Sarai (Jill Eileen Smith) (32 page)

“It is also within my right and power to give my husband a maid, to procure sons through her. The child would be mine, but the maid would give him birth.” Sarai cleared her throat and leveled a look at Hagar. “Do you understand what I am saying?”

Hagar clasped her hands tighter until she could feel her nails dig into her palms. “I think so, my lady.” Was she suggesting Hagar bear Abram’s son? The thought chilled and warmed her, at once repulsive and enticing.

“You are the maid I have chosen for this privilege. I am taking you from the status of slave to concubine of my master Abram. When you bear him a son, you will do so on my knees. I will raise the child as my own, giving Abram his son of promise.” A deep sigh lifted her chest, but no more words came from her lips.

Hagar sat in stunned silence, staring at Sarai, her thoughts tumbling within her like chaff in a windstorm. She was to be married, but not married? Would Sarai truly share her husband so easily? Yet by the look on the woman’s face, Hagar could see her decision had not come to her lightly. Even now the pain of her words etched twin lines across her brow. Age had done little to mar Sarai’s beauty, but this decision had surely cost her.

But thoughts of Sarai quickly dissipated as she let the woman’s words register in her heart. This night? Her pulse quickened, and a flutter of unease settled in her middle. She had never been with a man. But she could hardly tell that to Sarai, who sat looking at her now as though she expected some response.

Hagar shifted among the cushions, longing to stand but afraid to move without permission. “I don’t know what to say, my lady. You do me great honor.” The words tasted like dust on her tongue. She had dreamed of marriage once, but never as a secondary wife or a concubine. Her dreams had been far grander back when she was Pharaoh’s daughter and dreams seemed possible.

She looked at her feet, uncertainty warring within. Abram was an old man. What if she went to him and no son came about? Would she be put out of the house then? Would they banish her from Canaan, return her to Egypt? She would have nowhere to go if they did.

But what if she did give Abram a son? Despite Sarai’s claims that the child would be hers, Hagar would never let her son forget who it was who had borne him. A seed of pride sprouted within her. She lifted her chin but masked her true thoughts.

“I will do as you say, my lady. Only . . . I do not know what is required of me.” She swallowed her embarrassment, knowing the comment was only half true. She had heard the women as they drew water at the well or ground grain together. There were few secrets of what to expect when a man took a woman to his bed. Still, she didn’t know from experience.

“Abram will make it clear enough. Now come. You will go to the river to bathe and dress in the robes I have chosen for you. Then Lila will take you to Abram’s tent.” Sarai stood, her back straight, her bearing stiff. She marched to the tent’s door and lifted the flap without waiting to see if Hagar followed.

Hagar rose slowly, the impact of what had been said making her teeter on unsteady feet. She stood still, drawing in a breath, then another, until at last she could move without stumbling. She hurried after Sarai, heart pounding with anticipation and dread.

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The sun dipped low into the west, taking Hagar’s courage with it. As the light fully faded, replaced by torches at the camp’s perimeter and a fire in the central pit, Lila slipped her arm through Hagar’s and guided her toward Abram’s tent.

“It will be all right,” Lila whispered, patting Hagar’s arm in a gesture that was surely meant to reassure. “Abram is a kind man.”

Was he? But of course that was true. Though he had never paid her any mind, Hagar had seen the way he acted with Sarai and Eliezer. But Abram loved Sarai and set great store by Eliezer. She was nothing more than a slave. Would he talk to her? A moment of panic came over her that she would have nothing to say to him. Did men care if a woman spoke or did they just do what was required and send them away?

She stopped at the door, her heart skipping several beats. He sat beneath the awning of the tent. Was he waiting for her? He stood, stepping aside, and nodded once to Lila.

Lila gave a quick bow, then ushered Hagar inside. Clay lamps illumined Abram’s sleeping quarters, where a thick wool mat topped with soft linen sheets took up most of the area. Near the pillows at the head sat a lidded chest, probably housing Abram’s extra robes and tunics or maybe even some of his gold, though Hagar did not know where Abram’s wealth was stored.

Her gaze moved quickly from the ornately carved chest to focus on the rest of the room. Cushions for sitting lined one corner, and a small table sat nearby. The room was awash in rare blues and purples, a sign of Abram’s great wealth—and Sarai’s handiwork, no doubt.

