by Caryl McAdoo
In just a few beats of his heart, the chariot reached the palace.
The official who rode with him stepped out first, bowed before Abram, then nodded toward a long flight of marble stairs leading to what appeared to be the palace’s main entrance.
With each step the heaviness on his heart increased.
Why, Lord? Why have You brought me here?
The door opened then closed as fast. The few flies that entered the room fell dead to the floor. Her Egyptian maid drew near before throwing off the shroud of sheer cloth. “Pharaoh bids you come, my lady.”
Sarai stared at Hagar. “Did he say why?”
“Yes. He’s sent for your husband.”
She jumped to her feet and searched the piles of clothes and robes she’d been given. “Do I have time for a bath?”
“No, my lady. Once the master learned the real reason for the plagues, he dispatched his own chariot and half of the remaining palace guards. We must hurry.”
“Help me then. And you, too, must look your best.”
“Me? Why me?”
“Because you’re coming with me so that you may whisper in my ear what the king is saying. You know I don’t understand the Hamite tongue.”
“Of course.” She hurried to the pile and went to digging. “The emerald, my lady?”
Soon Sarai strode out of her lavish prison room with the girl half a step behind. The flies fell and the frogs jumped into the walls as though scrambling to get away, piling in heaps. The few guards still standing went rigid and extended their spears to arm’s length above her path, but made no attempt to block her way—as if saluting her as she passed through the halls.
Metal on marble behind her sounded, and she turned to look. The men slammed their spears back at their sides. One spouted what sounded to be high praise. She glanced at the girl. “What did he say?”
Hagar looked behind her then drew close. “I didn’t fully understand, but now he’s on his knees bowing toward you.”
“Tell him not to. I’m not worthy of praise. He should worship the God of Abram, and only Him, for He is the One True God.”
The girl raced away, swatting flies and stepping on frogs, then returned in time to guide Sarai in the way she should go. She’d never seen anything like the palace, so grand and vast, nothing even to compare. Surely, she’d have lost her way without the handmaiden.
After at least a quarter turn of the waterwheel, she reached an entrance to what the girl pronounced to be the throne room. The guards opened the double doors without a word, both men covered in boils with flies circling their shrouded heads.
Her husband stood dead center of the room. The flies swarmed everywhere except around Abram. Those coming too close fell dead, forming a ring around his feet. The fat toads, constantly licking the air for their feast, never crossed the dark circle of dead flies, remaining a full three strides away from God’s prophet.
The Egyptian king—or god—covered in layers of sheer cloth on what appeared to be a gold and ivory throne, spewed hateful words toward Abram.
Sarai tugged on Hagar’s sleeve.
“He says, ‘Why have you done this unto me? Why did you not tell me that she was your wife?’ ”
Sarai’s heart swelled as her dear heart only stood before the king, not even bothering to answer the man hiding behind the veils to keep the biting beasts off him. The ruler spoke again, his anger obvious.
The girl continued. “He says, ‘Why did you say she is my sister? I might have taken her to wife!’ ” Pharaoh stood. The shroud fell from his shoulder, revealing bloody, pus-filled boils. He pointed right at Sarai. “Behold your wife! Take her, and go your way.”
The king turned to those who waited upon him. “Provide for this man and his wife—take all that she has and deliver them back to their people, giving escort to the border.”
Not a soul said a word. The servants turned to leave followed by Abram and she and her maid behind him. Some even fell to the ground in worship as God’s prophet strode out of the palace. Sarai moved to his side. The girl remained right behind her. Abram slipped his hand into hers at the top of the steps. He smiled. “I love you, Wife.”
She wanted to be mad at him, but the Lord his God had worked it all out; proven Himself once again to be the One True God, the only God. “I love you, too, Husband.”
“Who’s this young lady?”
“Hagar, my new handmaiden.” Sarai reached and stroked the girl’s jet black hair. Isn’t she pretty?”
He chuckled. “Not compared to you, my love. None are as fair as my Sarai.”
If only that were true. Surely bareness marred her looks—at the least in Abram’s eyes. How she longed for God to give her a baby. Before it was too late—to retain the birthright. He had to have an heir.
The closer to the border, the lighter Abram’s soul became. His God had again proven himself. Just as He carried Noah over the troubled waters, He delivered Abram. He glanced over his shoulder and chuckled at his multiplied caravan. Even in his poor decision, The Lord brought His blessings and made him rich beyond measure.
Once over the border in Canaan land again, Pharaoh’s men turned back, and Abram called for camp. While his moving city took shape, he called his steward to his tent. The man came close then fell on his face. “Master, the boy said you had need.”
“Yes. Of the new servants the Lord has given us, are there any smiths?”
Eliezer rose to his knees then leaned back. “Yes, lord. Several.”
Abram motioned for the man to stand. “And do we have any who are schooled in the way of war?”
Upright, the man’s chest swelled. “I, sir, served with Tidal, King of Nations for two springs. I am well trained in the art of battle.”
“Bless the Lord! His mercy endures forever! Have the smiths forge weapons. And each day, spend a hand’s worth of the day’s sun training those men born in my house.”
“What of your brother’s son’s men?”
