No Woman So Fair (7 page)

“Oh, nothing really exciting.” Abram smiled faintly. “My brother, Nahor, is a shepherd and so am I. We stay with our flocks most of the time.”

“What about your other brother? Haran is his name?”

“Yes. He manages the family's business in Ur. He works in town most of the time.”

“And your father. What does he like to do?”

“He likes business.” Abram shrugged. He said no more for a time and then finally admitted, “They think I'm too religious.”

“Oh?” Zaroni looked startled. “Is that such a bad thing? I would think it good.”

“They don't think so. They say I'm like my grandfather. His name was Nahor, the same as my brother.”

“And he was very interested in the gods?”

“Well…not so much the gods. He was interested in one particular God. From what I understand, he thought there was only one God—an all-powerful God.”

“You mean An, ruler of the heavens?”

Abram bit his lower lip, then shook his head. “I don't think so. I don't think he put his trust in any of the gods of Sumer.”

“I don't understand that.”

“Neither did the family,” Abram explained, “but my grandfather didn't believe that any of the gods were very powerful. He was convinced that there was only one God who was supremely powerful…and he struggled to find Him.” Abram shrugged his shoulders and said, “I guess I'm like him, or so my family says.”

“But you've told me that you pray to quite a few of the gods.”

“Yes…but I think these stone gods have ears of stone. I don't think they hear my prayers. And there are so many of them! Gods for the sun, the moon, the rain, the animals, the plants. Even tools! My brother has a stone idol he prays to each morning for the staff he uses to tend the sheep. Imagine! How can anyone know which gods to pray to—and what it will take to placate them?”

Zaroni had never really thought about their religion in this way. Nor had she ever met anyone who had questioned it as this young man was daring to do. Not knowing how to answer him, she sat quietly waiting for him to continue.

Abram watched Zaroni's questioning face and, for a fleeting moment, thought how attractive she was. Like her daughter Sarai, he realized. He had found himself thinking more and more about Sarai. Her harsh attitude toward Abram had not diminished her beauty in his mind. In truth, he had never seen a woman so beautiful in all of his life. But now he put her aside in his mind and said to Zaroni, “I think for most people, religion is a dreadfully miserable affair.”

“You surprise me, Abram.”

“Why? It's true, isn't it? People fear all these deities who hover over us, supposedly ready to punish us for displeasing them. If we don't bring the proper offering, we'll get a flood or maybe a drought. That's what has made religion so powerful—fear.”

“But, Abram, don't you think we
should
fear the gods?”

“Something inside me tells me we should love the gods…. But how can we”—Abram shrugged his shoulders—“when they bring nothing but troubles.”

The more Abram talked, the more Zaroni admired him. He was utterly honest and humble, not like the other suitors who had called on Sarai. Feeling more comfortable with this man than any previous suitor, she said gently, “I know Sarai is upset with you right now, but I hope you won't give up.”

Abram shot her a glance. “She'll never forgive me.”

“Oh, yes she will. I've told you before she has a fiery temper, and she's spoiled to the bone. But deep under all that, she has a good heart.”

“If she has a heart like you, then she certainly does.” Abram smiled. “But I'm sure she would never consider me as a possible husband.”

****

“He's nothing but a clumsy oaf!” Sarai cried to her mother later in her room.

After Zaroni's conversation with Abram, she had gone to Sarai's bedroom to try to talk to her about him. She passed along her impressions that the young man had a gentle heart and was basically good, but Sarai merely tossed her head and denied it.

“He's very intelligent,” Zaroni insisted, “and one of the kindest men I've ever met. Not like most young men, who are very selfish.”

“He shoved me off the bridge into the mud!”

Zaroni's temper flared, unusual for her. “You're acting like a fool, girl! He accidentally bumped into you, and you hate him for it. I thought you had better sense.”

Sarai stared at her mother open-eyed, amazed at her uncharacteristic outburst of anger. “Why, Mother, I've never seen you so upset.”

