Rebekah

by Jill Eileen Smith

  She clutched the jar to her shoulder and hurried down the steps, one hand skimming the wall. Dipping the jar into the flowing river, she willed it to fill faster, snatched it back into her arms and onto her shoulder, and fairly flew up the steps. She hurried to the trough, the water splashing down over the lip of her clay jar into the stone enclosure.

  “Mistress?”

  She looked up at the sound of Selima’s voice.

  “Let me help you.”

  Rebekah lifted the empty jar to her shoulder again. She shook her head. “Take your water home. Mother will be waiting for it, and she will worry if I do not soon return.” She hurried back to the steps, glancing behind her. “Tell her I am coming quickly. Do not tell her why.”

  Her heart beat faster with every step. It would take at least ten trips to fill both troughs. Would two troughs of water be enough to satisfy the thirst of ten camels?

  Her feet landed in the soft dirt at the water’s edge again, and she repeated the task, her legs carrying her to the surface once more. She had filled the troughs for Bethuel’s sheep many times. Ten camels should be no different than a flock of sheep, should they?

  She caught sight of the men watching her. Her face grew warm, whether from exertion or their perusal, she could not tell. The younger one did not strike her as overly attractive, as Selima seemed to think, but the girl probably wished Rebekah had let her stay to help, if only to glimpse the young man again. Silly girl! These travelers would be on their way by morning, and they would hear nothing of them again.

  Then why did Rebekah feel so compelled to help them?

  I am sending my messenger to meet you. When he comes, you will know what to do.

  Her breath came faster at the memory of the strange man’s words. Surely not. Was the old man a messenger? But no. She had merely imagined the encounter with the stranger and his comforting words in an effort to calm herself, to somehow feel she had some control over her brother’s ambitious designs.

  But she could not shake the thoughts, nor the urgency to hurry through her task.

  After fifteen trips into the heart of the well and up to the surface again, her back ached and her legs felt like fire. She stopped at the trough where the camels had nearly emptied what she had filled, holding her last full jug on her shoulder to take home to her family.

  She watched as the camels, one by one, turned away from the water to settle onto the nearby grassy knoll. The old man approached, and she willed her breath to slow, to wait for him to speak.

  He carried a leather pouch in one hand and pulled out a gold nose ring and two gold bracelets. “Whose daughter are you? Please tell me, is there room in your father’s house for us to spend the night?”

  Rebekah’s heart did a little kick as the man offered her the bracelets. She extended her free arm, and he placed them over her hand. The gold felt cool against her hot skin.

  “May I?” he asked, indicating the nose ring.

  She nodded and waited as he slid the thick looped ring onto the side of her nose. The weight of the jewelry told her these were not mere trinkets. And it made sense that he might want to pay her for her work, but she felt awkward accepting the gifts.

  He took a step back, and she knew he awaited her answer.

  “I am the daughter of Bethuel, the son that Milcah bore to Nahor.” She glanced beyond him for a brief moment at the waiting men and loaded camels. “We have plenty of straw and fodder, as well as room for you to spend the night.”

  Laban would be sure to agree once he saw the gold on her arms.

  “I will send my brother to lead the way.”

  Despite the gifts and his kind manner, it would not look good for a betulah, a virgin maiden, to walk with a group of foreign men through the streets of Nahor.

  She turned to go but stopped short at the man’s voice. “Praise be to Adonai, Elohei of my master Abraham, who has not abandoned His kindness and faithfulness to my master.”

  Rebekah’s heart held a strange warmth at the sight of the man bowed low to the earth.

  “As for me, Adonai has led me on the journey to the house of my master’s relatives.”

  What could this mean? Rebekah watched but a moment more, then turned, clutching her jar lest she spill the contents, and ran all the way home.

  Laban entered the courtyard of his mother’s home in Nahor, his mind churning, weighing his dwindling options. He simply must convince Bethuel to get Rebekah to agree to a match with the elder’s son whether she cared for him or not. The man was willing to offer a costly sum to marry her, and Laban was tired of waiting for something better. While Rebekah’s weaving did add to the family’s wealth in a way he had not expected, he could not keep a virgin in her mother’s home forever. He would be laughed off the council for such a thing.

