Sarai (Jill Eileen Smith) (15 page)

She touched his arm, meeting his gaze, her heart softening toward him. “It is I who have failed you, my lord. I have wanted a son for your sake. I could never love another man, nor want one—ever.”

His boyish smile brought a dimple to his left cheek, just above his beard. “You do me great honor, Sarai.” He fingered her veil, his palm caressing her face. “Then you will go along with the ruse one more time? As your brother, I will do all in my power to protect you. You know this.”

She nodded. “Of course.”

But as they made camp for the night overlooking the lush land of the pharaohs, the historic heritage of Noah’s son Ham, the fear she had battled on the journey remained.

Abram approached the border crossing, an uneasy fear warning him to turn back. But he had been through every option open to him too many times to count. If he turned back, they would die. There was no place to go.

Two guards stepped forward, their chests bare but for collars inlaid with gems across their necks and shoulders, their short tunics revealing bare legs. A quiver of arrows was slung behind their backs, and they each held a bow in their left hand. A colorful sash was tied at their waist, and tall helmets rose high above their dark heads. Abram attempted a smile as he approached, but the stern looks he received in response made his smile quickly fade.

“State your business,” one young guard said, his bearing like a prince, his gaze cool, assessing.

“I have come with my household to seek shelter from the famine in Canaan. We wish to stay only until the lands to the north are fertile once again.” Abram waved an arm behind him to encompass the group at his back. “My people are your king’s willing servants.”

The guard’s gaze moved beyond Abram. “How many are in your company?”

“Right now we are one hundred and fifty men, plus women and children.”

“What are these herds, and what is this bleating of sheep I hear?” The guard’s grim mouth tipped in a scowl.

“We have only a few sheep and cattle, to keep our families supplied with food and shelter.” Abram sensed distaste from the man but said nothing, waiting.

The guard motioned the first in the group forward, and Abram held his breath as the servants and their families were allowed into Egypt. During the night, Abram had arranged his people into a specific order, putting Lot and his men with the flocks near the front, Sarai and her maids and the children in the middle, and Eliezer with the rest of the men near the end. He hoped in so doing, the women clustered around Sarai would pass through as a group, unnoticed and protected.

He stood silent, watching as more guards emerged from the mud-brick houses near the outpost and headed his way. They consulted the man Abram had spoken to, then made their way down the line of men and sheep, headed toward the women with obvious purpose. The Egyptian outpost surely saw a daily influx of people seeking escape from the famine. Were they planning to accost the women in his company right before his eyes?

Abram glanced in Sarai’s direction, the fear he’d fought during the night returning in full force as the Egyptian guards came to the middle of the group and paused before each woman. He hurried forward.

“Is there a problem?” He stopped several paces from Sarai, hoping to draw the guard’s attention to himself.

“No problem at all. The pharaoh likes beautiful women.” He fingered the edge of his bow, his dark-lidded eyes looking down on Abram as though he were of no consequence. “Do you have any beautiful women in your company?”

Abram glanced purposely away from Sarai, his heart beating thick with dread. The guard walked away, apparently not willing to await an answer, but the two guards weaving in and among the women, assessing them, made Abram feel powerless.

The guards moved on at last, and the women and children passed through unharmed into Egypt. Abram released a slow breath, his heart rate returning to normal.

They camped on the outskirts of Succoth, grouping their tents together in a circle as they did everywhere they went. Abram considered keeping Sarai with him, leaving her tent to her maids, but quickly changed his thinking, recalling the almost malevolent looks of the guards. If the governors or viziers or any of the princes of Egypt thought him to be Sarai’s husband, things would not bode well for either of them.

He should never have brought them this far. Though the pharaoh’s arm had weakened in recent years, he had united Egypt again, his influence reaching even north into Canaanite lands. Abram should have known better than to trust such a foreign power with his family, his livelihood. This pharaoh could be no better than the kings of the east from which he’d come. And probably worse.

As night descended and the voices of his people fell to whispers around him, Abram stepped from his tent, glancing once more toward Sarai’s quarters, wishing he could go to her for comfort. For in truth, he needed her warmth, her smile, her assurance to tell him he’d done the right thing.

Three weeks of constant waking at every noise, every shift of the wind, left Sarai groggy and anxious. She had work to do and should rise this very moment, but her limbs felt ancient, her motivation gone. How long must they stay in this land of gods she did not know, living in fear of what they could not see? Abram’s faith, always so strong, seemed to have slipped behind him in a place he could not reach. And she was powerless to help him if he did not come to her. Her faith in his One God was too weak to stand without him.

