No Woman So Fair Page 19

  ****

  Sarai slept little after their conversation. It had been late when Abram had finally stopped speaking and the two of them had lain down together. He had gone to sleep at once, while she had remained awake for hours. Then she had risen before dawn, leaving Abram still sleeping soundly, apparently exhausted by his meeting with the Eternal One.

  Now she walked through the camp, met only by a few early risers. Some of the women were building fires to start the morning meal, and she could hear the sheep and cattle moving about, making the sounds they always made early in the morning.

  Finally she reached the sheep, spoke to the herdsmen by name, and then moved on by. She came to stand at the edge of the herd and spotted a ewe that was down. She moved closer to it and saw that it was giving birth. Even as she watched, the lamb emerged and struggled feebly in the red light of dawn.

  Sarai was moved by the birth, as she always was. She often saw this miracle take place among the goats, sheep, and cattle yet never ceased to be amazed by it. The birth of any child always left her speechless with wonder.

  She moved on, finally reaching the river. The waters flowed quietly at her feet as she stood thinking about the birth and then of her own inability to enter into the miracle that God granted so freely to others but had denied to her. Perhaps the greatest blot on Sarai’s life was the fact that she had never given Abram a son or even a daughter. Now any childbearing years she might have had were far behind her. Although she still felt herself to be attractive, she had long since given up any hope of having a child. She wondered how many hours she had cried out to God, begging for a baby, but nothing had ever come of it. And now it was too late.

  She was startled to hear a sound and turned to see Abram striding quickly toward her. He put his arms around her and said, “You should have awakened me.”

  “I wanted to let you sleep,” she replied, leaning against him and allowing him to stroke her hair. She knew her husband was rare among men. Any other man with a barren wife would have chosen another or would have taken one of the slave girls for a concubine. It was common among the people, even among Abram’s own family, and certainly among other nations that surrounded them.

  “You could have had a son with another woman.” The words tumbled out unintentionally. She had often thought of taking such a step—encouraging her husband to father a child with another woman—but she had never expressed that idea aloud.

  “I would not do that, Sarai. You alone are my wife.”

  The words brought unspeakable joy to Sarai. She nestled closer in his embrace, feeling the strength that was still in his body, though he was by now getting quite old. “Do you think,” she whispered, “that the Eternal One will ever speak to me?”

  “No one can ever know a thing like that.”

  “But He speaks to you. Why not to me?”

  Abram’s arms tightened, and his voice became a mere whisper. “He’s spoken to me so few times. You forget, Sarai, the long years that went by when I heard absolutely nothing from Him.”

  “But you have heard from Him! I have heard nothing!” She began to weep gently, her face buried in his chest.

  Abram knew the deep longing Sarai had always harbored for a child of her own, and now he saw her equally strong desire to hear the voice of the Lord for herself. He stroked her back gently and said, “The Eternal One has all power. He cannot be forced to do the will of any man or any woman.”

  The two stood quietly embracing, and finally Sarai drew back, blinking away her tears. “How long shall we stay here?”

  “We must move on. I don’t want to stay in Damascus. The men—”

  “I know. They’re causing great trouble.”

  Abram looked around at the cattle and said, “The drought is getting worse.”

  “But there’s water here.”

  “Haven’t you seen? The rivers here are drying up too. If the rains don’t come soon, I don’t know what we’ll do.”

  “What will become of us, then?”

  “I cannot say, but the Eternal One has brought us this far. He will not let us perish.”

  Chapter 16

  Abundant water and fresh-growing green grass were only a dim memory now. The thought of fields covered with the soft emerald vegetation taunted Abram as the days, weeks, and months dragged on. After leaving Damascus they had returned to Canaan, heading south in hopes of finding more life.

  But everything spoke of death. The trees reached their bare branches skyward, and the only sound when one threw a stone into a well was the hollow echo of rock striking dry earth. What streams they found had become mere soupy waters, often no more than sludge.

