Rebekah

by Jill Eileen Smith

  The familiar awe filled him at the sights and sounds of night, and he continued uphill, attuned to his surroundings, until he came to a secluded rock enclosure near the cliff’s edge. The camp lay below him among the trees, partially hidden from his view, and he felt a measure of comfort in its nearness.

  But he also felt a sense of respect for Adonai as he stepped into the wild of night. He walked farther into the rock recesses, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. The place appeared to be deserted, and after inspecting the area for animals he did not wish to disturb, he settled onto a large rock, resting his back against the rock wall.

  Starlight danced above him, and he stared at their formations, identifying the Bear and Orion and some constellations that his ancestors would have worshiped and deemed deities. How could a man think the stars held power or answers over the world, over his life? The voice of God he had heard long ago—that held power over a man.

  He closed his eyes against the sight above him.

  Oh, to hear Your voice again, Adonai. To know for certain You are guiding me where I should go. Are You with me as You had been with my father? Should I turn back to the dried-out plains and thirsty fields? Should I return to Hebron? Or go south to Egypt? Where, O Lord, would You send Your servant?

  He sat listening to the night sounds until the crickets’ voices died away and the howl of distant jackals faded from his hearing. His eyes felt weighted, as if heavy stones rested upon them, and though he struggled to open them, to look once more to the heavens, he could not lift his lids. His breath drew in and out in a normal rhythm, his chest lifting and falling. He sensed sleep would soon overtake him but felt as though he already dreamed.

  Warmth settled over him, and he relaxed, cocooned in an ethereal vision between night and day, light and darkness. The bleating of a ram, like the one caught in the thicket the day of his binding, met his ear, and he turned his head, expecting to see it once more ready to take his place. Instead, he looked into the face of a man he did not know, who stood in the glow of the light.

  “Do not go down to Egypt.”

  The man spoke, and the voice thundered as it had that day in Isaac’s ears, familiar and fearful, yet he was not afraid.

  “Live in the land where I tell you to live. Stay in this land for a while, and I will be with you and will bless you. For to you and your descendants I will give all these lands and will confirm the oath I swore to your father Abraham. I will make your descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky and will give them all these lands, and through your offspring all nations on earth will be blessed, because Abraham obeyed Me and kept My requirements, My commands, My decrees, and My laws.”

  “I will do as you say, Lord.” As the words left his lips, the light vanished, and the weights lifted from his eyes. He looked up and blinked against the blinding light of stars too numerous to count.

  I will make your descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky.

  A little thrill rushed through him. Jacob and Esau would bear sons, and their sons would bear sons, and his children’s children would possess all the lands that now lay dry and fallow. Someday they would flourish again.

  He slowly stood. In the unspoken request of obedience came the knowledge that he would be blessed because his father had believed and obeyed, even to the point of great loss. As he must be willing to lose as well, to sacrifice all to the obedience of Adonai.

  To what end? Could he do as his father had done?

  The thought brought with it a rush of memories. Strength failed him as he saw himself in the place of his father. His sons were almost the age he had been at his binding. If Adonai asked it of him, could he so fully obey?

  He shuddered and sank to his knees beside the rock, wrestling with the question long into the night.

  29

  Rebekah led a heavy-laden donkey through the gates of Gerar the next day, just one of the throng of men, women, and children in their camp. Isaac moved at the head of the group, and she could see him walking tall and determined many paces ahead of her, Jacob at his side.

  A twinge of pride lifted her chin. If Esau had been with them, Jacob would not be standing as Isaac’s right-hand man. Esau surely would have taken his brother’s place. Perhaps Isaac had been right in letting the boy go off with his uncle after all. It would be Jacob whom Isaac introduced to the king as his son. Jacob who would carry the appearance of Isaac’s heir.

  Please, Adonai, let it be so.

  Buildings of hardened clay rose on either side of a paved stone street as she clutched the donkey’s reins harder, leaving behind the tent-enclosed merchant stalls and the calls of men to come and peruse and purchase their wares. Heat filled her face at some of the ribald comments cast toward the veiled women. She felt the clasp of her head scarf to make sure it held secure over her face.

  “What do you make of this place?” Selima sidled up alongside her, holding tight to her young daughter’s hand. She leaned closer, but her gaze did not hold Rebekah’s, flitting first right, then left, taking in the town whose grandeur grew the farther they progressed.

  “I don’t know.” Rebekah glanced over her shoulder toward the merchants’ stalls and spotted a lone man ambling beside their caravan, attempting to get closer to the women huddled at the center of the group. She looked quickly away, her heart suddenly pounding. King Abimelech’s palace grew closer, but the thought did not comfort. “Do you think we are safe here?”

  Selima shrugged but pulled her daughter closer, lifting her into her arms. “You do not need to hurry so. What did you see back there?”

  Rebekah looked straight ahead, realizing she had picked up her pace and was nearly on top of the donkeys in front of her. “A man is following us.” She swallowed, holding back her fear.

