“You don’t understand what?”
“I don’t understand how you ever persuaded a handsome fellow like me to marry you. My heavens”—he shook his head and stared at his reflection with admiration—“I am a handsome man!”
Zara shrieked, jumped up, and began beating on his shoulder. “Why, you awful man!”
“Wait a minute, now. You’re always telling me how handsome I am. I’m just agreeing with you.”
They both burst out laughing. Still holding the mirror, he reached around her and pulled her close. She willingly rested her face against his chest. “Yes, you are handsome,” she murmured.
She lay still in his arms, and Eliezer savored the moment, brushing his hand over her hair. “You know I love the simple things in life. I love just standing here with you. Nothing to do. No problems. Just standing here, holding you in my arms. That’s what I’m going to do for the rest of my life.”
Zara loved to hear him talk like this. He had a poetic fancy that he had kept bottled up all his life, but now that he was in love, he could no longer contain it.
“We’ll starve,” she said. “You have to work.”
“We’ll just live on love,” he said, stroking her cheek.
To Eliezer’s surprise Zara laughed and grabbed his hair, shaking his head gently. “No, you have to work hard and buy me lots of beautiful clothes and rings and copper bracelets. I’m going to be a very demanding wife.”
“And I’m going to be a very demanding husband,” he said. He pulled her forward, held her body against his, and kissed her thoroughly. “Very demanding,” he whispered.
****
Planning the wedding celebration was a joy for Sarah. She insisted that it last for several days, and on the first days she drove all the servants so hard they protested. They made dozens of loaves of solet bread. Olive oil was freshly pressed, wine was strained, and wild game, a sheep, and two cows were slain to provide the meat for the wedding feast.
A large tent, used only for special occasions, was erected and hung with colorful awnings, then lit inside and out by dozens of earthenware lamps on tripods. Thick porridge prepared with sesame oil and lentils was set to boiling in huge pots, and large platters were filled with sprouts of cabbage palm, radishes, and cool cucumbers. Goat’s milk and wine hung in great earthenware jars. Old family treasures were brought out for serving the feast—copper basins, milk vessels, goblets—and as the meal went on, the prospective bride and groom sat on a low stool especially made for two. When the porridge was served, Eliezer dipped out a large spoonful for Zara. “There,” he said, holding the cow’s-horn spoon to her mouth. “I always wanted a fat wife. Eat all you can hold.”
Zara’s laughter at his antics and her sparkling eyes made her even more radiant in her new dress she had been saving for a special occasion. Made of a shiny blue-green material, it caught the reflection of the lamps as she moved. Her eyes followed Eliezer wherever he went, and she was hardly aware of the celebrations going on around her.
Throughout the days of celebration there was feasting, and those who were gifted in song entertained those who had no such gift. Some of the wives and daughters and servant girls joined together in a hymn of praise for a great harvest. It was actually a song to an idol, which Abraham frowned upon, but he could not deny that their singing was beautiful. They created a web of sound with their voices, as if they were weaving together a garment with all the colors of the rainbow.
After they had finished, the men applauded and shouted their approval, and more singing and storytelling followed. As the week’s festivities grew to a close, Eliezer’s eyes met Zara’s. “You’re beautiful,” he said simply. “And you’ll always be beautiful to me.”
“Even when I’m fat?” she teased.
“Even then.”
“Even when I’m old and wrinkled?”
“Your beauty comes from the inside, Zara,” he murmured. “And that will never change.”
She reached forward and touched his face, tears brimming in her eyes, then spilling over. She could say nothing, but joy filled her as fine wine fills a cup.
****
Hagar had long ago learned how to put on a face to hide what was in her heart. The wedding celebration was as bitter an experience as she had ever known, for although she would have died before admitting it, she had always felt a desire for Eliezer. Now as the days of feasting came to a close and she stood and watched the simple ceremony that made the two husband and wife, the bitterness and rage in her boiled over. She waited until the ceremony was over and then forced herself to stand before the pair, who were surrounded by well-wishers. She met Eliezer’s eyes and smiled. “I hope you will be very happy.” Then turning to Zara, she said, “May you have many children.”