  He rubbed his temples, feeling the start of a headache, his third one this week. There was no doubt about it; he must act, and soon. He moved from the threshold across the spacious court and greeted Farah, who handed him his pipe and knelt to wash his feet.

  “I trust you had a good day, Husband.” She smiled, making her features almost pretty.

  He grunted and sat on the bench to allow her to untie his sandals. His concubine Refiqa emerged from the house, and his chest lifted as it always did at the sight of her swelling belly. His son Tariq, by his wife Farah, raced from the house and hopped onto his lap. He laughed as he pulled the boy close.

  “And what have you been doing this day, my son?”

  The boy leaned in and kissed Laban’s beard and whispered, “Mama taught me how to tell good plants from weeds. She let me use the hoe to dig them out.”

  Laban leveled a look at Farah, who lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “It is a useful task for a child, even for a son.”

  It was not the task that annoyed him so much as the way she challenged him with her gaze. He should be firmer with her, not allow such a one to tell him the way of things, but as with his mother and sister, he had no strength to fight against a woman’s will. He would devote his time to Refiqa if Farah grew too wearisome.

  The thought pleased him, and he smiled in Refiqa’s direction and was rewarded with her coy response. But a moment later, the sound of running feet caught his attention. He looked toward the courtyard gate.

  “Laban!” Rebekah shouted his name as she rushed into the court, winded. She quickly lowered the water jug to its niche in the stones and hurried to his side. “You must go to the well at once.”

  A thick gold ring hung from her nose, glinting in the setting sun. Laban startled at the sight. “Where did you get that?” He reached up to touch it.

  She pulled it from her nose and held it out to him. Golden bracelets jangled from her arm. “A man at the well gave them to me.” She drew in a few quick breaths.

  “Come here. Sit.” Laban motioned to a bench in the courtyard. He caught sight of Selima. “Get your mistress some water.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Selima hurried to obey, drawing water from the jar Rebekah had carried home, while Farah poured water into a basin and swiftly washed and dried his feet.

  Laban looked at Farah. “Finish quickly.”

  Farah retied his sandals while his mother and the servants crowded into the courtyard.

  “Now tell me, who is this man, and what did he say to you?” he said, facing Rebekah.

  “A man met us at the well and asked me for a drink. I lowered my jar and let him drink, but while he was drinking, I noticed he was not alone. Six men were with him, along with ten camels loaded with goods. They were kneeling near the water troughs, but the troughs were empty.” She paused to take another drink and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I considered how weary the men must be from their travels, and I knew the steps to the river could be wet and slick. They would not be as sure-footed as I, since I am used to carrying water from below, so I offered to water their camels as well.” She dabbed sweat from her brow with her head scarf, her breath still rapid. “It took fifteen trips to fill both tro
ughs and allow the camels their fill.”

  “You did all of this alone?”

  She nodded.

  Laban dragged a breath on his pipe, half irritated with her for taking such a risk by working alone with so many strange men close at hand, half intrigued by the gifts she held as evidence of their generosity. “They gave you these in payment for your work?”

  She shook her head again. “I thought so at first, and maybe this is the case. But the man is a servant of Abraham, our uncle! He has been looking for us and wants to stay the night in our house. Of course, I told him we had plenty of room.” She looked from him to their mother, then held his gaze. “You will not deny them.”

  He turned the nose ring over in his hand, weighing it. The piece must weigh at least a beka. “What kind of a man would I be if I denied hospitality to a relative? Why did you not bring him home at once?”

  “What kind of a woman would I be if I led strange men through the streets of Nahor?” She straightened, lifting her chin.

  He chuckled. “You will all be the end of me.” The only way to live with so many women was to appease them. But he silently cursed his own weakness.

  He stood, handing the nose ring back to Rebekah. “I will bring them home.” He glanced at his wives and servants. “Hurry, prepare the stables and food for our guests. We do not want to keep such wealthy relatives waiting.”

