Sarah: Women of Genesis: 1 (Women of Genesis (Forge)) (35 page)

“Apparently there are a lot of things that can
only
be imagined,” said Abraham.

And, just to prove the point, his arm fell asleep and his joints got quite painful and he had to draw away from her after only a few minutes of nestling. “How did this happen to us?” Abraham said. “I never noticed getting old.”

“It’s the only job we’ve ever done so faithfully, never missing a day.”

“Well, I didn’t know I was so effective at it. You’re still beautiful.”

“And now the eyes are going,” said Sarah.

“I think I can see well enough to get back to my tent,” he said.

“Stay,” she said. “Let me at least hear your breathing all night.”

“From what I’ve been told, you can hear it from
my
tent.”

“Oh, that was
snoring?
” asked Sarah. “I thought it was a sledge being dragged across stones.”

“Now I have to stay, just to punish you for that remark.”

So he spent the night. She slept well, despite his snoring, which had indeed grown much louder in the past year or so.

They each woke the other several times in the night when they had to take trips outside the tent.

And in the morning, they laughed ruefully over how little they had slept.

“Well, we’re done with
that,
” said Abraham. “But I liked spending so much time with you. Come to my tent this morning. Read aloud for me while I do my work.”

It was the story of Enoch she read, the great miracles of those days before Zion was taken up into heaven. While she read, he did calculations in a box of sand, growing more and more concerned as he did. Finally he interrupted her. “I’m not wrong,” he said. “I hoped I was.”

“What?’ she asked.

“I saw a new star last night,” said Abraham. “A returning star, I thought. I consulted the records to see if such a star was due to appear. There were two that might be coming at about this time. One wears a great sword, and it seems to mark the coming of wars. But the other is a star that has no sword, only a slight beard. But whenever this star returns, fiery stones fall from heaven and cause terror and destruction. Sometimes it has caused brightness in the heavens all through the night. Sometimes it has made the earth quake, or great fires that sweep away forests or grassland. Well, I did the calculations and it is most likely that this is the bearded star, the one that causes stones to fall from the sky.”

“Are we in danger?” asked Sarah.

“I don’t know. Someone is. The Lord will decide.”

“You really watch the skies for this?” asked Sarah.

“All priests watch the sky. That’s how we keep the calendars, marking which day the shadows are shortest and which day they’re longest, every year. And we watch the sky for signs like these, and keep the record for generations. No one has records older than mine, for I have the book in which Adam wrote, and before him, what man was there to watch the heavens and write down what he saw? Every star and wonder that men have seen, I have in my books.”

“Does anyone else have copies of these books?” asked Sarah.

“Melchizedek does,” said Abraham.

It was as if the mention of the name of the high priest and king of Salem had summoned him. For only moments later, a tumult could be heard outside. Abraham arose and went to the tent door, and he returned with a sense of urgency. “Three visitors have come, common travelers asking for food and drink.”

“Then why are you so worried?”

“Eliezer says he’s sure one of them is Melchizedek.”

“Dressed as a common traveler?”

“Maybe he’s in disguise so that he doesn’t have to bring soldiers with him to ward off robbers.”

“But we’re not ready to entertain a king!”

“We’re always ready,” said Abraham. “Take three measures of the fine flour and with your own hands make cakes on the hearth. I’ll have the men butcher a calf.”

They hurried about their business. As she and the bakerwomen kneaded the dough, she could see Abraham select a calf and set the butchers to work. Then he fairly ran to meet Melchizedek and his companions and escorted them to his tent. They went inside. Sarah fretted at having to make bread instead of being part of the conversation. But Abraham had been very clear—he wanted her to be doing the baking herself, which meant that she was not to be part of this conversation. This was not uncommon with distinguished visitors—most would be insulted to have Abraham expect them to converse in the presence of a woman. But surely Melchizedek was not such a man as that. Still, it was Abraham’s decision to make. So Sarah formed the cakes and watched as one of the women braved the oven’s heat and slid the cakes onto the hot tiles with her paddle.

It didn’t take long for the cakes to be ready. At least Abraham had not expected her to make bread and wait for it to rise! The first strips of tender veal were carved from the spit at the same time, and Sarah insisted on carrying the cakes and veal to Abraham’s tent herself.

She stopped outside the tent, taking care not to stand close enough to eavesdrop, and laid out the basket of cakes, the pot of butter, a jar of milk, and the bowl of veal. Then she clapped her hands to announce that the food was ready.

Abraham emerged almost at once, followed by Melchizedek and his companions. Sarah immediately backed away as Abraham sat by the food and offered the cakes and butter and milk to his visitors. He gave her a smile of thanks, and then turned back to the guests in order to pray over the food. Sarah quickly returned to her tent.

What could this mean, this visit from Melchizedek just as the bearded star returned? Sarah could not concentrate on anything. She finally set down the distaff after making a tangle of the yarn and simply sat by the door of the tent. She could hear their voices and now and then catch a phrase or two. They were talking of numbers and years, comparing calculations and arguing, though only mildly, and with rueful laughter now and then as someone’s calculations were found wanting.

Then, to her surprise, Melchizedek spoke more loudly and said, “Where is Sarah, your wife?”

What does he want with me? thought Sarah. Or is he only making sure that I’m not listening? Well . . . I
am
listening! Have I been caught?

“In her tent,” said Abraham.

“Abraham,” said Melchizedek, “the way of a man with a woman is not finished for you. It will return to you despite your age, and Sarah your wife
will
have a son.”

Oh, no, not again, thought Sarah. Just when we finally come to our senses, we have to have another go at it because Melchizedek is too young to understand what happens to old men and old women? Even if Abraham’s natural force returns to him, what good is that? My womb couldn’t do the job even when we were both young.