“Thank you, Hagar,” Zara said. She tried to feel some warmth toward the woman, but she was still convinced that there was cruelty in her.
Eliezer watched as Hagar turned to leave and then shook his head. “She’s a sad woman,” he whispered.
Zara answered, “Yes, she is. She really has nothing to love.”
“Except Ishmael.”
Zara nodded. “Yes, she has Ishmael.”
****
For a week after the wedding, Zara and Eliezer learned what it meant to be a husband and wife. Hearing other women talk about the marriage night had made Zara a bit apprehensive, but Eliezer, for all his strength, was a gentle man, and by the time the week was over, she met him with a full passion of her own.
As for Eliezer, he was happy in a way he had never dreamed possible. Each day they awoke and found a new joy in simply being together. Abraham had insisted that he turn all of his duties over to the chief herdsman for a few days so they could get away by themselves, and Eliezer had not argued.
When they arose the morning after their return to camp, Zara fixed a special meal for him. He loved roasted kid seasoned with fresh herbs, and Zara had taken care to prepare it just as he liked. She sat down with him as he ate heartily, especially enjoying the plums and raisins soaked in wine.
“I think I’m going to be the one who’ll get fat,” Eliezer said, laughing. “You’re a wonderful cook, wife.”
Zara loved it when he called her “wife,” as he often did. She knew some husbands never showed affection to their wives, at least not in public, but it had pleased her to learn that, like Abraham, he did things quite naturally that other men would have considered a weakness. For instance, as they were walking, he would take her hand and hold it, pressing it from time to time. It was a small thing, but it made her love him more strongly than ever.
“What shall we do today?” Eliezer asked.
“I need to go out and gather some more herbs. If you’re going to eat like this, we’re going to need a good supply.”
“All right. We’ll go now.”
As the two were leaving the camp, Eliezer whispered, “They’re making fun of us,” nodding toward two of the shepherds who were laughing openly at them.
“Why are they laughing?”
“I suspect they know what we’ve been doing.”
Zara flushed, and her chin went up. “Let them mind their own business.”
“Exactly what I say. Come along. I’ll race you to that big rock over there.”
They raced to the rock, laughing and holding hands, then slowed down and wandered over the countryside, searching out the watered spots where they might find the herbs they were looking for. They stopped to take a drink from a stream, and Zara said, “Look, my bag’s almost filled.”
“Better go home, I guess.”
The two turned and started homeward. He took her on a roundabout way, wanting to show her the new cattle he had traded for recently. They were cresting a low hill when Eliezer stopped, uttered a cry of shock, and raced forward.
“What is it?” Zara cried, and then she saw.
Just ahead, down in a natural basin, she saw Isaac and Ishmael and wondered what they were doing together out near the herd. A large bull of a d
ull red color lifted his sweeping horns toward the boys as they approached the animals. He lowered his head in warning and started toward them.
Then Zara witnessed a scene she knew she would never forget as long as she lived. Ishmael grabbed the six-year-old boy by the arms and held him in the bull’s path. Isaac kicked and screamed, trying to escape as the bull picked up speed.
Eliezer dashed madly across the open space to intercept the huge animal. He still had not completely recovered from his wounds, but he forgot all that. Even while straining every nerve, he could see that Ishmael was holding the boy facing the bull, and Isaac was crying and struggling to free himself.
Finally Ishmael shoved the boy forward and, wheeling, dashed away, leaving Isaac in the bull’s path.
The bull was charging full speed now, running directly at the boy, who was struggling to get up. Putting forth every ounce of strength he had, Eliezer began to yell. His only hope was to catch the bull’s attention. He knew that bulls like this had a habit of charging straight on and not turning aside, but he yelled anyway and saw the bull turn his head. He continued to run and scream, and the bull wheeled around and started straight for him.
