No Woman So Fair (43 page)

“I don't see any.”

“It may be well yet. After all, Isaac is only six.” She hesitated and then dropped her eyes, murmuring, “Lots of young children die.”

When she lifted her eyes, Hagar saw that the thought had come forcefully to Ishmael. He held her glance for a moment and then a smile twisted his lips. “That's right, isn't it? If something happened to him, I would be the heir.”

“Yes, you would.”

Ishmael said no more, but he got up, and Hagar watched him leave the tent. She did not tell him that she had been praying steadily to the Canaanite gods for Isaac to die. She had no faith at all in the God of Abraham, and even now she was thinking,
I'll make a larger offering than ever for that brat to die!

****

“Eliezer, let's go into the village tonight.”

Eliezer had been carving a cup out of a piece of extremely hard wood he had bought from a traveler. It was almost black and hard as stone. He enjoyed working with his hands, but now he looked up and studied Zara. He liked to watch her face, the slight changes of her expression. Her hair rose back from her temples, made a mass on her head, and then was caught into a fall behind.

“Why do you want to go into the village?”

She smiled and said, “They're having a festival of some kind there.”

“Probably to some god you don't even need to hear about.”

“We don't have to pay any attention to that.”

“We do if it's a festival celebrating an idol.”

“Please, let's go.” Behind her composed expression, an eagerness like that of a little girl stirred and displayed itself.

“What if I say no?”

“Well, then we won't go.”

“Yes, we would. You'd find some way. I don't know how you do it, Zara, but I always find myself giving in to you.”

“That's because I'm so sweet.”

Eliezer laughed. “I've seen you a few times when you didn't seem all that sweet. All right. Get ready and we'll go.”

****

The evening was a pleasure for both Zara and Eliezer. The village was crowded with people from all over the countryside. Eliezer had discovered that it was a harvest festival, and true enough, there was talk of a god of the harvest, but people, after paying token attention to whatever god it was, had thrown themselves into the spirit of the celebration.

Eliezer watched as Zara enjoyed herself. This was the greatest pleasure of the evening for him. He also liked the music and singing and found it refreshing to be in a place of merriment instead of out in the lonely stretches of the desert. There were times Zara was like a little girl, he decided, in spirit at least. Eliezer never ceased to marvel at her almost childlike enthusiasm and the range of her spirit. She could be quiet at times, so quiet that he would worry about her, but tonight she was laughing, her eyes dancing bright in her face.

“Are you having a good time, Eliezer?”

Zara had reached up and taken his arm to draw his attention. When he turned around and looked at her, he saw that her face was flushed and her lips slightly parted. She had unusually beautiful teeth, and the texture of her skin was smooth and clear, almost like a baby's. “I suppose it's more fun than tending sick sheep.”

“Oh, you old grouch!”

“Yes, I'm having fun.” His eyes went over to one of the booths, where he caught the glint of yellow metal. “Let's see what that fellow has,” he said.

The two went to the table the vendor had set up. He was a small man with bright eyes and used his hands incessantly as he talked. “Buy a present for the lady. Beautiful earrings. And look at this….”

Eliezer watched as Zara examined the jewelry. She hardly ever asked for anything, yet it was a pleasure to buy her gifts because she was always very grateful. Now she was taken with a pair of golden earrings that flashed in the light of the torches.

“How much are these?” Zara asked.

The trader said, “Almost nothing. I'm practically giving them away.” He named an exorbitant price, and Zara at once handed them back. “No, that's too much.”

Eliezer studied her, and as he expected, the man immediately lowered the price. He reached out and took the earrings. “Put them on. Let's see what they look like.”

“They cost too much, Eliezer.”

“I didn't say we'd buy them. Just put them on. Here, let me do it.” He touched her cheek with his hand as he slipped on one earring, then got the other one fastened and stood back to examine her face. He twisted his head to one side, rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and said nothing.

“Well, do you like them?”

“Yes, I do.”

“But they cost too much,” she said with a sigh.

