No Woman So Fair (22 page)

Sarai was not given to finding fault, but ever since they had left Haran, the journey had been a struggle as they ventured into desert lands far from the safety of nearby rivers. Early on in their journey from Haran, they had traveled back down the Balikh River to the Euphrates, connecting once more with that great river they had known in Ur. But then they had turned westward, leaving the safety of the river to wander trackless deserts of sand and rock with few signs of life.

Sarai was startled out of her thoughts by a voice. “Good afternoon, mistress. Giving the little one a bath?”

She looked up to see Eliezer, who had come from the other direction downstream, where he too was watering the sheep. Dust covered his face, and his black hair was now gray with it. He smiled at her with cracked lips, then lay down by the water to drink his fill.

“It's like drinking mud, isn't it?” Sarai sighed. “I miss the big river.”

“We'll find another one in a few days,” Eliezer said, standing. “That's what I hear from the travelers we met coming from Egypt.”

Abram, Eliezer, and Lot had chosen to follow an ancient trade route that led into Canaan. Ordinarily, there were plenty of watering holes and streams, but recent years of drought in this already arid land had changed all that. They were reminded of the danger each time they passed by the skeletons of sheep and cattle, felled by thirst, then picked clean by desert scavengers.

Squatting down by the water's edge, Eliezer touched the cheek of the little girl, who grinned up at him. “What a pretty child,” he remarked, returning her smile.

“Yes, she is.” Sarai beamed, as though Susea were her own baby.

“I've been worried about the youngsters,” Eliezer said, sitting down next to Sarai and looking around. “This is hard on all of us, but it is especially difficult for the oldest and youngest.”

“How much longer will it be before we get to a better trail?”

“I hope not more than three or four days.” Eliezer frowned. “We've already lost too many animals.”

“I think you've done a wonderful job,” Sarai said, smiling at him. She reached out to brush a lock of black hair from his forehead. “You look so tired. You need to rest more.”

“I'll rest when we get to Canaan.”

“Do you think this new land will have better grazing than we had in Haran?”

“I believe so, and what's more, it will belong to you and Abram.”

Sarai flashed a penetrating look at the young man. “You've been talking to Abram. He talks like that land is his already, but there are people there, aren't there? Surely they won't let us just march in and claim it for ourselves.”

“They can defend it all they want to, but it doesn't really belong to them. The Eternal One has promised the master that it will be his land, and yours too. It will be ours—for our people.”

Sarai searched the young man's face and marveled at his optimism. He had such confidence in her husband—and such unshakable faith in Abram's God, whom Eliezer himself had never seen or heard. So convinced he was of their divine leading that he never complained, no matter how bad things got. She had seen him so tired after keeping the herds that he simply slumped down on his blanket to sleep, without even the strength to eat. But never once had he complained. “I'll be glad when we get there,” Sarai said, rising to her feet. “I'd better go see about helping with the evening meal.”

“There are plenty of servants for that, mistress. Sit down.”

Sarai was happy to comply, for she too was weary. She sat down again, put Susea on the ground, and listened to Eliezer talk about matters of interest to him. He was altogether consumed with his service to Abram and Sarai. She felt a sense of pride mixed with love as she looked at him.
If we'd had a son, I'd want him to be exactly like Eliezer
, she thought. She listened as he continued to speak and finally asked him, “Have you ever thought about yourself?”

“About myself? What do you mean, mistress?”

“I mean having your own wife and family. I think you'd be a wonderful father. You love children so much.” She smiled and tugged his black hair again. “I've seen several of the young women watching you.”

Eliezer frowned. “I don't have time for that. It's all I can do to serve you and the master.”

“But you must have a life of your own.”

