Abraham and Sarah (17 page)

Pharaoh had seemed genuinely glad to see him. Abram’s gifts had not been wasted as evidenced by this villa and the invitation to eat at Pharaoh’s bountiful table. Abram knew it was a great honor. Only foreign emissaries, princes, and very wealthy men ate at Pharaoh’s table. With a sudden shock he realized that in Pharaoh’s eyes he was wealthy.

Abram, Lot, his brother Iscah, and Eliazer, along with several of the younger men, had been enjoying the pharaoh’s hospitality for several weeks before the invitation arrived from Amenemhet’s mother for the women of Abram’s family to visit her. Sarai was immediately excited, but Abram grew cautious. “Pharaoh is known for his shrewdness and his penchant for beautiful foreign women,” he said. “I don’t want you to go.”

“But it’s not him—it’s his mother who has invited us.”

“He will no doubt be somewhere observing all that goes on.”

“And you think he will single me out and convince me to stay.”

“Not convince you. Order you.”

Sarai laughed as she snatched up a brass mirror and held it at arm’s length, so she could see a larger view of herself. “How absurd to think a man who could have any woman would choose one of my age.”

Abram grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. “If I’m still attracted to you, I’m sure he will be.”

“You’re hurting me,” she pouted as she pulled her arm away and turned her back to him.

He swung her around to face him. “Sarai, this is serious. Pharaoh Amenemhet is considered a god here. His desire is law and he can take anything he wants.”

“You think he’ll take me and have you killed.”

“He could if he wanted to.”

“Remember, we agreed. I’ll tell the queen that I’m your sister. I can manage everything.”

Abram still felt uneasy about the visit, but he could see that Sarai would be terribly disappointed. “All right, accept the invitation. I suppose there’s nothing else to do.”

Sarai was delighted. She began making plans immediately.

Jewelry was pulled out and tried on. Her finest robes from Chaldea were unpacked. She even loaned some of her best rings and ankle bracelets to Mara and the other wives.

The day of the visit, the queen sent several changes of beautiful Egyptian garments for each of them. Along with the clothes came bejeweled pectorals, rings, bracelets, and ankle bracelets. The queen had also been thoughtful enough to send some of her women to help them dress for the occasion.

At first there was great consternation as Sarai and the women who were going with her struggled to arrange the filmy gowns to cover their breasts and arms. The queen’s serving women scolded and argued but eventually gave in to their modesty. They agreed for them to wear the garments they had brought from Ur, but adorn themselves with the jewelry the queen had sent.

When they were finally ready, the women were surprised to learn that Pharaoh was sending two of his royal barges to transport them. None of them had ever been in a boat, though there had been boats sailing the Euphrates in Ur. They were called quffa, meaning “turnip.” They resembled turnips; they were round, made of reeds, and covered with animals skins. They were for carrying goods, not for regular transportation.

Much of their enthusiasm for going was marred by their fear of the water and the boat trip. There were many protestations of feeling faint, having a severe headache, and being exhausted; however, at the last moment, they all went.

The ride in the royal barge turned out to be one of the day’s more pleasant surprises. The sails were perfumed, and the couches were covered in the finest bright-colored linen. Incense burned in a copper bowl set into the prow of the ship while the queen’s women, who had come to escort them, periodically waved ostrich fans to create a cool breeze. Once out in the main stream, young Egyptians sang jolly songs accompanied by their sistrums.

Sarai was charmed by everything she saw. The sun was shining. The sky was cloudless. From the first, she had been overwhelmed by the greenness of grass and trees and the loads of bright green clover piled high on the backs of donkeys. Such profusion of green she had never imagined in the dull brown lands she had known. Now she was impressed with the abundance of water. Instead of a trickle from a spring, there was a steady flow one could drown in if one weren’t careful.

The scenes along the Nile were all new and constantly changing. Women washed clothes among the rocks; a water buffalo lazed in knee-deep water; white herons stood motionless, almost obscured by dark green rushes. Sarai noticed with pleasure that people in other boats saluted them because they were riding in the royal barge.

They rounded a curve in the river and caught their first glimpse of the pharaoh’s white-walled palace, half-hidden among the palm trees. Marble columns, an obelisk, and banners that proclaimed the pharaoh was at home gradually came into view. It was all so huge and impressive that even Sarai was reluctant to land.

There was nothing to fear. Though at first the queen seemed a bit austere and unsmiling, she was a gracious hostess. Huge trays of dried fruits were served, costly incense was burned, and the musicians played haunting tunes. The only thing to blight the afternoon’s activity was the shocking manner in which the Egyptians dressed.

When the dancing girls appeared, they had only their long hair and beads to cover their nakedness. The children of the concubines and other lesser wives wore no clothes, and this custom seemed so strange that none of the women dared look at them and some covered their eyes with their hands.

The visit was more exciting than any of them had imagined. Though they were all shy and merely smiled and nodded when talked to, they knew they had made a good impression when the queen mother invited them back again. “You must come and tell me all about the strange customs in your country and sing some of your songs for our entertainment,” she said.

When they returned home, Sarai made a point of telling Abram what a wonderful time they had and how foolish it was to worry that Pharaoh might want to keep her for his harem.

“Did you tell them you were my sister?” he asked.

Sarai paused with her hands in the air as she started to lift off the elaborate headdress the queen had given her. “Yes, I told the queen I was your sister.” For a moment she hesitated and then continued, “She asked if I had children and I had to tell her no. I could tell she assumed I had never been married. I almost cried. Imagine what they must think of a woman at my age still unmarried, still without a child.”

Abram could see the old hurt in her eyes, and he came to put his arms around her. “Sarai, it won’t always be this way. Remember, we have the promise.”