Eliezer laughed and made an offer for the earrings. He went through the customary process of bargaining, finally paid for them, and the two turned away.

“You shouldn't have paid so much, Eliezer.”

“But they look so nice. As a matter of fact, you look very nice tonight, and I like the earrings.”

Zara did not speak for a moment, and when she turned to face him, he noticed her lips had gone soft and a change had come over her face. There was an expression in her eyes that stirred some old memory he could not identify, and he reached out and put his hand on her cheek. “You should always have nice things. Beautiful things. A beautiful woman should have beautiful earrings.”

He saw tears come to her eyes and said in amazement, “What's wrong?”

“Oh, nothing. I just like them so much. Thank you, Eliezer. I'll keep them always.”

As they walked Eliezer noticed Zara touching the earrings from time to time. They came upon a group of musicians playing stringed instruments and drums, and many were dancing to their lively tunes. Zara took his arm and said, “Come on. Let's join them.”

“But I'm not much of a dancer.”

“I'll teach you.”

“I don't think that's possible.”

But it was possible, and besides, Zara was a good enough dancer for the two of them. Eliezer saw how light on her feet she was—like the wind—and he marveled that he had never noticed this before. She even made him feel as if he were doing better than he really was.

As they danced Zara noticed a man watching them. She had seen him watching them throughout the evening, and after they left the dancers and stopped to buy water from a vendor, she saw him approach.

“You two dance very well together,” the man said.

Eliezer turned to face the man. He was a small, wiry fellow, with gray hair and a face like a ferret. “Thank you,” Eliezer replied.

“My name is Agag.”

The man waited for their names, and Eliezer reluctantly gave his. “I am Eliezer, steward of Abraham the Hebrew.”

Recognition gleamed in Agag's small but brilliant eyes. “I have heard much about him. You're camped near this village?”

“Not too far away.”

Agag turned and studied Zara. “You seem very familiar, lady. Is it possible we have met?”

“No, I don't think so.”

Agag had forgotten Eliezer. He stood watching Zara now, his gaze devouring her. “I have a wonderful memory,” he said quietly. “I know we have met. It may have been a long time ago.”

Zara was troubled by his examination. “I don't think so,” she said shortly. She reached out and took Eliezer's arm, and he sensed that she was ready to go.

“I doubt if you've ever met this woman,” Eliezer said, nodding to Agag and leading Zara away.

“I don't like that man,” Zara said quietly.

“You don't? Why not?” Eliezer asked.

“I don't know—just a feeling. He made me uncomfortable looking at me like that.”

“Well, you won't have to see him again. We won't be coming back to this village, and I think it's about time to move the herds again.”

The two walked on out of the village into the darkness, and when they arrived at the encampment, he stopped beside her tent. “I had a very good time tonight, Zara.”

“So did I,” she said softly, reaching up and touching the earrings. “Thank you so much for the earrings. They're beautiful.”

“You never ask for anything.”

“But you give me things, and it's better when you think of it yourself.”

A silence enveloped them, and they stood speaking quietly. Finally he said, “You'd better get to sleep. It's late.”

She hesitated, as though waiting for something. He saw an expression rise in her eyes, and she reached out and put her hand flat on his chest. “You're so good to me, Eliezer. I don't know what would have ever happened to me if you hadn't taken me in when my mother died.”

Eliezer put his hand over hers and said, “You've been a brightness in my life.” His words stirred her, he saw, and then she quickly turned, pulled her hand away, and disappeared without another word.

“What did I say wrong now? It seems I'm always putting my foot in my mouth with that woman.” He turned, shaking his head, and went to his own tent.

Zara was walking in the midst of the flock, a pastime that gave her pleasure. The fluffy sheep were like a lake of undulating white waves. They swarmed around her as she made her way through, and the sheep dog, with its lolling tongue, lifted his head and barked sharply at her. Raising her hand, Zara laughed and said, “I'm not going to hurt your sheep. Now, mind your own business.”

