No Woman So Fair (36 page)

“Women have a power to cloud men's minds.”

Zara was fascinated by this statement. “What does that mean?”

“I don't know how to explain it, but I've seen men who were perfectly sensible in every way except where a woman was concerned. One of the best friends I ever had back in Ur was a man called Mapor. He was so intelligent and gifted, but he was in love with the worst woman in the world. Everyone knew it except him. She slept with half the men in the camp, and many more, but he never had the least idea of it. He was like a man born blind.”

“And you think Eliezer is that way about Hagar?”

“Yes, he is. I've wanted to shake him, and I've tried to tell him about Hagar. But he can't see it.”

“If Hagar would get married, that would take her out of his mind.”

Sarai suddenly looked across at her young friend. Her voice was strangely tight when she spoke, and Zara saw a strange expression in her eyes. “Something like that may happen,” she said. “And you're right. That would take her off of Eliezer's mind. He's too good a young man to go to another man's wife.”

Zara did not understand what she had seen in Sarai's face. When she left, Sarai held the knife in her hand and felt the soft texture of the lambskin, but her mind was elsewhere. She had a preoccupied look, and finally she said, “Yes, it's what I must do.”

****

Sarai watched as Abram read the scrolls that were so important to him. Some of them came from his grandfather Nahor, who had written down some of the history of his people.
Abram must have them memorized by now
, Sarai thought as she watched him peering at the parchments,
but he never tires of them
. She waited until he wrapped them up carefully and put them away, then said to him, “I need to talk to you, husband.”

Abram looked over at Sarai and studied her face. He saw something there that kept him silent for a moment, and then he came over and sat down beside her. “What is it? Is it trouble?”

“You're eighty-six years old, and I'm seventy-six.”

“I know that. But you don't look like a seventy-six-year-old.”

“I feel like one,” Sarai said quietly. She did not speak for a time, and Abram waited patiently. It hurt him to see that she was troubled. Finally she said, “You don't have a son, Abram.”

The stark statement shocked Abram. They did not talk about this problem often, had not, as a matter of fact, for years. Both of them always had in the back of their mind the promise of the Eternal One that Abram's seed would one day become many. But years had gone by, and there had been no child. Sarai had ceased being of childbearing age many years ago, and neither of them had the bright hope they had once shared of an heir for Abram.

After thinking carefully, Abram said, “Eliezer is my son in all but blood. He will be my heir.”

Sarai reached out her hand, and Abram took it. He held it firmly, waiting for her to speak.

“I have never asked you this, Abram, but I am asking you now. Please do not be angry with me.”

“You know I won't.”

Sarai took a deep breath, then asked the question that had lain dormant in her heart for many years. “Is Eliezer your blood son? Are you his father?”

Abram tightened his grip and studied Sarai's face. He saw the anxiety there and said quietly, “I should have told you years ago. But then, you should have asked me years ago.”

“I was afraid to. I was afraid you'd say yes.”

“We torment ourselves foolishly so many times.” He reached out and put his hand on her cheek. She felt the roughness of it and waited for him to go on. “No, I am not his father.”

“Do you know who is?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me?”

Abram left his hand on Sarai's cheek, and his voice grew whisper soft. “I vowed I would never tell anyone, and I will keep my promise. But I can promise you it was not me.”

Sarai turned from Abram and pondered what was in her heart. She waited so long that Abram said, “What are you thinking?”

Sarai turned to him with a strange expression. “I've been thinking about the custom among the Canaanites and among some of our people too.”

“What custom?”

“Those women who cannot bear a child give their maid to their husbands. The bondwoman bears the child, but in all except blood, the child belongs to the mistress.”

Abram listened, shock and amazement on his face. “Sarai, you can't mean that!”

“How do we know that it's not what the Eternal One intends?”

“It can't be!”

