But apparently that wasn’t true. While Leah named the letters and Zilpah drew them—forming them well enough, for a beginner—Leah picked up the shawl and redraped it to cover Zilpah’s breasts. “Zilpah doesn’t like dressing modestly,” said Leah. “She keeps testing me to see if I’ll notice. She thinks I’m blind.”
“I only have one beauty,” said Zilpah softly.
“Yes,” said Leah. “A good heart.”
“All right, two beauties,” said Zilpah.
And then the two of them laughed again.
And finally Bilhah realized—Zilpah wasn’t showing contempt at all. She was helping Leah learn how to deal with her disobedience as friendly teasing instead of infuriating defiance. It was something that no one had ever dared with Leah, to tease her. Well, Bilhah tried, but Leah had quickly taught her that it wasn’t worth the trouble. Now she was getting lessons in being a normal person. But how ironic, to be getting them from someone as strange as Zilpah.
“That one is backward,” said Bilhah. “It faces the other way.”
“I knew something was wrong with it,” said Leah, shaking her head.
Zilpah rubbed it out and drew it again, facing the right way.
“You have them all,” said Bilhah. “You’re doing well.”
“Thank you, mistress,” said Zilpah.
Her tone was so offensively snide that Bilhah wanted to say something really vile in reply, but Leah had come to make peace and Bilhah refused to be the one to break it. “I didn’t mean to be condescending,” said Bilhah. “I’m sorry.”
Leah laughed. “Someone else needs joking lessons!” she said. “Zilpah’s helping me learn how to take things as a joke.”
Zilpah also smiled—but there was a sauciness to the smile that made it clear to Bilhah that they were not friends.
“It’s a good skill to have,” said Bilhah. “When something is meant as a joke.”
“I don’t know,” said Leah. “I’m pretty sure Zilpah usually means the things she says every bit as nastily as they sound. But if I take them as friendly gibes, we don’t have a quarrel, and Zilpah gets the satisfaction of thinking she got away with something.”
Zilpah’s face went stiff. “If my mistress is displeased …” she began.
Leah laughed. “You see? Everybody has times when they don’t get the joke.”
Bilhah laughed too, watching Zilpah force herself to pretend to be amused at having been caught at her game. “Humor is so hard sometimes,” said Bilhah. “Nobody’s ever sure whether it’s funny or not.”
“But that’s when it’s funniest,” said Leah. “When the other person isn’t absolutely sure, but still has to laugh so as not to seem spiteful and easily provoked. It lets you be mean and get a reputation for cleverness.”
Zilpah put on a half-smile and raised her eyebrows at Bilhah, as if to say, See what I have to put up with?
But Bilhah had no sympathy. Leah had apparently made some kind of vow to avoid having tantrums—but that didn’t mean she’d stopped noticing when someone was being offensive to her. For the first time in a long time, Bilhah rather liked Leah. So whatever she was doing, it worked.
“Well, since you’ve learned the letters,” said Bilhah, “why don’t you both sit with me, and as I copy, I’ll read the book phrase by phrase. Then the two of you can watch me write it out or read it from the original and Zilpah will see how the letters go.”
“Thank you,” said Leah. “If you’re sure Jacob won’t mind.”
“He said that it’s good for people to hear the words of God, with open heart and mind.”
“Maybe that’s why Zilpah dresses as she does,” said Leah, straightening the shawl once again. “To show how open her heart is.”
“Very funny,” said Zilpah. But she soon joined in with Leah’s and Bilhah’s laughter.
Bilhah read, then, phrase by phrase. Since it was a book of sayings, there was no story to explain. Leah began to ask questions, to which Bilhah had no answers; but within a very little while, they were discussing with some animation what Noah might have meant by this or that saying; and Zilpah, too, joined in, though as often as not it was to be skeptical about whether Noah knew what he was talking about. Still, she wasn’t hostile—she seemed to be sincere enough in the things she said.
All in all, it was a good morning.