Eliezer cut at a right angle from the bull’s path, leading the animal away from Isaac. He caught a glimpse of Zara, who was headed toward the boy.
He circled, leading the bull back, dodging in a zigzag pattern to confuse the animal. He finally picked up a fist-sized rock and stood still. In its confusion the bull swung its massive head around, looking in all directions, then spotted Eliezer and charged him. When the bull was close enough, Eliezer yelled and threw the rock, striking the bull on the nose. Blood gushed forth, and the bull stopped and shook his head. Picking up another rock, Eliezer threw and struck again. This time it landed on the beast’s cheekbone. Snorting, the bull turned and trotted back toward the herd.
Assured that they were now safe, Eliezer ran to Isaac and Zara. Ishmael was nowhere to be seen.
“Well, that was a close one, wasn’t it, son?” He knelt down by Isaac, who was cradled in Zara’s arms, and wiped the tears from his cheek. The boy’s face was pale, and he was shaking so badly he could not answer. “Here,” Eliezer said, picking the boy up. “Let’s go back.” Isaac threw his arms around Eliezer’s neck and clung to him fiercely.
They returned to the camp in silence, the grim set to their faces speaking of their firm resolve not to let Ishmael get off so lightly this time.
****
“I’m sorry that I have to tell you these things, master, but it happened exactly as I described. Ishmael deliberately put Isaac into the path of that bull.”
“Eliezer’s right, and it’s not the first time he has placed him in harm’s way,” Zara said. “We tried to tell you before how he almost drowned him.”
Sarah had been listening to all this silently. She saw her husband’s face contort and knew that this time there could be no mistake. Sitting beside Abraham, she grasped his garment until he turned to face her. “Do we have to lose our son, the child of promise, in order for you to learn what’s in Ishmael’s heart?”
Abraham began to tremble. He was a strong man, but his hands were unsteady. He looked down at them, unable to speak.
“If you let Ishmael stay here, he’ll kill Isaac.” Then in a high-pitched wail, Sarah cried, “Cast out the bondwoman and her son!”
The strength in her voice and the fire in her eyes shocked Abraham, and he looked at her for a long time without speaking. Finally he nodded, his mouth pinched into a white line. “Yes,” he whispered. When he arose, his shoulders were drooping, and his feet stumbled as he left the tent.
Sarah began to weep. “He loves Ishmael.”
“I know he does,” Eliezer said, “but Ishmael and Hagar must go.”
“It was my idea for her to have a son by Abraham,” Sarah whispered. “It was the worst mistake I ever made in my life.”
****
Hagar stared at Abraham when he came to her tent. She took one look at his eyes and knew that all was lost. Fearfully Ishmael had told her what had happened, knowing that she would find out soon enough, and now he stood behind her, unable to say a word.
“I would have kept you here forever,” Abraham said, “but I must protect my younger son. The two of you must leave.”
Hagar did not argue. She had known for some time that it might come to this, so she asked simply, “Where will we go?”
Abraham said, “I cannot decide that. I will give you money. Now come and get provisions.”
“You mean we have to leave now, Father?” Ishmael said. And then he stood up straighter, his eyes hard. “You’re casting us off?”
“You’ve cast yourself off, Ishmael,” Abraham said, glaring. He waited for the young man to speak, but Ishmael said no more. “Come. I will see that you have food and water.”
****
After they had gathered the necessary provisions, Abraham accompanied Hagar and Ishmael out of sight of the camp. Now he stood silently, looking at the pair.
Hagar turned to him and whispered, “You never loved me.”
Still Abraham remained silent. He held her eyes for a moment, then turned to meet Ishmael’s gaze. “This is not my choice. It is yours, Ishmael.”
In a flash of anger Hagar whirled and shouted, “You’ll regret this! My son will become a great man. We will have our revenge on you and all your people! Come, my son.”
