Abraham and Sarah (29 page)

S
arai had imagined a very simple procedure. Hagar would go to Abram’s tent at the most propitious time when the moon was full. There would be no celebration and no long preparation. It would be only a matter of Hagar’s conceiving the child. “It need not take long,” Sarai insisted.

However, Hagar had a very different idea. “I’m an Egyptian,” she said, “the daughter of Pharaoh Amenemhet. I can’t be treated like any ordinary handmaiden.” Her eyes flashed and she tossed her head in the old defiant way. Sarai saw that it could be a delicate matter. If she was to get the child she wanted, she would have to make some concessions.

Hagar was willing to give up the child, but she insisted that the formalities of a wedding be observed. It was not to be something done secretly. Everyone must know she had been given to Sarai by her father, Pharaoh Amenemhet, so that Abram might have a son.

Sarai was irritated. Such formalities would call attention to the fact that she, as Abram’s wife, was somehow lacking. She wanted to object, to insist it all be done as quietly as possible, but in the end she thought better of it and managed to say nothing.

Hagar first asked that the bridal tent be erected for her use. It was a tent in which the bride was secluded for a month while preparing for the wedding. At the culmination of the wedding celebration, she would be escorted to the tent of her new husband for the night. The next day, and every day for a month, she would spend her time in the bridal tent and visit her husband only when he sent for her. At the end of the month it was assumed she would be pregnant and deserve a tent of her own.

Hagar next asked that Warda, the Egyptian concubine of the cheese maker, come to advise and help her. “She is from Egypt and will understand our customs,” she said.

Warda immediately took charge of the proceedings. She ordered the mintlike patchouli oil and sandalwood from the market in Sodom, the henna
from Jericho; she ground the charred pits of dates for eye makeup, and she bought rose water from a Lebanese trader.

When everything was assembled, she ordered the bathing stool be brought and the clay fire pot with its brass bowl of rose-scented water set up in the middle of the tent. For five days Hagar sat on the stool with a covering of heavy linen until the magic fragrance of the steam had cleansed and scented her skin.

Her hair was first washed like the other women’s in camel’s urine to get rid of any mites or lice and then was rubbed with olive oil and rinsed with henna until it glistened. Sarai came often to observe and was more than once irritated when Hagar asked to borrow several of her maidens to pound spices or fold grape leaves over spicy seeds to make pomanders for her clothes.

“Why must you have all this preparation?” Sarai asked. “It’s a simple thing to sleep with a man.”

Hagar didn’t look up from sorting some of her ointments. “It may be simple to sleep with a man, but I am to produce a child. A special child, Abram’s child. That, it seems, is not so easy.” She gave Sarai a meaningful look, and Sarai, catching the meaning, tossed her head and left the tent. As much as she was irritated by all that Hagar was doing, she reasoned that Egyptians had different customs and traditions, and she didn’t want to distract Hagar from fulfilling her part of the bargain.

When the lengthy preparations were completed and Hagar was ready, she called Sarai. “My dear mistress,” she said, “I must have a proper celebration, dancers and singers, a procession befitting a princess of Egypt.”

In growing exasperation Sarai called Eliazer and asked him to go to the neighboring town of Hebron and find some women who entertained at weddings. She requested that sweet cakes be prepared for a feast. When Abram asked about the unusual activity, she couldn’t resist voicing her frustration. “Egyptians are proud and arrogant,” she said with her mouth set in a hard line.

“I’m sure you can’t be talking of your lovely young handmaiden. Why, she’s been willing to do almost anything to please you.” He had a twinkle in his eye that made Sarai even angrier. She knew what he said was right, and yet there was something about it all that she found most unbearable. She regretted saying anything because Abram could call the whole venture off.

During this time of feasting, Hagar was brought the choicest meats, largest dates, and wild honey to sweeten the steaming hot wheels of bread. At all
hours women came to watch and to give advice. Hagar paid little attention but smiled coyly when asked questions. However, at night when the others were finally asleep, she talked to Warda, and Warda asked her questions. “Do you love this man?” Warda asked on the night before she would be taken to Abram’s tent.

“I am in awe of him. He fascinates me, but I will never love him. I don’t want to love anyone ever.”

“You don’t want to love?” Warda asked in astonishment.

Hagar was idly breaking off bits of incense and throwing them on the fire. For several minutes she didn’t answer, just watched the little pieces of fragrance catch fire and glow. Then without turning she said, “You can never be hurt if you don’t love. In loving there’s danger.”

Warda was surprised. “Have you never loved anyone?” she asked.

“No, I have never wanted to be controlled by anyone. If you love someone, you will do what he wishes. Isn’t that true?”

“Where have you gained all this wisdom?” Warda asked in astonishment.

Hagar looked down at her new rings and toyed with her bright gold bracelets. “You perhaps didn’t know that my mother was once the favorite of Pharaoh. He loved her, gave her gifts, wonderful gifts, and I, as their child, was refused nothing.”

“And … then?” Warda asked as Hagar seemed to hesitate.

“He found a new love, a new interest. He finally sent my mother away, and because his new love could not bear the sight of me, he gave me to Sarai.” Tears welled in her eyes, but she tossed her head and hastily brushed them away. “It is easier not to care about anyone.”

For a moment the small thorns crackled and a slight flame leaped up, illuminating their faces. Warda poked at the fire and pursed her lips. “What about Sarai? She is pleased now, but she needs to wield control. Without it, she could become angry and jealous.”

