“No.”
Hagar said no more, but when they got within sight of the palace, she said, “You’d better not be seen with me.” She bowed before him and smiled, knowing she made a pretty picture for any man. “I will see you again, will I not?”
“I trust that you will, Hagar.”
Eliezer watched her as she went into the palace. He turned back, and his mind was full—a mixture of concern for his mistress Sarai, but at the same time he found the young woman Hagar as exciting as any woman he had ever met.
Chapter 18
The night sky was sprinkled with more stars than Abram could remember seeing in many years. Looking up in the moonlight, he almost stumbled over the root of a large tree that loomed out to his left. Catching his balance, he stopped and made his way to the trunk. It was a terebinth tree, short trunked, with spreading branches that blotted out part of the heavens above him.
Abram sat down, aware that his legs were weary and that indeed his whole body ached with fatigue. His eyes were heavy and gritty, for he had slept only in fits since the slave girl Hagar had brought Sarai’s message. That was close to two weeks ago! he thought with alarm. Leaning his head back, he felt the roughness of the bark against his hair and pushed his head against it until the pressure became painful. The night air was so much cooler than the heat of the day, and for a time he sat there struggling against his desire for sleep.
Abram had prayed every way he could think of. He had prayed aloud in a soft voice. At times his voice had risen to a crescendo, but his spirit was in so much agony, he didn’t care who heard him. He had prayed sitting, standing, walking, and at times had grown so agitated he’d flung himself full-length on the ground with his lips in the dust, crying out to the Eternal One.
He was met with silence and felt nothing but a deep darkness, like a beast trying to drag him into a silent black hole in the earth. He thought it would be a pleasure to surrender to death, simply to escape the agony that was clawing at his insides.
One day was like every other day to him now, and what little he ate was like eating the dust of Egypt—tasteless and gritty. He even forgot to drink until, from time to time, he would become aware of the fact that his lips were dry as parchment and his tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth.
The tree had a strong and pungent aroma, and Abram reached back, extending his arms and feeling the rough bark. He pressed his hands against it and curled his fingers, clutching at the bark and breaking off small fragments. He brought them to his nose and smelled their sharp, aromatic fragrance, distinct from other trees. From far off in the distance came the cry of a wild dog. Its plaintive wail emphasized Abram’s loneliness, and he was seized with the temptation to emulate the animal and howl his miseries on the Egyptian air.
Abram felt drugged with weariness. He could no longer even speak clearly, so he had avoided the others, spending much of his time by himself out in the pastures rather than returning to camp. But now he knew he desperately needed rest and needed to get back to his tent. He tossed down the pieces of bark and struggled to his feet, so weak he had to grasp ahold of the tree trunk for support. He gained his footing, then leaned back against the bark, trying to gather strength for the walk home.
Leaning there, he glanced up through the leafy branches and saw the stars twinkling. “O Eternal One,” he whispered, “you made all these stars. Every one of them. I could not count them in a lifetime. You made this earth and the rivers and the lakes and the streams. It was your hand, O God, that pushed up the mountains and hollowed out the valleys. Every creature in the sea, large and small, was created by your hand. The beasts of the earth, every bird and every four-footed animal and all of the reptiles, these too you created. O Eternal One, you can do all things. I am weary of my own voice, and I am a child crying into the void. Please…speak to me, O God, as you have in the past. I ask again that you deliver my wife from the hand of the one who holds her. The whole land of Egypt trembles at his voice, but you are not afraid, for you are the almighty and everlasting one. Let me know that you will not leave Sarai helpless in the hands of that man!”
No sooner had Abram uttered these words than he heard again the blessed voice of the Eternal One!
“Do not be afraid, Abram my son, for I have heard your cry. I am pleased that you have not doubted me but have continued to have strong faith, even though you saw nothing and heard nothing. That is the reason I have loved you and have chosen you out of all human beings that I’ve created—because you have such a large capacity for faith.”