Voices drifted to her, pulling her from her melancholy depths. Hurried footsteps padded over the thick-carpeted fabrics spread over the earthen floor.

“Sarai, you must come at once!” Lila burst into the sleeping room of the tent, short of breath. “Egyptian princes have come to the camp. They are speaking with Abram even now.”

Lila’s whispered words sent a dart of fear straight through her. “Whatever could they want?” But instinctively she knew. The fate that had befallen Eliezer’s first wife—the fear she had lived with since they had left Ur—would surely be hers. Her heart beat too fast as she scrambled from the cushioned bed and let Lila help her dress.

Lila pulled Sarai’s best deep-blue gown from the basket of robes and tunics. “You will need to pack for at least two weeks, to journey to Thebes and back again.” She snatched the stone casket lined with soft linen holding Sarai’s jewels. “They insisted you pack your finest clothing,” she said as she lifted lapis lazuli earrings and a matching lapis lazuli, gold, and pearl necklace from the case. “The pharaoh wants to meet you.”

Lila draped the jewels about her neck, their weight feeling like a prisoner’s rope. “I can’t do this.” Sarai’s voice sounded weak to her ears, and numbness settled over her. She sank to a low stool, her strength fading.

“I know. But what else can you do?” Lila’s mouth formed a grim line as she hurried to apply kohl to Sarai’s eyes.

“There must be something.” They could tell the truth. But her stomach twisted at that thought. Abram would not agree.

“Perhaps as your brother, Abram can tell the pharaoh you are promised to someone else. Or he could say you are widowed.” Lila coiled her hair with jeweled combs beneath a veil of soft, dark fabric.

“Don’t say such a thing!” Could saying the words make them come true? A tremor worked through her, and she gripped the sides of the stool for support.

“I’m sorry, Sarai. Didn’t you and Abram plan for what to do if such a thing came to pass?”

A shadow fell across her tent opening, interrupting their conversation. She turned to see Abram standing there, blocking the light. She rose slowly, not trusting her legs to hold her, and went to him.

“Sarai.” Her name on his lips came out strangled. “The pharaoh . . . he is asking to meet us . . . to meet my sister.”

Her feet held her fast as she took in his gaze, the one that would not quite meet hers. His hands clenched and unclenched, and he shifted from foot to foot.

“You said it would not come to this. You said you would tell them I am not available.” Her words came out low and harsh, her anger the only thing keeping her from swaying and fainting straightaway.

Silence met her ear until at last he looked her in the eye. “I tried, Sarai. But apparently Pharaoh Mentuhotep II has an eye for beautiful women. His princes and guards and viziers and governors are all commissioned to keep a lookout for them. They report any they find directly to the king, and they reported you.” He moved into the tent and took her hands in his. She did not pull away, not knowing whether she would feel his touch again after this meeting. “I should never have brought you here.”

His look of dejection touched a chord within her, melting her anger, and his fear became her own. She pulled one hand from his to stroke his beard. “The famine.” And her foolish sacrifice that caused it. “There was nothing else we could have done.” The words tasted like ash.

He darted a quick look behind him, then turned and wrapped her in his arms, crushing her beneath his kiss. He broke free too soon and released her, the loss acute. He nodded once, turned, and strode from the tent. Heart racing, she followed him.

She squinted against the angle of the morning sun, spotting bare-chested Egyptian princes decked out in short crowns of gold, jeweled collars, and sashes, their rich, colorful skirts covering them from waist to knee. Five princes surrounded by twenty guards stood at attention, awaiting her. Their strange beauty impressed and repulsed her. Did they come to show off their military might or their judicial power? What were twenty guards against the one hundred and fifty trained men in Abram’s company?

And yet she knew Abram’s men would not fight on her behalf. The Egyptian guards were a small show of force against Egypt’s greater might. She and Abram were at the mercy of the king. If she did not cooperate, Abram could die and all would be lost.

She stepped forward, her heart crying out within her, begging Abram’s God for help, for rescue from whatever lay ahead. If her folly with the moon goddess was responsible, let her offer a sacrifice and be forgiven. What good could come to Abram, the man called by Adonai to start a new nation, if he fell prisoner—or worse—to a foreign king?

She shivered beneath the veil covering all but her kohl-darkened eyes, but as she approached the guards, she forced courage into her will and did not cower as they took in her appearance. Neither would she cower before this Pharaoh Mentuhotep II. If he were determined to meet her, she would show him an air of pride and dignity. He would not win or woo her easily as Abram’s sister, princess of Ur. Even if he took her into his harem, as she knew Abram feared, she would not let him touch her.

If Abram could not protect her, and if his God would not rescue her, she would do what she must to help herself.

12