Hagar was now loose from her chains and, upon hearing more details, bribed her way into the waiting room where Sarai was being readied. “You must know,” she whispered, “your ugly dwarf listened to everything your friends said and then went right to Pharaoh.”
Sarai whirled around with a look of surprise and shock. “But the dwarf …”
“I know, he seems childish and simple. Actually he is very astute and one of my father’s best spies.” Hagar motioned for the women in attendance to leave them alone. “Sarai, you are too trusting. I warned you. You have known how dangerous it is to confess to all of this.”
“I know, I know,” Sarai said impatiently.
“No, you don’t know. You have no idea the ways in which women have been punished right here in this palace. I could tell you terrible stories if there were time.”
“Hagar,” Sarai said, holding her hands over her ears, “don’t tell me. I’m not very brave.”
At that moment a trumpet was blown, and the brass doors swung back, revealing the house guards with a carrying chair. They set the chair down and gave a parchment to one of the eunuchs. Within minutes the eunuch was escorting Sarai to the chair, and there was no time for Hagar to give her further advice.
Sarai had seen Pharaoh when he visited his wives. He was an older man, but strong and well built. When he came to the women’s court, he dressed only in the jeweled pectoral, the wide belt, and the short kilt. He was without his double crown or the staff and scepter. He always came with a retinue of eunuchs, several scribes, fanners, and his favorite dwarves. He came as a man and not simply Pharaoh.
Sarai had guessed him to be about the age of Abram. Though she had heard that he was the representative of Horus, and at times actually the god, she had never taken it seriously. She had assumed she would talk to him much as she would talk to her husband, without the necessity of formalities.
For this reason she was greatly shocked to see Pharaoh Amenemhet sitting on his ivory gilded throne dressed in his most regal splendor and surrounded by all the pomp that Egypt could command. It frightened her. She could imagine terrible punishments being meted out by this distant and remote Pharaoh. “Oh God of my husband Abram,” she silently prayed, “if You are as strong as Abram says, help me, rescue me.” Though she prayed, she expected no answer.
A eunuch helped her from the chair and whispered that she must bow to the floor and stay there until Pharaoh recognized her.
Pharaoh took a good deal of time before he gave her permission to stand and come forward. She could tell that he was studying her, perhaps deciding what her punishment should be. “Sarai,” he said, “is it true, as I have been told, that you are not the sister of my good friend Abram but his wife?”
“My lord,” Sarai answered, “it’s true that I am both his sister and his wife. My father had two wives, and I was the child of his second wife.”
“And who decided to make sport of Pharaoh by hiding the truth from him?”
“My lord,” Sarai said, “it was my fault. I wanted to visit the palace and your mother detained me.”
“And you deceived her.”
“No, my lord,” Sarai said, flushing with embarrassment. “I told her the truth … but only half the truth. I am my husband’s half sister.”
“And your children? Where are your children?”
Sarai grew pale. She felt that she would surely faint if made to say the hateful words. She looked at Pharaoh and saw that he was leaning forward, his eyes dark and hooded. “My lord,” she said with great effort, “I am a woman who has never had a child.”
“And your husband, he has other wives.”
“No, my lord.”
At that Pharaoh’s eyes opened in astonishment, and he looked around the room in an obvious effort to regain his composure. When he looked back at Sarai, he no longer had the firm set to his jaw and the flinty look in his eyes. “I’m going to send for your husband. If what you tell me is true, this is indeed astounding.”
Sarai was taken back to the waiting room while guards were sent to bring Abram to the palace. She knew there had been a change in the pharaoh’s demeanor, but she didn’t understand what it might mean.
When the guards came to get Abram, he was almost relieved to at last face the dreaded ordeal. He was resigned to accepting the very worst punishment, but he had made up his mind to ask only for Sarai’s freedom.
“What is this you have done to me?” Pharaoh demanded when Abram at last stood before him. He didn’t wait for Abram to answer but flung more questions: “Why did you tell me she was your sister and not mention that she was your wife?”