Hagar smiled and twisted the bracelets on her arm. “Sarai will never lose control. Abram’ll do anything for her. The only thing Sarai can’t do is produce a child. That’s why she needs me.”

“And does she appreciate what you are doing?”

“She’s been my friend, the only real friend I’ve ever had. She gave me these rings and bracelets … even this gold necklace.”

Warda didn’t express her surprise, but nodded. “Be careful. You are young
and spirited, while she is beautiful but getting old. Things may turn out differently than either of you thinks.”

Hagar nodded and smiled. “Don’t worry about me. I can manage. I was born and suckled in the palace and have seen and heard everything.”

Warda brought a cover and spread it out over the straw mat. “It’s time we sleep or all our preparations will go for naught.”

Hagar lay down and was asleep within minutes, but Warda sat by the fire pot and thought about her new friend and all that would take place on the morrow.

The next day the feasting continued while the final preparations were carried out in the bridal tent. During the whole time, Warda said little. It was only at the last, as Hagar was ready to leave, that Warda pulled her aside and took out a small clay perfume bottle. “Hold out your hands,” she said. And as Hagar held them out she poured the whole bottle of fragrant ointment into them. “Rub them together and let some spill onto your neck and crush some into your hair.”

Hagar did as she was told and then leaned forward to kiss her new friend on both cheeks. “Just perfume you are giving me and no last advice?”

Warda held her for a moment at arm’s length. “You are both beautiful and dangerous. Abram is sure to love you.”

Hagar laughed. “Don’t worry, Warda. I have no intention of loving him.”

“To not love,” Warda said, “is to quench the holy fragrance within. Without love we are merely clay, like this little bottle.”

Hagar stooped and kissed Warda lightly on both cheeks. “Don’t worry about me,” she said. “There are things I want and things I’ll get.”

Outside the singing and dancing became louder and more raucous. With one last glance and a fleeting smile to Warda, Hagar lifted the tent flap and went out to become the center of the procession.

Hagar was relieved to find Abram’s tent empty. She had thought he would be there, but it seemed that was not part of their custom. She had been led in by the Canaanite dancers amidst laughing and singing and jokes that had become suggestive and bawdy. After she was seated, they spent some time arranging her hair, touching her cheeks with rosy salve, and giving her mint leaves to chew for her breath. Finally at a signal from Warda, they danced out
of the tent, and she could hear them as they went back to the fire and the celebration.

Hagar had never been on this side of the tent before. It was neat and sparse. It had the pleasant, heady odor of rare incense; goat hair rugs hid the dirt floor; straw mats covered in bright-striped linen lined a seating area. She noticed that on an inner tent pole were hung bows and quivers of arrows. Against the taut pitch of the tent stood a large shield made of rhinoceros skin. Probably a gift from Pharaoh, she thought.

There was only one chest and it was of cedar with handsome bronze fittings. It undoubtedly held his clothes and valuables. To her surprise she saw three large clay jars that held papyrus scrolls. An alabaster lamp with several hemp wicks gave off a soft, flickering light that made enormous shadows dance across the floor and up the sides of the tent.

She sat very still and listened. There was no one on the far side behind the qata or cloth of division. Sarai had obviously gone to her own tent. A cricket’s insistent chirping grew suddenly loud, while faint and far away the wedding songs and steady beat of a drum lent an air of mystery and magic. As she listened, she heard clearly and quite distinctly the soft, light step of someone approaching the tent. She thought it might be Abram and quickly moved to cover the lower half of her face. The tent flap was flung back, and Sarai stood in the doorway looking at her. Hagar could tell she was surprised. As she let the tent flap fall back in place and moved toward her, Hagar dropped the veil.

Sarai stopped and stared. “You look so different. You’re beautiful.”

Hagar broke the sudden tension by laughing. “Did you expect the mother of your son to be ugly?”

“No, no, of course not,” Sarai said, still looking at her with a puzzled expression. “I thought you would wear something Egyptian. Where are your wig, the cobra headpiece, and the pleated linen?”

“Oh Sarai,” Hagar said as she stretched out a hand to her, “I thought if I were to bear a son for Abram, I must dress as your people. Remember this is not to be my son but yours.”

Sarai came and took her hand, then kneeling down kissed both cheeks. “How good you are,” she said as she gave her a warm and friendly smile. “I’d almost forgotten.”

Sarai stood up and turned to go, then hesitated and came back. “Remember, not only is the son mine, but the husband is mine too. He’s yours
only for a day or two until you find his seed growing in your womb.” She had spoken it in a light, friendly way, but Hagar could see by the flash of her eyes and the set of her mouth that she was serious. With that Sarai turned and was gone.

Hagar just had time to pull the light veil back across her face when she heard drumming and singing coming closer. They were all male voices, and the drumbeats were accentuated by the steady thud of bare feet pounding out the rhythm in their traditional dance. It was never considered proper to send a man off alone on his wedding night. A bride should not be left alone either. Usually the mother, sisters, friends, and family were all gathered to bring the young woman to her husband.

Hagar had none of this. She thought fleetingly of the goddess Hathor who was supposed to protect young brides and new mothers, but Hathor had proven to be worthless. She knew nothing of the God Abram worshiped, but he undoubtedly used His strength only for men.