“Oh, there’s no reason why you can’t keep that up, but the big fortune is to be made in trading. We’ll send ships up the river and down. We’ll charge freight for some,” Garai went on excitedly. He grew animated as he spoke of the profits to be made, and for the rest of the afternoon he entertained the prospective bridegroom royally.
Finally he said, “Well, we’ll talk more of this later, but now it’s time to go home. I’m anxious for you to meet the rest of my family—especially Sarai!”
****
“Another suitor,” Zulda said, helping Sarai dress. Her nimble fingers quickly fastened the abundant black hair of her mistress with ivory pins. “Aren’t you excited?”
“No, I am not. He’s probably so old he’s toothless and has legs like sticks.”
Sarai was in a bad mood. It had taken a great deal of effort to remove the stinking mud from the river the day before. She had insisted that Zulda give her three baths, and when she was satisfied, she was anointed with sweet-smelling oil yesterday and again today. In her imagination she could still smell the stench of the mud that had coated her from head to foot. It had been almost impossible to get out of her hair, and she had almost vomited because some of it had gotten into her mouth.
She had slept poorly that night, going over and over in her mind the humiliation of the mishap on the bridge. She imagined that many who had seen her plight were aware of who she was and were laughing at her all over the city.
Knowing her mistress well, Zulda flitted around, making adjustments to the silky dress Sarai had put on. “But it’s so exciting that this may be the husband you’ll have.”
“I feel like a prize sheep that my brother’s auctioning off,” Sarai grunted. “He might as well say, ‘How much am I bid for this woman?’ Slaves are sold the same way.”
“But maybe this will be the one you want.”
“All Garai is interested in is how much money his family has,” Sarai sniffed. She stood up, looked down at herself, then drew her lips into a tight line. “Well, this will be a brief courtship, I can tell you that.” She moved toward the door, determination in every line of her body.
****
Abram had brought only one formal robe, and he wore it now as he waited in the room where the family gathered for their meals. It was a fine room, large and airy, with the tables made of wood such as he had never seen. It was polished smooth and had a dark glow to it. He commented on it, and Garai nodded with pride. “I don’t know where that lumber came from. I’ve never seen anything like it. I only know I paid a pretty price for it!”
“It is indeed beautiful—worth the price you paid, I’m sure.”
Abram looked around the room, which was lit with lamps burning with a sweet-smelling oil. He had met Garai’s mother, Zaroni, and his sister, Hanna, who was very curious. She had asked many questions, and Abram had answered them politely. He was surprised at her attractiveness. She was a small woman, dark-complected, and not at all unattractive as Captain Sargon had insisted. He found her even pretty, though her mouth was small and her eyes somehow seemed too close together. But she certainly was not the homely woman the captain had described. Hanna had informed him that she was engaged to be married and had gushed, “If you and my sister get married, it would be very nice. We’d probably be having children at the same time.”
Abram had flushed, embarrassed that she should speak of such things when he had no intention of going through with the marriage plans.
Zaroni had smiled at her older daughter’s carelessness and smoothed it over. She now sat beside Abram questioning him gently, and Abram found himself liking her very much. When she asked about his family, he gave her a quick overview of them, and she smiled, saying, “It sounds like you have a fine family.”
“I have,” Abram said quickly. “Of course, I’m one of the lesser members.”
“Lesser in what way?”
“Pretty much every way,” Abram admitted. He smiled lamely and shook his head. “I’m not enough of a businessman to please my father and brothers.”
Garai, who had been listening, exclaimed at once, “Well, we can change all that, Abram! If you marry Sarai, you and I will be in business together. I can teach you all there is to know about trading up the river.”
Abram tried not to let his face show his dismay at this comment. He merely smiled as if in agreement and listened as Garai went on talking about the business.
“Sarai is always late,” Hanna said petulantly.
“Maybe I’d better send for her again,” Garai said. “You know how women are, Abram.”
