The Sons of Isaac (3 page)

However, as he neared Nazzim’s house one old woman leaned far out of her upper window and shouted, “There goes the handsome Laban to marry Nazzim’s ugly daughter.”

Laban looked up quickly to see who dared to shout such a thing, but the woman had disappeared and the shutters had been quickly pulled together with a bang. He glanced around to see if anyone else had heard what the woman said and then determined that they were more interested in the dancing, jigging step they fashioned to the steady beat of the drums.

It was the words, however, that continued to beat in Laban’s head. He wanted to be envied not pitied. If the old women shouted such rubbish, then it was certain that the people of Haran were whispering the same thing behind his back. If they felt that he was so mismatched, what would they think when they heard that Rebekah, who had turned away many suitors, was going to marry old Nazzim? He could feel the blood rising hotly and knew his face was red with frustration.

At last they turned from the narrow lane out into a wide cobbled area. Facing them was an impressive doorway opening to the courtyard of Nazzim’s house. Palm branches festooned the opening and torches flickered and flamed. The sweet odor of incense filled the air. From inside the courtyard the cry went up, “The bridegroom comes, the bridegroom comes.” Immediately torches appeared along the wall and the cry sounded from every corner of the inner court, across the roof, and down into the servants’ quarters. Cymbals crashed and women gave the yodeling joy cry that signaled a wedding procession.

Framed in the gate were dancers and jugglers. Behind them could be seen the bridal party with the bride covered from head to toe in a glittering garment fashioned of imported material decorated with pearls and rare medallions. On her head she wore a queenly crown of cleverly fashioned flowers and gold leaves, and from it hung a bridal veil so thick her features were completely hidden. Laban did not see all of this at first glance, but as they led his tawny donkey in to stand beside her white mule, he noticed every detail.

The torches glinted on the elaborate crown and flickered over the costly gown and elegant trappings of her mule. Only her hands were visible, and they were well shaped and smooth. It was obvious they had been spared from the hard work of most women. He noticed with satisfaction that they were jeweled and decorated with a careful tracery of vines and flowers done in black kohl. If there was anything ugly about his bride, it was carefully hidden under the heavy veil, and for the advantage he was gaining, he could manage to live with that.

She sat with her head held high and had not looked in his direction. Most brides feigned shyness. It was the custom. A shy bride had to be approached like a skittish mule. Every man in Haran knew how to deal with such a situation, but if she were so unafraid and bold as to not be crying and downcast, it bode no good. Laban felt a bit unnerved by the prospect of encountering not only an ugly woman but one who dared look a man in the face as though she were his equal.

With a shrug he dismissed the bad omens and looked beyond her to see Nazzim sitting on a gray mule dressed in his most festive attire. Nazzim had obviously been watching him and now slightly raised his hand in recognition and greeting. A surge of well-being reassured Laban that all would be well. Even the marriage of Nazzim to his sister would be for the best. It was an opportunity that could not be missed and certainly Rebekah would understand.

With a nod of his head and a slight tap of his riding prod to the mule’s flank, Laban led the procession out the gate and down the dark lanes that led to his own home, the house of Nahor.

The pleasant odor of meat turning on spits filled the air. Barley cakes were ready to serve hot off the rounded ovens, while big woven trays of fat figs, dried raisins, and nuts of every variety sat waiting to be served.

The women had prepared a raised seat with carpets and cushions for the bride and groom, and beside the bride’s seat, a place of special honor for her father, Nazzim.

When the bridal party arrived, Laban’s father, Bethuel, met them at the gate and led the bride and her father to the places prepared for them. Laban followed and was surprised to see that when his bride was helped down from her mule, she was as tall as her brothers. She still held her head in the proud, arrogant way he had first noticed. She paused for a moment, lifted the top veil slightly, and took a quick look at her surroundings. This was not something most brides would have dared to do. Once more Laban felt a twinge of concern lest she be more than he could easily manage.

There was some stir when the bridal pair came to be seated. Nazzim insisted on sitting between his daughter and Laban. “How else can you point out your sister?” he whispered.

