Sarah: Women of Genesis: 1 (Women of Genesis (Forge)) (27 page)

A piece of ground—that’s what the villagers settled for. But to Abram, God had given the whole land of Canaan. It would have been absurd for God to give a whole land to a town dweller. Only a wandering herdkeeper would know how to use the grassy hills and valleys in this land between the Jordan and the sea.

The people who had lived here before the drought were all Canaanites, speaking one language. But the people who moved here now were of every nation—Amorites, of course, those perpetual wanderers who sneaked like dust through every crevice, and also Hittites, Perizzites, Jebusites, and even a few Hebrews who called Abram kinsman, though none of them knew his genealogy back to Abram’s ancestor Heber. There were a few whose families had dwelt in Hebron before, but their memories of the old city were distant at best, and second- or third-hand in most cases. It was a new people they were making here, a new nation in an old land, like the new city being built out of the stones of the old.

And on the hills, Abram’s flocks and herds looked over all. He sold wools and cheeses, beef and mutton, and bought tools and pots from smiths and potters, wines and oils from vintners and orcharders up and down the land, making contact with each new village that sprang up in the ruins of old cities. The name of Abram the Hebrew was known everywhere in Canaan. But except for the people of Salem, who still remembered the true religion, not one soul knew that God had made him keeper of this land. He watched over his kingdom with a sharp eye, but ruled it so lightly that no one noticed the touch of his authority. Yet he was the link between villages, and his language became the common tongue that strangers adopted so they could live together in peace. Ma’at prevailed in northern Canaan in those days.

Not so in Egypt. Word reached them that Neb-Towi-Re was dead, his name expunged from the monument. Sehtepibre now ruled as Pharaoh Amenemhet, and he waged war against the Hsy, driving them out of every enclave in Egypt where they still lingered. The history, as Sehtepibre was now writing it, told of the Hsy usurpers who almost succeeded in ruling Egypt, defiling the holy places and worshiping strange gods in abominable ceremonies, burying their dead in the ground, wrapped only in sheepskin. It was Amenemhet who saved Egypt from these invaders.

The Hsy who could, fled from Egypt, back across Sinai. Those with connections in Arabia went south, but many tried to find a living in Sodom or one of the other cities of the Valley of Siddim southeast of the Dead Sea, or else wandered up into the southern part of Canaan.

And many made their way east to Mesopotamia, to Akkad and Babylon, Ur and Sumer, and even as far as Elam. The men who made such a long trek were not the settled or settling kind. They had heard that the Amorite kings who now ruled the ancient cities of Mesopotamia would pay for soldiers. Many of these men had fought for Neb-Towi-Re. There was no one now to hire their swords in Egypt, but swordskill was all they had to sell.

The most ambitious of the Amorite warrior kings was Chedorlaomer, who ruled in Elam. During the worst of the drought, when Abram and Sarai were in Egypt, he had brought an army and raided Sodom and the other cities of Siddim—Gomorrah, Admah, Zebolim, and Zoar. Surprised and unprepared, the five kings of the cities of Siddim were easily defeated and agreed to pay tribute to Chedorlaomer.

Now, in these more prosperous times, with refugees returning from Egypt to swell the population of Sodom and the other cities, the people of Siddim became complacent. A raiding party like the one Chedorlaomer had brought in his surprise attack would never defeat them now. Their armies were strong and well-trained. They needed no longer pay tribute to the king of such a far-off city as Elam.

Lot and Abram talked about these matters many times, often when Sarai was part of the conversation. Lot and Abram were sure this was a foolish mistake. Chedorlaomer was of Amorite origin, and he clung to the old ways. To him it was nothing to bring an army across hundreds of miles of grassland—the desert was no more a barrier to him than was the sea to a sailor. “They’ve provoked him,” said Abram, “when they could have paid his tribute out of what falls from the king’s table.”

“Do you think I haven’t told them, again and again?” said Lot. “But no one listens to me. They call me ‘the shepherd’ and claim that wandering herdsmen know nothing of the strength of cities.”