  For months Abram and Eliezer and Lot had worked tirelessly, searching out water and forage, but wherever they moved their flocks, they saw that the drought was strangling life out of the land. They passed through abandoned villages, one after the other, where scenes of activity and laughter had once flourished. Somehow they found enough water to survive, but each day they lost an animal, or sometimes a dozen.

  Finally Abram could bear it no more. He had mostly kept to himself, but early one morning he called a brief meeting with Lot, Eliezer, and Sarai. As they gathered together he saw how the heat and pressure of their travels had worn them all down. “I’ve made up my mind,” he announced. “We’re going to have to find a better place to stay.”

  Lot was weary to the bone. He had a family now to think about, and fatigue was etched into his features. “Where can we go?” he said. “Back to Haran? We shouldn’t have left there in the first place.” His tone was bitter, and he stared at Abram with a hard light in his eyes.

  “No, we’re going farther south—to Egypt.”

  “To Egypt!” Sarai gasped. “Why, we can’t go there!”

  “I think we must,” Abram said as gently as he could.

  Sarai had listened for years to the tales of what was often called “Ham’s Country” or sometimes the “Monkey Land of Egypt.” Now she protested vigorously. “You know what we’ve heard of that place, husband. Those people have black souls. They’re cursed with the curse of Ham. Why, they wear linen as thin as spider webs, which covers their nakedness without hiding it. And they pride themselves on their nakedness!”

  “We don’t know that that’s all true,” Abram said patiently. Actually he was quite certain it was true, for like Sarai, he had listened to the tales of the travelers who had visited Egypt, and the claims of the textile vendor in Damascus, who had described the Egyptians’ proud displays of nakedness.

  Sarai was horrified. “They have no shame, and they stuff the bellies of their dead with spices. And then they put an image of a dung beetle on their dead. They are rich and lustful like the people of Sodom.” She was carried away now, feeling an extreme reluctance to go to Egypt. She raised her voice and looked around at the small gathering. “You all know what they say. They exchange wives with one another, and if a woman sees a young man in the street, she lies with him. They are like beasts, husband, and they bow down to the most awful forms of gods!”

  Abram listened patiently as Sarai spoke. He was troubled that she would take this stand, but he had made up his mind that there was no other salvation for them. True, he had heard all of these stories about Egyptian life, but it was also common talk that in Egypt there was bread and food and that the Nile offered pasturage for those who herded animals. He waited until Sarai ceased to speak and then gave her a compassionate look. “It’s not the thing I would desire most in the world,” he said quietly, “but I think we must do it.”

  ****

  Eliezer stood beside Lot, watching the men who were digging shallow depressions in the earth. They had reached what appeared to be a swamp, evidenced by seed-topped reeds, which always bespoke water. The herds had scented water and could not be held back. They had stampeded wildly, only to find that the water was too salty to drink. Eliezer instructed the men to dig shallow depressions where the water was sweet. Watching as the animals drank greedily, the two me
n shouted instructions to the herdsmen to be sure that all got a chance at the water.

  Abram came up to stand beside them and said, “They call this marsh the Sea of Reeds. We have to go around it.”

  “This is the boundary of Egypt, then?” Lot asked, staring into the distance.

  “We probably have been in Egypt for several days, but we’ve got to go farther before we get to the good grass.”

  Eliezer was not happy. He cast a cautious glance over toward the way they had to travel and shook his head. “I’m not sure what kind of welcome we’ll get. There are so many people coming into Egypt because of the drought, they might try to keep us out.”

  “Or take advantage of us,” Abram countered. “We’re so worn down, we look like defenseless travelers—easy to rob.”

  “I thought there was peace in Egypt,” Lot said.

  “There is…of a kind,” Abram said slowly. “But Pharaoh is the absolute ruler. He takes what he wants—or I might say, his servants take what they want. That’s what I hear.”

  ****

  The next day they moved the herds farther south, and at midday they saw two men, who took one look at them, then dashed away madly.

  “What are they running from?” Lot wondered.

