that Zilpah was holding.

Jacob looked at her and winked.

Somehow she understood immediately what his wink was meant to convey. Holding the bowl against her chest with one arm, she quickly moved the fruits around so that the chunk of meat could drop down out of sight deep in the bowl.

Meanwhile, as Reuel started slapping Laban on the back, Jacob sat back down on his rugs as calmly as if he had never moved. Laban looked up at the steward and irritably said, “What are you doing, you madman? My brother already saved my life, and now you seem to be trying to undo his work by killing me!”

“But I did nothing,” said Jacob. “I was only reaching out to ask if I could help you when your steward arrived. I believe he was the one who dislodged whatever was in your throat.”

“I could breathe clearly again before he ever started beating me,” said Laban, puzzled. “And didn’t I feel you … or somebody, anyway … didn’t I—”

“Look,” said Jacob, “this pretty girl has brought us dates, for digestion.”

Zilpah dutifully offered the bowl to Laban, who took one. Then he remembered his manners and almost put it back, before saying, “Look how distracted I am, I took a date myself before offering any to my guest.”

“You already offered me dates before you had that moment of choking, Brother Laban, and I took one. But now
that you offer it again, how can I refuse? And from such lovely hands. I thought earlier today that it was astonishing that you would send your prettiest girl to wash my feet, instead of your most miserable wench; and now I see that you have a damsel even more beautiful to serve at dinner.”

Laban obviously had no idea that the girl who washed Jacob’s feet earlier had been the very one now kneeling before them with a bowl. “Oh, well, there are many pretty girls in our household. But none so beautiful as my … as my daughters.”

Zilpah rose smoothly to her feet and as she carried the bowl of dates out of the tent, she heard Jacob telling him that he had been blessed by God with the chance to behold his younger daughter at the well, and had to agree that she was lovelier than the moon in its fullness and other such nonsense.

“Quick,” Zilpah said to the cook. “What’s the next platter? They’re finally talking about our master’s daughters.”

“But that was the last,” said the cook. “Don’t you know anything? The digestives come last. Now it’s only wine.”

“Well, that’s just silly,” said Zilpah, exasperated. “Then they’ll get drunk. And we won’t hear anything.” She saw a basket of bread sitting near the door. Quickly she took out a couple of broken buns and rearranged the others into a nice mound so it didn’t look like leftovers.

“What do you think you’re doing?” demanded Reuel in a whisper.

“I’m going to kneel just to the side and have the bread ready in case they want it.”

“You’re going to eavesdrop,” said Reuel.

“I’m going to tell you everything I hear,” said Zilpah.

He let her pass.

But once she had knelt, bowing her head so as not to see
Laban’s questioning glance, there was little left to the conversation. Apparently Laban had promised that sometime over the next few weeks, he hoped to be able to present his daughters to Jacob so he could tell Rebekah that his daughters were almost as beautiful as she had been in her youth, and Jacob had sworn that already the beauty of his daughters was legendary even as far away as Beersheba.

So much insincerity and formality was enough to wear out anyone, and if Jacob and therefore Laban had not been so sparing of the wine, they wouldn’t have got even that far. But the time had come, and so Jacob turned away for a moment to conceal a yawn, which was Laban’s cue to apologize for keeping a weary traveler up so late, while Jacob insisted that he longed to stay up all night in conversation with his new-met brother, and on and on, but not
too
long before they both arose and, quite steady on their feet, despite the wine and the long sitting, they made their way out of the tent.

But as he passed her, Jacob bent down and took a small loaf from her basket. “For the morning?” said Jacob. “I’ve rarely had loaves as sweet as these.” And for a moment, Zilpah wondered if he was making an oblique reference to … but no, Jacob probably did not even notice the neckline on this gown any more than he had noticed earlier in the day.

Or maybe he noticed her perfectly well both times, but was merely too polite and disciplined to let it show.

Once the host and the honored guest were out of the dining tent, with torchbearers lighting their way to their sleeping tents, Reuel rushed in and helped her to her feet. “What did they say?”

“He’s staying a month at least,” said Zilpah. “And there’s a promise to introduce him to Leah and Rachel. Also, he
intends to help with the herds. I think the master intends him only to observe, but I think the honored guest intends to work with the animals and truly serve, with honest hard labor.”

“He never said
that
, did he?” said the cook doubtfully—for she was in the dining tent now, looking across the sleeping villagers and sons.