“I've never seen you make such a fool out of yourself! You go around crying and whimpering and complaining because you can't find a husband who's young and strong and yet kind to women. And when one comes along, because of one incident, you shut him out. Don't you see how foolish you are?”

Sarai dropped her head, and her face flushed at her mother's cutting words. She finally lifted her eyes and whispered, “I'm sorry, Mother.”

“That's my girl.” Zaroni smiled and embraced her daughter. “He's very shy. You'll have to show him that you have no ill feelings. Will you do that?”

“I…I'll try, Mother. Really I will!”

****

Abram was shocked when Sarai stepped into the dining room later that evening after the meal had already started. He stood up at once and was surprised when she managed a small smile.

“Hello. Am I late?” she asked meekly.

“Not at all,” Zaroni replied. “Here, sit down. This is fresh mutton, and you know how good it is when Mahita cooks it.”

Abram said little, but there was a break in the tension. He could not help admiring Sarai's smooth, pearly skin. She had the most beautiful complexion he had ever seen on any woman, and her eyes! They were enormous and beautifully shaped, and when she occasionally lifted them, he saw that the anger and bitterness in them had given way to a gentleness he had not seen before.
She's so beautiful
, he thought. When she suddenly asked him if he were enjoying his visit to Uruk, he said quickly, “Oh yes.”

Abram was so inexperienced with women, he did not know how to take the matter any further and finished his meal in awkward silence.

When the men rose to take a walk around the courtyard and talk business, Zaroni pulled Sarai aside and told her, “You'll have to be more outgoing, Sarai. He's painfully shy.”

“Why should he be shy? He's thirty years old. He should have had some experience with women.”

“From what he tells me, I don't think he has. But for that very reason, he is more likely to be a faithful husband to you, Sarai. Be kind to him. I know he admires you. I can see it in his eyes.”

Sarai was well aware that Abram admired her, for she could gauge the admiration of young men. But she was not sure how to mend the breach between them as a result of her unkindness. The whole next day she thought about it. She had actually gotten over her anger by now, but she still found Abram to be a strange young man. Although he had a good smile and sometimes spoke with feeling about things, she was disturbed that he was so tongue-tied around her.
Why doesn't he say something?
she often wondered.
Why doesn't he even try to take my hand or express his feelings for me? That is what most men would do who come around looking for a wife
.

For the next several days, Abram spent much time out with Garai studying the business, although Sarai sensed he did not particularly care for it. More than once he brought in flowers from the fields for Sarai, which pleased her, but it was not enough. She told her mother, “He'll have to do more than bring flowers if he's going to win a bride!”

****

At the marketplace one morning Sarai moved slowly past the stalls, accompanied by her maid. Zulda carried a basket for the fruit Sarai selected from the vendors. She ignored their shrill cries of “Buy here, lady! Buy here!”—choosing whatever pleased her the most. She enjoyed her visits to the market, which gave her a good excuse to get out of the house.

As she looked over the produce she found herself thinking more and more of Abram and wondering how long he would stay.
He might as well go home if he's not going to make any effort to win me
, she thought. She was disappointed at his reluctance to woo her, for as her mother had said, the young man did have much to commend him. Perhaps of most importance, he was not old. Sarai had a horror of being given to an old man. And he was not crude, as many of the men had been who had offered themselves.
If he would only speak up and show a little more interest in me
, she said to herself, realizing by her own inner comment that her pride was hurt. She was accustomed to being courted in a more aggressive manner, and for the first time in her life, it occurred to her,
Maybe he doesn't think I'm attractive
. The thought startled her, and as she moved down the line of stalls, she became preoccupied with it.

She was brought out of her thoughts by the sound of screaming. Glancing ahead, she saw a large, burly man beating a young woman no more than fourteen or fifteen with a cane. The girl wore the dress of a slave, and the stick left stripes on her bare shoulders. She cowered on the ground, covering her head with her arms and trying to protect herself, crying piteously as the blows descended.