Eliezer laughed. “I've got all I can handle taking care of these smelly cattle and sheep.” He leaned over, tousled Susea's hair, then stood once again and bowed toward Sarai. “I think I'll just take one more look before supper.” He turned and walked away, and Sarai watched him go. He was a tall man, as tall as Abram, though not as strongly built. She saw him stop to speak to several of the servants and observed how quickly they responded. She also saw that the most attractive of the female servants, a tall, dark-haired young woman, pulled at his sleeve and then walked beside him. “All the young women are in love with him,” Sarai murmured to herself, “but he doesn't seem interested. Eventually he'll have to be, though. He's got to have a life of his own.”

****

A valley lay sharply defined between two steep hills that arose on either side of it. Eliezer studied the valley carefully as he made his way forward, accompanied by the most trustworthy of the herdsmen, a short, squatty man with a bristly beard. His name was Gar, and now he came up to walk beside Eliezer. “The land's been looking better,” he grunted. He had a low-pitched growl of a voice, and his dark eyes moved constantly. “We need to find water and quick, or we're going to lose more animals.”

“I know, Gar, and I think through this pass, if what the traders said was right, we'll find it.”

The journey had been hard, and they had lost animals, but not as many as they might have, for Eliezer had spent weary hours looking for tiny pockets of water. Now, however, he could tell that the land was falling, and from the description he had gotten, he was sure that they would connect with a river just beyond the pass. Licking his lips, he realized he was dried out, and holding up the small bottle suspended by a leather thong, he let the precious water flow into his mouth. “Have a drink,” he said to Gar.

“I've got my own. You'd better save it for yourself.”

The two men continued to advance, and from time to time they both would look back to where they could see the other herdsmen, led by Abram and Lot, bringing the cattle and the sheep slowly on. The day was bright, as always, and the sun heated the rocks to an unbearable temperature.

Gar took another look back and saw Sarai riding on a donkey. “I can't get over how fine looking the mistress is,” he grunted.

From any other man Eliezer might have thought this an unsuitable remark, but he knew Gar meant nothing by it. The little herdsman had a wife as homely as he was, but he was completely devoted to her.

“Yes, she is fine looking,” Eliezer agreed.

“I can't believe she's barely over sixty-five years old,” Gar chattered on. “Why, she could pass for thirty.”

“You're right about that—and Abram, why, he's over seventy-five now, but none of us younger fellows can keep up with him.”

Gar nodded agreement. “He can walk the legs off of most of us, and he's still strong too. It's a shame he and the mistress never had children. They would have been fine parents.”

“It's strange,” Eliezer remarked, “how they haven't aged as much as anyone would expect.”

“Well, you know the stories that the master tells about the old ones in ancient times—how they lived many hundreds of years.”

“You love those stories, don't you, Gar?”

“Yes, I do. I wish I had lived in those days. Think what it would be like to live for nearly a thousand years!”

“That would be all right if a man stayed young in body, but I wouldn't want to live to be that old and be helpless.”

“Well, the master's not helpless.”

“No, he certainly is not. He puts us younger men to shame!”

Eliezer quickened his pace, and Gar, with his short, stubby legs, had to walk rapidly to keep up with him. They approached the crest of the hill, and Eliezer said, “When we cross this we'll be able to see the valley that the traders told us about. The river should be down there.”

The two hurried, but they had not gone more than fifteen or twenty paces when suddenly a small group of men appeared. They apparently had been concealing themselves behind the rocks that rose on either side of the narrow pass.

Eliezer felt a chill around his heart and thought,
They look like bandits
. He let none of this show on his face but studied the leader who came forward. The man was fairly tall and very broad. He wore coarse-looking leather clothing, and as he approached, Eliezer could smell the stench—a raw, rough smell that matched the man's appearance.

“Hello, strangers. My name is Bedoni.”

“I am Eliezer, chief steward of Abram.”

“Abram? What kind of name is that?” Bedoni said, grinning. His muscles were thick and bunchy. A long sword dangled from his belt, and he carried a wicked-looking staff in his hand. His companions were similarly armed with knives, swords, and sharply pointed staffs.

“My master's called a Hebrew,” Eliezer replied calmly.

“Hebrew? Never heard of it.” Bedoni turned around and laughed as he studied his men. “I think we can handle a Hebrew or two.”