Another wave of fear washed over her. She was an intruder here, a woman who had no place in the private quarters of such a man. Her throat grew dry, and her feet would not cross the threshold into that part of the tent.

“You must come, Hagar,” Lila whispered. “You must prepare to meet your husband.”

Husband?
The word seemed disconnected from the truth. Abram was Sarai’s husband, not hers. She didn’t belong here.

“I can’t.” The words came out choked, and she looked at Lila, knowing the other woman could see the fear she could not hide. “The master . . . he is Sarai’s, not mine.”

“And Sarai has given him to you to give her a son. You must do this.”

Of course she must.

“Perhaps if you leave us, Lila, I can be of some encouragement.” Abram’s voice from behind took her breath. She placed a hand to her middle to still the uneasiness and looked to Lila for support, begging her with a look not to leave.

“Yes, my lord.” Lila glanced at Hagar, offering her a reassuring smile. “It will be all right,” she said again, then turned and hurried from the tent.

Hagar stood still, unable to move, though Abram remained at her back. She felt him draw closer, the scent of rare spikenard wafting from his clothes. Had he bathed and perfumed himself just for her? She slowly turned but could not bring herself to meet his gaze.

“Won’t you come and sit among the cushions, Hagar?” He motioned to the corner where the embroidered pillows made up a seating area.

She reluctantly obeyed, sinking into them, suddenly wishing she had such plush comfort in her own tent. But of course, such things belonged to princes, not to slave girls.

“Would you like some wine?” He moved to an area just out of her line of sight and bent to retrieve a flask from the ground. He lifted the lid on the chest and removed two silver goblets, then proceeded to pour the wine, though she had yet to respond to his question. He stepped closer and offered it to her. When she took it, their fingers touched, and she instinctively pulled back before realizing his touch was not something she should want to avoid.

“It’s all right, Hagar.” His tone was meant to soothe, and he smiled as he sat opposite her, his gaze penetrating and frank in its perusal. “So Sarai has chosen you to bear our son.”

She nodded, her cheeks heating.

“Do you know how to speak, or am I to expect only gestures from you?”

She lifted her gaze at his unexpected words and released a breath when she saw only kindness in his eyes. “I can speak, my lord. It is just . . . I am nervous.”

“Understandable,” he said, sipping from his cup. “And do you approve of Sarai’s choice? Can you give your body, your life, to this old man in the hopes of giving him a son?” His wistful tone made her heart constrict, and when she looked at him this time, she did not turn away.

She searched his face, reading hope in his eyes, suddenly wanting to please him, to give him what Sarai could not. “I can,” she said at last, clutching the cup with both hands. “But I do not—”

“I will teach you what you need to know.”

Sarai met Lila as she emerged from Abram’s tent, tears clogging her throat. “It is done then,” she said.

Lila clutched her arm, and the two walked the perimeter of the camp, picking their way along the rocky ground.

“Yes. At least she is with him. Time will tell if she conceives.” Lila led them toward the cooking fires, empty now with the heavy darkness.

“How many days should I give them?” She choked on the words, and Lila bade her sit on one of the stone benches.

“Several weeks at least. A month before we can know anything.”

“Of course.” She knew that. Had counted the cycles of the moon for nearly all her life.
Please, Adonai, do not let the girl take long. I cannot bear this to last for months.

“If it takes her more than two months, I will find a different maid.” Hagar could go back to Egypt.

She checked herself. How could she allow such feelings against the woman she had carefully chosen for this task?

“That is your right, of course.”

She looked into Lila’s eyes, barely visible in the firelight. “You think me impatient.”

Lila shook her head. “No. Just . . . I know it must be hard to share him. But you must accept the fact that Hagar could be the mother of Abram’s child before the year is out—your adopted son.”

A tremor swept through her, bringing with it a strange mixture of pain and hope. “Abram would be pleased to have a son.”

“Yes, he would. And you would have the pleasure of raising him.” She smiled, her look thoughtful. “Though raising children is not always so easy a task.”

Sarai turned her hands over in her lap, trying to imagine what Abram’s son would be like. “A son will be a good thing.” She had to believe it.

Lila draped an arm over Sarai’s shoulders. “Yes, and you will be a good mother.”

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