The Sons of Isaac (6 page)

As soon as the dust cleared there was much speculation as to what the steward’s business might involve. At first it was suggested that it probably concerned the wells and herding grounds that had become crowded. Only Eleazar suggested that it might have to do with the king’s daughter.

“Perhaps we should call Isaac and determine just what happened during his visit to the palace,” Eleazar said. “If the king believes that Isaac has chosen his daughter, this could be serious enough and important enough for the king’s steward to be sent to negotiate the terms.”

Abraham was horrified. “It’s impossible. My son can never marry a Canaanite. He’s the son of promise, the one to receive the blessing and the birthright.”

“But don’t you see,” said Eleazar, “if the king thinks his daughter wants to marry Isaac and they have reason to believe he has agreed to some relationship, it will be very difficult to back out. They will be greatly offended.”

“And,” said Abraham, tugging at his beard and wiping his brow, “if we are to live in peace with them, we must not offend them.”

“There is no offense greater than to spurn a king’s offer of his daughter.”

Both men sat silently contemplating the possibility of such a disaster. The more they thought about it, the more likely it seemed that the king was sending his chief steward on some such mission. “He wouldn’t send his chief steward to discuss the water rights or the grazing difficulties, and a mere boy could deliver an invitation to a feast,” Abraham said.

“Do you intend to ask Isaac to be with us when we receive the steward?” Eleazar asked.

“He’ll not be here. He’s ridden out with my men to Hebron to buy some special rams in the market.”

“That’s good,” Eleazar said, looking relieved. “We must deal with this first and then we can talk to Isaac. It will be better that way.”

“If the marriage of the king’s daughter is the business to be discussed, it will not come out well, no matter what we say or do. I’m afraid the lad’s heart will be broken and the king will be looking for vengeance.”

“It may not be that bad,” Eleazar said, hoping to cheer his old friend.

“I know exactly how bad it will be. I’ve dealt with such matters before, and I’ve always tried to get out of the difficulty by telling half-truths.”

“And,” said Eleazar, leaning forward with interest, “what will you do this time?”

“I intend to tell the truth. I have only Elohim to help me, and it’s hard for Him to help a man who tells half-truths.”

Eleazar toyed with the fringe on his robe and struggled to think of something encouraging to say, but in his heart he knew this situation could be both dangerous and hurtful to all of them.

News of the expected guests had reached the women, and while the men had been talking the women had been making preparations. It was a rare honor for the king’s chief steward to visit, and under other situations they would have had several days to prepare. Now they rushed around in a great flurry of activity.

Some were making sweet date cakes and others arranged dried figs and choice fat raisins on leaf-covered straw mats. They sent one of the young servants out to milk several goats and another to draw water at the well. Still others spread special floor coverings of fresh woven reeds in the main reception area of Abraham’s tent.

Just as everything was ready, one of the young goatherds ran in to say there was a cloud of dust on the horizon in the direction of the city of Gerar. Immediately Abraham rose and went to the door of his tent. He still wore the garments of Ur and spoke with the accent of Mesopotamia. He called for his fringed cloak of fine linen and his girdle of polished brass. A young aide anointed his beard with rose water and fastened his sandals on his feet.

The king’s chief steward arrived with all the pomp of his royal position. He had fifty retainers, forty of which were soldiers carrying shields and spears, five carrying banners, three drummers, and two trumpeters running before his chariot. Abraham sent Eleazar out to escort the steward and the king’s scribe to his tent while the retainers waited at attention in the hot afternoon sun.

When the steward was finally seated, they exchanged extensive greetings. The weather was discussed, arriving caravans noted, and finally the news of Egypt digested. As always, this gave time for each man to size up the situation.

Abraham was pleased to see that the steward drank the grape wine leisurely and lingered over the honey cakes. All this took place before the steward was even ready to begin edging toward the business he had come to discuss.

“My friend,” he said as he slowly ran his finger around the edge of the brass goblet, “you have found exceptional favor in the eyes of the king.”