“Yes it can!” Sarai insisted. “All that God said was that your seed would have many descendants, and the promise was to
you
, not to me. If I had died, you would have had another wife. I don't understand why I haven't been able to bear you a son, but I want you to have one. And if you do have a child through Hagar, the child will be mine as much as yours.” Sarai did not believe this deep in her heart, even though according to the unwritten laws, the child of the bondwoman became legally and in every respect the child of the mistress.

Abram shook his head stubbornly, and Sarai began to speak softly. She talked for a long time and finally said, “I know this comes as a surprise to you, but your blood must not die out, husband. God has said that you must have many descendants, and this way you provide the son through which those descendants will come.”

Abram was silent for a while, then sighed heavily. “I will think about it, wife.”

“Think of it as a way to fulfill the promise of the Eternal One.”

After a long, difficult discussion, with grief in her heart, Sarai left Abram, who had just given his consent to her proposal. Despite his agreement, she felt no triumph. As she went to find Hagar, she felt a growing depression. Her heart was heavy, and she prayed, “O Eternal One, I am only a weak woman. I want my husband to have a son, a real son of his own blood. I would love to look into a child's eyes and see there the kindness and goodness of my husband. That is why I do this thing.”

Hagar was washing her clothes at the riverbank when Sarai approached. She turned and smiled, saying cheerfully, “Good morning, mistress. You are up early.”

“Yes, I am,” Sarai said. “Hagar, listen to me.” She waited until Hagar, with a look of surprise, laid the garment down, then stood to face her. “I have made a decision that may surprise you.”

“What is it?”

“It is obvious that I will never have a child, and I want a son of my own. The only way I can have one is through you. You know the custom. Would you do this thing for me and for Abram?”

“Why, of course I will.”

Sarai had seldom been as surprised as she was at Hagar's ready agreement.

“After all, I am your maidservant,” Hagar went on. “I'm bound to serve you in this way as in every other way.”

“This is a little different. No—it's quite different!”

Hagar was smiling. “It will be a good thing, mistress.”

“You realize that the child will be mine in all but blood.”

“Oh yes, I understand.”

“And you realize you cannot marry. It will put you in a terrible position, Hagar. You're still a young woman.”

“I am your servant, mistress. We will do this thing. Does the master agree?”

Sarai nodded slowly. “Yes, he agrees.”

“Then it will come to pass. You will have a fine son, and the seed of Abram will continue.” Hagar's eyes sparkled. She had thought of marriage many times, but this would be better. Her son would be Abram's heir! That was all that mattered. Sarai could not live long. That would not be a problem. She watched as Sarai walked away, and when she was out of hearing distance, Hagar threw up her hands and laughed. “Of course I'll have a son! That old man and I will produce a glorious boy!”

****

Hagar had thought over Sarai's plan, and although she had agreed readily, a second thought had come to her. As always, she was a crafty woman, and when she worked it out in her mind, she went to Eliezer. When they were alone she told him without ornamentation what Sarai had asked of her.

Eliezer was dumbfounded. “I've heard of such a thing, but surely not Abram….”

“It's very common,” Hagar said.

“Are you going to do it, then?”

“That depends on you, Eliezer.”

“On me! No, not at all. It depends on
you
.”

“If you and I were to marry, we would have a son. Many people think you're Abram's son anyway.”

“But you've already agreed with the mistress to have the child.”

“I can change my mind, and she loves you. You can talk her out of this idea. We can tell her that our son would be hers and Abram's in all except blood. They're old. We can convince them.”

Eliezer did not even have to consider this. “No,” he said. “I will not do it, and you should be ashamed to mention it.”

Once before, Eliezer's refusal had sent Hagar into a furious rage. This time she felt not a raging fire but coldness like ice. She smiled cruelly. “I will be mistress of all this someday—Abram will die and Sarai will die, and my son and I will own it all. You will regret it. My son will be Abram's heir. Not you.”

