No Woman So Fair (5 page)

“Well, I will one day, of course, Father.” Abram hoped to appease his father with such a promise, but Terah was well beyond that.

“Not one day. Now! And I've got the woman picked out.” Then Terah hesitated, seeming unsure of himself. “She…she's a relative.”

“A relative?” Abram asked. “What sort of relative?”

“Oh, that's not important. Her family owns homes in Ur and Uruk. We've been doing business with her brother, Garai. It'll be a good thing for both families, this marriage.” He cheered up at the thought. “We can expand our trading venture. Garai owns many boats, and we'll send them up and down the river trading.”

“But what about the woman?” Metura asked nervously. “What sort of woman is she?”

“Her name is Sarai,” Terah said. “She'll bring a fine dowry.”

Abram was appalled. He had not expected this! “But that does not answer Mother's question. I must know too—what kind of a woman is she?”

“The kind who'll be a good wife.” Terah nodded vigorously. “Of course, she'll need a firm hand—like all women.”

Metura shot her husband a troubled glance as he walked over and put his hand on Abram's shoulder. “Look, I'll build you a fine house. You'll have many children. It'll be a good thing. You've always liked children, haven't you?”

“Of course I love children, but—”

“Well, a wife and half a dozen children will keep you from running to the temple every day.” Terah squeezed Abram's shoulder and said, “Listen to me, son. It's time for you to settle down.”

Metura came over also and put her hand on Abram's other shoulder. He looked up to see the anxiety in her eyes and it grieved him. Her words, however, seemed to belie her worries. “Please, son, listen to your father. It would be wonderful to see you marry and have children. Won't you do it?”

Abram felt trapped, but he did not want to displease his mother. As she continued to urge him, he finally agreed. “All right. I'll go meet her at least.”

Terah expelled a big breath and said excitedly, “Good! You can leave this week. I have spoken to them already, and they told me you can meet them in Uruk. You'll have to take lots of gifts.” Then he added, grinning, “We'll get them all back and more with this woman's dowry!”

The captain of the small craft that made its way upriver toward Uruk was a brusque individual named Sargon. He had welcomed Abram on board at Ur, and between cursing the crew of four, who busied themselves with the oars or adjusting the triangular sail, he spoke constantly to his single passenger. “Can't remember a time when I wasn't on the river,” Sargon said. He took a series of swallows from a jug he kept handy, and Abram watched as his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. The master of the boat was crude, his speech studded with profanity. But he had traveled up the big river farther than any man Abram had ever met and was full of stories, most of which would not bear repeating in mixed company.

“I been up and down this river all my life, and let me tell you”—Sargon winked lasciviously—“the women of Babylon are the
best
! Now, I been all the way up to Mari, and all the way down past Ur to the big water. I been up the other river too, but there ain't nothin' there in the way of good-lookin' women. But you take Babylon, now. Why, they got women you wouldn't believe! Some of them black as night and some as pale as milk.”

The captain smacked his lips and gave details of the orgies he had participated in, obviously enjoying the sound of his own voice. From time to time he would cast his eye ahead, but there was really nothing to see. The river curved slightly, making no large sweeping turns, and the brown water looked almost thick with the silt that came down from distances so far Abram could not imagine it. Some called this “the land of the two rivers,” but the area to the north was unknown territory to Abram. In fact he wasn't very familiar with any of the upriver places, such as Babylon. Intrigued, Abram leaned back and listened as Sargon continued to speak.

He had been troubled with a vague discomfort ever since his father had announced this expedition to meet his prospective bride. He knew he should have been excited at such a thing, yet he was not. His hunger to delve more deeply into spiritual matters consumed him, and he could not force himself to become interested in finding a wife. There were certainly enough women in Ur, had he been so inclined. Many of them had shown an interest in him, but he had not responded to their obvious suggestions. He remembered the words of his mother just before he left.
“Son, you must find a good woman and have children. It would please me and your father greatly, for I know you're lonely.”
She had put her arms around him and held him, saying,
“You can't be alone in this life. Everyone needs somebody to cling to, to hold to, to know that they're there. I've made an offering to the chief of the gods, An, that you'll find the woman who can make you happy and give you many sons.”