Laban looked around the courtyard. At first Rebekah seemed to be missing. Then he spotted her squatting beside his grandfather. She had brought him some choice pieces of roast meat on a rounded loaf of bread and was helping him as he ate. “See,” Laban said, nodding in the direction of his grandfather’s favorite seat next to the wall, “she has gotten some food for the old man.”

Nazzim leaned forward and squinted. “Is she always that helpful?” he asked.

“Yes, I suppose so,” Laban answered.

Nazzim clutched his arm and spoke in a low, urgent tone, “Get her to come here. I must have a closer look.”

Laban was irritated at the old man’s insistence, but he didn’t dare show his true feelings. Instead he called for one of the servants and ordered him to go bring his sister to serve the bride.

They watched the man go elbowing through the crowd and then talk and gesture toward the dais. Rebekah smiled and nodded, then hurried off. Laban watched her go and almost felt a twinge of pity for her that he hadn’t felt before.
She has no idea that with her nice ways and pleasant smile she is sealing her fate. He will pay any price to get her and there will be no way for her to escape
.

When she came back with a tray of the most succulent roast and fattest figs, she first offered his bride the food. Laban noticed it was rejected. Rebekah was not at all upset. Instead she turned to Nazzim and said with her most enticing smile, “I’m sure you must be almost faint with hunger.”

“Hunger, yes, yes.” He took a bone with some meat on it and began to chew at it, while all the time he was looking at her and mumbling unintelligible grunts of approval. Laban could see the confusion on her face. He glanced quickly at Nazzim and saw that his greedy eyes were traveling over her in much the same way as he would examine a sheep he was going to buy.

Laban had seen enough. He wanted to go through with the deal, and he realized if he watched a second more, he would be calling it off. He dismissed her with a nod and watched her go back to where the women were serving the trays of dried fruit.

Nazzim finished the meat and threw the bone on the floor, then wiped his mouth and fingers on his sleeve. “As fine a young woman as I’ve seen,” he said, turning to Laban. “You can ask your price and I’ll pay it.”

“You must give me time,” Laban said as he thought of the difficulties he would face.

“Don’t take too long. I’m an impatient man where pretty women are concerned,” Nazzim said.

The remark momentarily sickened Laban, but he quickly squelched the feeling and smiled. “Before the new moon I’ll bring you the good news.”

With that Nazzim motioned for his men, gave Laban a long, meaningful look, and then followed them out to where his mule was waiting. He had not said a word to his daughter and she had not spoken to him. She appeared silent and unmoving like a graven image. Laban moved over to sit beside her and the crowd of well-wishers shouted and clapped.

Laban would have liked to prolong the time in the courtyard, but he felt so awkward sitting beside this silent, proud woman that he was ready to bring the whole thing to a swift conclusion. To be alone with her was to face the whole bargain squarely, and then he would know just what he had to deal with.

He stood and nodded to the relatives and friends. He noted that they whispered in amazement that he was so obviously anxious to be alone with his bride. At this signal, Rebekah and her mother with the serving girls from Nazzim’s house came to lead the bride into the bridal chamber.

Laban glanced at his bride and noted that as she stood she was still holding her head high with the same arrogant air about her. “She is not one to submit to anyone for any reason,” he conjectured.

The men led Laban to the side room where he waited for a signal from his mother that the bride was ready for him. As the time passed he became more and more nervous, and the men laughed at him and gave him bits of advice. “First, you must get the veil off so you can look at her face,” one of them joked.

“Remember if it isn’t to your liking you can send her back to her father before any damage is done,” one of the others whispered.

Laban didn’t answer. No matter what she looked like, he was going to keep her. Nazzim was rich beyond belief, and with Rebekah married to him they would have control of all the wealth of Haran.

To his surprise it was Rebekah who came to get him. When he stepped outside the door, she whispered, “Your bride insists that she will not take off her veil until daylight. Even though we have made the bed and helped her in, she will not take off the veil.”

Laban shrugged. “That may be just as well. Who knows what secrets are hidden by that veil.”