Abram was embarrassed and ashamed. He could think of no way to explain what he’d done, no way to defend his action.
When Amenemhet saw that Abram made no effort to defend himself, he stood up. Looking around at the curious bystanders, he spoke these words: “Let it be known, this man has been my friend. Though this plague has come upon my house through him, I will return good to him for friendship’s sake.” With that he called to the eunuchs and asked them to go to the court of the women and bring both Sarai and Hagar to him.
Within moments the two women appeared in the door to the right of the throne. Hagar hesitated. It was obvious that she was trying to determine why she had been called. When Amenemhet held out the crook to her and there was the old look of approval in his eyes, she wondered what had happened to bring about this change. She was soon to understand and realize that her father had seized upon a plan that would please his queen, Senebtisy, and at the same time would rid the harem of a problem.
“My daughter,” he said, “I have heard reports of the friendship between this woman, Sarai, and yourself. Is that true?”
Hagar’s face registered suspicion. Her first thought was that she was to be punished along with Sarai. She hesitated only a moment and then said, “She befriended me.” There was just the brief hint of defiance, just a tilt of the head that reminded everyone that she was not easily dismissed.
Pharaoh ignored her obvious reluctance. His mood had changed. He seemed to be quite pleased about something. He turned to Abram. “My friend, you have given me many days of happiness. Your sister-wife has entertained my mother and befriended my daughter, and though I suspect she is the one who has brought the curse upon us, I have chosen to restore maat. That can be done only by untying the knots and bringing order out of chaos.”
Abram looked surprised, and Sarai looked up to see what was happening. Pharaoh Amenemhet was holding out the crook to her. At the same time one of the eunuchs pushed her forward until she stood before Pharaoh and beside Hagar. “Since you have admitted that you have no children, and you are my friend’s only wife, I am going to give you my daughter Hagar to be your handmaiden. When you choose, she will go in to your husband and will give you a fine son for him.”
He called Abram to him and, embracing him, said, “You did wrong to deceive me. You destroyed maat, the eternal order of things, which to us is more precious than riches. In giving you my daughter, I’ve begun the restoration of maat. You must leave and go back to your country, but if the gods are favorable, our blood will yet flow together and give you a son worthy of our friendship.”
“Thank you, my lord. I little deserve your generosity.” Abram drew back, shock and relief coursing through him, and let the guards lead him to Sarai and this strange young woman who was to be Sarai’s handmaiden. As he left the room of assembly, he looked back and noticed that Pharaoh Amenemhet had once more assumed the half smile that all the pharaohs were noted for. He understood the smile better now. When maat, the order of all things, was functioning properly, the people knew it was so by the calm, assured countenance of their ruler.
This was not the man he had known. This was the public figure, the god-man indwelt by Horus. He would miss his friend. The man who came out from behind the royal mask in the evening and entered into a rousing game of hounds and jackals or just sat looking at the stars and pondering their significance.
He knew it was a miracle that Pharaoh had not punished them severely. He could tell by the expression on the faces of the guards and the retainers that they, too, were surprised at the turn of events. “Your God has been with you,” one of the old priests said as he passed Abram in the outer hall.
Abram hardly noticed Hagar. He saw only that she was shapely and spirited and then dismissed all thought of her. It was Sarai he was concerned about—nearly a stranger now. Her face was made to look Egyptian and her hair was in small, tight braids that spilled out from under one of the Egyptian headpieces. She wore a gown of sheer material that covered her breasts but left one shoulder bare. He felt completely awed by this beautiful woman coming home with him.
That same night Pharaoh Amenemhet called his builders and instructed them to make plans to build a wall above the Reed Sea. “I want no more visitors. We’ve had enough of them. They break our hearts and steal maat.” Much later it was recorded that he told his son, “Trust no foreigner.”
