Rachel

by Jill Eileen Smith

  He pulled her close and kissed her softly, tenderly, possessively. “Because it will be,” he said against her ear. “But if it is not, then she will grow up to be a princess of greatest beauty like her mother.”

  His kisses trailed along her jaw until he found her lips once more. His breath was warm, minty, and when he gazed into her eyes, her breath hitched. His dark eyes searched hers, reading into her thoughts, reminding her in a moment all that they had shared. He had loved her with a passion she had never quite grasped, and in the way he looked at her now, she knew that love had never abated. The strength of it weakened her even as his kiss silenced every fear.

  God would give him twelve sons, saving the last to come through her. She was indeed blessed.

  32

  The camp was unusually quiet several days later during the height of the Festival of Virgins in neighboring Shechem. Rachel and Leah sat companionably in the weaving tent while Bilhah and Zilpah stacked the flax to dry in the sun.

  “I thought Dinah would join us today.” Rachel tucked a purple weft thread through the striped red, blue, green, and yellow warp threads of the loom. Joseph would look wonderful in the coat when it was completed, but she let Leah think she was making it for Jacob. There was no sense causing upset when it would be up to Jacob to approve whether Joseph could wear it so soon. Such a coat would set him apart as firstborn and heir, and the thought brought to Rachel’s heart both pride and a hint of fear of the repercussions.

  “She should be here.” Leah snapped a thread with her teeth, then yanked it tight into a knot. “She asked to go pick some of the wild grapes. She took her maid with her.” She glanced at Rachel. “I have been uneasy since she left.”

  “I am sure she will be fine. She did not go far?”

  “To the field south of the camp.” Leah pulled a new thread from the bag and tied it to the loom. “She needs to wed.”

  Rachel studied her sister, surprised at the urgency of her tone. “Surely there is still time.” She had been more than twice Dinah’s age when she married Jacob. “Have you a man in mind?”

  Leah’s head lifted. “Jacob’s steward has a son who seems to look at Dinah as she passes.”

  “Most of the young men glance her way when she passes.” Rachel chuckled. “I doubt Jacob wants his daughter wed to a servant.”

  “Then who? There are no relatives to choose from. He won’t send to Esau for a cousin or to our father for one of our nephews.”

  Rachel paused in her weaving. “Do you want me to speak to him?” She rarely offered to speak on behalf of her sister or the servant wives because it only caused friction, reminding them all that she had Jacob’s ear. If he would not listen to them, she could often get him to see things their way.

  Leah worried her lip, seeming to ponder the thought. She opened her mouth to speak when a commotion from outside the tents drew their attention. Rachel glanced through the open sides of the tents to see Dinah’s servant Adi running toward them, weeping.

  Leah jumped up, letting the shuttle fall to the floor, and rushed from the tent. “What is it? Tell me quickly!”

  The child’s hair was disheveled, her clothes dirty, as though she had fallen in the dirt or been involved in a great scuffle. Rachel rose to join them, fear mounting at the look of terror in the child’s eyes.

  “Dinah . . . She told me—” The girl choked on a sob, and Rachel could tell by the look on Leah’s face that she wanted to shake the child. Rachel went to the cistern and returned with a cup of water. The child took it and gulped it down.

  “Now, tell me, Adi, where is my daughter?” Leah’s calm voice belied the lines of worry and strain along her brow.

  “She went to Shechem by herself. She said she wanted to see the women of the land, but I know she wanted to attend the festival. She has talked of nothing else for weeks.” Adi shrank back from Leah.

  Rachel stepped closer and put an arm around the girl. “How long ago did she leave?” She looked at Leah. “We can send someone after her.”

  Adi shook her head. “It’s too late. He already took her and . . .” She buried her face in her hands. “I followed her.” She peered through the gap in her fingers. “I know I shouldn’t have, but . . . I didn’t know he would hurt her. I waited outside the city gate for her to return. I hid in some bushes and watched, listening to the songs. At last Dinah came out, only I almost didn’t recognize her because she had on a new colored veil and was swaying and dancing and singing as she walked home. I followed her and was just about to run to catch her and call her name when a man came toward the city all dressed in fine clothes. He saw Dinah, and before I could call her name, he approached her, grabbed her about the waist, and carried her into the trees.”

