No Woman So Fair Read online

  BOOKS BY GILBERT MORRIS

  THE HOUSE OF WINSLOW SERIES

  1. The Honorable Imposter

  2. The Captive Bride

  3. The Indentured Heart

  4. The Gentle Rebel

  5. The Saintly Buccaneer

  6. The Holy Warrior

  7. The Reluctant Bridegroom

  8. The Last Confederate

  9. The Dixie Widow

  10. The Wounded Yankee

  11. The Union Belle

  12. The Final Adversary

  13. The Crossed Sabres

  14. The Valiant Gunman

  15. The Gallant Outlaw

  16. The Jeweled Spur

  17. The Yukon Queen

  18. The Rough Rider

  19. The Iron Lady

  20. The Silver Star

  21. The Shadow Portrait

  22. The White Hunter

  23. The Flying Cavalier

  24. The Glorious Prodigal

  25. The Amazon Quest

  26. The Golden Angel

  27. The Heavenly Fugitive

  28. The Fiery Ring

  29. The Pilgrim Song

  30. The Beloved Enemy

  31. The Shining Badge

  32. The Royal Handmaid

  33. The Silent Harp

  34. The Virtuous Woman

  35. The Gypsy Moon

  36. The Unlikely Allies

  37. The High Calling

  38. The Hesitant Hero

  39. The Widow’s Choice

  40. The White Knight

  CHENEY DUVALL, M.D.*

  1. The Stars for a Light

  2. Shadow of the Mountains

  3. A City Not Forsaken

  4. Toward the Sunrising

  5. Secret Place of Thunder

  6. In the Twilight, in the Evening

  7. Island of the Innocent

  8. Driven With the Wind

  CHENEY AND SHILOH: THE INHERITANCE*

  1. Where Two Seas Met

  2. The Moon by Night

  3. There Is a Season

  THE SPIRIT OF APPALACHIA**

  1. Over the Misty Mountains

  2. Beyond the Quiet Hills

  3. Among the King’s Soldiers

  4. Beneath the Mockingbird’s Wings

  5. Around the River’s Bend

  LIONS OF JUDAH

  1. Heart of a Lion

  2. No Woman So Fair

  3. The Gate of Heaven

  4. Till Shiloh Comes

  5. By Way of the Wilderness

  6. Daughter of Deliverance

  *with Lynn Morris **with Aaron McCarver

  Lions of Judah, Book Two

  No Woman So Fair

  Gilbert Morris

  © 2003 by Gilbert Morris

  Published by Bethany House Publishers

  11400 Hampshire Avenue South

  Bloomington, Minnesota 55438

  www.bethanyhouse.com

  Bethany House Publishers is a Division of

  Baker Book House Company, Grand Rapids, Michigan.

  Ebook edition created 2012

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  eISBN 978-1-4412-6237-0

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

  Unless otherwise identified, Scripture quotations are from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica, Inc. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved.

  Cover design by Lookout Design Group, Inc.

  To Dr. Ruth Mills

  I always vowed that I would never have a lady doctor, nor a Yankee doctor—now I have both in you, my great and glorious physician!

  How good it is to have a warm, charming, witty, and compassionate doctor and friend to take care of me! I count you, dear Ruth Mills, as one of the blessings that God has put into my life.

  GILBERT MORRIS spent ten years as a pastor before becoming Professor of English at Ouachita Baptist University in Arkansas and earning a Ph.D. at the University of Arkansas. A prolific writer, he has had over 25 scholarly articles and 200 poems published in various periodicals and over the past years has had more than 180 novels published. His family includes three grown children, and he and his wife live in Gulf Shores, Alabama.

  Contents

  Cover

  Books By Gilbert Morris

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  About the Author

  Part One

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Part Two

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Part Three

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Part Four

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Part Five

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Part Six

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Part Seven

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Back Cover

  Part One

  The Courtship

  How beautiful you are, my darling! Oh, how beautiful!

  Song of Songs 4:1

  Chapter 1

  The hot desert wind swirled dust devils across the parched earth, whipping up the sparse vegetation that had managed to sprout after the meager rains of spring. Two sluggish, muddy rivers—the Tigris and Euphrates—divided and carved out a large Y in this featureless plain. Few trees offered any relief for man or beast from the shimmering heat. Birds darted over the marshes where the rivers overran their banks, and tiny ripples in the shallows marked schools of fish feeding on insects. Bordering the rivers to the north and south, fields of grain spread across the desolate flat land. Occasional date palms offered fruit and shade for travelers coming from outlying farms into the city of Ur of the Chaldees, on the Euphrates River.

  As the sun began to set in the west, a solitary vulture circled languidly over the busy metropolis, where fortified walls formed an elongated triangle that lay in the flatland near the confluence of the two rivers. The high wall surrounding the city was broken only by a few gates. Within that wall, in a broad, open section of the city, lay a sprawling temple complex, with a mud-brick ziggurat—dedicated to the moon god Nanna and his wife Ningal—rising eighty feet in three-step terraces.