“No. Only my servants, just those I brought from Haran. If Lot desires, he may have his join with mine, but don’t say a word to him about it.”
“Yes, my lord.” He bowed at the waist and walked out backwards. Sarai, as though just outside waiting for the steward to leave, hurried in on the man’s departure.
“Come see.” His wife never looked more beautiful than when she smiled, and right at that instant, her smile never appeared grander. “The dearth….” She giggled so, like when a child, yet his beloved had lived sixty-six summers to his seventy-six.
“Where has your maid gone?”
“She’s searching for berries and herbs for tonight’s dinner and to store. I told her we’d be leaving the area. That’s correct, isn’t it? We are to travel again?”
“Yes, dear one.” He joined her at his tent’s door then held open the flap. To the north, the heavens dropped their dew, and its swirling breeze cooled his cheeks. “Bless the Lord, Wife. God has made us rich in all things, even water.”
“But what of the famine?”
“Be not concerned. The God of Abram will provide all of our needs.”
Slipping her hand into his, she rested her head on his shoulder. “Why did you tell Eliezer to train our servants in war?”
“So, you were listening.”
“Yes. You are my husband. Is it not well within my rights? Am I not permitted to know your plans, your heart?”
“Of course, my love.” He squeezed her hand a bit. “Come inside, and I will tell you while we listen to God water the ground.”
She smiled then nodded. “I’d love nothing more.”
Sarai hated lying to Abram, but long ago, he’d grown tired of her baby longings. He kept his faith in the Word of his God, always believing. But the deadness of her womb only shriveled her hope in trusting with him. But nothing stopped her from giving her husband’s One True God the opportunity to finally bless her before it became impossible.
Deep into that night, snuggling into her favorite place next to h
is heart, a notion struck her. What had seemed so out of reach before…it could work. Perhaps God had made a way after all. Lying in the dark, the plan crystalized. Her husband would never have consented to one born in his house, but…her Egyptian maid…he might. Especially if Sarai prepared his heart….
And, once certain her womb could not conceive or bear a son, then how could he deny her? He’d have to consent to take her beautiful maid. A concubine of Sarai’s choice. Her servant loved her and would never….
Chapter Seven
The days stacked on top of themselves as Sarai’s husband led them ever north. She loved the new respect Abram had earned defeating Pharaoh, doing nothing more than praying. It tickled her to no end when she learned he’d remained on his knees before his God, refusing food and water, not even allowing himself sleep the whole time she’d been gone.
If she’d only known the outcome, she could have enjoyed the lavishness of the Egyptian palace much more.
As it was, the dread still crept into her dreams.
After traveling two new moons and through six thumb-knuckles of blessed rain, Abram ordered the servants to pitch camp at the foot of the mountain. On the morrow while she oversaw the maids’ chores, he called her inside their tent.
“I’m going up onto the mountain and meet with the Lord. Don’t allow anyone to come near.”
“Of course. How long will you be?”
He smiled. “Don’t know. But while I am, do not go to Bethel or Hai.”
“Some call it Ai.” She returned his smile, knowing how he hated all her questions, explaining himself. Indeed as if she’d go to the bazaar. He had piles of gold and silver and yet never allowed her to visit any city. When in Haran, bargaining at the market proved one of her finest pleasures. She resisted the urge to glare. “Ask Him about an heir.”
Shaking his head, he studied the floor. “He has already promised my seed will inherit this land. I am content with that.”
As he looked up, she bowed her head. He might have been content, but what about her? She was far from it—as far as the east from the west. Why, why, why couldn’t she conceive if his God said it would be? How many more moon cycles would pass barren before she lost all hope? She forced her lips into what had to be at best, a hollow smile. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” He kissed her lightly then turned and marched out. Salty tears flowed. She waited until they stopped before hurrying out. Already, Abram climbed the mountain with a ram draped over his broad shoulders. Why not the usual lamb? What could be the significance of sacrificing a ram?
She watched until he disappeared at the first vale.
That day and night crept by in fits and spurts. On the second evening, Lot’s herdsmen quarreled with Abram’s servants over the grazing. Her husband should be there to settle the matter. She hated the bickering, but had no real authority to hush them. Where was he? Had he taken any food?
What would become of her if something had happened to him?
Instead of Abram’s wife, she’d be Lot’s childless old aunt, relegated to a small outer tent to live alone with no servants. No longer in the center of the activity. That red-headed pagan wife of his would rule over her maids. Sarai shivered at the thought.
The third morning, the herdsmen’s fight progressed from words to fists. Lot himself got involved to separate the malefactors, but both sides had a point. Even with the rains, the grass simply wasn’t sufficient. The herds had multiplied and become so vast, something had to be done. But what?
She turned her face toward the last spot she’d seen Abram. “Send him back, Lord. We need him here.”
Though the sin offering burned down to nothing more than smoking embers, still no word came from the Lord. Abram had waited, but heard nothing. Then at even of the third day, he again called upon the Name of his God, spoke it at first only as a whisper, then an increased volume until he shouted it then continued with all his being. “Oh, Lord God of Abram! The One True Lord! Creator of Heaven and Earth! Only you are God.”