  Rachel gasped, and Leah grew so pale Rachel feared she would faint. She took her sister’s arm, supporting her.

  “Dinah screamed and screamed, and I was so scared!” The girl’s words were drenched in broken sobs. “I didn’t know what to do. If I ran home, it would be too late. But then her screaming stopped and she started to cry. I crept closer and saw them. He was stroking her hair and speaking to her like he cared that he’d hurt her.”

  Leah swayed in Rachel’s arms, and Rachel led her quickly to a bench to sit. “Dinah,” Leah moaned, the word barely audible.

  Rachel turned to Adi. “Where is Dinah now?”

  The girl stuck a fist to her mouth. “He took her. She was crying so hard, and then he pulled her to her feet and lifted her in his arms, like Master Jacob does a hurt lamb. He spoke to her, but I couldn’t hear. And he carried her to the city.”

  Leah stared blankly, barely moving. Rachel touched her shoulder. She must tell Jacob. They must get Dinah back. “The man probably thought she was one of the virgins from the festival and claimed her,” she said in Leah’s ear. “If that is the case, he took her to his home to be his wife.”

  Leah jerked as though struck and met Rachel’s gaze. “He defiled her!” The words hung in the air like poisoned smoke.

  “I will go and get Jacob.” She gently squeezed Leah’s shoulder.

  “She should have wed.” Leah stared, unseeing.

  “Let me get Jacob,” Rachel said again, feeling the weight of the news with such force she nearly stumbled as she hurried from Leah’s side. She glanced back at her sister sitting so stoically, her head bent in sorrow Rachel could barely fathom.

  Dinah, Dinah, why did you run off unescorted? Such a foolish, rash choice.

  Jacob looked up from the lamb he was tending, his ear catching a frantic, high-pitched sound. Was someone calling him? He reached for his staff and pushed to his feet, cupping a hand to shade his eyes. There in the distance, a woman—was that Rachel? His heart thumped hard at the sight of her rushing toward him, her robes billowing behind her, her arm waving to catch his attention. Had she lost the babe? He shook his head at the thought. She would be lying on her mat if she had. It would be Leah or one of the other women running to him now. He limped toward her, hurrying his gait, frustrated at his inability to close the distance faster.

  “Jacob!” Rachel stopped and leaned forward, hands on her knees, her breath coming in spurts. “You must come at once.”

  He touched her shoulder, alarm rushing through him. “Calm down, beloved. Tell me what happened.” He reached for the flask of water at his waist and offered her a drink.

  She took it and drank greedily. “Dinah,” she said, still gulping air. “Dinah has run off to Shechem to the festival and was captured by a man.” She looked at him, her expression anguished. “He defiled her, Jacob. One of the servant girls told Leah and me the story. She followed and saw . . .” She glanced beyond him. “She saw too much.”

  Jacob stared at her, his body rocked with her words. How could this be? Dinah was but a girl, barely old enough for a man to notice. He closed his eyes with the weight of his own denial. That was not true. Leah had told him, had warned him that she was ready to wed. But he had not listened. Not so he actually believed her.

>   “You must do something, Jacob. You must go to Shechem to retrieve her . . . something!”

  He clung to the staff for balance as his mind reeled with her urgings. “Do we know who took her?”

  Rachel shook her head. “The servant girl said that Dinah went off to Shechem alone. She followed but waited outside the town for Dinah to return. When she did, she was wearing one of their scarves, probably like the virgins wear in the festival.” She clutched his arm. “Oh, Jacob! The man met her on the path home and dragged her into the trees!”

  His pulse slowed as though his blood forgot the path through his veins. He swayed, his hand cramped around the staff. “You have no idea who this man was?”

  Rachel’s large eyes filled with tears as she shook her head.

  He forced stiff limbs to move and pulled her close. “Come. I will send for my sons. In the meantime, take me to Leah.”

  She slipped an arm around his waist and walked with him in silence back to camp.

