The Sons of Isaac(6)

Framed in the gate were dancers and jugglers. Behind them could be seen the bridal party with the bride covered from head to toe in a glittering garment fashioned of imported material decorated with pearls and rare medallions. On her head she wore a queenly crown of cleverly fashioned flowers and gold leaves, and from it hung a bridal veil so thick her features were completely hidden. Laban did not see all of this at first glance, but as they led his tawny donkey in to stand beside her white mule, he noticed every detail.

The torches glinted on the elaborate crown and flickered over the costly gown and elegant trappings of her mule. Only her hands were visible, and they were well shaped and smooth. It was obvious they had been spared from the hard work of most women. He noticed with satisfaction that they were jeweled and decorated with a careful tracery of vines and flowers done in black kohl. If there was anything ugly about his bride, it was carefully hidden under the heavy veil, and for the advantage he was gaining, he could manage to live with that.

She sat with her head held high and had not looked in his direction. Most brides feigned shyness. It was the custom. A shy bride had to be approached like a skittish mule. Every man in Haran knew how to deal with such a situation, but if she were so unafraid and bold as to not be crying and downcast, it bode no good. Laban felt a bit unnerved by the prospect of encountering not only an ugly woman but one who dared look a man in the face as though she were his equal.

With a shrug he dismissed the bad omens and looked beyond her to see Nazzim sitting on a gray mule dressed in his most festive attire. Nazzim had obviously been watching him and now slightly raised his hand in recognition and greeting. A surge of well-being reassured Laban that all would be well. Even the marriage of Nazzim to his sister would be for the best. It was an opportunity that could not be missed and certainly Rebekah would understand.

With a nod of his head and a slight tap of his riding prod to the mule’s flank, Laban led the procession out the gate and down the dark lanes that led to his own home, the house of Nahor.

The pleasant odor of meat turning on spits filled the air. Barley cakes were ready to serve hot off the rounded ovens, while big woven trays of fat figs, dried raisins, and nuts of every variety sat waiting to be served.

The women had prepared a raised seat with carpets and cushions for the bride and groom, and beside the bride’s seat, a place of special honor for her father, Nazzim.

When the bridal party arrived, Laban’s father, Bethuel, met them at the gate and led the bride and her father to the places prepared for them. Laban followed and was surprised to see that when his bride was helped down from her mule, she was as tall as her brothers. She still held her head in the proud, arrogant way he had first noticed. She paused for a moment, lifted the top veil slightly, and took a quick look at her surroundings. This was not something most brides would have dared to do. Once more Laban felt a twinge of concern lest she be more than he could easily manage.

There was some stir when the bridal pair came to be seated. Nazzim insisted on sitting between his daughter and Laban. “How else can you point out your sister?” he whispered.

Laban looked around the courtyard. At first Rebekah seemed to be missing. Then he spotted her squatting beside his grandfather. She had brought him some choice pieces of roast meat on a rounded loaf of bread and was helping him as he ate. “See,” Laban said, nodding in the direction of his grandfather’s favorite seat next to the wall, “she has gotten some food for the old man.”

Nazzim leaned forward and squinted. “Is she always that helpful?” he asked.

“Yes, I suppose so,” Laban answered.

Nazzim clutched his arm and spoke in a low, urgent tone, “Get her to come here. I must have a closer look.”

Laban was irritated at the old man’s insistence, but he didn’t dare show his true feelings. Instead he called for one of the servants and ordered him to go bring his sister to serve the bride.

They watched the man go elbowing through the crowd and then talk and gesture toward the dais. Rebekah smiled and nodded, then hurried off. Laban watched her go and almost felt a twinge of pity for her that he hadn’t felt before. She has no idea that with her nice ways and pleasant smile she is sealing her fate. He will pay any price to get her and there will be no way for her to escape.

When she came back with a tray of the most succulent roast and fattest figs, she first offered his bride the food. Laban noticed it was rejected. Rebekah was not at all upset. Instead she turned to Nazzim and said with her most enticing smile, “I’m sure you must be almost faint with hunger.”

“Hunger, yes, yes.” He took a bone with some meat on it and began to chew at it, while all the time he was looking at her and mumbling unintelligible grunts of approval. Laban could see the confusion on her face. He glanced quickly at Nazzim and saw that his greedy eyes were traveling over her in much the same way as he would examine a sheep he was going to buy.