Abram had no chance to reply, for at that moment a woman in a flowing, silky gown entered the room. Abram stood up and his eyes flew open. He had only caught a glimpse of the face of the woman he had shoved off the bridge, but he knew he would never forget it—and there she stood before him.
As for Sarai, she stared at Abram, shocked beyond belief. She had not forgotten the face of the man who had been so clumsy, and now she took a deep breath, anger racing through her. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.
Abram could not speak. Garai and the others stared at Sarai without understanding. “What’s wrong, Sarai?” Zaroni said.
“This is the man that shoved me off into the mud!”
Abram could feel his whole face and neck turning red as everyone in the room stared at him. “Yes, I’m afraid I am that man,” Abram said meekly. “I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry!” Sarai cried. Her eyes were flashing, her fists doubled up. “I won’t have this man in my sight. He’s nothing but a country bumpkin! Get him out of the house, Garai!” She whirled and ran out of the room.
A dead silence followed, and Abram realized with some relief that his embarrassment might well be his salvation. He waited for Garai to dismiss him so that he could make his apologies and return to his home immediately.
Garai, however, smiled apologetically and cleared his throat. “My sister is a little excitable at times.”
“That’s right,” Zaroni put in quickly. “Let me talk to her, Abram. She gets over things quickly.”
Abram managed a smile, but it came hard. “I’m not sure that you should even try. I don’t blame her. It was an awful thing.”
Zaroni was greatly pleased by the young man’s humility. She put her hand on his arm and said, “Try to be patient, Abram. She has a good heart.”
She turned and left the room, and Garai said quickly, “Sit down, Abram. You must eat.”
But Abram had lost his appetite. He wanted nothing more than to be out of this house and back in the fields with his flocks in Ur. He sat down heavily, hoping that this woman would refuse to forgive him and he would have his wish.
Chapter 4
Although Abram wanted to leave the house of Garai immediately and return to Ur, it quickly became obvious that his host wanted him to stay for the entire two weeks his parents had arranged for the visit. For almost a week he remained a nervous and uncomfortable guest. He saw Sarai several times but only briefly, for she avoided him whenever possible. She refused to eat meals with the family as long as Abram was there.
As a result of Sarai’s avoidance, Abram became very well acquainted with Zaroni, Sarai’s mother. Garai was constantly busy with his trading ventures, and Hanna was equally occupied with Eliphaz, who seemed a weak man to Abram, but he said nothing of it to the others.
Zaroni had made it her business to make Abram feel as comfortable as possible, knowing that he was deeply embarrassed by the accident on the bridge and Sarai’s refusal to forgive him for it. He showed much humility and understanding over Sarai’s rejection of him, and as the days passed, Zaroni found herself liking him more and more.
Zaroni loved flowers and was surprised to learn that Abram knew more about them than most men. He even helped her with some transplanting. Late one afternoon the two of them were working together over a particularly fine specimen he had found outside the city on an early walk that morning and had brought to her as a gift.
Zaroni had been very pleased, and now the two talked of flowers as they reset it in a decorative pot. “Not many men love flowers as you do, Abram.”
“I’ve always loved flowers. I suppose it’s because I’m out in the fields all the time. My mother loves them too. I think you’d like her. You two are much alike.”
“Really? That pleases me very much. Perhaps we’ll be able to arrange a visit soon.” She turned to face Abram and saw his embarrassment at her suggestion. Now she drew the young man out by saying, “Tell me more about what you do when you’re home.”
“Oh, nothing really exciting.” Abram smiled faintly. “My brother, Nahor, is a shepherd and so am I. We stay with our flocks most of the time.”
“What about your other brother? Haran is his name?”
“Yes. He manages the family’s business in Ur. He works in town most of the time.”
“And your father. What does he like to do?”
“He likes business.” Abram shrugged. He said no more for a time and then finally admitted, “They think I’m too religious.”
“Oh?” Zaroni looked startled. “Is that such a bad thing? I would think it good.”