  “This is an outrage!” Jacob’s son Simeon paced the path in front of Jacob’s tent, his brothers nodding their heads, spouting blistering curses on every man in Shechem.

  “Such a thing should not be done in Israel.” Judah, the least boisterous of Jacob’s sons, stood, fists clenched, locking gazes with Jacob. “Something must be done.”

  “What do you suggest?” Jacob met Judah’s gaze but did not hold it, looking instead to Reuben, his firstborn. “We don’t know who took her.”

  “We will go to the town and knock down every door.” Simeon stopped before Jacob, his face flushed, hand on the hilt of his sword.

  “And kill every man in it until we find her.” Levi’s comment brought Jacob up short.

  “An extreme measure, my son,” Jacob said. The look in Levi’s eyes troubled him. “Would you punish an entire town for the acts of one man?”

  “It was their festival that started all of this!” Levi’s voice rose above the din of his brothers’ mumbled conversations going on around him.

  “And Dinah was the one who chose to attend it.” Joseph’s words brought a hush that lasted but a moment.

  “Would you not defend our sister?” Simeon demanded.

  The shift in anger toward Rachel’s son made Jacob wince. This was not good.

  “Of course I would defend her. I only wish she had waited for one of us to take her there.”

  Silence followed the remark.

  “Your brother is right,” Jacob said, trying to defuse the heated air between them. “Your sister made a foolish choice. But that does not change the fact that a man took advantage of her.”

  “We will sneak over the wall and search the town this very night,” Simeon said, pacing again.

  One of the servants approached as Jacob’s sons continued to argue and spoke to Jacob. “My lord, horses are coming down the path, carrying the king and his son.”

  His words carried to the group, bringing a halt to the conversation.

  “Perhaps he knows who did this and is coming to make atonement.” Jacob looked to his sons, his expression stern. “We will be civil to him, to see what he wants.”

  “If he has our sister, he will be fortunate to leave us with his life.” Levi’s quiet, weighted comment made Jacob’s blood run cold. When had his sons become so bitter, so violent? Yet he could say nothing better. And he took solace in knowing his sons would act on Dinah’s behalf, even if he found it difficult to do so.

  Leah stood in the shadows, her robe tucked tightly around her, unable to stop shivering despite the heat from the nearby fire. Rachel’s arm slipped through hers, and the two waited mutely as two men dressed in resplendent robes rode to the edge of the tents and dismounted.

  “I can’t stand this.” Leah clenched her jaw, the cold coming from deep within her causing her teeth to chatter against her will. “I’m so cold.”

  “Let me get you a blanket.” Rachel slipped into her tent and quickly returned, wrapping a soft woolen blanket around Leah’s shoulders.

  Leah glanced at her sister, then toward the men Jacob and his sons now approached. “What do you think they want?”

  “Perhaps they came about Dinah.” Rachel escorted her closer to the fire and coaxed her to sit.

  Leah shook her head. “The men will want to sit here.”

  “They will not mind if you stay.”

  Leah sat, her gaze fixed on the men, while Rachel stood behind her, kneading her shoulders. The gesture would have warmed her in another lifetime, but she could not seem to manage a single emotion other than fear.

  The men moved toward them, and she tried to push up from the stone seat, but Rachel’s gentle resistance stopped her.

  Leah barely acknowledged her, her limbs too weighted to rise, though she wanted to. Jacob glanced at her as the men drew near the fire and offered their guests seats opposite her. Jacob took the seat at her side and reached for her, his warm hand folding over hers.

  “I am Hamor the Hivite, and this is my son Shechem, prince of the land. We have come to speak to you of your daughter, Dinah.” Hamor spread his hands toward Jacob, palms open in supplication. He was a handsome man by some standards, though clean-shaven and square-jawed, with eyes too calculating, too sure of himself. Like her father. The young man beside him looked younger than Joseph, barely old enough to wear the princely robes or carry the burdens of a man. Surely not old enough to wed!