Abraham nodded and waited with growing apprehension to hear what had brought this all about.

“The king has observed that you manage your business well.”

“He is kind to say such things.”

“He has even heard that you speak five languages.”

“I was a merchant for some years, and one must learn many languages in such a business.”

“It seems that at one time you were a special friend of the pharaoh of Egypt. Is that true?”

“Yes, yes, that is true.” He could tell by the man’s hesitation and sly look that he wanted to ask about Sarah’s experience with the pharaoh but didn’t dare for fear of offending him.

“You have a fine son,” he said slowly as he gave Abraham a penetrating look. “I have seen him at times in Gerar. I suppose he will marry a princess from Egypt.” Though Abraham knew it was the custom for any messenger to edge up cautiously onto the main subject of his visit, still this bantering made him uneasy. He was especially uncomfortable as the subject of marriage and his son was brought up. The steward was obviously closing in.

“No, there are no plans for my son to marry an Egyptian princess.”

“Do you have plans for him to marry within your family, or perhaps the daughter of a friend?”

“We are making such plans concerning my family.” Abraham felt trapped. He could see clearly where things were going and he had no way of stopping them.

The steward didn’t seem to hear the hint. “Well, if he is not yet betrothed to anyone, my news will certainly find a ready welcome.” Slowly and deliberately, the steward wiped his hands on the scented towel held for him by one of the young servants, waved aside the tray holding the date cakes, and turned to face Abraham. “My lord,” he said, “you will be delighted to hear the king has found that his daughter Anatah favors the young Isaac. She has had many suitors but now insists she wants only your son.” He leaned back among the cushions and smiled. He was relaxed and confident as he waited to get some reaction from Abraham.

“I’m aware of the mutual attraction that exists between the princess and my son,” Abraham said slowly and deliberately as he struggled to find words that would not offend the king’s messenger but would put an end to the matter.

Thinking that Abraham was waiting for more information, the steward continued, “There are only a few very minor conditions that must be agreed to first.”

“Minor conditions?” Abraham said, frowning.

“Yes, they are very minor but important to the king.”

“And …” Abraham said as he struggled to remain calm.

“Any king would require the same.” He took the scroll from the scribe and unrolled it. “You will see the first is simply that his daughter and her husband must remain in the city of Gerar. It is quite obvious that the young man must become a part of the royal household. He must worship our gods and would be expected to pledge himself to defend the king at all times. If these simple conditions can be agreed upon, it will bind your two families closer together and make these young people very happy.”

Abraham’s worst fears had come to pass. He dared not offend the king’s steward, and yet the conditions were impossible. How could Isaac, the son of promise, marry a foreign princess? Furthermore it was unthinkable that he become a part of the worship and the family of the king. “I am greatly honored,” he said. “The king’s daughter is a great prize. To be a part of the king’s household is also a very great honor.”

The steward smiled. “Then it is all very simple. I’ve brought the king’s scribe with me, and the agreement that must be signed. It can all be done very easily.”

The scribe’s aides had quickly placed the small stand in front of Abraham with the reeds all laid out ready for the signing.

Abraham was appalled. He saw that there was going to be no easy way out of the dilemma. He must do something that was entirely contrary to his very nature; he must be strong and resolute even if it offended the king. “My friend,” he said, “as much as I admire the king, this marriage can never take place.”

The steward was shocked. “What do you mean? This is a great honor for you and your family. How can it be refused?”

“I am well aware of the honor. I wish it were possible to accept, but I must be honest, this marriage can never take place.”

There was a moment of stunned silence and then the scribe backed off with a look of scorn. He snapped the scroll back into its case, gathered up the reeds and the stand, and then retreated to the waiting retainers. The steward stood to his feet. “The princess is very desirable,” he said as his mouth twisted into a sneer. “She has other suitors who will be glad to hear that your son no longer stands in their way.”

“I have no doubt this is true,” Abraham said, standing. “It’s not that the princess is not desirable or that the king’s offer is not generous. It’s because of our faith and commitment to the creator God we call Elohim. He is the one who governs our lives and makes such an agreement impossible.”