Eliezer was shocked at what he saw in this woman. Whatever feelings he had for her died an instant death, and he felt a sudden sense of relief.
I might have married her
, he thought, and the horror of being married to such a creature shook him.

“Nobody cares how sick I am—especially you, Sarai!”

Hagar lay on her back, staring up at the tent over her head. Her body was swollen, and her eyes glinted with a hard light as she turned to look at Sarai, who was bending over her, mopping her brow and wringing out a cloth in cool water. She waited until Sarai put it on her face and then knocked her hand away. “You're strangling me with all that! What are you trying to do, kill me?”

Sarai glanced over at Zara, who was on the other side of the prone woman. She saw the disgust in Zara's eyes and spoke quickly before Hagar could notice. “I'm sorry,” she said, “I'm just clumsy.”

“I've got to have something to drink. My tongue's dry as dust. Zara, go get me something.”

“I'll get you some water.”

“Not water. I want something else. Some wine.”

“I'm not sure it's good for you to have wine,” Sarai said.

“Don't argue with me, Sarai. I said I wanted
wine
! If I want it, the baby must need it! When a pregnant woman craves something, it's because the baby wants it. I'd think you would know that.”

Sarai had never heard such foolishness, but she kept her face from revealing her thoughts. “You may be right. Here, would you like to sit up awhile?”

“That's what you'd like, isn't it? You know how tired I am after that walk you made me take. I'm exhausted, and now you're demanding things of me I can't do. You just don't understand what it's like to have a baby!”

The words penetrated Sarai like a knife, but still she said nothing. “Go get her some wine, Zara,” Sarai said meekly.

“Yes, mistress.”

“Find something to fan me with,” Hagar said irritably. “I'm burning up!”

Sarai produced a sheet of parchment and began to fan Hagar with it. As she did so, she thought about much how things had changed. She remembered with pain how she had separated herself from Abram after they had decided that Hagar should have his child. It was as if he had died, for Sarai would not sleep in the same tent with them. When it became clear that Hagar was pregnant, Abram returned to his place beside her. All this time Hagar smiled and seemed happy.

As her pregnancy progressed, however, things changed. Hagar began to behave in a more insolent fashion than Sarai would have dreamed possible—but never in the presence of Abram. She was careful to keep a sweet manner, mild and meek, while he was there, but when she was alone with Zara and Sarai she was unbearable.

As Sarai fanned the still air, creating a breeze, hot though it might be, she wondered, not for the first time, if she had done the right thing. Abram had been opposed to the idea at first, but now that a child was on the way, she could see that he was happy. She was careful to keep from him how badly Hagar behaved, what insolence she showed toward her when they were alone. She took her joy in the fact that the child would soon come and then she could deal with Hagar's behavior. In the meantime Abram was happier than she had seen him for years. A faint resentment stirred in her as she thought of what had happened, of his intimacy with Hagar. But she knew that his love for her had not changed, and, therefore, she held her peace.

Zara stayed angry most of the time. She was a witness to Hagar's harsh behavior toward Sarai, and she herself was often the object of Hagar's anger. Now as she went to get the wine, she saw Eliezer coming in from the fields.

“Eliezer, you're early.”

“Yes, there's nothing much to do. How is Hagar?”

“Fine.” Zara's voice dripped with bitterness, and she shook her head. “Abram would never believe how awful she is to Sarai. She acts like
she's
the true wife, not a mere bondwoman.”

“Why doesn't Sarai tell him?”

“You just don't understand women, do you, Eliezer?”

“Well, I never claimed to be an expert.”

“Expert!” Zara managed a smile. “No, you're far from that. But she'll never tell Abram, because she sees he's happy, and she'll do anything to keep him that way.”

“Oh!”

“Yes, oh. Now you understand it all. Here, take this wine back to her.”

“You know I can't stand to be around her.”

“Well,
that's
changed. At least one good thing came out of all this. You were as blind as a bat, Eliezer. Why, you might have married that woman.”