  “I am aware that my daughter is captive in your town,” Jacob said, his voice even, though Leah could hear the edge of anger and feel the tenseness of his hand around hers. “Whatever you have to tell me had better include her return safely to my tents.”

  Hamor sat back, his expression confused. “But . . . your daughter attended our festival. She wore the veil of the virgin maidens. My son . . . that is, we thought she was aware of the purpose.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw but quickly recovered his composure. “Forgive any misunderstanding, my friend. We come in peace to tell you that my son Shechem has his heart set on your daughter. Please give her to him as his wife. Intermarry with us—give us your daughters and take our daughters for yourselves. You can settle among us; the land is open to you. Live in it, trade in it, and acquire property in it.” Hamor’s words rang in the silence.

  Leah’s heart thumped hard, awakening the dead feelings within.

  The young man, Shechem, stepped forward and fell to one knee before Jacob, his gaze taking in her sons as well. “Let me find favor in your eyes, and I will give you whatever you ask. Make the price for the bride and the gift I am to bring as great as you like, and I’ll pay whatever you ask me. Only give me the girl as my wife.”

  The request swirled in Leah’s head like a vivid nightmare. No man would want Dinah after what Shechem had done to her, but to do as they asked, to intermarry with uncircumcised heathens . . . She could not finish the horrible thought. Agony filled her, and she nearly gave in to the desire to sway and moan Dinah’s name aloud. To weep over the death of her daughter’s purity, her future—for unless they gave her to this man, her womb would most surely be dead, her life ruined beyond hope.

  Leah glanced at Jacob, who had stiffened beside her, then in turn looked to each of her oldest sons. Simeon caught her gaze, his mouth a thin line. He turned to Hamor. “We can’t do such a thing. We can’t give our sister to a man who is not circumcised. That would be a disgrace to us.”

  Levi stood, hands clenched tight at his sides, and Leah feared he would pull his sword that very moment and put an end to both men’s lives. Instead, he took a step nearer, his gaze conciliatory. Yet she knew that look. “We will give our consent to you on one condition only: that you become like us by circumcising all your males. Then we will give you our daughters and take your daughters for ourselves. We’ll settle among you and become one people with you. But if you will not agree to be circumcised, we’ll take our sister and go.”

  Leah shivered again, the cold becoming a living thing within her. She barely felt Jacob’s hand tighten around hers. She knew her s
ons, knew the violence hidden in their hearts, and feared to think what plans they possessed.

  But Hamor and Shechem did not detect her sons’ deceit. They both stood, smiling and bowing toward Jacob. “It shall be as you have said.” They made swift goodbyes and took off on their horses back to their city.

  It was only after they had left and Rachel had helped her to her tent that Leah realized they had not offered hospitality to the men, did not break bread or offer drink to them. But the men should not have expected such a thing after what they had done.

  Yet in the quiet of night, Leah knew that neither man realized just how deplorable Shechem’s act had been to Jacob and her sons. Nor did they suspect the harm her sons surely plotted against them.

  33

  Rachel woke with a start three days later, her heart beating too fast. She rose and searched the mat beside her, aware of Jacob’s absence. Voices drifted to her—loud wailing—and the lowing of sheep and goats drew nearer. She quickly donned her robe and ran her fingers through her rumpled hair, hurrying from the tent. Torches lit the compound, and a large company of women and children stood huddled, crying, near the edge of the tent rows, while all six of Leah’s sons, Dinah in their midst, stood before Jacob.

  She moved closer, saw Leah emerge from her tent and rush into Dinah’s arms, both weeping. Fear moved through her as she took in the company of women and children. What was this? Joseph appeared at her side and took her arm. She looked into his concerned eyes, so like his father’s, and drew strength from his hold.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Jacob’s voice boomed in the darkness, silencing the noise except for the occasional fearful weeping of some of the children.

  Simeon and Levi stepped from the gathering of Leah’s sons and faced him, chins raised, defiance in their dark eyes. “These are the captives of Shechem. While the men were recovering . . .” A smirk crossed Simeon’s face. “We killed them.”

  “They deserved to die for what they did to Dinah.” Levi’s hatred fell like a hot blanket over burning skin.