“Go look and see,” her grandfather had said. The idea would never have occurred to her, but now she felt she had to know. She had to find out.
With trembling hands she slid the heavy bolt to one side and pulled the great wooden door out toward her. For a moment she was blinded by clouds of incense with their sickeningly sweet smell. She recognized the odor. It was Bethuel’s most valuable incense; he had given five sheep for one little jar of it. She waved the smoke away and to her horror saw that her grandfather had been right … the old goat-god’s bald head was glistening with freshly applied sacred oil.
“Rebekah, what are you doing!” Her mother’s voice vibrated with shock and horror. She had come to the edge of the roof and was leaning over the parapet.
Rebekah jumped back, letting the door slam shut.
“It’s true. What Grandfather said is true,” she stammered.
“What are you talking about?” her mother asked as she came hurrying down the narrow, uneven stairs.
With one swift movement Rebekah pushed the bolt into place and stood with her back to the door. “They’ve made a bargain with the old goat-man. He’s to find a rich husband for me.”
“And what’s so bad about that?” Her mother stood with her hands on her hips, a puzzled expression on her face.
“All they care about is their own gain and high position. I want something better than that.”
“What’s better than a rich husband? Laban understands these things. He’s even marrying an ugly wife for the gain it will bring him.”
“It’s his choice. She may not be beautiful but he can have other wives. I can have only one husband.”
Her mother brushed past her, muttering, “Your father has burned his prize incense, poured out his most expensive oil. He wants the very best for you and for the family.”
Rebekah said no more, but that night she sought out her beloved nurse, Deborah, in the vine-covered shelter on the roof. She told her everything and was comforted when the older woman held her in her arms. “It may not be so bad,” she said. “For your family it isn’t just the old goat-man god under the stairs but all the gods, even the Elohim of your uncle Abraham.”
“They always seem to be at odds with each other,” Rebekah said. “Who can we trust? Who is the strongest?”
Deborah drew back and looked at her for a long moment before answering. “All the gods are greedy,” she said. “They want gifts and make hard bargains. Your father and your brother are trusting the old goat-man. We’ll see what comes of it.”
Rebekah adjusted her headpiece and brushed back the coins that fell from it down each side of her face. They made a pleasant tinkling sound as she laughed. She bent over and hugged her nurse. “Then I’ll ask the Elohim of my uncle Abraham to find me a husband, and we will see who wins.”
* * *
Rebekah had never seen her uncle Abraham or her aunt Sarah. They had left the family long before she was born. She had heard very little of them, and what she had heard was usually carried on in whispers. Even this talk stopped when any of the children appeared. She had finally learned that Abraham and Sarah had no children. (News had reached them of a son born to them in their old age, but that was taken to be a rumor, as it was clearly impossible.) This seemed very strange since her grandfather, Nahor, the brother of Abraham, had eight sons by his wife Milcah and five by his concubine Reumah. Most of these sons were gone on trading trips or out herding their father’s sheep.
Rebekah and her brother, Laban, were the children of Bethuel, the youngest son of Nahor and Milcah. They still lived in the home of their grandparents, a large, sprawling house with several courtyards, large kitchens, and adequate space for quite a few animals when it was necessary to bring them inside.
On this particular day Laban was spending the afternoon with the men of his family at the public baths. His bride, Barida, had taken over the same facility with her maidens that very morning. The village of Haran had only one such nicety, which had to be shared. Three days of the week women and children took over the steamy, dark rooms with their warm stone floors and tepid pools, but the other days belonged to the men. If there was a wedding, as was the case on this day, the bride and the women of her family and friends had the morning and the groom with his male family members and friends the afternoon. The people of Haran considered themselves fortunate that the river Balikah flowed nearby and they had plenty of water for bathing and irrigation.
That night Laban and the men of his family would go to escort Barida to his home. The agreement had already been signed and Laban was excited. Though he had been warned by his mother and his sister of Barida’s snaggle-toothed ugliness, he was pleased beyond reason to be marrying into the family of Nazzim.