Sarai was not an especially cruel young woman, but she had grown up in a society that showed little pity toward the unprotected. Slaves could be beaten at the whim of their master, and this was not the first time Sarai had seen a slave beaten. True, the girl was younger than most, and the man was striking harder, so she felt a brief moment of compassion. But she knew there was nothing to be done. The slave was the absolute property of the owner, and no one could interfere.

But suddenly a form appeared coming down the street, and Sarai was surprised to see that it was Abram. She was further surprised when he stepped between the burly man and the girl and heard him say, “Sir, she's young and a valuable slave, I'm sure. Please don't beat her anymore.”

The strongly built slave owner flushed red in the face and cursed Abram, yelling, “Get out of the way! It's none of your business!”

Abram was fully as tall as the slave owner, though not nearly as thick in body. Sarai could see the anger in Abram's eyes, yet he was struggling to keep his composure. With his voice even and controlled, he said, “I hate to see anyone mistreated, even a slave.”

The big man laughed coarsely and shouted in a drunken rage, “You want to see someone mistreated, then I'll mistreat you!” He cursed again and raised the stick toward Abram, but Abram's hand shot out and grasped the man's wrist. Sarai expected to see the big man pull away, which indeed he attempted to do. But surprise washed across his face as he was obviously unable to release himself from Abram's grasp. And then his surprise changed to shock as Abram apparently kept increasing the pressure. Finally the stick dropped from the man's hand, and he cried out hoarsely, “Let me go! You're crushing my bones!”

At once Abram released the man's wrist. He reached down and picked up the stick, broke it in two, and said, “I usually don't interfere in matters that are none of my business, but I don't like to see a helpless person hurt.”

“It
is
none of your business, and you can't stop me! I'll do what I please with her!” He rubbed his wrist and backed off a step. “You're a strong man—I can see that—but you won't always be around.” He glanced at the girl, who had turned her face upward, tears running down her cheeks.

Sarai watched closely and saw that something was working in Abram's mind. His eyes were fixed on the burly slave owner, but some thought was taking possession of him. She was surprised when he said, “I'll buy her from you. How much?”

“Buy her!” The man stared at Abram with shock. “All right,” he said quickly. When he named an extravagant price, Abram reached into the pouch he carried slung around his shoulder and pulled out a small pottery jar. “How about this instead?”

Sarai watched as the man took the jar and pulled out the stopper. “Why, this is purple dye,” he said. Then a crafty look came into his eye. “The girl for the dye?”

“Done,” Abram said.

Laughing roughly, the man said, “You're not much of a trader. This dye is worth a dozen of her kind.”

Abram ignored the man's gloating over the deal as he raised the jar to the gathered crowd and laughed at Abram's stupidity.

“Come,” Abram said simply. “We'll have this recorded.”

Sarai watched Abram reach down to help the girl to her feet and heard him say gently, “Come along, girl. No one will hurt you now.” The girl wiped the tears from her face and followed the two men quickly to a scribe sitting at a table, where the transaction was recorded. She stayed very close to Abram the whole time while the business matter was completed, then followed him down the street.

Sarai ordered her maid to take the basket of fruit home; then she followed Abram and the slave girl from a discreet distance, carefully staying out of sight.

As for Abram, he did not know what had possessed him. He had always hated to see any helpless thing hurt, even an animal that was beaten or mistreated. After they had gone some distance from the crowded marketplace, Abram found a shady spot under a palm tree to sit down and let the girl rest. He saw she was trembling as she sat by his feet, and he asked kindly, “What's your name, child?”

“Layona.”

“Don't be afraid,” he said. He put his hand out to touch her head, and she flinched. “No one's going to harm you.” Then, after they had caught their breath, he stood and helped her up again, saying, “Come along.”

Sarai, watching and listening from a close hiding spot, sneaked back into the street, merging once again in the crowd, where she could watch Abram's tall figure as he led the girl along. She saw him bend down more than once and speak to her, and she saw the gratitude on the slave girl's face.