  He ran all the way to the well.

  Laban spotted the men Rebekah had described, some sitting, others standing beside their camels. All of them were near his age or younger, though one appeared to be about the age of his father before he entered Sheol. He approached the man and bowed low.

  “Come, you who are blessed by the Lord,” Laban said as he straightened and extended his hand, waving it toward the city gates. “Why are you standing out here? I have prepared the house and a place for the camels.”

  The older man bowed as well. “Thank you, my lord. You must be the relative of the young woman we met here.”

  “Yes, yes. I am Laban, son of Bethuel, brother of Rebekah, who watered your camels. We have plenty of room for all of you. Please, come.”

  He bowed again and led the group into the city, first to the stables to feed and bed the animals, then to the courtyard, where servants washed the men’s feet. When the last foot was dried, Laban led them into the sitting room of his mother’s house.

  A low table awaited them, set with platters of bread and roasted fish with dill sauce, cucumbers and figs, and spiced wine in stone jars. Laban motioned to the men to settle on thick cushions along the floor beside the table and watched as the younger men obeyed. His brother Bethuel sat near the head, leaving space for him, while the women stood in the shadows at the edges of the room.

  But the older man, the leader of the group, stood still. “I will not eat until I have told you what I have to say.”

  “Tell us,” Laban said, taking his seat and motioning for the man to do the same.

  He knelt instead beside the cushion on the hard floor. “I am Eliezer, Abraham’s servant,” he said. “The Lord has blessed my master abundantly, and he has become wealthy. He has given him sheep and cattle, silver and gold, menservants and maidservants, and camels and donkeys. My master’s wife Sarah has borne him a son in her old age, and he has given him everything he owns. And my master made me swear an oath and said, ‘You must not get a wife for my son from the daughters of the Canaanites, in whose land I live, but go to my father’s family and to my own clan and get a wife for my son.’

  “Then I asked my master, ‘What if the woman will not come back with me?’

  “He replied, ‘Adonai Elohei, before whom I have walked, will send His angel with you and make your journey a success, so that you can get a wife for my son from my own clan and from my father’s family. Then, when you go to my clan, you will be released from my oath even if they refuse to give her to you.’

  “When I came to the spring today, I said, ‘O Adonai, Elohei of my master Abraham, if You will, please grant success to the journey on which I have come. See, I am standing beside this spring; if a maiden comes out to draw water and I say to her, “Please let me drink a little water from your jar,” and if she says to me, “Drink, and I’ll draw water for your camels too,” let her be the one Adonai has chosen for my master’s son.’

  “Before I finished praying in my heart, Rebekah came out with her jar on her shoulder. She went down to the spring and drew water, and I said to her, ‘Please give me a drink.’

  “She quickly lowered her jar from her shoulder and said, ‘Drink, and I’ll water your camels also.’ So I drank, and she watered the camels also.

  “I asked her, ‘Whose daughter are you?’

  “She said, ‘The daughter of Bethuel son of Nahor, whom Milcah bore to him.’

  “Then I put the ring in her nose and the bracelets on her arms, and I bowed down and worshiped the Lord. I praised Adonai Elohei of my master Abraham, who had led me on the right road to get the granddaughter of my master’s brother for his son. Now if you will show kindness and faithfulness to my master, tell me, and if not, tell me, so I may know which way to turn.”

  Bethuel cleared his throat and settled a firm look on Laban. “This is from the Lord,” he said. “We can say nothing to you one way or the other.”

  Laban felt a moment of irritation that Bethuel spoke first, but he quickly squelched it. This man could pay far more for Rebekah than any elder’s son. He glanced across the room, extending a hand toward his sister. “Here is Rebekah; take her and go, and let her become the wife of your master’s son, as Adonai has directed.”

  The servant of Abraham put his face to the ground, and Laban sensed the man was praying. Silence settled over the room until the man rose to his feet. One of the young men with him stood as well, and the two walked toward the stables.