  Selima met her gaze, her own showing a hint of alarm. “What can one man do among so many? The men surround us. Surely we are safe.” But she tightened her grip on her daughter just the same.

  Rebekah stepped nearer to Selima, tugging the donkey to her until they nearly melded as one. A man’s whistle and crude remarks drifted closer, and she knew his intent was not honorable.

  “We must tell our husbands,” she whispered into Selima’s ear. “Take the donkey’s reins. I must tell Isaac. Where is your mother?”

  “She is behind us, walking with my girls.” Selima’s older daughters were young, though one was near marriageable age.

  “Send someone to get her. I want her to come with me.” Rebekah cinched her robe closer. Her breath hitched as she continued to walk forward while Selima worked her way to the women and girls straggling in the rear. Please hurry!

  She glanced behind her once more, aware that several others had joined the lone man until a small crowd of them now followed their company. Her heart quickened its pace, and she darted a look in Isaac’s direction, but still he did not turn her way.

  Her hand wrapped tighter around the donkey’s reins, and she had to take care not to stumble as she glanced behind her once more. Relief filled her at the sight of Deborah rushing to her side.

  “Shall I take the donkey while you find Isaac?” Deborah’s expression told her that she shared Rebekah’s fears.

  “One of the servants can lead the beast. I want you to come with me.” She handed the reins to one of the maids, then motioned for Deborah to follow.

  She wove between the sweating women and beasts until she at last reached Jacob’s side. Deborah waited one step behind her as she touched his arm, got his attention, and moved in to stand next to Isaac. He turned to look at her, surprise lifting his brows.

  “My lord, there is trouble.” Her breath felt tight within her chest. “There are several men trying to get close to the women, and these men . . .” She tilted her head in the direction of the merchants. “They are very crude and offensive, my lord.”

  Isaac looked into her eyes but a moment, then glanced beyond her to where the commotion stirred. “We should not have come.” He breathed the comment, but the look in his eyes
told her she had not misunderstood him.

  “Then let us turn around at once and go to some other place.”

  She would have grabbed his arm and tugged him with her if she had thought for a moment that it would urge him to act quickly. But as the king’s courtyard stretched before them, Haviv’s deep voice cut off Isaac’s response and turned their attention to where he stood several paces away, standing on a short section of the palace wall.

  “What is the meaning of this affront to our women and children? We seek peace among you and have the permission of the king to enter.”

  As he spoke, Isaac left her with Jacob and Deborah and moved to Haviv’s side.

  One of the men shouted from the back of the crowd, “Any woman entering our gates gets our attention, stranger. Any real man ought to know that.”

  Guffaws and back slaps followed the remark, raising the hair on Rebekah’s arms. She watched Isaac speak quietly to Haviv, then turn back to them to whisper something in Jacob’s ear. Within moments the men of Isaac’s camp had woven their way in among the women, a shield against the citizens.

  But what was their small group against an entire town?

  A trumpet’s blast jerked her around, and she felt Jacob move in front of her as guards and flag bearers emerged from the palace and hurried through the courtyard to the stone gates. Isaac turned away from the uncouth men while Haviv jumped down from the wall, and the two strode to the head of their group. Jacob fell into step behind them, and she felt herself and Deborah swept into the palace by the king’s flanking guards.

  They moved through ornate oak doors along intricate inlaid tiles set in patterns of birds and beasts and gods similar to those she had known in Harran. They stopped in a chamber larger than her tent, where the guards left them. Isaac and Haviv stood near the door, speaking too softly for her to hear, but Jacob touched her elbow and bent low.

  “Abba told me to protect you,” he whispered. “He said for us to keep quiet. He will speak to the king and see what is to be done.”

  She smiled into his eyes and nodded, longing to touch the soft growth now covering his chin. How tall he had become! She suddenly realized with a certain sense of loss that he was no longer the child she had once carried in her arms.

  “I do not like it here,” Jacob said, his low tones meant for her ears but his gaze directed at his father’s back.

  “Nor do I.”

  A servant approached only moments later, gave them strict instructions on royal protocol, and led them to the king’s receiving chamber. They knelt at a thick line of deep blue tiles, a barrier for all who would approach the steps that led upward to the king’s throne.

  “Rise and speak.”

  The commanding voice came from the right of the king.

  Rebekah rose slowly and glanced in front of her, following Isaac’s silent lead.

  “You have come from a distance,” the king said, his voice welcoming but his expression flinty, causing her an instant sense of distrust.

  “From Hebron, my lord king.” Isaac gave a slight bow.

  “To what purpose have you come?” The king curled one hand around a scepter of polished, ornamented gold.

  “To seek refuge from the famine. To settle on lands near your city, to cultivate and to care for our little ones and our herds.” Isaac’s voice held a calm Rebekah wished in that moment was hers. But the unsettled feeling in her middle would not leave.

  “We are most happy to have you. Our merchants will be pleased to have your business, and you may in turn settle on the land south of town. There are fields beyond there where you can plant and plenty of land for your animals to graze.”

  Rebekah kept her head lowered but attempted a glance at the king, surprised at his gracious gift.