Sarai pulled away from him and snatched the wreath of golden tuberoses from her head. “Don’t talk to me of the promise. It won’t come true. I know it won’t. It’s just like the land your God promised. It was dry and barren and full of those horrible flying things.”

“Those were locusts,” Abram reminded her.

“I don’t want to hear any more about the promise. Today I saw children, so many children no one could count them. They all belonged to pagan wives who worship Re, the god of the sun, and I have seen this land bursting with good things. Their god keeps his promises better than yours.” With that she burst into tears. It was late into the night before she fell asleep, and Abram stayed on the roof to sleep in peace out under the low-hanging stars. He thought about the promise and knew Sarai had a right to be upset. He prayed and waited, but there was no answer. His God seemed to have forgotten him.

Even though it was late at night, Hajar was brought into the queen’s judgment hall to be “dealt with,” as Pharaoh’s favorite had announced. Senebtisy came close and looked at Hajar with her practiced look of serenity that was usual with the pharaohs. One of the eunuchs whispered to her, and she answered with a strong show of anger. “Yes, yes, this is the bold one,” she said. “She fears nothing. Even to pick up the royal scepter didn’t daunt her. It appears she makes up her own rules. We’ll soon put an end to such insolence.”

She motioned to one of the eunuchs who produced a scroll from his sleeve and, at her nod, began to read. The scroll contained the information that the old man Hajar was to be married to had died very suddenly. The plans for her marriage would have to be canceled.

“Shall we call the executioner?” one of her stewards asked.

“Not yet. I want to talk to her and then we’ll see.” Senebtisy ordered most of the court to leave and then called for the scribe who was the keeper of records. He brought with him the large scroll of recorded births.

“Who is this girl’s father?” Her Radiance demanded of the little man.

He bowed and then nervously ordered his helper to bring his carpet and cushion on which the scroll rested. With the help of the young boy and cooperation from Hajar, he found the name of Hajar’s mother, the date she had gone to see Pharaoh, and then the date and hour that Hajar was born. He placed his gnarled, ink-stained finger on the column and exclaimed with obvious satisfaction, “She is the daughter of Pharaoh by his former concubine.”

“You fool,” the favorite said, thumping him soundly on his head. “Must you record every dalliance?”

“Those have been orders … I … I,” the little man sputtered.

“There’s no need for every stray glance to be recorded. Strike the names from the record.”

“But Pharaoh?”

“We aren’t concerned with Pharaoh now. This girl has been insolent and brash enough to challenge me. I will have her name stricken from the record.”

“But Pharaoh …”

The little man was more frightened of the pharaoh’s anger than of the new favorite. He knew the former concubine had been prized and the daughter shown special favors. If Pharaoh found out that a name such as that had been blotted from the record without his approval, it could mean death for the scribe.

“Blot it out,” she stormed, standing over him and thumping the offending scroll with her flail. “I will tell Pharaoh that I, and I alone, ordered it. When he hears of the arrogance of this girl, he will agree with me.” Hajar felt faint, and the heavy odor of dried roses made her feel sick. This room looked bright and cheerful in the daytime, but at night most of it was engulfed in dark shadows. Only one torch gave off any light, and she felt as though she must have died and was being judged by the gods Anubis and Thoth. Even though her arms were tied, she still clutched the small glazed figure of the cow goddess Hathor in her right hand. “Hathor,” she prayed quietly, “I’ve served you well. Now I need help. You’re stronger than the scribe and stronger than this new favorite. If you are really there, now is the time to prove what you can do.”

The scribe talked for a few moments with Senebtisy. She nodded and then turned and mounted to her small throne. All eyes studied her as they waited for the verdict. Slowly and with planned hauteur she held out the flail instead of the crook, and everyone knew that Hajar was to be severely punished. “For your arrogance and pride, your open hostility to me, Pharaoh’s favorite, you will be chained to the wall in the court of women. You will be whipped and fed only bread and water. More important, your mother is even now being taken as a slave into one of the temples where you will never see her again. Finally, your name is to be changed to Hagar, meaning ‘flight,’ so everyone will remember your foolishness.”

Hajar, now Hagar, had never imagined that she could cause her mother such harm. It was almost unbearable to realize that because of her impulsive, rash action she would probably never see her mother again. Now she fell to the floor and cried, “Punish me as you like, but spare my mother. She had nothing to do with this.”

“What is done is done and what has been spoken will stand,” the new favorite said. With that she rose and looked around at the soldiers and then at Hagar. She once again assumed the pleasant look that royalty in Egypt were accustomed to wear, and then swept from the room.

The guards picked Hagar up from the floor with difficulty. She was almost wild with outrage and animosity. They brought her to the courtyard of women where they fastened her ankles to the wall with a chain that had served this purpose before. In the daytime it would be blistering hot, and at night it would be treacherously cold. Hagar knew that, and she swore with a great oath to get even. She would rely on her own wits and ingenuity to cause trouble wherever possible. She was determined to be a thorn in the flesh of the whole court.

As soon as her hands were loosed, she raised her right hand, and to the horror of the guards threw the small image of Hathor across the courtyard where it shattered into a dozen pieces.

The guards drew back in fear. “Hathor will see that you suffer,” they said to her. “Aren’t you afraid?”

“Hathor’s been no help to me. I’ll win by my own wits. Just wait and see. I’ll win.” She spat out the words in an angry torrent and the guards fell back. Never had they seen any but the most hardened criminals curse the gods.

The guards left and the courtyard again became quiet. Hagar could hear the sound of a fountain splashing, a flute being played in some distant courtyard, and faint and far away laughter. It was getting cold and she had no covering. She was hungry and thirsty. She suspected that she was to be kept as miserable as possible to be a lesson to others.