Then noon came, and with it, Jacob. He came up behind them while they were discussing whether Noah’s condemnation of drunkards was so vehement because drinking wine to excess was really all that bad, or merely because he himself had drunk too much from time to time and saw it as his own vice, and his harsh words were really directed at himself.
“Can’t both be true?” Jacob asked, and that’s when Bilhah first realized he was there, standing just beyond the dooryard fence behind them.
Leah was the only one who seemed not to be startled or even surprised at Jacob’s coming. “I hope it’s all right that Bilhah is reading to us,” said Leah.
“I’m delighted that she is,” said Jacob, “and happy that you came.” He walked to the opening and came into the dooryard. “And Zilpah, are those your letters drawn in the dirt?”
“No, Jacob,” said Leah. “They’re the same letters you and Bilhah use.”
It took Jacob a long second before he realized that Leah was joking. But his laughter, when it came, was all the more generous for the delay. “Well, there wouldn’t be much point in making up your own letters that no one else could read, I guess,” he said.
“We’re trying not to interfere with Bilhah’s copying,” said Leah. “And when we discuss the words of the prophet Noah, I’m afraid it’s the blind leading the blind.”
“No one is blind,” said Jacob, “when the Wisdom leads the way.”
“But this morning, Wisdom was apparently off doing her laundry,” said Leah. “At least as far as my understanding was concerned.”
“Even Wisdom needs clean laundry,” said Jacob solemnly.
“That was so wise,” said Leah, “that I hope you’ll let Bilhah write it down.”
“Not in the sayings of Noah,” said Bilhah. “Jacob says it’s absolutely wrong to add things just because we think our words will improve on what the prophet wrote.”
“I think some scribes have done a bit of alteration in the past,” said Jacob. “But we can only copy the words we have. If I started trying to guess which words were genuine, I’d end up guessing wrong often enough that I’d only make it worse.”
“So,” said Leah, “that must mean we need to start writing down a new book. The sayings of Jacob.”
“That would be a book with many words and little wisdom,” said Jacob.
“Good practice for writing, then,” said Zilpah dryly. “We wouldn’t get distracted by trying to understand it.”
Jacob laughed, and so did Leah and Bilhah, and the smile that then crossed Zilpah’s face seemed genuine.
CHAPTER 18
Zilpah succeeded in avoiding Reuel for more than a week. It was easy enough—all she had to do was be extraordinarily attentive to Leah. She knew that whatever Reuel had to say, he wouldn’t say in front of Jacob’s daughter.
But it was inevitable that he’d catch her alone. Zilpah expected him to intercept her when she was carrying water, but instead he fell in beside her in the earliest light of dawn, when Zilpah was coming back to the tent from her morning privacy. “You think you’re clever,” said Reuel.
“I think you weren’t so smart,” said Zilpah, “conspiring with Nahor and Terah against their father.”
“Not against their father.”
“Against the man their father trusts better than them,” said Zilpah. “I think it’s pretty nearly the same thing.”
“I’m not a good enemy to have,” said Reuel.
“Better to have you as an enemy,” said Zilpah, “than to trust you as a friend.”
He seized her arm and gripped tightly. Painfully.
“Laban won’t live forever, and then you’ll
be in my hands again.”
“Not if Laban sends me with Leah when she marries.”
“Leah will never marry,” said Reuel. “No man wants her.”
“They will,” said Zilpah. “I’ll make sure of it. Especially now that I know you mean to punish me for refusing to betray Jacob by spying on him as Rachel’s handmaid.”
“You can spy on him as Leah’s handmaiden now, if you know what’s good for you.”
“But all that Jacob and Leah ever discuss is the holy books,” said Zilpah. “Find another traitor.”
“I’m not a traitor,” said Reuel. “I’m Laban’s good servant. This camp prospers under my hand. But Laban is getting older, and one day there’ll be a new master here. It’s a foolish steward who doesn’t befriend the heir.”
“But when the heir is an adder, it’s a disloyal steward who puts him near the master’s bed.”