“They don’t think so. They say I’m like my grandfather. His name was Nahor, the same as my brother.”
“And he was very interested in the gods?”
“Well…not so much the gods. He was interested in one particular God. From what I understand, he thought there was only one God—an all-powerful God.”
“You mean An, ruler of the heavens?”
Abram bit his lower lip, then shook his head. “I don’t think so. I don’t think he put his trust in any of the gods of Sumer.”
“I don’t understand that.”
“Neither did the family,” Abram explained, “but my grandfather didn’t believe that any of the gods were very powerful. He was convinced that there was only one God who was supremely powerful…and he struggled to find Him.” Abram shrugged his shoulders and said, “I guess I’m like him, or so my family says.”
“But you’ve told me that you pray to quite a few of the gods.”
“Yes…but I think these stone gods have ears of stone. I don’t think they hear my prayers. And there are so many of them! Gods for the sun, the moon, the rain, the animals, the plants. Even tools! My brother has a stone idol he prays to each morning for the staff he uses to tend the sheep. Imagine! How can anyone know which gods to pray to—and what it will take to placate them?”
Zaroni had never really thought about their religion in this way. Nor had she ever met anyone who had questioned it as this young man was daring to do. Not knowing how to answer him, she sat quietly waiting for him to continue.
Abram watched Zaroni’s questioning face and, for a fleeting moment, thought how attractive she was. Like her daughter Sarai, he realized. He had found himself thinking more and more about Sarai. Her harsh attitude toward Abram had not diminished her beauty in his mind. In truth, he had never seen a woman so beautiful in all of his life. But now he put her aside in his mind and said to Zaroni, “I think for most people, religion is a dreadfully miserable affair.”
“You surprise me, Abram.”
“Why? It’s true, isn’t it? People fear all these deities who hover over us, supposedly ready to punish us for displeasing them. If we don’t bring the proper offering, we’ll get a flood or maybe a drought. That’s what has made religion so powerful—fear.”
“But, Abram, don’t you think we should fear the gods?”
“Something inside me tells me we should love the gods…. But how can we”—Abram shrugged his shoulders—“when they bring nothing but troubles.”
The more Abram talked, the more Zaroni admired him. He was utterly honest and humble, not like the other suitors who had called on Sarai. Feeling more comfortable with this man than any previous suitor, she said gently, “I know Sarai is upset with you right now, but I hope you won’t give up.”
Abram shot her a glance. “She’ll never forgive me.”
“Oh, yes she will. I’ve told you before she has a fiery temper, and she’s spoiled to the bone. But deep under all that, she has a good heart.”
“If she has a heart like you, then she certainly does.” Abram smiled. “But I’m sure she would never consider me as a possible husband.”
****
“He’s nothing but a clumsy oaf!” Sarai cried to her mother later in her room.
After Zaroni’s conversation with Abram, she had gone to Sarai’s bedroom to try to talk to her about him. She passed along her impressions that the young man had a gentle heart and was basically good, but Sarai merely tossed her head and denied it.
“He’s very intelligent,” Zaroni insisted, “and one of the kindest men I’ve ever met. Not like most young men, who are very selfish.”
“He shoved me off the bridge into the mud!”
Zaroni’s temper flared, unusual for her. “You’re acting like a fool, girl! He accidentally bumped into you, and you hate him for it. I thought you had better sense.”
Sarai stared at her mother open-eyed, amazed at her uncharacteristic outburst of anger. “Why, Mother, I’ve never seen you so upset.”
“I’ve never seen you make such a fool out of yourself! You go around crying and whimpering and complaining because you can’t find a husband who’s young and strong and yet kind to women. And when one comes along, because of one incident, you shut him out. Don’t you see how foolish you are?”
Sarai dropped her head, and her face flushed at her mother’s cutting words. She finally lifted her eyes and whispered, “I’m sorry, Mother.”
