Sarah: Women of Genesis: 1 (Women of Genesis (Forge)) (23 page)

Sarai turned her back and walked away without a word, thereby proving Qira’s exact point about how ill-mannered she was. If a barren woman does not wish to have her barrenness pointed out, she ought to refrain from offering advice about motherhood. If Sarai expected Qira to apologize for pointing out such an obvious truth, she would have a long wait. Qira did her best to tolerate the insults offered by everyone in this camp, but sometimes one had to draw a line.

She could see that her servant was bringing her daughters, who already looked chastened. When she turned back toward the shade of the tent door, she saw Sarai’s handmaid, an insolent-looking Egyptian girl named Hagar, looking at her with a scornful smile.

“Did your mistress give you something to say to me?” asked Qira, attempting to remind Hagar that the only reason for her to look at Qira was if she had an errand that required it.

Of course the girl was oblivious to the implied criticism, since Sarai had picked up her husband’s bad habit of permitting insolence in the servants.

“I used to carry out the night soil in the house of Pharaoh,” said the girl.

A disgusting confession, and Qira was about to tell her to keep her little tidbits of personal information to herself, but the girl went on before she could say a thing.

“I never once threw any of it at anyone, not even my enemies,” said Hagar. “But you—you throw it in the faces of those who love you most.”

Qira could not believe the girl had said something so outrageous. It left her speechless.

In her own house, Qira would have ordered the girl flogged till she had more blood outside her than in, but she had no doubt that Sarai would take the girl’s side. It wasn’t worth reporting what she had said. Imagine, talking about night soil to the daughter of a king.

Chapter 14

Sarai saw how Hagar had watched young Eliezer from the moment she became aware of him. In Pharaoh’s house, Hagar the nightsoil-carrier would never have bothered to look at a servant at Eliezer’s level. But in Abram’s camp, Hagar was handmaid to the mistress of the house. She could look at any servant in the camp as an equal, and since Eliezer was a fine-looking young man without a wife, it was no surprise that Hagar found reasons to be near Sarai whenever she had business with Eliezer.

Which was often, for as Eliezer’s regular duties evolved, he seemed to make a special point of bringing many questions to Sarai. “You know the ways of this house,” said Eliezer. “If you have the patience to teach me, I can perhaps avoid giving offense to anyone.”

“Bethuel knows as much as I do,” said Sarai.

“If I show my ignorance to him, he’ll have constant reminders that I don’t know all that I should, and he’ll not feel he can use me for sensitive tasks.”

“But showing your ignorance to me makes no difference?” It annoyed her when people thought that it didn’t matter what a woman thought.

“No difference at all,” said Eliezer, “since my lady is already suspicious of me and never forgets for a moment that I’m an outsider.”

Courtesy demanded that she protest. But since his words were true, she could only laugh. “Come to me with any questions or problems you have, Eliezer, and I’ll tell you all that I can to help guide you in your dealings with the other servants.”

He had taken advantage of that invitation quite often, but Sarai had naturally thought that part of the reason for his frequent visits to her in the doorway of her tent was so he could see Hagar. Certainly Hagar thought so, and sometimes spoke quite openly of him when she and Sarai were alone. Yet when Eliezer conversed with her, Sarai could never catch him seeking even the briefest glimpse of Hagar. Either he could see remarkably well out of the side or back of his head, or he was paying Hagar no attention at all.

So when he came to her with yet another account of conflict between Lot’s herdsmen and Abram’s, she found her attention wandering as she tried to figure out whether the fact that he never looked at Hagar meant that he was extremely interested in her or had no interest whatsoever.

“My lady,” said Eliezer, “will you or won’t you?”

“Forgive me,” said Sarai. “My attention wandered for a moment.”

“I have come at an inconvenient time,” said Eliezer. “I’ll take it up with Bethuel, my lady, forgive me for—”

“Don’t be absurd, these quarrels are a serious business and getting more serious,” said Sarai. “Truly, my attention only wandered for a moment.”

“My lady,” said Eliezer, “Bethuel refuses to lay the matter before the master because Abram loves Lot so much that he is likely to give in to him on every point without giving Lot a chance even to
offer
to compromise on any issue.”

Sarai chuckled. “Thus does Bethuel try to save my husband from his own better nature. But you were laying a proposition before me. Will I or won’t I do what?”

“Decide whether we dare suggest a division.”

“But the herds are already divided.”

“That’s the problem. The herds are divided, but Lot’s household and your household are hopelessly intermingled. No one wants conflict, but naturally Lot’s people look out for his interest and take every tiny preference for Abram as a slight to Lot. I think this has something to do with the fact that Lot’s entire herd came to him as a gift from the master.”

“As it was a gift to Abram from Pharaoh, and ultimately, of course, from God.”

“It puts Lot in the position of receiving his worthship as Abram’s gift rather than by his right as heir of Terah’s eldest son.”

“You are suggesting that we divide the households,” said Sarai.

“The quarrels grow more rancorous. Good servants doing their best to serve good masters, yet when there is only one well, the first water must be drawn either by a servant of Lot or a servant of Abram, and whichever happens, the other takes umbrage.”

“Tell the truth now,” said Sarai. “The quarrel isn’t over who should go first, but who should magnanimously grant the other the first use of the water.”

Eliezer grinned. “Actually, we’ve had both arguments. Either way, the other side has to get into the competition.”

“Abram has missed Lot for many years. He won’t want to part.”

“And Lot seems happy to be with Abram,” said Eliezer dryly. “I don’t think he cared for the life of the city.”