A scornful laugh went up, and it was obvious that the crew was ready for trouble. They began to form a semicircle around Eliezer and Gar.

“We're headed for Canaan,” Eliezer said, still keeping his voice calm and his eyes on the leader as the other men surrounded them.

“A long way to Canaan.” Bedoni laughed again. He grinned boldly, showing yellow teeth. “We take a toll from everyone that comes through the pass and then a toll for the water down below.”

“This land belongs to no one,” Eliezer protested, for he saw the conversation was headed toward robbery. He and Gar were armed only with shepherd's crooks and short knives in their belts. They were only two against the five that stood before them, all rough men clearly accustomed to using weapons.

“We don't argue about that. We'll let you off easy this time with a dozen sheep and a dozen of your cows for making your way through the pass, and that many more for watering them down below.”

Eliezer shook his head firmly. He knew that when word got out that they were an easy mark, there would be no end to the so-called keepers of the pass. “I might give you one sheep and one cow, just as a token—but that's all.”

Bedoni stepped forward and lifted his pointed staff. The grin disappeared, and he snarled, “Boy, it's better to have something than nothing.” He quickly lifted his staff in a threatening gesture. “We'll take what we want!”

Gar stepped forward and shouted, “You'll take nothing!” Pulling his knife from his belt, he snarled, “Get out of our way!”

As a single unit the bandits moved in, while Bedoni raised his staff and brought it down swiftly at Eliezer's head. Eliezer parried it, surprised at the strength of the blow. On the rebound, he swung his staff and struck Bedoni on the shoulder, staggering the man.

“Get them!” Bedoni yelled, and in the ensuing scramble, Eliezer and Gar fought for their lives. Both of them were tough, strong men, but the odds against them were too great. If the bandits had come at them singly, the herdsmen might have done better, but their attackers ganged up on them. In the confusion, Eliezer managed to knock down one man but then felt a fiery pain along his side as another bandit struck him. He lashed out in that direction, driving back the bandit, who held a bloody knife.

Bedoni urged the men to finish the job, and Eliezer and Gar fell backward toward a wider space in the pass, still fighting as they frantically searched for a means of escape. Eliezer heard a shout behind him and took a quick glance back. With a surge of gladness, he saw Abram, Lot, and more than a dozen of the herdsmen rushing forward. He saw the light of battle in Abram's eyes as he threw himself into the fray.

The surprise attack drove the bandits backward, and it was Abram who delivered a crushing blow of his staff to the head of Bedoni, who fell heavily. His legs twitched momentarily before he lay absolutely still.

The fall of their leader was all that was needed to send the other four running for their lives.

Abram called out to his men who were chasing them, “Let them go!” He turned and knelt down beside the bandit leader, then looked up with sad eyes. “He's dead.”

“Rather his life than Eliezer's,” Gar grumbled. “He's bleeding like a stuck pig.”

At that Abram commanded his men to get rid of the body, then threw himself down beside Eliezer, who had fallen back against a rock. “Let me see,” Abram insisted, concern in his eyes.

“I don't think it's bad,” Eliezer mumbled, but he could barely speak as he held his side and gasped for breath.

“It's a deep cut.” Abram at once began binding it up with his outer tunic. “This'll hold until we can get you to a better place.”

“I think the river's right over this rise through the pass,” Eliezer whispered. He tried to say more, but the weakness overcame him. He took one last look at Abram, then closed his eyes.

****

The next thing Eliezer knew was a coolness on his side, and he opened his eyes to see a woman bending over him. He tried to move, and she put her hand on his chest, saying, “Lie still.”

Memory came swirling back then, and Eliezer looked around. He saw that he was lying in a tent, but the sides were drawn up, and he could see a river flowing close beside them. The sheep and cattle were drinking, and the grass was green, making a good meal for the first time in a long while for the herds. He turned his eyes back to the woman and whispered, “Beoni, what's happened to me?”