  “I don’t think they’re frightened of us. They’re just scouts. I expect we’ll soon be getting a visit from some official who wants to find out who we are and why we’ve come.”

  Abram was correct, for by the time the sun was high in the sky, a party of men appeared mounted on camels, but their appearance did not disturb Abram. He narrowed his eyes and watched as they approached, then said to Eliezer, who stood beside him, “Well, this is good news.”

  “What is, master?”

  “They sent only a small group, enough to show respect. It’s more of a political move than a military one. Be careful what you say to them, Eliezer. These are strange people. Sarai was right about their morals. They don’t have any that I’ve ever heard of.”

  The camels pulled up a short distance away from Abram and Eliezer. The men dismounted, six in all, and one of their number came forward, obviously their leader. He was a man of less than medium height and seemed even shorter because of his rotund body. He was, Abram saw, one of those corpulent men whose fat was at least underlain by muscle. His head was bald, his eyelids were painted green, and his brown body had been rubbed with oil so that Abram smelled him as he came to stand before him.

  “Greetings from Pharaoh, the god king. My name is Noestru. We welcome you as visitors to Egypt.”

  Abram bowed low and noted that Eliezer did the same. “Thank you, sir, for your kind welcome. My name is Abram. This is my steward, Eliezer.”

  “You have come a long distance?” Noestru asked.

  “Yes. Our home originally was in Ur of the Chaldees.”

  “Ah, Sumerians, you are.”

  “No, we are called Hebrews.”

  “Hebrews? I’m not acquainted with that name,” Noestru said, his eyes narrowing.

  “We are indeed only a small body of people. We have come to Egypt seeking grazing land for our animals. The drought has driven us here, and we ask for your hospitality.”

  “Pharaoh Mentuhotep is renowned for his hospitality. Perhaps you would show us your people and let us get to know one another.”

  Both Abram and Eliezer understood this ploy. Noestru was obviously one who weighed the strength of those who came into Pharaoh’s domain. Abram knew there was no avoiding this, so he bowed, saying, “It will be our honor to have you, sir. Perhaps you would refresh yourself, you and your men.”

  “Thank you.” Noestru inclined his head slightly and followed Abram, who walked back toward the camp.

  Eliezer ran ahead, and by the time the party had reached the camp, he had already started the women preparing food and drink for the Egyptians. He whispered to Sarai, “Don’t spare anything, mistress. We must give them the best we have.”

  Sarai nodded. She quickly organized the women, and as Abram took the leader of the Egyptians through the camp, she saw that the Egyptian was eyeing everything carefully.

  “He’s an ugly man,” she whispered to Beoni.

  “Yes. And look at what he’s wearing.”

  “Not enough!” Sarai snapped. She had noted at once that all the Egyptian men in the party were wearing very thin linen skirts, and their upper bodies were bare. “Shameless!” Sarai muttered. “I wish we had never come to this place.”

  When the meal had been prepared, Abram invited Noestru to sit down and gave orders that his men be fed. They were served roasted kid with fresh bread, plums and raisins in copper cups, and Syrian wine of the finest quality.

  Noestru was an astute interrogator and soon asked Abram about his religion. “Which gods do your people worship?”

  Abram hesitated. “We serve only one God.”

  “Only one?” Noestru raised his eyebrows in surprise, or where his eyebrows should have been, for they had been shaved. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. What is his name?”

  “We call Him the Eternal One.”

  Noestru chewed thoughtfully on a date, daintily taking small bites. His flesh quivered as he turned to study Abram. “I would love to see your idol.”

  “The Eternal One does not embody himself in stone or wood. He is the one God above all gods.”

  Noestru grinned suddenly. “That will not sound too pleasant to our pharaoh. He is a god himself, you know, and at times he likes to think he is the most important god of all!” A worried frown swept across Noestru’s face, and he whispered, “I’d just as soon you wouldn’t repeat that to my pharaoh.”

  “Certainly not.”

  “This god, the Eternal One—tell me more about Him. If you can’t see Him, how do you know He’s there?”

