No Woman So Fair (28 page)

Pharaoh's eyes narrowed and he whispered, “Perhaps we should think of ourselves more as kin rather than host and guest.”

Instantly Sarai rejoined, “Am I to think of Pharaoh as my brother?”

Pharaoh's voice was tinged with irritation. “You're more than a guest, and I would have you to be much more.”

“Your kindness is legendary,” Sarai said graciously, ignoring the pharaoh's implication.

“Are you pleased with your servant?”

“Hagar? Yes, she's very efficient.”

“Then I give her to you.”

Sarai knew that Pharaoh was not really giving her anything, but there was no way to refuse. “Your generosity is well-known, my lord.”

Pharaoh shook his head. “I have been patient with you, Sarai, but I think the time has come to make my intentions plain, although you have probably already read my desires.”

“Indeed not, sir!”

“I think you would fit well within my house of women. I had thought of you at first as merely a concubine, but I see now that you are far above that. So the position of wife is what I'm considering.”

Sarai knew that the moment had come, and fear gripped her. She had to make an answer, and she had planned it well. She lifted her eyes and looked at Pharaoh while saying evenly, “Perhaps I have not made it clear. The Eternal One does not look with favor upon his people marrying those who are not Hebrews.”

“No, you have not mentioned this,” Pharaoh replied, frowning, “but I will make offerings to Him. All will be well.”

“I think Pharaoh should consider that great harm may come if he touches one of the Eternal One's servants.” She knew then that her life hung in the balance, so she added quickly, “My brother is a favorite of the Eternal One. Think carefully what you do, Pharaoh. The Eternal One is all-powerful and is not to be offended. I do not know what terrible thing might come upon you if you displease Him.”

Pharaoh stared at her. He was a man who had known nothing but his own will all of his life. Now he stood up, anger and interest intermingled in his expression. “You are an unusual woman, Sarai, and I must have you. We will speak of this later, but make up your mind that you
will
be one of the wives of Pharaoh.”

Sarai then rose and bowed. She was led back to her room by Ahut, who tried to pry the essence of her conversation with Pharaoh out of her, but Sarai put him off.

As soon as she entered her room, she pleaded, “Hagar, you must help me.”

Hagar was shocked at the strain on Sarai's face. “What's wrong, mistress?”

“You must take a message to Abram.”

“Your brother?”

“Y-yes…my brother. Could you do that?”

“No one pays much attention to a slave girl. But if I can find him, I will give him a message.”

“When I left he was camped just outside of the city, upriver. Anyone could direct you to Abram the Hebrew.”

“What will I say to him?”

“Tell him that he must pray to the Eternal One, that both he and I are in terrible danger. The pharaoh has told me that I must become his wife.”

“And you did not say yes?” Hagar was astonished. “You would have everything.”

“Hagar, I must tell you something…and I put my life in your hands….” Sarai hesitated. “Abram is not my brother.”

Hagar stared at Sarai, her eyes flying wide open. “But who is he?”

“He is my husband, Hagar. He knew if he had told Pharaoh this, he would have been killed. Now go and tell him to pray to the Eternal One.”

****

Abram stared at the young slave woman who had come into camp, announcing that she had a message for him from his wife. Fear seized him, for if this girl knew that Sarai was his wife, everyone else must know.

He took her into the privacy of his tent and asked, “How do you know that Sarai is my wife?”

“She has confided in me, master, and you need not fear, for I love Lady Sarai. She has been kind to me.”

Relieved, Abram asked, “Is she all right, Hagar?”

“No, Pharaoh is determined to make her his wife. She sent me to tell you that you must pray to the Eternal One. Unless He helps you, all is lost.”

Abram spoke with the girl long enough to form a favorable impression of her. “You are a faithful servant, Hagar. I will find some way of making this right with you.”

“I did it for my mistress Sarai, but I see that you are a good man. I hope your God can save her from the pharaoh. He is a cruel man in many ways.”