“It was wandering herdsmen called Amorites who conquered Ur-of-Sumeria and drove my father into exile,” said Sarai. “Have they forgotten that?”

“People have short memories,” said Abram. “This year’s prosperity is all they remember. There has been no war in a few years, so they will always have peace. There has been no drought for a few years, so they will always have rain.”

“But you remember,” said Lot.

“I have the books,” said Abram. “It has all happened before, over and over again. A city begins to think that it is great. But to a rival king or to a tribe of hungry strangers, that great city looks like a prize to be taken, not a trap to be feared. And suddenly those proud citizens who boasted of their greatness are sold into slavery.”

“Those that aren’t put to the sword,” said Lot.

“But when they came before, all they demanded was tribute,” said Sarai.

“Tribute is a tax without the trouble of governing the taxpayers,” said Abram. “They regard these cities as conquered, and to them the decision to withhold the tribute is a revolt. Treason. When they come back, someone will pay for the crime.”

“Well, I hope you’re planning to move out of Sodom before they come!” said Sarai to Lot.

The silence that greeted her outburst made her feel like a fool.

Lot smiled and patted her hand. “Don’t think the subject hasn’t come up,” he said. “I think the most common answer in my house is, ‘I don’t see any soldiers. Where are these armies you fear so much? Do you run from every shadow?’ Much of the reason I’m scoffed at in the council and the market is because my wife is mocking my warnings in the homes of all the leading citizens of Sodom.”

“Ah, Qira,” sighed Sarai.

So it was that when Chedorlaomer came again, everyone was surprised, despite the warnings.

Chedorlaomer came with allies, King Amraphel of Shinar, King Arioch of Eliasar, and Tidal, a tribal leader who styled himself King of Nations. They brought such a large host that their supplies had failed them—they struck first at some of the small new villages, slaughtering everyone who had not had the sense to run away and taking all their food and animals to feed their soldiers. Replenished, they turned to Siddim and the great cities that gleamed like precious stones amid the orchards and grasslands east of the Dead Sea. There were traitors to punish and overdue tribute to collect.

The first word of the coming of these armies came from Abram’s shepherds in the southern hills. Obeying a standing instruction, a messenger had headed for Lot at the same time to give him warning. Abram gave orders for all his herds to be driven up to the high valleys, where they would be invisible to armies coming up the Jordan Valley. And beyond the minimum number needed to keep the herds together, all his men were to gather to Abram in the plain of Mamre.

Even before they had all assembled, another messenger arrived, this time one of Lot’s men. The armies of the five kings of Siddim were outnumbered and undertrained. They fled almost before the first attack had begun, and the kings of Sodom and Gomorrah fell in the slimepits that blocked their retreat. But the worst was yet to come.

Sodom and Gomorrah had been taken, but not sacked. Chedorlaomer meant for these cities to continue paying him tribute for many years to come. But they would not rebel again. He took all five kings as captives, to be displayed back in Elam before they were executed. He also took the richest citizens of Sodom and Gomorrah with him as hostages, to make sure the heavy tribute was paid. Whether they would return alive was doubtful. The other three cities were relatively untouched, but the warning was clear. Obey or pay dearly.

“Lot is taken,” said the messenger. “All the wealth of his house. His herds and flocks are safe, but to get him back will take more gold than we can ever get for selling them all. Master Abram, I beg you to help pay the tribute so we can free my master before he is taken all the way to Elam!”

The news filled Sarai with fury. If the fools in Sodom and Gomorrah had listened to Lot and Abram instead of mocking them, they would still be paying a negligible tribute and prospering in peace. And now, because of their stupidity, not only had they lost everything, but Lot, too, would be impoverished, and Abram too, to save him.

Abram said nothing, as they all waited to hear what he would say. He raised his eyes to heaven, as if calling upon God, but he said nothing with his lips. Then he looked at the messenger and smiled. “I’ll pay a tribute to Chedorlaomer that is beyond his wildest dreams.”