Before nightfall of the same day, Pharaoh signed a dispatch ordering an armed escort and a fleet of barges to take Abram and his large family up the Nile to Tanis in the delta. There they were to gather up their servants and herds and leave Egypt as quickly as possible.
Abram was relieved and overjoyed at Pharaoh’s decision. He viewed it as a direct answer to his prayers and proof that his God had power to change even Pharaoh’s heart. He had secretly feared that the gods of the pharaoh might be more powerful or that his God had been left behind at the border of Egypt. Now he knew, actually had proof, that this was not true. He could hardly wait to share his insight with Sarai.
As it happened there had been no time for him to talk to Sarai. To make matters worse, he had noticed a subtle change had taken place in his charming little wife.
She was dressed like an Egyptian and had taken on many of their mannerisms. He noticed how she brushed the many little braids of shoulder-length hair back with one hand and kept fingering the elaborate pectoral she wore around her neck. He saw with surprise that her hands were smooth and soft with carefully rounded nails.
On the barge he noticed that she preferred the company of the beautiful Egyptian handmaiden the pharaoh had given her. They seemed to understand each other, kept to themselves, and even whispered at times in a most annoying fashion. Sarai seemed as remote and strange as a foreign woman. He turned away, wondering what other surprises he would encounter as a result of their stay in Egypt.
At dusk the barge came to a stop at an elegant wharf and in the distance loomed the great pyramids of Khufu and Khephren. Abram remembered the steward giving orders that they were to spend the last night in Egypt in one of Pharaoh’s own guesthouses at the base of the pyramids. He knew Pharaoh Amenemhet well enough to realize it was not just a parting kindness but a very clever punishment. Pharaoh wanted to remind him of all that was to be lost with the loss of his friendship.
Abram was just getting ready to ask some questions of the steward when Lot and a few of his men appeared. They were very upset. “My uncle,” Lot said, “it isn’t safe to stop here.”
Abram was puzzled. “Not stop? I thought you would be relieved to have one more night in the luxury of Egypt.”
“It’s not the luxury I object to. It’s the evil djinn of the old pharaohs that might haunt these huge tombs.”
“If Pharaoh himself isn’t afraid to stay here, then I’m sure it’s quite safe.”
Lot bristled. “If he’s not afraid, it’s because his priests assured him a man’s soul enters another living creature first and then waits three thousand years before entering a human body again. I’m not so sure. I think those old pharaohs are right here; we just can’t see them.”
Lot turned away, but he wasn’t pleased. Abram looked after him and realized that there would be difficult days ahead. Lot had loved Egypt, and it was evident that he harbored deep resentments at the abrupt manner in which they had to leave.
The guesthouse they were to stay in had been built for the pharaoh and his immediate household to use during the feasts. It was equipped with servants and furnishings as fine as any in the royal palace at Lisht. It had its own chapel and a retinue of priests who offered the daily sacrifices and waited on the image of the god that dwelt in the niche behind the temple veil.
Abram was given Pharaoh’s quarters, and the women were led to the rooms for the harem. Lot, Eliazer, and the rest of the men were in rooms designed for the steward and government officials.
Abram walked around the room, enjoying its simplicity and breathing in the subtle odor of incense. Everything reminded him of Amenemhet. He almost expected to see him walk into the room with his fan bearers, pages, and the ever-present dwarf. He walked out on the open balcony and rested his elbows on the parapet. As he watched the sun set, the sky darkened and the evening star gradually blossomed in single splendor much as he had observed it in Ur.
How strange, he thought. I have come so far, yet the same star shines here just as it did in Haran and at home in Ur. Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised to find the same God in charge here just as in Ur.
Again he felt a burst of joy. Sarai had not been killed or married to the pharaoh, and he had not been executed or imprisoned. They had been banished from Egypt, but there seemed something right about that. Perhaps he should never have come down to Egypt.
