The Sons of Isaac (13 page)

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Isaac was more accustomed to walking out in the evening than in the morning. At this time of day there were the soft sounds of birds nesting, the rustling of little animals hurrying to hide, or the whispering sound of grasses ruffled by the evening breeze. He would watch as the sun, large and luminous, lighted the huddled walls of Gerar in the west and in the east the moon rose pale and fragile in the still blue sky.

The fields that he walked across were the same, but now he found himself watching the horizon and listening for the jangle of the trappings that announced a camel caravan. It had been two days since he had encountered the young boy who brought the good news of Eleazar’s return. Two days of wild excitement in his father’s camp. Vast preparations were being made to welcome Bethuel’s daughter, his bride.

He didn’t want to meet her for the first time with everyone watching. He wanted it to be something unique and private. He knew they were all anxious to see if she was beautiful and if he was going to love her as his father had loved Sarah. He knew he couldn’t avoid their curiosity, but first he wanted to greet her himself. He wanted to spare both of them any embarrassment.

There was so much to be decided and so many adjustments to be made. He at least knew the plans being made. She was to stay in the bridal tent with her maidens until they had time to get acquainted, and then Isaac would take her to his mother’s tent. In no part of the plan was there room made for this meeting that he was hoping for.

He was so engrossed in his thoughts that it was some time before he heard faint and far away the jangle of a camel caravan’s approach and the call of the Bashi driver. Looking up he saw a splendid caravan coming around the bend from where it had been hidden from view by a huge rock formation. The caravan of his father’s servant, Eleazar. He hurried toward it. The camel with the elegant trappings, a colorful array of tapestry, tassels, and bangles, had to be the camel of his bride.

As he approached, the caravan came to a stop. To his surprise the decorated camel came a few steps farther and then, in response to a sharp command given in a lilting, feminine voice, it knelt.

Quickly and with amazing agility, a small person alighted and came forward with a confident air that astonished Isaac. At first he thought it must be a young man coming with some message, but then rather suddenly a thin veil was drawn over the face. He stopped, baffled by the emotion he felt. This was undoubtedly his bride. How mysterious and exciting, even frightening, she seemed. She didn’t wait for the man to make all the moves. She seemed totally at home and unafraid.

As he hesitated she came toward him, and he heard her softly intone his name as though she were saying it to herself. “Isaac, laughter,” she said. She was veiled, but the veil only added beauty and mystery to the young face he saw before him, lit by the sunlight. They looked at each other seriously and long. Isaac had expected a painted prettiness, but instead he saw a young girl who held some secret charm, whose eyes were large and challenging, whose mouth was generous and the face angular. Suddenly the eyes crinkled and the lips parted as she laughed. “How handsome you are, my cousin,” she said.

With that she leaned forward and, as was the custom of cousins, kissed him on both cheek—first one and then the other. “Come ride with me and lead us to your camp,” she said. With that she led him back to her camel. “It’s easy to get off,” she said, “but quite impossible to get back on without help.” She held out her hand and in a daze he took it, marveling at its softness and strength. With the swiftness of a young mountain goat, she scrambled up the footholds and back in place behind the driver’s seat. Leaning down and taking his hand, she guided him into the seat of the driver.

Isaac was charmed and delighted with the turn of events. As he answered her many questions, he was aware of a steady parade of impressions going through his mind. He had hoped for a pretty wife and instead he had been given this fascinating young woman. She was interested in everything and had an exuberant joy even his mother had not had. He couldn’t have explained her to anyone. You wouldn’t say she was pretty. That was too tame and too prosaic. She was so much more than pretty. Just to see her smile was more beautiful than any sunrise he had ever seen. Most of all she obviously liked him. He had read it in her eyes just before she kissed him. His cheeks still tingled with her kiss and her subtle perfume floated on the air around them.

All too soon they were met with tambourines, drums, and flutes being played by a jolly procession of young men and women from Abraham’s camp. They guided them into the center of the dark tents, and there Isaac was helped down and led away to the men’s guest tent while Rebekah was welcomed by the women. Before they were parted, Isaac had paused just long enough to smile at her. As he did so he noticed that one of the coins that cascaded down from the caplet that she wore was missing. Again he was deeply moved. At that moment he knew that he loved her as much if not more than he had loved his mother.

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Over in the city of Gerar, Anatah paced back and forth in terrible frustration. She had been hearing for weeks that the servant of the desert prince, Abraham, had gone back to the family in Haran to find a bride for Isaac. She had comforted herself with the thought that no young woman would choose to travel such a long distance to marry a man she didn’t know. If such a person did come, she was sure to be ugly and old. Too old to get a husband any other way.

When her informant came running to tell her that a caravan had arrived with elegant trappings and a young bride for Isaac, she was furious. She had entertained thoughts of bribing someone to make friends with the young bride and then make sure that nothing she did succeeded. If she went riding, they were to see that she came home covered with mud from a mysterious accident, or if she baked something, they were to secretly put the powder of bitter herbs in the mix. She even thought briefly of poisoning her.

She had hoped to carry out these plots before the marriage was consummated. When she heard that Isaac had taken his young bride to his mother’s tent, she knew there was nothing she could do except wait and see if the marriage succeeded.