“Say nothing to anyone. Tell Sarai that I will pray and she must have faith that the Eternal One will save her.”

The two stepped outside the tent then, and Abram said, “Eliezer, escort this young woman back to the palace.”

Eliezer had watched Hagar come into the camp. He bowed now and said, “Of course, master.” His gaze turned to Hagar. “Lead the way, if you please.”

On the return trip, Hagar found the young man handsome and could tell that he was casting secret glances at her. She was used to the admiration of men and wondered what his position was. “Are you a son or a relative of Abram?” she asked.

“No, I'm merely his steward. My mother was a slave girl. He bought her to save her from slavery.”

“He is a kind man, then.”

“Yes. He's the kindest man I've ever known.” He looked at her and asked, “Do you have a husband?”

“No.”

Hagar said no more, but when they got within sight of the palace, she said, “You'd better not be seen with me.” She bowed before him and smiled, knowing she made a pretty picture for any man. “I will see you again, will I not?”

“I trust that you will, Hagar.”

Eliezer watched her as she went into the palace. He turned back, and his mind was full—a mixture of concern for his mistress Sarai, but at the same time he found the young woman Hagar as exciting as any woman he had ever met.

The night sky was sprinkled with more stars than Abram could remember seeing in many years. Looking up in the moonlight, he almost stumbled over the root of a large tree that loomed out to his left. Catching his balance, he stopped and made his way to the trunk. It was a terebinth tree, short trunked, with spreading branches that blotted out part of the heavens above him.

Abram sat down, aware that his legs were weary and that indeed his whole body ached with fatigue. His eyes were heavy and gritty, for he had slept only in fits since the slave girl Hagar had brought Sarai's message.
That was close to two weeks ago!
he thought with alarm. Leaning his head back, he felt the roughness of the bark against his hair and pushed his head against it until the pressure became painful. The night air was so much cooler than the heat of the day, and for a time he sat there struggling against his desire for sleep.

Abram had prayed every way he could think of. He had prayed aloud in a soft voice. At times his voice had risen to a crescendo, but his spirit was in so much agony, he didn't care who heard him. He had prayed sitting, standing, walking, and at times had grown so agitated he'd flung himself full-length on the ground with his lips in the dust, crying out to the Eternal One.

He was met with silence and felt nothing but a deep darkness, like a beast trying to drag him into a silent black hole in the earth. He thought it would be a pleasure to surrender to death, simply to escape the agony that was clawing at his insides.

One day was like every other day to him now, and what little he ate was like eating the dust of Egypt—tasteless and gritty. He even forgot to drink until, from time to time, he would become aware of the fact that his lips were dry as parchment and his tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth.

The tree had a strong and pungent aroma, and Abram reached back, extending his arms and feeling the rough bark. He pressed his hands against it and curled his fingers, clutching at the bark and breaking off small fragments. He brought them to his nose and smelled their sharp, aromatic fragrance, distinct from other trees. From far off in the distance came the cry of a wild dog. Its plaintive wail emphasized Abram's loneliness, and he was seized with the temptation to emulate the animal and howl his miseries on the Egyptian air.

Abram felt drugged with weariness. He could no longer even speak clearly, so he had avoided the others, spending much of his time by himself out in the pastures rather than returning to camp. But now he knew he desperately needed rest and needed to get back to his tent. He tossed down the pieces of bark and struggled to his feet, so weak he had to grasp ahold of the tree trunk for support. He gained his footing, then leaned back against the bark, trying to gather strength for the walk home.

Leaning there, he glanced up through the leafy branches and saw the stars twinkling. “O Eternal One,” he whispered, “you made all these stars. Every one of them. I could not count them in a lifetime. You made this earth and the rivers and the lakes and the streams. It was your hand, O God, that pushed up the mountains and hollowed out the valleys. Every creature in the sea, large and small, was created by your hand. The beasts of the earth, every bird and every four-footed animal and all of the reptiles, these too you created. O Eternal One, you can do all things. I am weary of my own voice, and I am a child crying into the void. Please…speak to me, O God, as you have in the past. I ask again that you deliver my wife from the hand of the one who holds her. The whole land of Egypt trembles at his voice, but you are not afraid, for you are the almighty and everlasting one. Let me know that you will not leave Sarai helpless in the hands of that man!”