As he looked into the courtyard below, he realized it must open off the harem quarters. He wondered if Sarai was there getting her things arranged. Are the changes all on the outside, he wondered, or are there also subtle changes in her thinking? She had made a point of avoiding him, and on sudden impulse he decided to call her. Perhaps they should celebrate their miraculous rescue.
He went to the door and shook the servant awake. “Go to the steward and have him prepare an intimate repast of the finest dried fruits and sweet cakes with some of his prize wine,” he ordered. “Then go to the women’s quarter and give the old woman in charge a message for my wife. Tell her I will be waiting in my rooms for her.”
He was surprised at how soon he heard footsteps in the hall and saw the dark curtain lifted as Sarai came hesitantly into the room. “My lord,” she said, “you called for me.”
Abram noted the new formality and winced. She stood before him barefoot but wearing a flowing robe of light Egyptian linen. Her hair, still in the shoulder-length braids, was held back from her face by a golden band that peaked with the familiar cobra. She was obviously prepared for bed but looked as foreign and strange as she had when he first saw her that morning in the palace.
“Has Egypt altered your heart as much as your looks?” he asked, perhaps too sharply.
She pouted. “I thought you would like how I look.”
“We’ll talk of that later. Now is the time for celebration.”
“Celebration?”
“We must celebrate the miracle, the way our God rescued us.” As he spoke he started to move toward her but stopped when he saw her face clouded in anger.
She spoke up in a burst of frustration, “I’ve never been more humiliated. They thought I was evil. They knew I had been cursed. It’s all the fault of your God. I want nothing more to do with Him and His promises.”
Abram was stunned. “I don’t understand.”
“This would never have happened if your God had kept His promise.”
“His promise?”
“You said we were to have children.”
“Sarai, Sarai.” He reached out and tried to take her in his arms, but she pulled away from him.
“Can you imagine what it feels like to be stared at—even feared?” Sarai stomped her foot and glared at him. “They all had children, lots of children, and when I came, many were pregnant and then …”
“No, no, Sarai,” Abram said with growing alarm. “I’ve heard, I know. It was our God who shut up the wombs to rescue you.”
“To rescue me? If I’d had leprosy, they couldn’t have been more afraid of me. None of the sacred cats had kitt
ens, the holy cows had no calves and gave no milk, none of the concubines or wives conceived, and even the servants were smitten. All that was blamed on me.”
“I know it must have been very hard for you.”
“Hard for me!” She glared at him in exasperation. “I suffered … how I suffered.”
“But Sarai,” Abram spoke softly and compassionately, “don’t you see that our God rescued you?”
“No, I don’t. Pharaoh did more to rescue me than your God ever did.”
“Oh, Sarai! How can you say such a thing?”
“He gave me a handmaiden to have a child for me.”
Abram drew back in astonishment. He knew that was the custom in both Ur and Egypt, but he had never imagined Sarai would agree to such a thing. For himself, he had never lost faith in the promise. It was obvious that Sarai had changed. Egypt had changed her.
Eventually they sat and tried to eat the delicious fruits the servants brought. Dish after dish was set before them and then removed without being eaten. They could think of nothing to say to each other, and so finally Sarai begged to be excused. She insisted she would be in a more amiable mood after a good night’s sleep, and Abram let her go, hoping it would be so.
After the sound of her footsteps had died away along the hall, Abram paced restlessly back and forth, thinking of all Sarai had said and wondering what he should do. He knew he couldn’t sleep, and he longed for someone to talk to.
He walked over to the parapet, and this time he looked down on the other side into an enclosed sunken garden extending from the chapel. A lone figure sat beside the lily pond, and he knew it must be one of the priests. He quickly dismissed his problems and hurried down the winding stairs that led out into the garden. He wanted to see the Great Sphinx by moonlight, and he hoped the priest would have time to go with him.
To his delight, the man was just the person he was looking for. Abram had spotted him earlier in the day and remembered his face. It was kindly, and the eyes were a strange blue-green like those of the pharaohs.
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