“What a clever saying. Does it come from one of Jacob’s books? Or are you so good at reading the words of God now that he whispers new proverbs to you privately?”
Zilpah tried to pull away. “Leah will be expecting me.”
“Leah doesn’t wake up until well after dawn,” said Reuel.
“I do when I hear loud talking,” said Leah.
She was standing in the door of her tent. It was probably the first time Zilpah had been grateful to see her mistress.
They had not been talking loudly. But even whispers carried in the still dawn air, and Leah heard better than most.
“Forgive us if we woke you with our conversation,” said Reuel, suddenly careful. He also let go of Zilpah’s arm.
Zilpah made a point of rubbing it. Leah couldn’t see well, but she could see big movements.
“It’s so kind of you,” said Leah, “to help Zilpah find her way back in the darkness. Or did you also help her make water? I just wondered why you were so attentive to my handmaiden.”
“I asked her how you were doing,” said Reuel.
“So she’s spying on me? Oh, Reuel, you’re so wise to make sure you know everything that’s going on in camp. For instance, Zilpah and I are going to my father’s tent now, to suggest to him that it’s time he found a new steward. One who actually serves Father, instead of my worthless elder brothers.”
Reuel abruptly strode to Leah and took her by the arms—perhaps not as roughly as he had handled Zilpah, but then again, her words were a dire threat to the man, and Zilpah knew that men got stupider and more violent when they were afraid.
“If you were listening so carefully, Leah,” said Reuel, whispering right into Leah’s face, “then you must have heard me remind Zilpah that someday it will be Nahor who rules over you, not your father.”
Leah looked upward into his face, and Zilpah rather admired the way her face showed no fear.
“Father will find me a husband,” said Leah, “before Rachel is married. He would never shame me.”
“Your father will send me to find you a husband,” said Reuel.
“Not after he hears what Zilpah and I have to say,” said Leah.
“He’ll never hear it, because you’ll never say it.”
This had gone on long enough, Zilpah decided. Her mother had told her many times how to stop a man who was determined to get his own way by force. “When they’re angry, they don’t think with their heads,” Mother said. “You have to hit them where they’re thinking so their brain can take over.”
By the time Zilpah got close to them, she was already holding a fist-sized stone. She also had the neckline of her gown as open as she could make it.
She leaned in close to Leah, knowing that at that angle, Reuel could see down her dress. With his attention there, he wouldn’t notice much else. “Mistress,” she said urgently, “you’d better believe Reuel. He’s too clever and dangerous to let a couple of girls interfere with his plans. We need him as our friend.”
Leah looked at her with a face that could start a fire. But Zilpah met her with her sauciest I’m-just-teasing grin, and Leah changed her reply before it came out of her mouth. “You’re right,” Leah said. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Do you two think I’m so stupid that I’ll believe this pretense?”
“We don’t think you’re stupid, Reuel,” said Zilpah, sliding between him and Leah. Her breasts pressed against Reuel’s belly. “But I hope there’s more than one way to be your friend.”
“If you think I’m going to fall for your false promises,” Reuel began.
But at that moment Zilpah swung the stone with all her strength, smashing it into Reuel’s crotch. The man cried out in agony and collapsed.
Zilpah immediately grabbed Leah’s hand and began to pull her.
“I can’t go that fast!” said Leah.
“Yes you can,” said Zilpah. “Even pain like that only stops a man for a few moments. We need to get to your father.”
“What’ll you do when I fall down, drag me the rest of the way?”
Zilpah slowed down a little. Leah wasn’t running now. She could keep up without stumbling.
“I thought for a minute you really were going to seduce him,” said Leah.
“That old toad? He doesn’t even remember what women are for.”
“Doesn’t matter what he remembers,” said Leah. “After what you just did, I’m afraid he’s going to end up a eunuch.”
“That would take more than a stone,” said Zilpah.
“Father had better believe us,” said Leah. “Because if he doesn’t, Reuel’s going to have his vengeance.”
