The Sons of Isaac(39)

“It appears that one of the king’s sisters is coming with her women and children. The women say they always leave so she can use the whole bath.”

Rebekah laughed. “How silly. There should be room for both of us.”

“That’s not the matter. There’s room but the princess must not bathe in a room with …”

Rebekah laughed. “She must be very old and ugly to want to be alone.”

“Old and ugly, who are you saying is old and ugly?” The princess stood in the doorway holding what appeared to be a small boy while two little girls clung to her skirt.

Rebekah stood looking at the woman but could not speak. She was taken aback by her regal demeanor and her haughty manner. She wanted to apologize, but the words wouldn’t come.

“Who are you and what is your name?” the princess demanded, setting the little boy down by her side.

“I am Rebekah the wife of Isaac, the son of a great desert prince named Abraham,” Rebekah said.

At her words the whole demeanor of the princess changed. A look of cunning came across her face, her eyes narrowed, and she stood shamelessly studying Rebekah. “So you are the bride of Isaac,” she said. “You have come from Haran. I’ve heard of you.”

“You honor me,” Rebekah said, avoiding the woman’s piercing stare.

“Where are your children?” she asked. “I’ve heard much of the promises made to this ‘prince,’ as you call him, by his God.”

Rebekah felt the drops of sweat run down her face while her hands and feet felt suddenly clammy and cold. Her stomach twisted and churned and a terrible nausea came over her. She shook her head but no words came.

The princess tossed her head in the air and smirked. “I would guess that you have none. It’s too bad. Your husband will have to do like his father and get another wife.”

“You’re right,” Rebekah said at last as she regained her composure and looked at the princess without flinching. “I have no children but I have promises.”

“Promises?” the princess asked. “Who has given you promises?”

“The God of my father-in-law Abraham, Elohim, He has promised.”

The princess laughed a hard, harsh laugh. “You’ll eventually learn, it’s only the earth goddess that makes a woman fertile and can give her children. What proof do you have that this God of your people has ever given anyone a child?”

“Sarah, the mother of my husband, trusted Elohim and she was given a child even in her old age.”

The princess grimaced and tossed her head arrogantly. “In her old age and only one child. Look, I have three children and am expecting another before the barley harvest. This is what my goddess can do.”

Rebekah burst into tears and turned away. Deborah put her arms around her and tried to comfort her. At that the princess motioned to her serving girls. “We are not staying,” she said. “This woman no doubt has her bellyful of demons. She will destroy everything she touches.”

With that she picked up the little boy and started toward the door. Suddenly she hesitated and came back to where Rebekah stood. “Tell your husband that you met a princess named Anatah today who has three children and is expecting her fourth. He will understand.”

As the sound of her footsteps died away, Rebekah ordered her handmaidens to gather up everything; then, leading the way, she hurried out the door and down the familiar, narrow lane to their house.

Isaac had just returned and was disturbed to see his dear Rebekah so distraught. “I won’t stay here another night.” Rebekah sobbed. “I want to go home, back to the tents.”

It was only after they were back in their own familiar tent beside the Besor that Rebekah was able to tell him what had happened. When she told him the name of the princess, his face grew grave and troubled. “She says one must pray to the earth goddess for children,” Rebekah told him.

Isaac said nothing, but he wondered at the ways of Elohim that He let this goddess get the best of Him in this way.

Deborah had been so sure the herbs, potions, and mandrake would bring about Rebekah’s pregnancy that she had kept Terah’s little goddess hidden away. Now she felt the little image was Rebekah’s last hope. She knew that Abraham and Isaac would frown upon resorting to such desperate means. She herself viewed the little image as something that ought to concern only the women. The men would not understand that without the help of the goddess, Rebekah would never become pregnant.

In the darkness she felt under her sleeping mat and pulled out the soft, woven cloth given her by Rebekah’s mother. With slow, careful movements, she unwound it and at last held the small image in her palm. She could feel its cool smoothness, the rounded stomach, and the straight, almost rigid legs. The nose was sharp and the head small. She wanted to look at it. The moon was full, and so without waking the other serving girls, she crept out of the tent into the bright moonlight.