  “I will be happy to pay you for the use of the land,” Isaac said. “Please name your price for its use.”

  The king waved the request away with his free hand, but he did not smile. “We will discuss those details later. I am sure you are weary from your journey. Go and settle your families, then return tomorrow and we will talk.”

  Isaac bowed low and then rose. “Thank you, my lord king. It will be as you say.”

  Rebekah felt a sudden urge to rush from the room but forced her anxious feet to still, awaiting the king’s dismissal.

  “Who are these men and women you have brought with you?”

  The king’s voice and tone stopped Rebekah’s blood, and for a brief moment she thought she might faint. She lifted her head to glance at Isaac, but his back was to her, and she could not draw on the strength she needed from him. She heard Jacob’s quick intake of breath and silently thanked God that Deborah stood beside her.

  “The young man is my son, my lord king.” He gestured toward Haviv. “And this man is my chief steward.” Isaac turned slightly to one side and beckoned Jacob closer to stand at his right side. At any other time the action would have pleased her, but a fear she could not name suddenly slithered up her back, and she felt exposed and alone.

  “The women are your wife and sister?”

  Rebekah longed to meet the king’s gaze, to understand his question, but the meaning at once became clear.

  “The older woman is your wife, of course. But the younger one is too old to be a daughter. A sister? A cousin, perhaps? She is quite beautiful.” The king’s words held the challenge of one who is not to be crossed, one whose word is right and just and obeyed without question.

  Fear took wing inside her, and in one glance she recognized that same desire she had seen in countless men throughout Harran years before, desire she had not faced in that possessive, controlling way since she’d married Isaac.

  Silence followed the remark, and Rebekah’s heart squeezed until she felt an almost physical pain.

  Tell the man the truth so we can leave.

  But when she glanced up to find the king’s gaze fixed solely on her, she knew in a heartbeat that he did not want to hear the truth. The truth would be dangerous to them all—to her, to Isaac, perhaps even to Jacob. For what use did a king have for a husband and a son of a woman he desired?

  “She is my sister.”

  The words did not register past the sudden throbbing in her head. She closed her eyes, keeping her head discreetly lowered, begging the room not to sway.

  “Your sister, you say?” The king sounded clearly pleased, a lion crouching, observing its prey.

  “Yes, my lord.” Isaac’s voice sounded far steadier than it should have. Did this lie not trouble him? Yet surely he would still find a way to protect her.

  “Very good. We will keep that fact in mind.” He tapped the end of his scepter to the floor. “You may go.”

  Rebekah did not breathe again until they were safely out of the king’s chamber, and if not for Jacob’s steadying arm, she would have melted into the paved stones beneath their feet. But she could not weaken or show her fear. Not here.

  She felt Isaac’s presence at her side, his breath against her ear.

  “Come quickly and do not look back.”

  She gathered her skirts and hurried beside him.

  Isaac led the company of men, women, and children to the outskirts of Gerar to land within the jurisdiction of the Philistine king and under his protection. Weariness followed him, the kind caused not by lack of sleep or too much exertion but by the realization that life had taken a turn, and the change would not bring peace.

  “At least he accepted us.” Haviv kept pace with him as Isaac pushed himself to mark out the area before the sun sank another notch toward the west. He would feel more at ease once he could see the women safely settled and could speak alone with Rebekah.

  What had possessed him to give in to such a lie? How could he stop men from trying to claim her?

  “I would have done the same thing in your position,” Haviv said as Isaac finally stopped at the copse of trees lining the field Abimelech had commissioned for him. “What other choice did you have?”

  “I would have told him the
truth if the townsmen had made me more at ease. I do not think the men of Philistia accept strangers because they are friendly.” Isaac lifted an arm to sweep the space before them. “This is where we will settle.”

  “Do you think our lives are in danger because of our women?”

  Haviv’s question only churned the fear already growing in Isaac’s gut.

  “Yes.” He hated the cowardice the king had evoked in him. He had faced death before, had seen the power of God to protect him. Had not God told him to settle here rather than Egypt? The thoughts battered within, leaving his soul bruised and beaten.

  He tied the donkey he was leading to the branch of a tree and set about unloading his tent from its back, then looked up at the sound of Rebekah’s voice. An ache so deep he could not reach it filled him as he studied her. She lifted her head to look at him. He had failed her. He could read it in her assessing censure, in the hurt that caused the light in her eyes to flicker.

  “Let us get these tents raised and be quick about it.”

  The barked command sounded like it came from someone other than him. But her tent was the best place to speak to Rebekah alone, to reassure her away from listening ears and gossiping tongues.

  Rebekah stood at the threshold of Isaac’s tent as the sun gave up its fight to stay suspended in the west and sank with an array of potent reds and golds into the night. Her heart beat as a new bride’s as she waited, holding back a mixture of emotions she could not gather into one place or keep still within her. What could he possibly say to her that would ease the pain of this new betrayal, this cowardice?

  And yet, how could she blame him? She had seen the king’s look, and she knew what men in power could do to those beneath them if they so chose.