“That’s when he’ll become a eunuch,” said Zilpah.
The two girls laughed.
In the end, though, it didn’t matter whether Father believed them. He had his doubts, but when he sent a servant to fetch Reuel to hear his side of the story, Reuel was nowhere to be found. After a little searching, they learned that Reuel had left on horseback, with a few silver baubles and a bundle of fine clothing.
“I take that as a full confession on his part,” said Laban. “What he stole is worthless to me. I wouldn’t waste time trying to track him down to kill him. But the horse has value.” Soon he had a half dozen riders out searching for Reuel, with strict instructions on how to deal with him.
“I just wonder how he managed to get astride a horse,” said Leah.
“I hope it trots all the way to wherever he’s going,” said Zilpah.
Within an hour, a couple of riders returned. They led the horse Reuel had taken. Most of the clothes and trinkets were with them also; they laid them out at Laban’s feet.
“As you said, sir, we left him wearing the very richest clothing.”
“Good,” said Laban. “The robbers on the road will take care of him for us, when they demand his silver and he has none to give them.”
Whether this was what happened or not, they never heard from Reuel again.
And a week later, Nahor and Terah had to sit in their father’s tent and watch as Laban made Jacob the steward of his camp, master of all his flocks and herds. “If you two boys want anything,” said Laban, “just ask Jacob. He’ll give to you according to what we can afford, and based on what you have earned.”
“Earned?” asked Terah feebly.
“Shut up, you fool,” said Nahor.
“Listen to your brother,” said Laban. “By ‘earned,’ I mean that the two of you are going to work as shepherds until you actually know something about the business of this camp. If you slack off, if you don’t work and learn, I will cut you off without an inheritance.”
So it was that Jacob became master in Laban’s house, second only to Laban himself, and Laban’s two older sons began to learn the shepherds’ craft from their cousin.
Jacob and Laban both knew who had been their benefactors in Reuel’s attempt to betray them. Zilpah didn’t know what this might mean for Leah, but for her it meant that both Jacob and Laban now treated her with more respect, greeting her by name and showing her other signs of favor. She had nicer clothing t
o wear—although the necklines were always to Leah’s specifications. The other servants in the camp no longer treated her with contempt, and the rude names were no longer said openly in Zilpah’s presence.
Zilpah’s mother was moved to a tent of her own, and her duties were lighter and included no indignities. If Mother knew that it was Zilpah’s courage and loyalty to Laban that had won her this new treatment, she never gave a sign of it. Instead, she acted as if these privileges were hers by right, and long overdue. “I always told you,” she said to Zilpah, “that one day they’d realize my true worth in this camp.”
Zilpah didn’t bother insisting on whose value was being recognized. Her mother was happy, and so was she.
CHAPTER 19
At first Leah felt as though she was spending every day pretending to be someone else. She would catch herself becoming angry over some slight, and then stop herself, force herself to be silent. Often the best choice was simply to walk away, to go back and hide in her tent. There she would brood about the offense—someone assuming she was incapable of doing a task, or someone expecting her to know something that only people with good vision could possibly know.
Or someone praising Rachel’s beauty and then falling silent when they realized Leah could hear—didn’t they know that praise for Rachel was never an offense to Leah unless they showed so plainly that they thought Leah could not bear to hear it?
However it happened, whatever it was, Leah would hold her tongue and go back to her tent. There she would find that Zilpah was little help. “You should be angry, mistress, they had no right!” Only Zilpah rarely understood what it was that had hurt her feelings, and often added her own inadvertent insults to the original hurt. But even at those times, Leah controlled herself, and instead of flying into a rage at Zilpah, she would ask her to run an errand, or tell her that she needed to sleep.
Zilpah wasn’t stupid. She knew that Leah was getting rid of her because she had given offense. For a while she even asked, “What did I say? Tell me so I won’t do it again!”
Rachel and Leah (Women of Genesis) Page 21