Sinking to his knees, he pressed his forehead to the earth, and worshiped. He remained there until the Lord’s presence left him. The lighter gray to the east surprised him. Had he lingered the whole night? Or gotten turned around? Hunger and thirst propelled him down. Nearing the camp, angry words greeted him and spoiled the morn.
Where was Eliezer? He followed the arguing and found his steward caught between his herdsmen and Lot’s. His nephew nowhere to be seen.
“Oh, my lord. Bless the God of Abram. You are here.”
He listened to both sides then called for Lot.
Soon his nephew arrived. “There need be no strife between us or our herdsmen, Nephew. We are brethren. The whole land is before us. Separate you and yours from me. Take the left hand, and I will go to the right. Or, you go right, and I will take the left. I give the choice to you.”
Lot nodded, studied the plain of Jordan, and pointed, sweeping his arm in a wide arc. “It’s well watered, like the garden of the Lord.” He brought his hand down and extended it toward Abram. “I will take that land.”
Abram grasped it and shook. It saddened him some, but… The Lord would watch over Lot. His nephew wasted no time. Preparations took all that day and the next, then his brother’s son, his wife, and two daughters—along with all their substance—journeyed toward the east.
The dust of Lot’s leaving barely settled when the Word of the Lord came to Abram. He selected a lamb and hurried back up the mountain to the altar he’d built at the first.
Quickly, he spilt the yearling’s blood, lit the bundle of wood, then backed away as the sweet savor of his peace offering drifted heavenward. Before the flames consumed his sacrifice, the Lord came. Abram fell to his face.
Lift up now thine eyes and look from the place where thou art northward and southward and eastward and westward
He stood and obeyed.
For all the land which thou seest to thee will I give it and to thy seed forever
And I will make thy seed as the dust of the earth so that if a man can number the dust of the earth then shall thy seed also be numbered
Abram’s knees buckled and again he pressed his forehead to the ground.
Arise walk through the land in the length of it and in the breadth of it for I will give it unto thee
Though he tarried on the mountain, no more word came. Once down, as he strode toward his tent, he scooped up a handful of dust. He could not even number the amount in his hand, yet the Lord proclaimed his seed would be so. He poured out all but a tiny bit then closed his fingers around it.
The empty tent turned him away. He found his wife clustered with a large group of her maids. Some stirred the laundry in large boiling pots, while others rinsed and hung out the clean. She looked up and smiled. Returning her gesture, he nodded toward the big tent. Her finger bid him wait. She turned to Hagar and whispered something then joined him.
It pleased Sarai her husband only stayed on the mountain half of a day. She hated his every absence, but with Lot’s separation, peace ruled the camp. Perhaps the Lord had told him to build there. Or better, to move to Bethel or Ai. She would love to have a real home again and finally bring an end to all the traveling.
Once the tent flap dropped, she playfully bumped her shoulder against his. “What are you grinning about, old man?”
He held out his fist then opened it slowly, letting the dust fall to the ground. “The Lord said that if all the dust of the earth could be numbered then so could my seed.”
“Oh, Husband, your God has such a wonderful sense of humor and imagination. I’d never go so far as to call Him a liar, but…look at me!” She held both arms out and turned in a circle. “Then tell me if he mentioned your wife in any of His silliness?”
Even though he shook his head, the sparkle in his eye remained, and his smile still stretched ear to ear as if he’d never considered her age—or his own. “Oh my precious, you’ve never been more beautiful.”
“Bite your ly
ing tongue right now! You’ve come down from your meeting a bit deranged, my beloved.” She laughed.
But he drew her to himself and looked her in the eyes. “No. It is true.” He kissed her then leaned her back. “We need to leave. The Lord wants me to walk through the land. Says He will give it to me.”
She caught some of his excitement, but a part of her heart bled.
The constant travel, setting up camp, taking it down, day in, day out would be acceptable—anything would—if only Abram’s God would give her a child. Otherwise, what did any of it matter?
New moons turned into seasons then those piled into years.
Pitch the tents. Graze the flocks and herds. Then move again just when the place becomes familiar. Her husband met all her needs and desires save the one she wanted the most. The third year of journeying through the land Abram’s God said his seed would inherit, her sporadic moon cycles stopped all together.
The same exact age as her mother when she left off childbearing, except Sarai had no child. Her insides would shrivel and die. Nevermind that both her husband and her maid claimed her beauty surpassed all others. What good did looks do for an old barren woman?
Abram helped the men with the pitching of his tent, especially the ground’s preparation. He hated it when they didn’t get it just right. Once satisfied with the placement, he instructed Eliezer in its completion then removed himself to the mountain. A need to build an altar had increased with each day since the last time.
First the sin offering, then peace. The smoke left heavenward, and he bowed to worship the One True God, the God of his fathers, the God of Abram. “I have done as you requested, Lord. I have walked the length and breadth of this land for the sake of my seed who is to inherit.”
For many heartbeats, he remained on his face. But no word came.
First to his knees, then all the way up onto his feet, he spread his arms over his head and looked skyward. “Lord, I will wait upon you in this place, bless your Holy Name.”