*  *  *

As it turned out Laban was pleasantly surprised. His veiled bride was bold and passionate, with none of the giggling shyness brides were rumored to hide behind. This woman was confident and shamelessly aggressive. Laban even found himself imagining that she was ravishingly beautiful. Since there was no oil lamp and the moon did not shine into the high window of the room, he saw nothing until morning.

When the day dawned Laban woke first and took several moments to figure out where he was and what had happened. He turned and saw his bride, still hidden by the veil, and it all came back to him. Carefully he touched the gold coins that held the veil in place. Immediately Barida was awake. She sat up slowly and then tossing her head she spoke in a slow, deliberate manner, “If you find I am not to your liking, will you send me back?”

“No,” Laban answered after a slight hesitation, “I have no intention of sending you back. What made you think I might send you back?”

“I’ve been told that I am not beautiful. Most men want a woman to be beautiful.”

“Who told you that?”

“My father will not have a woman unless she is beautiful.”

Laban was quiet for a few minutes while he thought about what he should do and what he should say. He remembered that his first impression of this woman was of someone who was willful and arrogant. He must not give her the satisfaction of knowing that she pleased him in any way. Let her worry a bit about her status. Finally he said, “With me beauty isn’t everything. There are other things that matter even more.” He didn’t tell her what they were.

“Now,” he said, “it’s time to see the bride.” She lifted her head slowly and turned toward him but made no move to unfasten the coins that held the veil. Awkwardly he fumbled with the fasteners and slowly the veil dropped. He had expected her to look away but instead she faced him still with the proud lift to her jaw. She was indeed very plain. She had small eyes pinched into a permanent squint, a large nose like her father’s, and her mouth was small and pouting. “For my purposes you will do very well,” he said at last.

He never mentioned his disappointment to anyone, and he consoled himself in his choice by reminding himself that his sister, Rebekah, would face a far more difficult proposition. Old Nazzim was lusty and ugly and he could not imagine Rebekah having a moment’s happiness.
It will all be worthwhile. He will not require the special fertility rites at the temple, and once the marriage takes place we will be well on our way to controlling the old man’s fortune.

*  *  *

Laban wasted no time before telling Rebekah and his father what he had in mind. It was two days later in the afternoon while the others were taking a noonday nap that he broached the subject. “My sister,” he began, “my father and I have prayed and given choice gifts to the old goat-man under the stairs. We all know that he has unusual powers.”

Here he stopped and looked at Bethuel, hoping he would go on and tell Rebekah about Nazzim. Bethuel said nothing and finally Rebekah asked, “I know you have burned the costly incense and anointed the old god’s head, and I have even been told you did all this so he would find a rich husband for me. Is that true?”

Both Laban and Bethuel were taken aback. Neither knew what to say. Finally Laban nodded. “It’s true. We asked for a rich husband.”

“And?” Rebekah said.

Again Laban and Bethuel looked at each other. Neither wanted to be the one to break the news to her. Finally Laban spoke. “The old goat-man has answered wonderfully. It is the rich Nazzim himself that has asked for your hand.”

“Nazzim?” Rebekah puzzled for a moment over the name. “Certainly not the old man that came with Barida?” she said finally.

“Yes, yes,” Bethuel said. “He is old and very ugly but he is rich. He could give you everything.”

“That’s what we asked the old goat-man for … a rich husband,” Laban said.

“Rich husbands come with some disadvantages,” Bethuel hastened to add.

“He is old. You won’t be bothered with him for long,” Laban said, seeing the look of disgust on Rebekah’s face. He desperately wanted her to agree without any unpleasantness.

“Well,” she said finally after recovering from her initial shock, “you can go tell the old goat-man I have other plans.” She looked at them with complete confidence as though she knew something they didn’t.

“What other plans?” they almost shouted.

“Well, when I heard of your dealings with the old goat-man, I went and talked to my old nurse, Deborah. She reminded me of the God of Abraham, Elohim, and I have asked Him to find me a husband.”

Bethuel and Laban were speechless for a moment. They couldn’t imagine such foolishness. “The God of Abraham,” Laban finally said. “He can’t be seen; you can’t deal with Him.”