Abram did not open his eyes or move but simply stood listening, no longer conscious of the roughness of the tree against which he leaned. Now he thought only of the voice of his almighty God, who spoke such words of strength and comfort to him.
“Thank you, O Eternal One. I have been so afraid, for I love Sarai.”
“Yes, you love Sarai, Abram, but not as much as I do. I am the God of love as I am the God of justice. Now do not be afraid, for I have already put my hand upon the pharaoh and upon his court. Sarai, your wife, will be delivered into your hands, and when that has come to pass, I command you to leave Egypt and go back to Canaan.”
“Yes, O Eternal One,” Abram whispered, and then he began to thank his God and to joyfully praise Him. The weariness fell away, and with tears running down his face, he lifted his arms. He knew that God was not located upward any more than He was located downward. He was simply the God that was everywhere. Nevertheless, Abram held up his head, and praise poured from his lips as the starlight fell across his face. He gave thanks, as though what the Eternal One had promised had already come to pass.
****
Ahotep, the court physician, cowered and covered his head with his hands. He whimpered, “Please, O great Pharaoh, please do not beat your poor servant!”
Pharaoh had picked up a reed staff from one of the golden pots. The reeds were there merely for decorative purposes, but now he used one to strike the physician, again and again until it splintered. Pharaoh threw the remains to the floor and screamed, “You are a fraud! I will have you flayed alive!”
Ahotep tried to speak. “Please, O God of Egypt, I promise that all will be well.”
“All will be well? I have tried all your remedies, and they are worthless. Get out of my sight!”
Ahotep scrambled to his feet and ran out of the room, his pale face lined with the stripes where the reed had struck him. Panting, he shoved himself through the door, colliding with the high priest Menhades.
“What is going on?” Menhades demanded, looking at the stripes on Ahotep’s face. “Did the Pharaoh strike you?”
“Yes, he’s lost his mind!”
“Gods do not lose their minds,” Menhades said with a cynical smile. “What happened?”
“I went in to treat his affliction, and he just started screaming. He was violent. I know the treatment is painful, but it’s necessary.”
“You still do not know what this plague is?”
Ahotep was a small, fragile man, and his hands trembled violently. He was wearing a wig that had been knocked askew, and now he pulled it from his head and rubbed his hand over the welt. “I have never seen anything like it, and I have seen every disease in Egypt at one time or another—and most of those in other lands. It…it is not a normal sickness.”
“Have any more men in the court been afflicted?”
“Yes. Frenahoe sent for me this morning.” Ahotep wiped his eyes with his hands, for the tears had begun to flow. “It is the same with him. Lesions and sores mostly around the private parts—and impotence. He cannot be with a woman.”
“And it is all among the members of the court? Commoners have not been afflicted? You had no reports of such?”
“No. Only Pharaoh and his highest officials.” Suddenly Ahotep stared at the high priest. “Sir, forgive me, but have you—?”
“No!” Menhades said sharply. He too had been frightened by the inexplicable plague that had attacked the high court of Egypt. It had be
gun only three days ago when seven men, including the pharaoh and his highest advisors and closest friends, had sent for Ahotep and the high priest. The rash had been the same in all cases, and Ahotep had treated them as he had treated other rashes. But the raging sickness had spread swiftly, the sores growing worse by the hour, so that now everyone in the capital knew that one of the gods had put his hand on Pharaoh.
Menhades said quickly, “If the pharaoh dies, the country will be lost. There is so much trouble now. Could this be a poison that an enemy has inflicted on us?”
“Not a physical enemy, sir.”
Menhades stared at the physician. “Are you telling me that it is one of the gods that has done this?”
Ahotep feared the high priest, who had great power. “I think the gods are angry, but I cannot tell why. It is you who must find the answer, O High Priest, not a poor physician.”