  The vulture tilted to his left and made a sweeping curve, searching for an evening meal. He studied the crowded mass of houses and bazaars surrounding the temple and the broad canal that circumscribed the city, connecting it with the larger of the two rivers leading to the big sea beyond. Another waterway cut through the heart of the city, along which path the vulture now soared until reaching the large harbor at the southern tip. The bird circled above the boats that sat quietly at anchor in the dead calm of evening. Having not spotted any carrion on
the city streets, the vulture moved on, sailing effortlessly over the farmland that spread outward in every direction. There he would more likely find food.

  A short, fat man, whose expensive robe barely covered his midsection, stopped along the streets of Ur to glance upward at the setting sun. A glittering stone on his pudgy finger caught the last rays. Eliphaz hesitated, tempted to return to the safety of his home. He was a timid fellow who knew that being out as darkness was gathering was inviting trouble. Nonetheless, he urged himself on, muttering under his breath, and scurried down the narrow, twisting streets. He knew them well, having spent all of his forty years within the city walls. He rarely stepped outside the gates into the open land, preferring the close comfort of the crowded houses, bazaars, and shops. The security of being around people was necessary for Eliphaz. He loved nothing better than the festival days when the farmers brought their produce and the city swarmed like a giant anthill.

  Rounding a corner, Eliphaz halted at the sight of a large yellow dog emerging stiff-legged from the gathering shadows, his lips pulled back from his teeth. Eliphaz clasped the box he was bearing to his chest and backed up against the nearest wall. “Get away!” he shouted in as rough a tone as he could muster. The animal continued forward, his eyes glittering.

  Two street urchins, no more than ten or twelve, were scuffling in the dust. Seeing Eliphaz shrinking against the wall, the boys grinned and pointed.

  “Look at him! He’s afraid of an old dog,” one of them said, laughing.

  “Give us the box, and we’ll make the dog leave you alone,” the other said. When Eliphaz did not answer, both boys approached him and demanded, “What’s in the box?”

  Eliphaz stared at the dog, then at the boys, whose sticks were raised threateningly. He reached into the purse that hung around his neck, pulled out a sack, and stuttered, “H-here, you can have these dates.”

  The smaller of the two boys darted forward and snatched the sack. “Come on, Nopaz.” The boys turned and ran, whistling to the dog, who stiffly trotted away after them.

  Heaving a sigh of relief, Eliphaz hurried on down the street. Humiliated by the scene, he purposed that the next time he ventured out at dusk, he would bring one of his slaves with a weapon.

  By the time Eliphaz reached the house he was seeking, the sun was disappearing below the top of the city wall. Eliphaz entered the courtyard of the large house, which was set back from the street. Even in the growing darkness, he could see the lush greenery of the plants in decorated clay pots. He called out, “Hello!” and immediately a man emerged from one of the inner gates. He was a wiry fellow, below average height, who grinned and bobbed his head as he approached the visitor. “You are late tonight, sir.”

  “Yes, I am, Hazil.”

  Hazil reached out his hands. “Can I carry your box, sir?”

  “No, I’ll take it in. Am I late?”

  “The meal hasn’t started yet, but they have been expecting you.”

  “I’ll go right on in,” Eliphaz muttered, hastening into the house. Hazil turned, his hand on his hip, studying the man as he disappeared. Then he laughed softly and entered the house again himself, walking down a long corridor toward the cooking area. An oven half buried in the earth was sending up tendrils of smoke, which swirled about the dried onions and vegetables hanging from the ceiling. On one side of the room a woman was slicing vegetables with a knife, her back to Hazil. A mischievous grin tugged at Hazil’s thin lips as he silently tiptoed toward her. He threw his arms around her full figure, laughing when she shrieked. No sooner had she turned than he planted a kiss on her mouth, shutting off her objections, then stepped back and plucked a piece of roasted meat from a dish on the table.

  “You stop that! That’s for the master—and keep your slimy hands off of me!”

  The woman wore a tunic supported by a single strap over one shoulder. Although she was no longer in the flush of youth, her thin face was still attractive. Her lips drew down in a frown as she said, “You keep your hands off of everything in this kitchen—including me!”

  “Oh, come on, don’t be angry, Mahita.”

  “You’re a scoundrel, Hazil!”

  Hazil reached up and plucked a grape from a cluster hanging from a beam in the ceiling. He chewed it, then reached for another before answering. With grape juice running over his chin, he grinned. “I’ll be by your room tonight for a visit.”

  “You come near my room and I’ll gut you like a fish!”

  Hazil only laughed, pulling her toward him and whispering in her ear, “It’ll be a treat for both of us.” This time Mahita barely resisted as he kissed her on the cheek, then sat down and helped himself to the meat on the table.

  Mahita laughed softly and feigned annoyance. “What if you found Taphir in the room? He’d slit your skinny throat.”

  “He’s not the man I am.”

  “He’s twice as big.”