As the boat forged its way steadily through the brown stream, Abram pulled his mind away from his mother's admonitions. He glanced around at the boat, which was made of papyrus reeds bound together. There were few trees in this world to provide timber for boats. Any lumber had to be hauled from long distances and was used only for expensive furniture.

Abram let his eyes rest on the banks as they slid slowly by. All the houses were built from baked bricks and had flat roofs. Many of them, he saw, had gardens planted on the roofs, mostly in pots. A few people were tending to their roof gardens, and occasionally one of them would lift a hand to wave to the passing boat. From time to time Abram would wave back. He noticed a young woman walking along the riverbank with a child tied on her back. She waved too, and he saw the whiteness of her teeth and wondered,
Is she happy? Does she have a good husband? Will the child she's carrying grow up or will he die of some sickness? Does she seek after the gods?

Such thoughts were not uncommon for Abram. He was a man whose inner life was, in many respects, more powerful than his outer life. He had learned all that could be learned about taking care of sheep. He was far more able in this respect than his brothers or his father. They saw the sheep and goats merely as a way to make money and get ahead, but Abram had a real feeling for the flocks and herds, and the sight of a crippled animal made his heart ache with compassion. He had never seen this quality in his brothers, and he wondered at times if he was a fool to act this way.

As the time passed, Abram dozed off but was awakened by Sargon's rough voice. The man was intensely curious and pried into Abram's life. Abram finally let slip that he was going to visit the family of Garai in Uruk.

“Rich family,” Sargon grunted. He had smallish eyes, so deep brown they were almost black, and they never stopped darting here and there—some times taking in the banks, going to the river road ahead, and now they came to rest on his passenger. “You going to do business with him?”

“Well, actually I'm going because my father's trying to work out a match between his sister and me.”

Sargon broke into laughter. He scratched his woolly head, which he kept uncovered, soaking up the sun, and his eyes sparkled. “I know a little bit about those girls. Of course, everybody in Uruk does.”

Abram's interest was captured. “What about them?” he asked curiously.

“Well, one of them is good-looking and one of them is plain. Which one are you going after?”

Abram said, “I believe her name is Sarai.”

“Oh ho! You're in for it, then, boy!”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that woman's got a tongue like a snake! She's already run off half a dozen men who came to her brother. She'll bring a fine dowry, but she's got a temper like you never heard of. Take my advice—try to get the other one, Hanna. I hear she's got a man that wants to marry her, but you can beat him out. She ain't much to look at, but she'd never give a man a hard time. Not like that Sarai!”

****

As the boat nudged in toward the quay and the hands leaped out to secure it, Abram turned to Captain Sargon and took some coins out of his purse. “It was a good trip, Captain.”

Sargon took the coins, and his eyes were sharp as they rested on Abram's face. “You mind what I tell you, young fellow. Stay away from that woman Sarai. She'll make a man's life miserable. Might as well marry a wild boar as that one!”

Abram smiled. “I'll keep it in mind.” The sound of music floated out from the city, and he turned to see many people milling about, most of them dressed in their finery. “What's going on?”

“Oh, it's the Festival of Ishtar.” Sargon winked and nudged Abram with his elbow. “Plenty of fun at these Ishtar festivals. Them girls they keep in the temple, they're pretty well used, but if you get yourself a fresh one, they ain't bad.” Abram knew that the temple of Uruk was dedicated to the worship of Ishtar and that prostitution was a central part of the worship here. Abram was appalled to realize he had arrived at the time of such a festival and resolved to avoid the degrading festivities.

Ignoring the captain's suggestions, Abram repeated, “It was a good trip, sir. Thank you.”