“That’s my girl.” Zaroni smiled and embraced her daughter. “He’s very shy. You’ll have to show him that you have no ill feelings. Will you do that?”
“I…I’ll try, Mother. Really I will!”
****
Abram was shocked when Sarai stepped into the dining room later that evening after the meal had already started. He stood up at once and was surprised when she managed a small smile.
“Hello. Am I late?” she asked meekly.
“Not at all,” Zaroni replied. “Here, sit down. This is fresh mutton, and you know how good it is when Mahita cooks it.”
Abram said little, but there was a break in the tension. He could not help admiring Sarai’s smooth, pearly skin. She had the most beautiful complexion he had ever seen on any woman, and her eyes! They were enormous and beautifully shaped, and when she occasionally lifted them, he saw that the anger and bitterness in them had given way to a gentleness he had not seen before. She’s so beautiful, he thought. When she suddenly asked him if he were enjoying his visit to Uruk, he said quickly, “Oh yes.”
Abram was so inexperienced with women, he did not know how to take the matter any further and finished his meal in awkward silence.
When the men rose to take a walk around the courtyard and talk business, Zaroni pulled Sarai aside and told her, “You’ll have to be more outgoing, Sarai. He’s painfully shy.”
“Why should he be shy? He’s thirty years old. He should have had some experience with women.”
“From what he tells me, I don’t think he has. But for that very reason, he is more likely to be a faithful husband to you, Sarai. Be kind to him. I know he admires you. I can see it in his eyes.”
Sarai was well aware that Abram admired her, for she could gauge the admiration of young men. But she was not sure how to mend the breach between them as a result of her unkindness. The whole next day she thought about it. She had actually gotten over her anger by now, but she still found Abram to be a strange young man. Although he had a good smile and sometimes spoke with feeling about things, she was disturbed that he was so tongue-tied around her. Why doesn’t he say something? she often wondered. Why doesn’t he even try to take my hand or express his feelings for me? That is what most men would do who come around looking for a wife.
For the next several days, Abram spent much time out with Garai studying the business, although Sarai
sensed he did not particularly care for it. More than once he brought in flowers from the fields for Sarai, which pleased her, but it was not enough. She told her mother, “He’ll have to do more than bring flowers if he’s going to win a bride!”
****
At the marketplace one morning Sarai moved slowly past the stalls, accompanied by her maid. Zulda carried a basket for the fruit Sarai selected from the vendors. She ignored their shrill cries of “Buy here, lady! Buy here!”—choosing whatever pleased her the most. She enjoyed her visits to the market, which gave her a good excuse to get out of the house.
As she looked over the produce she found herself thinking more and more of Abram and wondering how long he would stay. He might as well go home if he’s not going to make any effort to win me, she thought. She was disappointed at his reluctance to woo her, for as her mother had said, the young man did have much to commend him. Perhaps of most importance, he was not old. Sarai had a horror of being given to an old man. And he was not crude, as many of the men had been who had offered themselves. If he would only speak up and show a little more interest in me, she said to herself, realizing by her own inner comment that her pride was hurt. She was accustomed to being courted in a more aggressive manner, and for the first time in her life, it occurred to her, Maybe he doesn’t think I’m attractive. The thought startled her, and as she moved down the line of stalls, she became preoccupied with it.
She was brought out of her thoughts by the sound of screaming. Glancing ahead, she saw a large, burly man beating a young woman no more than fourteen or fifteen with a cane. The girl wore the dress of a slave, and the stick left stripes on her bare shoulders. She cowered on the ground, covering her head with her arms and trying to protect herself, crying piteously as the blows descended.
Sarai was not an especially cruel young woman, but she had grown up in a society that showed little pity toward the unprotected. Slaves could be beaten at the whim of their master, and this was not the first time Sarai had seen a slave beaten. True, the girl was younger than most, and the man was striking harder, so she felt a brief moment of compassion. But she knew there was nothing to be done. The slave was the absolute property of the owner, and no one could interfere.
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