From the report of his happiness and her joy, there was no chance of the marriage proving to be a failure unless they were childless. Children would be very important in this marriage. She knew that the father, Abraham, had a promise from his God that he would be the father of multitudes. If this marriage did not produce an heir right away, then surely Isaac’s love for her would fade and he would send her home to her family.

She determined to give the earth goddess one last chance. In desperation she hurried to the niche beside the lily pond and confronted the ugly little image. “You must know already of your failure,” she said. “Isaac has married the woman. If he has a child by her, I will have lost him forever. You must see that she is never with child. She must never conceive.”

With that she felt much better. She gave the little image a hard look before turning and heading back to the receiving room. Her brother Abimelech, who had taken over the title and the crown after his father’s death, was hearing some complaints from his shepherds.

She listened only long enough to hear that their complaint was against the shepherds of the great and wealthy Abraham. He had too many animals and was right at that moment digging more wells to obtain the water they needed. “There is a law that if anyone digs a well, they can claim the land around the well,” said the king. “This Abraham and his son Isaac are going too far.”

Anatah waited to hear no more. She had all the information she needed. She would get at Rebekah through her faithful informants and at Isaac through her brother Abimelech.

“Let his God bless him,” she muttered. “The more he is blessed, the more crowded the land will become, and the sooner he will be driven out.”
If our gods and our people are not good enough for him, then he should be forced out one way or another.

J
ust as the moon rose over the distant mountains, Isaac brought Rebekah to his mother’s tent. “It is our custom here for the bride and groom to remain secluded for eight days,” he said. “Is this also your custom in Haran?”

She was sitting on a soft, fringed cushion looking over a round tray woven of the stiff, broad grasses from the brook and piled with dried dates and figs. He was surprised that she didn’t seem frightened or shy. She glanced at him and then went back to looking at the dates. Her gold bracelets jangled as she reached out and plucked the date of her choice and then took a small bite before again looking at him. “Of course. The old women say it’s to give time for the trouble-causing demons to leave.”

“Do you believe there are trouble-causing demons?” Isaac asked.

She took another small bite as she glanced around the tent and contemplated the answer. “It could explain why some people have so much trouble.”

“Do you think that is why someone like my mother was barren for so many years?”

“That’s the kind of thing the demons are supposed to do.”

“You don’t seem to be very concerned about them.”

“I’m not,” she said, looking directly at him and at the same time licking the sticky sweetness of the dates from her fingers.

“You aren’t afraid of anything, are you?” He reached for the damp, perfume-scented cloth that was draped over the side of the tray, intending to wipe away the offending syrup. She took the cloth from him and wiped each hand slowly and with an obvious enjoyment of the subtle fragrance. “Oh, I am afraid of some things, but not of being barren.”

“You’re not afraid of being barren? I thought every bride was afraid of that.”

“Well, I’m not,” she said as she carefully folded the cloth and put it back on the side of the tray. “I had a special blessing given me before I left Haran. I will have many children.”

“And I too have promises. No trouble-causing demons can come against the promises of Elohim to my father.”

“I’ll tell you what I think.” She looked around again as though to make sure no demon lurked in the dark corners of the tent. “I think it is the old women who like to frighten new brides. They love to tell horrible stories. It’s always the poor young bride who turns out to have the ears of a donkey or talons like an eagle instead of fingers.” She held out her two arms and looked at her hands. “It would be awful,” she said, looking at him and grinning.

He captured one of her hands in both of his. “You have beautiful hands,” he said. “I noticed them when we first met and you brushed your hands against your veil.”

“And you have eyes that say many lovely things even before you speak.”

“We will have no problems,” he said. “Our children will be wise and prudent.”

“They will all be handsome and generous,” she said as they both laughed with the delight of discovery.

Isaac could hardly contain his joy. Joy in the realization that he was no longer alone or lonely and joy in realizing that he had trusted his father and Elohim and they had not failed him.

*  *  *

As the days passed, Isaac found it even harder to believe his good fortune. His little bride was full of happy surprises. She responded to his attention with dancing eyes and coy glances that made their nights magical. She never seemed to tire of him. At the same time he marveled that she never bored him.
Perhaps it’s because she’s busy. There’s always something that interests her.

Early in the morning he would wake to hear singing coming from the tent that had belonged to his mother and was now Rebekah’s. It was a hypnotic, rhythmical tune that went along with the swinging goatskin that produced the morning’s butter. Then there was the sharp slapping sound that meant flat cakes were being turned on the outdoor clay oven. It made him smile as he lay back against the straw-filled headrest. There would be only a few minutes before she would appear with buttermilk and bread cakes dripping with honey butter.

As she knelt, placing the straw mat with its delectable offering beside him, he was aware of the subtle fragrance that always filled the air around her. It was not the patchouli of his mother but some mysterious blend that hinted of Damascus or the markets of Mari.

He was charmed by her way of reaching out and taking hold of his hands before he could reach for the food, then bending forward to kiss him. He could see that she was amused by her own boldness as she sat back on her heels, hands folded in her lap, and grinned at him.

It was not the custom for a wife to be so forward, but when she saw that it pleased him, she seemed to delight in continuing the practice. He was amazed at how quickly she determined his likes and dislikes. She was a careful observer and so fitted in without being told. He knew his mother would have liked her and would have been happy that he was no longer lonely and grieving.

When it came time for him to again spend long days with his men, he became concerned. What would she do? How would she spend her time in this strange camp that was so different from anything she was used to?