  “Twice as big doesn’t mean twice as good.” Hazil winked and chewed thoughtfully on the meat. “This is good. What is it?”

  “Goat. If the master comes in and catches you eating his food, he’ll stripe your back.”

  “He’s too busy to worry over things like that. After all, his future son-in-law is here.”

  “He’s come, then?”

  “Yes—he just went inside. You think Hanna will have this one?”

  Mahita began grinding corn in a hollowed-out stone, expertly crushing the kernels to powder with a smaller smooth stone. Without hesitation she nodded. “She’s got to have a man…at least she thinks so.”

  “Well, she’s tried hard enough to catch this one. He’s not much of a man, though.”

  “He’s rich.” Mahita nodded. “That’s what counts.”

  “There’s more to a man than money.”

  “Don’t you wish that were true! But she’ll have him—you can be sure.”

  As Mahita moved about, efficiently preparing the meal, Hazil followed her, sampling the supper and speaking of family matters. These two were well aware of the innermost secrets of the house of Garai, as were all the servants. Their master and his family labored under the delusion that the servants were all deaf. Either that, or they had grown so accustomed to the servants’ presence that they simply forgot to speak quietly or in private. Even if they had tried to maintain some secrecy, the houses of Ur provided precious little privacy. There were no doors to close, only openings between each room, which were occasionally covered with blankets or animal skins, but most of the time Garai and his wife, Rufi, lived in full view of servants and visitors alike.

  Mahita looked around and gave a sigh of satisfaction. Picking up a clay jar, she poured some wine into a clay goblet and offered it to Hazil. She then poured herself some and sat down with another sigh.

  “So Hanna’s going to get a man at last,” Hazil said, sipping his wine. “I never could figure her out. She’s not bad looking—she’s even pretty in a way. She should have been married two or three years ago.”

  “Why, Hazil, I thought you were sharper than that!” Mahita sipped her wine, tilting her head back to savor the coolness of it, then grinned at the man across the table from her. “It’s Sarai, of course.”

  “What does she have to do with it?”

  “The men come here and all they see is Sarai. Hanna’s not exactly plain, but alongside Sarai, she’s like a desert toad!”

  “But she comes with a good dowry—that must be worth something to a man.”

  “That’s what Garai’s hoping for, of course—to find a man who wants money more than a beautiful wife.”

  Hazil reached over and pinched Mahita’s cheek. “Now, if you had a dowry, I’d marry you myself.”

  “You’ll never marry anybody. You’re not the marrying kind.”

  “Don’t be too sure about that.” Sipping his wine slowly, Hazil’s eyes narrowed. “But Sarai is even a bigger puzzle to me. She’s as good-looking as a woman comes, and Garai’s offered a bounty as big as a camel to go with her. And yet sh
e still awaits a marriage offer.”

  “Even a big dowry’s not enough to entice a man to take her.”

  “Why ever not? What about old Rashim? He was taken with her, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes, until she opened her mouth! She got rid of him fast enough.” Mahita laughed shortly. “It’s her tongue that scares the men off.”

  “Yes, she’s got a tongue, all right,” Hazil said ruefully. “She’s used it on me often enough.”

  “That’s right. She’s run off every suitor who’s ever come.”

  A call came from inside, and the two got up. Hazil wrapped his arms around Mahita, kissing her soundly. “Don’t go to sleep early. You’ll miss a real treat if you do.”

  “Leave me be. Supper’s late. You know how Garai will yell.”

  Hazil laughed and winked at her, whispering, “I’ll see you later.”

  ****

  Zulda pulled the bone comb down through the jet black hair of her mistress. In her opinion, Sarai’s best feature was her hair, blacker than night itself, long and soft and glossy. It was a pleasure to comb it, and now Zulda said, “You want me to tie your hair up?”

  “No, leave it down, Zulda.”

  Zulda made two or three more passes through her mistress’s hair with the comb, then shook it out.

  Sarai moved over toward the stone tub, slipped out of her robe, and stepped in. With a sigh of pleasure, she slid down into the water. “Don’t let my hair get wet, Zulda. Maybe you’d better tie it up after all.”

  “Yes, mistress.”

  Zulda secured the hair up with copper pins and began to scrub her mistress’s back with a soft cloth. Sarai hummed to herself, enjoying the coolness of the water, and finally she got up and allowed Zulda to dry her off. Zulda rubbed a soft, sweet-smelling oil into her body, all the time chattering away. At times Zulda’s constant talk grew tiresome, but Sarai was fond of the little servant girl, whose life was devoted to pleasing her mistress.

  “…and so your sister’s going to marry Eliphaz, and you’ll be the only daughter left in the house. Your brother will spoil you.”

  “She hasn’t married him yet,” Sarai murmured. She began to rub herself down with a soft cloth, then stepped into the undergarments Zulda held for her. Her gown was pure white and, in the fashion of the aristocracy, was suspended by one strap over her right shoulder. She waited until Zulda fastened a belt studded with stones around her waist, then slipped into her sandals.