There was something in his tone that sent a chill through Sarai’s heart. It was the voice of a man making ready for war. She had never heard it before, but she recognized it at once. Ever since the human race had existed on the earth, that voice had echoes in the deepest places in the soul. Sarai was afraid, yes, but she was also filled with a strange exaltation. The arm of her husband and his men would fall upon their enemies.

By the next morning, Abram’s men had assembled. He inspected them all, and while Bethuel and Eliezer took them through the battle exercises they practiced every month, to make sure their fighting skills were honed, Abram and Sarai rode on horseback to a vantage point from which they could look down over the valley of Jordan.

They got there almost at noon, and Sarai could see at once the great cloud of dust that rose from the huge host coming up the valley from the south. It took only a glance for all the exaltation of war to vanish and rank fear to take its place.

“Abram,” she said. “Even with our friends Mamre and Eshcol and Aner joining us with their servants, you have only three hundred and eighteen men. There are tens of thousands in that army.”

He smiled, a slight and menacing smile. “I have three hundred and eighteen men strengthened by the hand of God, coming upon an army that is burdened with treasure and drunk with wine every night. They think no enemy will dare to attack them. Triumph has made them careless and stupid. God has delivered them into our hands. God will bring Lot back to us, and restore the kings of the five cities of Siddim, and their treasures.”

“God will give them back their treasure?”

“What else would he do with them? Such things have no value to God. It’s the life of Lot that I asked for. But if God wants also to give these foolish kings a chance to learn from their mistakes, who am I to be a sterner judge than the Lord? It’s Chedorlaomer who is marked for destruction today.”

Then he turned his horse and started back down to Mamre. Sarai lingered only a moment, trying hard to find a way to believe that any of Abram’s little host could come home alive from a battle with such an army. Abram waited for her without a hint of impatience, and it annoyed her a little that he seemed to feel no urgency as their horses walked slowly down the path back to Mamre.

“Abram,” she said, “why aren’t you hurrying?”

“God may be on our side,” said Abram, “but that doesn’t mean I can act foolishly. Chedorlaomer may be overconfident, but he’s not blind. I can’t bring my men down out of the hills while the enemy is marching up the Jordan Valley—they’d have hours to prepare to meet us when we reached the valley. We have to come on them unaware, which means we’ll pursue them but keep our distance, so they never know we’re there. In the mountains of the north, they’ll camp in a place where their army is divided among several small valleys. The hostages and prisoners will all be kept close to Chedorlaomer. We’ll have the victory almost before they know the battle has begun.”

“How can you be so sure of this? Has God shown it to you in a vision?”

“Did God have to show you in a vision that Sehtepibre was maneuvering to usurp the crown of Egypt?”

“No, of course not, I was trained in statecraft all my life,” said Sarai. “But you and your men have never fought a war; you’ve only skirmished with raiding parties and driven away robbers.”

“What do you think is written in those books I study?” asked Abram. “Prophecies and revelations, yes, but also the stories of the lives of my ancestors, including the wars of the righteous and the wars of the wicked. Just because I’ve never fought a war against kings doesn’t mean I don’t know how. After all, you never saw your father ruling over a city, either.”

“Abram, I have faith in God’s power to bring you victory,” said Sarai. “But I also know that God does not think of the deaths of men as a terrible calamity.”

“Sarai, I know we’ll have a victory, but I don’t know which of my men will return home alive, only that God wants me to take them into battle. One man, though, will
have
to return alive.”

“And who is that?”

“Me,” said Abram. “Because I don’t have any children yet, and the Lord promised me that my descendants would fill this land like dust—every corner of it.”

“Oh, so now I’m supposed to take my barrenness as a sign that God can’t let you die? What if I take it as a sign that God doesn’t always keep his promises?”

Abram’s face darkened. Sarai hadn’t seen him angry very often, but she remembered it all the more because of that. “I wish you wouldn’t say things like that,” said Abram. “God keeps his word, Sarai. Heaven and earth can pass away, but his word will still stand.”