“Why is Sarah laughing?” said Melchizedek.

At once Sarah grew frightened. Had she actually laughed aloud? She didn’t think so—but apparently she had embarrassed herself and shamed her husband by being caught eavesdropping.

“I didn’t hear her laugh,” said Abraham.

“She was saying in her heart, ‘Oh really, will I bear a child, as old as I am?’”

She was relieved to know that if he was reading her mind, at least he wasn’t getting it word for word.

She got up and emerged from the tent to find Melchizedek and Abraham and the others all looking at her. To Abraham’s credit, he was the only one not smiling smugly.

“Is anything too hard for the Lord?” asked Melchizedek. “At the time appointed the Lord will make you as if you were young again, and Sarah will have a son.”

“I didn’t laugh,” said Sarah.

“No, you laughed,” said Melchizedek. “Maybe not with your voice, but the Lord can hear your heart.” Then he smiled, so she knew he was not angry with her for listening.

One of the other men said, “Shall I hide from Abraham the thing that I’m doing?”

“Not from Abraham,” said the other stranger. “Not from the man who will found nations. Not from the man of the covenant, whose children’s children’s children will still bear the mark of the covenant a hundred and fifty generations from now.”

So the first man spoke again, and now Melchizedek and Abraham listened with equal intensity. Melchizedek did not know what was coming, either. “Because the complaint against Sodom and Gomorrah is great, and because their sin is terrible, I will go down now and see whether they are as wicked as I’ve heard.”

At those words, Melchizedek and the other man arose at once, but not the man who had spoken them. Abraham arose to embrace Melchizedek and the other man, urging the last of the cakes on them to eat along the way. Soon they were walking down the hill, heading southeast, their faces set toward Sodom.

But the one traveler remained with Abraham, and because he didn’t send Sarah away, she waited to hear what he would say.

It was Abraham who spoke first. “Will the Lord destroy the righteous along with the wicked?” he asked.

So that’s why they were talking about Sodom. Apparently some of the conversation Sarah had overheard but had not quite understood was about some danger to Sodom. She could only assume that it meant the fiery stones that came with the bearded star would strike the city, and that it had something to do with the wickedness of the place.

To her shame, her first thought was, It’s about time he did something about that cesspool, after the way it ruined Qira as a human being.

Only then did she realize that when Abraham asked about destroying the righteous with the wicked, he was talking about Lot and Qira, who lived in the city. Abraham was thinking about the danger to them, while all Sarah could do was condemn the city. What kind of sister am I?

Why, the kind who’s going to have a baby.

She almost laughed aloud again.

“What if there are fifty righteous people in the city?” said Abraham. “Will the Lord not spare the place for the sake of the fifty righteous? That’s not the way of the Lord, is it, to destroy the righteous with the wicked?”

“If I find fifty righteous souls in Sodom, I’ll spare the whole place for their sakes.”

Sarah had visited Sodom often enough and stayed with Qira long enough to have her doubts about whether there
were
fifty righteous people there. It’s not as if she could count her own sister among that number.

Nor did Abraham believe there would be fifty. “I know I don’t have the right to ask, being nothing but dust and ashes before the Lord, but what if the city comes only five short of fifty righteous men? Wilt thou destroy the city for lack of five?”

“If I find forty-five righteous souls, I won’t destroy it.”

“Please don’t be angry,” said Abraham, “but . . . what about forty?”

And so it went, until Abraham had bargained all the way down to ten. And the visitor said, “I will stay my hand and spare the city for the sake of ten.”

With that, the visitor arose. Abraham offered him no food, nor did they embrace. But Abraham looked long after the man as he walked away.

“Was that the Lord?” asked Sarah, not wishing to disturb Abraham’s reverie, but less able to wait a moment longer without asking.

“A messenger,” said Abraham. “But he spoke with the authority of God.”

“Will he find ten righteous souls in Sodom?” asked Sarah.

“Let’s pray, for Sodom’s sake, that he does.”

“When will we know?” asked Sarah.

“If the city is destroyed, it will be no secret,” said Abraham.

“And while we wait,” said Sarah, “when is this other miracle supposed to happen?”

Abraham came and took her by the hand. “I don’t know,” he said. “But if we’re going to have a son a year after the covenant, there’s no time to lose.”

Chapter 21

Qira normally paid no attention to what Lot did, since he was always more concerned with the flocks and herds outside the city than with anything going on inside. But this was hardly the time to receive visitors.

“You know how dangerous it is on the streets after dark,” said Qira. “If your visitors are foolish enough not to arrive in daylight, then let them take their chances outside the city.”

Lot only looked at her with the cool, distant expression he might use to gaze at a recently-stepped-on roach. She saw that face so often these days that she avoided speaking to him at all, when she could. But Lot
was
her husband, and if he was so disconnected from the city that he didn’t know what had been happening lately, she had to warn him. Not that Lot himself was in any danger—everyone knew that he was under the protection of the king. But that protection meant less and less these days.

The war with Chedorlaomer had changed everything. During the time when the king and the richest men had been in captivity, the worst sort of men had ruled in the city, and those days had been terrible, with all sorts of vengeance-taking that left many men dead in the streets. And as the riotousness in the streets went on, the murders began to include more and more women—most of them killed, it was rumored, by their husbands or their husbands’ friends, which struck terror in the hearts of many wives. Not Qira, of course. Lot had no reason to wish her dead. The wives who were murdered during those days of chaos were rumored to be the ones who had tried to interfere with their husbands’ friendships. Since Lot had no friends in the city, Qira had nothing to worry about.