Peor, a shy boy of sixteen, stole a glance at the woman as she made her way through the flock. He fancied himself in love with her and made up songs to her beauty, which he never allowed anyone else to hear. Peor was a romantic lad and had been in love, or fancied himself so, with other women too, but something about Zara spoke to his heart.

He studied her with a surreptitious look, noting how pleasing she looked in her loose-fitting garment, a yellow smock with a red border patterned with black moons. The smock hung free and comfortably from throat to hem, showing her small feet and her sandals, but the gown was fitted around the shoulders, displaying their appealing fineness and slenderness, and the sleeves reached only halfway down her upper arm, exposing the smooth flesh. Her black hair tumbled rather than curled, and two braids curling at the ends hung across her cheeks and down on her shoulders. And her face…Peor let his glance linger on the charm of her smooth cheeks, but most of all he was intrigued by her oddly colored eyes. They were green or gray, sometimes one, sometimes the other, depending on the color of the garment she wore.

“Good morning, Peor,” she said, smiling at him.

“Good morning, mistress,” Peor whispered, feeling his knees go weak. “Fine day.”

“Yes, it is.” A humorous light danced in Zara's eyes. “How are you getting along with Meori?”

“Meori? Why, not at all. Why should I be interested in her?”

Zara laughed, exposing her lustrous white teeth. “You were so much in love with her a month ago you were running into trees and falling into holes.”

Peor blushed darkly. “I was not!”

Zara smiled and shook her head. “You are a romantic fellow, Peor.”

Peor watched Zara continue on her way through the flock, hopelessly admiring her figure. Then he heard the sharp bark of his dog and turned away, going about his business but all the while composing a song in his mind to Zara's eyes.

When Zara reached the camp, she knelt down by the hollowed-out grinding stone and placed a few handfuls of barley grain in it. Then she lifted a rounded stone and began to pound it. As she worked to make flour, she sang a song under her breath. She was strangely happy this morning. From her ears dangled the earrings Eliezer had bought her, and once she put down the stone, dusted off her hands, and gently caressed them. She grew warm as she thought of their evening together in the village and made up her mind to ask Eliezer to take her back to another festival soon.

She went back to her grinding, working steadily until she had filled the clay jar beside her with flour. As she finished she looked up to see a cloud of dust in the distance and wondered who could be coming into camp this early.
Probably traders. Maybe they'll have something I can use
. She rose, carried the jar of barley flour inside the tent, wiped off her hands, and then went back outside.

The men were closer now, and her eyes narrowed as she recognized one of them. It was the small man with the shifty eyes who called himself Agag. It had been only two days since the festival, and Zara remembered her dislike of him. Curiosity got the best of her, and she moved closer to where the four men were dismounting from their donkeys. One of them was obviously the leader, a large, strong-looking man with a face darkened by the fierce desert sun. Zara noted that the others fell slightly back, allowing him to step forward. Abraham was not in camp, and Eliezer had disappeared for the moment, so Eli stepped out to greet them. Eli was an older man in his sixties, not strong in body, but a man in whom Abraham put his trust. Zara was close enough to hear him greet the visitors.

“Good morning, sirs. You are traveling early.”

“My name is Zoltar,” the big man said. He studied Eli only for a second, and then his eyes began to scan the camp. They rested for a moment on Sarah, who had also drawn closer to see who the strangers were. His glance took her in, then moved on, resting on Zara. He had strange-colored eyes, flat, as if there was nothing behind them. His mouth was sensuous and cruel, and he moved quickly. He came to stand before Zara and said, “What is your name, woman?”

Zara was startled by the quickness of the man's action and put off by his arrogance. “That is none of your business, sir.”

Zoltar laughed. “Yes, it's my business. I know you.”

“I think not.”

Sarah and Eli had come to stand beside Zara. “This woman is part of our clan,” Sarah said coldly. “What is your business?”

“She is my business.” Zoltar lifted his arm and pointed at Zara. “Your name is Zara, isn't it?”