Menhades stared at Ahotep, speechless. He questioned him long and hard about the remedies and about sicknesses, but Ahotep stuck to his story. The physician finally said in a trembling voice, “It is not a natural sickness. It came too quickly and it struck only a select few, only those in the high court. How could it be anything else, O Menhades?”
Menhades suddenly had a thought. “If I were you, I would keep out of sight for a few days. You know how Pharaoh is. He could have your head chopped off in a moment if the thought struck him.”
“I will go to Thebes. Send for me when—”
“I will send for you when he is cured—or when he is dead. Those are the only two ways of safety for any of us.”
Menhades turned and walked swiftly toward the house of women. He ignored the servants who greeted him, and as soon as Ahut appeared, he said, “I will speak with the Hebrew woman, Sarai.”
“Is the pharaoh worse?”
“Don’t ask me questions. Bring the woman to me. I want to speak to her alone. No eavesdroppers.”
“Certainly—certainly!” Ahut muttered. He ran quickly, and ten minutes later Menhades turned to see Sarai, who had entered the room. She was wearing a simple linen garment that was not as provocative as the Egyptians wore.
“You sent for me, sir?”
“Yes. I must speak plainly with you.”
“Have I offended Pharaoh in some way?”
“I cannot tell.” Menhades came to stand before her. He was so tall she had to lift her head to look at him. “You are aware of the pharaoh’s sickness?”
“I have heard only a little.”
“Have you heard that six of our highest officials have also been afflicted with a similar disease?”
“I have not heard the number, but the rumors are everywhere that there is such a plague.”
“Oh, you call it a plague!”
“Pardon me, sir. I do not know what to call it,” Sarai said.
Her calmness was not lost on Menhades. He was aware of her strong faith in her God to protect her.
“I will ask you directly, woman. Do you think that your God has sent this sickness to Pharaoh and his court?”
Sarai’s heart leaped, knowing that this was the answer from the Eternal One!
“I have told the pharaoh, who asked me to become his wife, that the eternal God whom I serve does not favor the Hebrews mixing with other races. But he would not heed me. I think it is entirely possible, sir, that this sickness is a warning from the Eternal One.”
Menhades stared at the woman. Her eyes were clear, and there was such certainty in her voice and attitude that he knew he had to take some action. “I will talk to you later,” he said. He whirled, his linen skirt swirling about his knees as he hurried out of the room.
“Thank you, O Eternal One,” Sarai said, a joyous light in her eyes. She went back to her room, where she found Hagar waiting for her, as always. “I believe that I will soon be leaving this place, Hagar, and I thank you for your services.”
“But you will not leave me!” Hagar said, running over to Sarai and falling on her knees before her. “Please take me with you! The pharaoh himself gave me to you.”
“You do not know what you ask, Hagar. Life here is easy. Life on the desert is hard.”
“Do you think I do not know that? I came from the desert, and look at this.” Hagar turned around and pulled down the top of her dress. Her back was striped with old wounds, and some not so old. “You would not do this to me, would you, mistress?”
Sarai was horrified. She had seen slaves beaten, but this woman had endured torment. “Pull your dress up. You may go with me. You will be my servant.”
Hagar did as she was told, her eyes filled with tears. “Thank you, mistress. I will serve you well!”
****
Menhades went directly to the pharaoh and found him weeping in pain. As Menhades bowed before him, the pharaoh cried out, “Why do the gods torment me so when I honor all of them!”
Menhades knew that his political career, and, indeed, his very life, might be on the line. To suggest that Pharaoh had made a mistake was unthinkable, but there was no other alternative. Taking a deep breath, the high priest said, “I think you have offended the God of the Hebrews.”
Pharaoh had been crouched over with pain. Now he forced himself to straighten up. “You mean the woman Sarai?”
“Yes. I have been talking to her, and she says it is their custom that Hebrews marry only within their own people.”
“I meant no harm.” Pharaoh’s face had grown gray with fear. “Quick, Menhades, send for her brother. We must make it right.”
“At once, O Pharaoh!”