Sarai knew the message encoded within those innocent words: Lot was grateful to have Abram’s company so he could get away from Qira. Since his absences with Abram forced Sarai to be in company with Qira for hours every day—only a few hours, but each seemed very long—she well knew how mind-numbing Qira’s constant complaining could be, especially because Qira always seemed to think she was being very subtle about her chafing.

In order to continue the conversation, Sarai would need to speak rather candidly about Qira, and she didn’t want to do so in front of Hagar, because if Hagar thought it was permitted, she would be sniping at Qira in her inimitable way whenever she and Sarai were alone. And while every bit of japery would be well deserved, Sarai could not be so disloyal as to permit even her most intimate servant to speak ill of her sister. “Hagar,” said Sarai, “I need to know what fruits were brought back from the orchards of Ai, the exact count.”

Hagar was annoyed at being sent away—she knew exactly what was happening, of course—but sending her on such an errand allowed her to save face in front of Eliezer, and so she should also be grateful that Sarai had handled it so delicately. Ah, the politics of keeping ma’at within the camp, within the household, and even within the tent.

As soon as Hagar was out of earshot, Eliezer said quietly, “Of course my lady knows that I have the exact count of today’s purchases by heart.”

“And yesterday’s and last week’s too, I’m sure,” said Sarai. “But it was of Qira that we were speaking. I love my sister, Eliezer, and Lot loves his wife.”

“I’m sure of that, my lady.”

“But I also am quite ready to begin praying for Qira to be stricken with a disease that leaves her mute, if I thought there were any hope of God granting such a prayer.”

Eliezer nodded gravely.

“And Lot no doubt feels the same.”

“It occurred to Bethuel that one reason Lot might not wish to divide the camps is because he would then be under constant pressure to return to Sodom. At least for part of the year.”

“And part of the year would soon become all of the year,” said Sarai. “He really hates the city.”

“Any city?”

“Well, he dislikes city life, but he hates Sodom. Abram and I have had a hard time believing some of the tales he tells.”

“My lady,” said Eliezer, “the real problem is this: It is as hard to stop the quarreling between the servants of the two households as it is to stop your sister from saying the . . . things she says.”

“The ridiculous and provocative things she says, you mean,” said Sarai.

“I would not dream of ridiculing her,” said Eliezer, “and since few of her barbs are aimed at me, I am not provoked by them either. What I am is . . . embarrassed.”

“Qira never should have married Lot,” said Sarai. “That much is obvious to all of us—including Qira and Lot.”

“And one does not put away the daughter of a king,” said Eliezer.

Sarai blushed, with both anger and shame. “Eliezer, Lot does not keep my sister as his wife because he fears losing his connection with the erstwhile royal family of Ur-of-Sumeria. Lot keeps my sister because he took an oath and he’s a man of honor.”

“My lady, I did not mean to imply otherwise.”

But Sarai was not done. “Because if my husband and Lot were not men who kept such oaths, it is I, not Qira, who would have been sent back to my father’s house long ago. I am the one who has borne no children.”

“My lady,” said Eliezer, his mouth twisting in the effort to keep from smiling. What did he find so amusing?

“I don’t know that I want to hear what you have to say now.”

“My lady,” said Eliezer again, insisting. “Qira has borne only daughters, in case you’ve forgotten. There are no heirs in either house. And even if my master were not a man of perfect honor, he would remain married to you because you are so deeply entwined in his life and his heart that he could not imagine a day without you. There is not a servant in his household, nor Lot’s either, who does not see that.”

Sarai blushed even more deeply, for he had spoken extravagantly out of turn, and yet his words were so reassuring that she could not bring herself to rebuke him for it. “Eliezer, I was not asking for reassurance.”

“My lady, I report a simple observation. Your lack of children is mentioned among the servants only with regret. No one ever speaks scornfully of you, and when your sister has been heard making some of her slighting comments, it causes outrage among the servants. I know that as the mistress of this household, you do not concern yourself with the opinions of the servants. But as a woman among women, I thought you would want to know that you are loved and respected here for your own words and deeds, and not merely because you are of a royal house, or because you are married to our loved and honored master.”

“You have acted out of kindness, but this discussion should close now,” said Sarai.

“Of course, my lady,” said Eliezer.

On impulse, though, as long as they were speaking so personally, Sarai went on. “But speaking of marriage, I want to know why you so constantly ignore Hagar? You are driving the poor girl mad with frustration.”

The look of dismay on Eliezer’s face was comical. “Mistress, I’m not aware of ignoring Hagar.”

“You ignore her so completely that you don’t even notice that she feels ignored?”

“She is of your tent, mistress, so I have no dealings with her.”

“I’m speaking of love and marriage, Eliezer,” said Sarai. “She longs for you to court her. I break no confidence in telling you this, because it is shouted so loudly by the way she looks and speaks to you that you are the only person in camp who doesn’t know it already.”

It was Eliezer’s turn to blush. “Mistress,” he said, “do you remember when the master first took me into his service?”

“Very clearly.”

“And he pointed out to me that only a child born in his house might inherit?”

“He meant no offense, Eliezer. We did not know you then.”

“I wasn’t offended. But I did take a vow. No one would ever be able to say that I joined Abram’s household in order to win any portion of his wealth for myself or my sons. Therefore I took a solemn oath before God that I would father no child to be born in Abram’s household until Abram had a son and heir born of his own seed.”

As it dawned on her what this implied, and her own part in it, Sarai was aghast. “Eliezer, that cuts me to the heart, to think that my barrenness will also leave you without the joy of fathering children.”

“Mistress, you misunderstand.”

“No, I understand completely. My husband is too loyal to me to divorce me because of my barrenness. Because of his honor, not only is he left childless, but you also, a young man, are cut off from the joys of marriage.”