“I'll be heading back downriver in a week. Leave word with the harbormaster if you wish to return to Ur with me.” The captain hesitated, then laughed. “If you decide to bring that woman with you, you'd better put her on a chain. I wouldn't want her loose on my boat.”

Abram smiled briefly as Sargon turned and went his way, laughing roughly at his joke. After hearing the captain's comments, even if exaggerated, Abram now had even less inclination to seriously consider this woman Sarai as a wife. He would have to carry through with the visit out of duty, but he would make some excuse not to marry her. Digging through his travel bag, he pulled out a scrap of papyrus with the directions he had been given to the home of Garai. He turned and made his way through the town, finding that it was a much smaller place than Ur. The streets were full of the sounds of music and singing by rowdy crowds, who were clearly drunk with wine. He saw more than one man lying senseless in the street.

As he followed his directions he went past a small shrine of Ishtar in which the goddess was depicted with a skirt decorated with swimming fish amid flowing lines of the river. He almost stopped to pray, but the sight of two temple prostitutes heading his direction caused him to keep going. His stomach turned in confusion, wondering now if indeed it was even right to worship a goddess that demanded such degrading acts as he could see going on around him. He began heading down the street, but one of the prostitutes, a small bright-eyed woman with a painted face and wearing a gauzy gown over her full figure, caught up to him and asked, “Have you come to worship?” Then taking hold of Abram boldly, she said, “Come with me. I will help you.”

“N-no, thank you,” he stuttered. “I'm looking for the house of Garai.”

“You can go there later. Come on. It's time to worship now.”

She began to pull off her gown right there in the street, and Abram panicked at the thought of giving himself to such “worship.” He shook his head vigorously and dropped his travel bag to stop her from disrobing fully. “Do you know where Garai lives?”

The woman glared at Abram in disgust, frowned, and shrugged. “Down that street until you come to the main thoroughfare. Turn right, and go that way. Ask anyone. He's a rich man.”

Abram thanked her, and she turned with a burst of shrill laughter and grabbed another man, who seized her willingly.

Abram followed the woman's directions, and the crowds increased in number. He asked a group of people who appeared to be somewhat sober, and they indicated that Garai's house lay ahead. He finally came to a crowded bridge over a canal. He looked both ways and saw that the canal traversed the city in the same way as the one in Ur. The water level was quite low, the main channel no more than ten feet wide. On either side of the channel lay foul-smelling black mud. Waste matter and garbage had been thrown into it, and the stench made Abram wrinkle his nose. He started over the bridge, having to turn sideways to pass through the crowd, but just as he reached the middle, he remembered that he had dropped his travel bag back in the street by the shrine when the prostitute had grabbed him. Alarmed that he had likely lost the gifts he had brought for the family of Garai, along with his money and clothes, he turned back and broke into a run.

Near the end of the crowded bridge, he bumped into a woman. There were no railings, and he had time only to catch a glimpse of her beautiful but stunned face as she tumbled over the side. He made a wild grab for her but missed, and to his horror he saw her turn a somersault and land facedown in the stinking mud. Gales of laughter went up, and Abram looked about wildly. Feeling like a clumsy idiot, he knelt down and tried to reach the woman, but it was too far. He saw that she was struggling to get up, and when she rolled over, he could not make out her features, for the black muck covered her completely.

Abram jumped down and sank up to his knees in the mud. Reaching down, he took the woman's arm and pulled her upright. “I'm so sorry….”

The woman was wiping the mud from her eyes and trying to speak, but mud had gotten in her mouth.

Abram said, “Here, let me help you.” He put his arm around her waist and picked her up. She was rather light and was no burden, but it was difficult to pull his feet out of the sucking mud. He struggled to the solid bank, where he put her down and pulled off his neckerchief. “Let me clean off—”

He had no time to say more, for a young woman had come racing up to them. “Mistress! Mistress, are you all right?”

“Look at me! This mud stinks and it's all over me!”

“Come, we'll take you home,” the servant girl said.