****
Abram had come to the gates many times during the past weeks, and always before he had been rebuffed by Noestru, but this time he was met by the high priest himself, who bowed to him in a most unusual gesture. Abram returned the bow and said, “I have come according to your word.”
“I thank you for your promptness. The pharaoh wishes to see you.”
As the two men walked toward the palace, Menhades studied the tall man beside him. It was his business to know men, and there was strength in the face of the Hebrew that impressed him. “We have a problem, Abram. The pharaoh is sick, as well as several of his high officials.”
“I have heard of the sickness.”
Menhades had it on the tip of his tongue to inquire more, but he thought better of it and said simply, “I hope you can do something to help our god the pharaoh.”
“I am not a physician.”
The answer was spare but was delivered clearly and with a glance that warned Menhades that Abram did not come in humility. There was a confidence about him that was almost frightening.
Menhades said no more but brought Abram into the room where the pharaoh languished on his bed. He had been drugged for the pain, but he sat up with the help of his servant as the two men entered.
“Pharaoh, this is Abram, the prophet of the Eternal One.”
Pharaoh began to quiver. “Please, Abram, tell me. Have I offended your God?”
“Our women do not marry people outside of our own race,” Abram said. He was studying the pharaoh, who was a pitiful sight. He had heard that the sores brought on by the plague were terribly painful. Most of these were hidden by the light garment the pharaoh wore, but he could see the lines of pain in the man’s face.
“I was not aware of this,” the pharaoh said meekly.
“Did the woman not tell you?” Abram demanded strongly. “And I must tell you this. The woman is my wife.”
“Your wife! They told me she was your sister.”
Abram saw that his words had horrified Pharaoh. “The men of my people often call their wives ‘sister,’” he explained. “It is a term of affection.” His explanation had some truth to it, and Abram was relieved that Pharaoh believed him.
“I did not know that,” the pharaoh cried. “Your God cannot blame me! I am innocent!” He was shaking frightfully now, and he held out his hand. “Pray for me to your God. Take your wife and go, and I will give you even more cattle.”
/> “The gifts are not necessary,” Abram said, knowing that his prayer had been effective. He also knew that this pharaoh would now be aware that the Eternal One was no mere block of stone but a living, paralyzing force. “I will pray for you now, and you will be healed.”
“Yes! Yes! Pray for me now! Quickly!”
Abram lifted his voice and prayed for the pharaoh. He had never had such assurance in all of his life, and his prayer was short and direct. When he had finished he said, “You have been healed of the plague, you and your men. I will take my people and leave Egypt.”
“You must take the gifts. Menhades, see that he has more cattle. Hundreds of them! See to it!”
“It shall be done, O Pharaoh.” Menhades touched Abram’s arm, and the two left the room.
Menhades was stunned by what he had just seen, and he whispered to Abram, “Do you really think he was healed?”
“Yes, you will find that he is truly healed—and the others also. Now bring my wife to me at once.”
“At once, O Abram, at once!”
****
Menhades burst into Sarai’s room without bothering to knock. Sarai was sitting down, and Hagar was fixing her hair. Sarai saw the excitement and fear on the face of the high priest.
“Quickly, you must go!” Menhades shouted.
“Go?” Sarai said. “Go where?”
“Your husband is here, and you must go with him at once.”
Sarai then laughed aloud. She turned to Hagar and said, “Did I not tell you that the Eternal One would set us free? Come, we will leave this place.”
Menhades waited impatiently while the two women gathered their belongings. “Is the slave girl going with you?” he asked.
“Yes. The pharaoh himself gave her to me as a gift.”
“Then take her and go in the name of all the gods!”
Sarai could not help laughing. “You have been anxious to have me as your guest, but now you are anxious for me to leave.”
Menhades found himself afraid, a rare experience for him. But he had seen a miracle, and he whispered, “Please, Lady Sarai, go with your husband and leave Egypt at once.”
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