It was obvious the steward did not understand. He motioned for his chariot and then turned back to Abraham. “You must realize that we also worship the creator God. It’s just that we worship the other gods too.”

“Ah yes,” Abraham said, “I remember. When the old king took my wife into his harem, it was the creator God who warned him in a dream.”

For a few moments the steward stood and thought about all that had been said. Then turning to Abraham with a stern, forbidding look, he said, “It would be better for you to leave this god if He spoils such opportunities. That is what most of us do.”

As the chariot of the king’s steward disappeared in a cloud of dust and his retainers followed with their half-running march, Abraham sank back among the cushions and mopped his brow. “Eleazar,” he said at last, “I hope I never have to do a harder thing.”

Eleazar sat down beside him, obviously very thoughtful. When he spoke it was with foreboding. “You still have an even harder thing before you. I know you well, and to tell Isaac the news will be most difficult.” Abraham did not answer but Eleazar noticed that his face turned pale and his eyes registered the pain that he felt.

*  *  *

Isaac found his father still sitting where the king’s steward had left him. Eleazar was beside him and the half-eaten trays of dried fruit and sweet cakes were stacked over on the side. Abraham stood and Isaac came and kissed his hand and embraced him. “My father,” he said, “I’m sorry to have caused you so much trouble.”

“I wish there could have been some other choice,” Abraham said.

“The goatherder Zeb came and told me everything,” Isaac said. “I wish I had been here. Perhaps then things would have been different.”

“I know how disappointed you are. We must understand that to the king his terms were not difficult. They were to be expected.”

“How will I ever find a bride? Most fathers will have terms that would not be pleasing to Elohim.”

“Ah, my son, that is where we have failed. We should have asked Elohim to find the right bride for you.”

Isaac sat down where his father had motioned. He was obviously puzzled. He didn’t understand how such a thing could be done.

“I have been thinking,” Abraham said, “and I have already talked to Eleazar. We both feel the right bride will be found among our own people in Haran.”

“But that is very far away,” Isaac said.

Abraham didn’t answer. The silence was broken only by the sound of dried thistles snapping in the fire and the lonesome cooing of a pair of doves in the nearby hedge.

“As you know,” he said finally, “I have another son, a firstborn son, and I may have many more sons, but you are the son of promise. You will inherit both the blessing and the birthright, and those that come from you will in turn inherit the promise and the blessing. This is a great privilege and a great responsibility. You cannot marry a Canaanite or an Egyptian as Ishmael did. You are the chosen one, the son of the promise, and there are choices you cannot make.”

“And do we know there is going to be someone in Haran for me?” Isaac asked.

“No, we only know that some time ago, before your mother’s death, a merchant brought news that Nahor had a large family. Certainly any woman who is of age will be promised to someone, but there may be a young woman who hasn’t been spoken for. We must also realize that even if she is unmarried, she may not agree to travel so far to marry someone she doesn’t know. We are trusting Elohim to lead us.”

There was a long moment of silence and then Isaac asked, “So what do we do now?”

“It takes a wise man to observe and choose quality. Eleazar is such a man. He is also a man who listens closely for guidance from Elohim just as I do. He will choose the very best for you.”

“I suppose this is one of those times when you will remind us that God will provide.” He said it with respect but there was a bit of an edge to his voice.

Abraham didn’t see his face or respond to the tone of his voice. Instead he was simply pleased. He had not known whether Isaac would remember the words Elohim had given him the day he left for Mount Moriah, thinking he must sacrifice his son.

“It’s true, my son,” he said, “and what our God gives is always the very best.”

There was again silence as each thought of all this might mean to them. “Well,” Isaac said finally, “I suppose the choice I would have made seems very foolish to you, but you have not seen Anatah.”

Abraham was already planning the venture and he did not hear the lack of enthusiasm in his son’s voice. “Within the week Eleazar will leave for Haran,” he said. “It will take that long to prepare the camels and arrange for gifts for my family and the young maiden.”