  “We will quickly return,” Eliezer said.

  10

  Rebekah’s heart beat heavy and fast, her head spinning with Laban’s words. A tremor rushed through her, and she wrapped her arms about herself to still the shaking. Take her and go? Just like that, without a word to her, without allowing her a moment to give her a choice? Could she do such a thing—leave her family and all she held dear?

  Eliezer and the younger man returned carrying large leather packs and set them on the ground. Eliezer removed a golden necklace and draped it across Rebekah’s neck. Circles of intricately carved gold inlaid with lapis lazuli and emeralds clung to a thick golden chain. She fingered each piece, counting seven large jeweled rings. Her mother had never owned anything so fine.

  He returned to the sack and pulled from it a silver headdress, equally carved and bejeweled, along with golden earrings and a jeweled belt. Five exquisitely woven robes with matching head scarves were laid at her feet. She sank to a cushion on the floor, overwhelmed. She looked into the servant’s dark eyes.

  “I . . .” She swallowed and closed her eyes for a brief moment. When at last she looked at him again, his gaze held gentleness and kindness. She warmed to him, suddenly knowing he was a man she could trust. “Thank you,” she said, unable to find any other words.

  He nodded, returning her smile, then turned to retrieve more gifts for her family. Rebekah lifted one of the robes to examine the work—the close weave and the fine detailed stitches along each sleeve and the hem. A costly garment. Laban and her mother would be thrilled at her good fortune. She looked up to see their expressions, catching the gleam in Laban’s eyes. She had judged correctly. No man in Harran or Nahor could have equaled this display of wealth or would have paid such a hefty bride-price, not even the king.

  A sense of awe and fear rushed through her as twin emotions. The shaking started again as she pulled the robes to her, clutching them to her chest. Who was this uncle who could bestow so much or consider her of such worth? Would her cousin make a good husband? How could she go with this servant, despite these gifts, and marry a man she had never seen?

  “My master is a fine man.”


  She startled, hearing Eliezer’s voice. She looked up to see he had spoken to Laban.

  “He will treat your sister well.”

  “I can see that he already has.” Laban touched the soft fabric of one of the robes he had been given, a rich red and blue garment that rivaled her best work. He wore a new chain of gold about his neck and poured wine into a new golden goblet. He laughed freely, glancing her way. “Rebekah, my sister, you will have your wish, and I will have mine.” He tipped his cup toward her and smiled, his gaze shifting to Eliezer. “Eat and drink, my friends, blessed of the Lord.”

  Eliezer and the younger man took their seats around the table, joining the others. But Rebekah could not force down a single fig or morsel of fish. She studied the garments and jewels in the lamplight for a moment more, then scooped everything into her arms and stood. As the eating and drinking and laughter continued among the men, she slipped out of the sitting room and moved toward her room, Selima at her side.

  “Will you really go with those men and marry your cousin?” Selima’s normally giddy tone was missing from the question, and Rebekah looked into her eyes, reading sorrow in their depths.

  “You will go with me, of course. And your mother as well. You need not fear. I would never leave you behind.” She gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile but felt a quiver in her middle that would not leave. “I could not go without you.” Did Selima hear the waver in her voice?

  Selima took a step closer. “Here, let me help you fold these and put them away.”

  Rebekah nodded numbly and moved to assist her. “I wonder what he is like.”

  Would he love her as her father had loved her, giving her the same freedoms he had given? Would she love him in return?

  “Hopefully he is not disgusting or lazy.” Selima made a face as she tucked the sleeve into place and laid the first garment in Rebekah’s carved wooden chest. “Or has black teeth and smells bad.”

  Rebekah laughed. “If his teeth are bad, we shall give him mint for his breath, and if he smells bad, we shall insist he bathe.” Rebekah considered the men she had met over the years, wondering whether Abraham’s son would be like any of them. “If he is lazy, we will find others to do the work. He is certainly wealthy enough to pay his workers.” She placed the garment in the chest. “But I doubt he is lazy. Wealthy men are not lazy.”