No sooner had Abram uttered these words than he heard again the blessed voice of the Eternal One!

“Do not be afraid, Abram my son, for I have heard your cry. I am pleased that you have not doubted me but have continued to have strong faith, even though you saw nothing and heard nothing. That is the reason I have loved you and have chosen you out of all human beings that I've created—because you have such a large capacity for faith.”

Abram did not open his eyes or move but simply stood listening, no longer conscious of the roughness of the tree against which he leaned. Now he thought only of the voice of his almighty God, who spoke such words of strength and comfort to him.

“Thank you, O Eternal One. I have been so afraid, for I love Sarai.”

“Yes, you love Sarai, Abram, but not as much as I do. I am the God of love as I am the God of justice. Now do not be afraid, for I have already put my hand upon the pharaoh and upon his court. Sarai, your wife, will be delivered into your hands, and when that has come to pass, I command you to leave Egypt and go back to Canaan.”

“Yes, O Eternal One,” Abram whispered, and then he began to thank his God and to joyfully praise Him. The weariness fell away, and with tears running down his face, he lifted his arms. He knew that God was not located upward any more than He was located downward. He was simply the God that was everywhere. Nevertheless, Abram held up his head, and praise poured from his lips as the starlight fell across his face. He gave thanks, as though what the Eternal One had promised had already come to pass.

****

Ahotep, the court physician, cowered and covered his head with his hands. He whimpered, “Please, O great Pharaoh, please do not beat your poor servant!”

Pharaoh had picked up a reed staff from one of the golden pots. The reeds were there merely for decorative purposes, but now he used one to strike the physician, again and again until it splintered. Pharaoh threw the remains to the floor and screamed, “You are a fraud! I will have you flayed alive!”

Ahotep tried to speak. “Please, O God of Egypt, I promise that all will be well.”

“All will be well? I have tried all your remedies, and they are worthless. Get out of my sight!”

Ahotep scrambled to his feet and ran out of the room, his pale face lined with the stripes where the reed had struck him. Panting, he shoved himself through the door, colliding with the high priest Menhades.

“What is going on?” Menhades demanded, looking at the stripes on Ahotep's face. “Did the Pharaoh strike you?”

“Yes, he's lost his mind!”

“Gods do not lose their minds,” Menhades said with a cynical smile. “What happened?”

“I went in to treat his affliction, and he just started screaming. He was violent. I know the treatment is painful, but it's necessary.”

“You still do not know what this plague is?”

Ahotep was a small, fragile man, and his hands trembled violently. He was wearing a wig that had been knocked askew, and now he pulled it from his head and rubbed his hand over the welt. “I have never seen anything like it, and I have seen every disease in Egypt at one time or another—and most of those in other lands. It…it is not a
normal
sickness.”

“Have any more men in the court been afflicted?”

“Yes. Frenahoe sent for me this morning.” Ahotep wiped his eyes with his hands, for the tears had begun to flow. “It is the same with him. Lesions and sores mostly around the private parts—and impotence. He cannot be with a woman.”

“And it is all among the members of the court? Commoners have not been afflicted? You had no reports of such?”

“No. Only Pharaoh and his highest officials.” Suddenly Ahotep stared at the high priest. “Sir, forgive me, but have you—?”

“No!” Menhades said sharply. He too had been frightened by the inexplicable plague that had attacked the high court of Egypt. It had begun only three days ago when seven men, including the pharaoh and his highest advisors and closest friends, had sent for Ahotep and the high priest. The rash had been the same in all cases, and Ahotep had treated them as he had treated other rashes. But the raging sickness had spread swiftly, the sores growing worse by the hour, so that now everyone in the capital knew that one of the gods had put his hand on Pharaoh.