Abraham stood his ground and watched as the two walked steadfastly away, tears streaming down his cheeks at the pain his choices had brought to so many. Not once did either Hagar or Ishmael look back, and when they had disappeared over a rise, Abraham heard again the voice of the One he loved more than life itself.
“Abraham, do not be so distressed about the boy and your maidservant. Listen to whatever Sarah tells you, because it is through Isaac that your offspring will be reckoned.”
Abraham stood long and listened to the voice that spoke to him. It was a voice filled with comfort, and Abraham, who had thought that nothing could comfort him, found that the Eternal One was indeed able to do all things. He knew he had brought this on himself, but even so, the voice carried no tone of censure, no condemnation. Abraham heard nothing but love, and he fell on his face and cried out, “O Eternal One, you are the strong God, but you are also the God of goodness and mercy.”
Chapter 36
Two oil lamps cast an amber corona of light over the interior of the tent. They twisted the shadows into tortured shapes, shedding yellow, flickering beams on the carpet and walls of the tent. Abraham’s face looked worn, for the lamplight deepened the shadows of his eyes and the hollowness of his cheeks and made the lines of his face more apparent.
The boy who sat across from him had none of these, for at the age of fourteen, Isaac’s face was smooth, his eyes clear, his features showing traces of his mother’s beauty. He studied the game board in front of him carefully, then reached out and moved one of the pieces. He looked up and laughed. He had a good laugh, in keeping with his name, which meant “laughter.” His skin was olive but fairer than most boys of the tribe, more like his mother’s in her youth. His voice was high and clear. “I’ve beaten you again, Father!”
Abraham looked down at the board and shook his head as if he had just awakened from sleep. He searched for a way to extricate himself, then had to concede that he was indeed trapped. His lips turned upward in a smile, and he shook his head. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Isaac. Beating your old father like that!”
Isaac’s face softened and he said gently, “Well, you’re not thinking about the game, Father. You’re thinking about Zara.”
Sarah, who sat holding Zara’s one-year-old infant, smiled at this. Isaac had all the qualities that she most admired in a man—gentleness, goodness, compassion. He can’t even stand to beat his father in a silly game, she thought. Suddenly a sigh caught her attention, and she looked down to see Zara’s sleeping three-year-old daughter curled up on the floor. Looking at the little girl
’s lovely face highlighted by the glow of the oil lamp, Sarah spoke her thought. “These girls are the very image of their mother.”
Abraham turned away from the board and studied the two children. “You’re right,” he said. A glow of humor touched his eyes, and he said, “And it’s a good thing they take after their mother. She’s a lot better looking than Eliezer.”
Isaac spoke up. “I don’t think Eliezer’s ugly, Father.”
“No, of course not. But these girls here, they’re going to be beauties just like Zara.”
Isaac turned his head at the sound of a woman’s cries of agony coming from a nearby tent. “Are you worried about Zara?” he asked Abraham, and then his eyes went to Sarah, as they always did. She and Isaac were very close, and she understood what he was asking.
“Giving birth is always a dangerous matter, son. Many women die bringing new life into the world.”
Isaac grew thoughtful as the two adults watched him. He had a way of thinking things over. One could almost hear his mind working. He was not quick to speak, as a rule, but he often asked very difficult questions.
“Why does having a baby have to be so hard on a woman, Mother?”
Sarah blinked with surprise. She glanced at Abraham, who was waiting for her answer, his hand covering his mouth. She knew that he was smiling at her, but this didn’t trouble her. “I don’t know, son.”
This answer did not satisfy Isaac. “I don’t see why everything can’t be different.”
“What do you mean by different?” Abraham asked.
Isaac struggled to put into words what was troubling him. He looked up and met his father’s eyes. “Why are some things in this world so beautiful and some so terrible?”
Abraham shook his head in wonder. “Men have been asking that question for thousands of years, son.”
“And women too,” Sarah added, rocking the sleeping child back and forth. “The world is not what God intended it to be, son. He made it good, but people sinned and brought pain and suffering into the world, spoiling His perfect creation.”
No Woman So Fair Page 38