  “Because He has spoken to me.”

  “Oh, so you are a prophet? And do you make sacrifices as well?”

  “Yes, I build an altar of stone from time to time.”

  “So, you are a priest as well as a prophet. Our pharaoh is very interested in this sort of thing. No doubt he will want to speak with you.”

  “I would be most happy to meet with the pharaoh.”

  Noestru continued to eat slowly but steadily, wading through the food that was before him, chewing constantly. He had apparently learned to eat, swallow, talk, and watch at the same time. He was, indeed, a clever man, and Abram was uneasy about him.

  Finally Noestru said, “The pharaoh is always interested in new wives. Perhaps some of your women will be chosen for that honor.”

  Abram could not speak for a moment. He did not know how to answer the man. He knew that Pharaoh’s word was law, and if his eyes lit upon one of the women in his group, there would be no opposing him.

  “That one over there, for example. Who is she?”

  Abram glanced in the direction of Noestru’s gesture, and his heart sank. “Her name is Sarai. But she is quite old, sir.”

  “Ah, but beautiful nonetheless! Is she the wife of one of your people?”

  There were so many factors at play here! If I say she is my wife, he will think nothing of poisoning me to get her if Pharaoh commands it. Abram never knew afterward what prompted him to say the words that flowed off his tongue. He heard himself speak, and it was as if he were listening to someone else.

  “That, sir, is my sister.”

  “Your sister! I have rarely seen a more beautiful complexion, even on a young woman.”

  “I do not think the pharaoh would be interested in such an old woman.”

  “Nonsense! The pharaoh has many young women already. If she is your sister, I assume she is also a worshiper of the god you call the Eternal One.”

  To Abram’s horror, Noestru got up and said, “I would like to meet her. She is different from our women.”

  Noestru walked toward Sarai, and Abram had no choice but to follow. He fervently wished that Sarai had worn a veil. Though she was not young, her complexion reviled those of women half her age
, and her eyes were as large and lustrous as ever. Abram saw that Noestru was waiting for an introduction, and he caught Sarai’s glance and held it, then said, “Sir, this is my sister. Her name is Sarai.” He saw Sarai’s startled look but shook his head in warning, then said quickly, “This is Noestru, the servant of Pharaoh. He would speak with you.”

  Sarai bowed gracefully. “What could a simple woman have to say to the servant of Pharaoh?”

  “Many things. Come. Walk around the camp with me. We can talk.”

  Abram watched as the two moved away, and Eliezer came over to whisper, “What is he doing with my mistress? Why is he talking to her?”

  “It’s not good news. The pharaohs take many wives, and this one, apparently, is looking for more.”

  Eliezer’s face revealed his shock. “But…but she’s your wife!”

  Abram hung his head. “I…I told him she was my sister.”

  “Master, why did you do that?”

  “Because they would kill me in a minute if they decided to. These are cruel people, Eliezer. I hated to lie, but it seemed to jump to my lips.”

  The two men watched as Sarai walked through the camp with Noestru. They finally returned, and Noestru said, “I must take leave of you.” He smiled with an oily expression, saying to Sarai, “You are as beautiful as the moon, O woman of the desert.”

  Sarai did not answer but bowed, and the three watched as Noestru went back and mounted his camel. His men followed him, raising a cloud of dust as they turned and left the camp.

  Sarai demanded sharply, “Why did you tell him I was your sister?” She listened to Abram’s explanation, then frowned. “I wish you hadn’t said that.”

  “I don’t think you recognize how cruel these people are.”

  Sarai looked at Abram with something like scorn. “Isn’t the Eternal One able to deal with them? Are they more powerful than He?”

  Abram knew there was no answer for that. Heavily he said, “I think we will have to leave Egypt as soon as the cattle are rested. This place is too dangerous for us.” He saw that Sarai was disturbed and followed her as she walked away. She said nothing, and he put his arm around her. “I’ve always said that there was no woman so fair as you, Sarai. I’ve never regretted your beauty before, but now it has put us at risk.”