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  But after she had said this, Sarai asked herself, “Is it true I’m not a bitter woman? If my face got older like a normal face, wouldn’t I see that it had that same sad, thin-lipped look that all wives have when they’ve stopped expecting any pleasure or any pleasant surprises from their husbands?”

  She preferred not to answer her own questions. But she noticed that Hagar was going down to the plain more and more frequently, on one pretext or another. Hardly a day went by that she did not have something to attend to in Abram’s camp. When she came back, she would be unusually taciturn and would say nothing about who she had met or who she had talked to. Sarai had no doubt that, in spite of her advice, she was still seeing Eliezer.

  Sarai shrugged it off. After all, Hagar was enough of a woman to choose a man to give her pleasure and share her destiny.

  ONE afternoon, there was great agitation in Abram’s camp. Sarai saw people running in all directions. It seemed to go on for so long that she became worried, fearing that something bad had happened. She had already put on her red veil and was about to go down to see for herself when Hagar arrived, out of breath.

  “It’s war! Abram is leaving for the war! Your nephew Lot has been taken prisoner in Sodom, and he’s going to rescue him!”

  “But he has no army” was Sarai’s immediate response. “No weapons, either, nothing but sticks! He doesn’t even know how to fight!”

  At the same moment, horns echoed through the encampment, and cries of alarm rang out over the plain. A column had formed at the edge of the camp, led by Abram. Wives and children could be heard screaming.

  “Are they leaving already?” Sarai exclaimed, incredulously. “Abram’s gone mad.”

  “Your nephew has to be rescued before they kill him,” Hagar replied, in a reproachful tone.

  Sarai barely listened to her. She was looking at the column heading off along the road that led to the Jordan. Such a thin column! She tried to make out Abram at the head, wondering how he was dressed and armed for fighting. She supposed he had taken his short bronze sword. His companions must be even less well equipped than him. She could see they were carrying staffs over their shoulders, and the pikes they used for leading the mules and the oxen.

  What madness!

  She thought of running to Abram and saying: “You can’t go and fight like this! You’re going to your ruin. The conquerors of Sodom and Gomorrah are powerful. They’ll slaughter you, you and all the people with you!”

  But Abram would not listen to her. After such a long silence, what right did she have to tell him what he should and should not do?

  Then she thought of Lot. Hagar was right. Lot was in danger. It was only fair that Abram should go to his rescue. “Lot has been waiting for Abram’s love for so long,” she thought. “I mustn’t stand in their way. But tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow, I’m going to hear that they’re both dead.”

  Her chest was tight with anxiety, and the small of her back prickled with a fear she had not felt for a very long time.

  Having been away from him for so long, she felt a sudden desire to see Abram’s face. She would have liked to kiss his lips before he left. Pass her hand over his clothes, his eyelids, his brow. Smile at him so that he should not go off to fight with his wife’s coldness in his heart.

  But he was much too far away by now. The column was disappearing to the east of Hebron.

  “What have I done?” Sarai cried, to Hagar’s surprise.

  She hurried out of the tent and ran up the steep slope to the top of the hill of Qiryat-Arba, from where the whole of the plain of Hebron could be seen, as far as the mountains and rivers of Canaan.

  When she got there, what she saw amazed her. From south, west, and east, other columns were flooding in to join Abram. They were coming from everywhere. From the valleys, from the mountains, from the villages in the middle of the pastures, from the shores of the Salt Sea! They were like tributaries feeding a great river, swelling it and swelling it as it flowed northward.

  Hagar joined her, out of breath. Laughing with relief, Sarai pointed at the cloud of dust raised by Abram’s army. “Look! They may not be well equipped but at least there’ll be a lot of them. Thousands!”

  That evening, Sarai folded her tent, left the hill where she had stayed for so long alone, and descended to the plain to join the others.

  She discovered that since the first day he had settled in Hebron, Abram had forbidden any tent to be erected in the space next to his. Without hesitation, she pitched her tent there. For the first time in many moons, she discarded her red veil.

  Everyone was able to ascertain that time had still had no effect on Sarai’s body and face. Nobody made any comment; they all behaved as if this miracle were natural.

  The only person to show any surprise was Eliezer of Damascus. Having been too young to know Sarai before she was veiled, he was curious to see her face. Confronted with his stepmother’s beauty, he was quite taken aback.

  “You are even more beautiful than I remembered,” he said, in his most wheedling voice. “I was only a child then, of course. Abram has often spoken to me of your beauty. I had no idea how true his words were. I’m happy to see you back among us. I’m sure my father would be mad with joy. If you need the least thing, call on me. Use me, consider me your loving son. It will be my greatest happiness.”

  Sarai did not reply, but continued to look fixedly at him.

  Eliezer did not seem embarrassed. “I wanted to accompany my father, Abram, to war,” he resumed, with a touch of annoyance. “My place was beside him, and not a day goes by that I don’t regret not being there.”

  “In that case, what are you doing here?” Sarai asked, raising an eyebrow ironically.

  “It was my father’s wish!” Eliezer exclaimed, with all the sincerity he could muster. “He wanted me to stay while he was gone, in case I needed to take his place.”

  “Take his place?”

  “He taught me everything that’s required.”

  Sarai’s laugh cut him dead. “Whatever Abram taught you, my boy, I doubt you could ever take his place. Stop dreaming. Do as I do, and wait quietly for his return.”

  THE summer passed, and the only news that arrived was that Abram’s army had entered Sodom. But Lot was not there: The city had been emptied of both its people and its possessions. Abram was now pursuing the pillagers to the north, perhaps beyond Damascus.

  Without any other information, time passed slowly, and uncertainty grew. In the autumn, the rumor spread that Abram’s army had been defeated. It was possible that Abram himself was among the dead. When Hagar reported this rumor to her, Sarai silenced her.

  “Nonsense! I don’t believe a word of it.”

  “That’s what they’re saying,” Hagar said gently, to excuse herself. “I wanted you to hear it from me.”

  “Who’s saying it?”

  Hagar turned her head away, embarrassed. “Eliezer. And others.”

  Sarai cried out in anger. “Where did they get this news? Has a messenger arrived? I haven’t seen one.”

  “It’s what they’re saying in Salem. And in other places.”

  “Foolishness. Foolishness and spite! I know Abram is alive, I can feel it!”

  Sarai did not add that hardly a night passed that she did not dream about him. About Abram, her love and her husband. The young Abram from Ur, the Abram she had married, the Abram she had known in Harran. The Abram who had brought her a cover in the night on the banks of the Euphrates, the Abram who searched high and low through Canaan because of his belief in his god. The Abram who had groaned with pleasure in her arms, who had said, “I want no other wife besides Sarai!” The Abram who didn’t care that her womb was barren, who aroused her with his kisses. For now she would wake up night after night, filled with terror, knowing that she loved Abram as she had loved him the first day they met. That this love had never died, just faded perhaps. Yes, now she was full of forgiveness and desire for Abram. She was Abram’s wife forever, despite her ba
rren womb, despite Pharaoh, and despite God Most High, who sometimes took Abram’s mind and heart far away from her. And so each morning she would reach dawn bathed in sweat, full of hope that she might see him again that very day, but horrified at the thought she might never again place her lips on his.

  Hagar lowered her eyes in embarrassment.

  Sarai took her chin and lifted her face. “I know where this rumor comes from. But Eliezer is taking his desires for reality. He ought to get used to being a nobody. They’ll have to show me Abram’s dead body before Eliezer becomes Abram’s son and heir, and that’s not going to happen tomorrow. You can tell him that from me, if you want to.”

  THE messenger arrived when the hills around Hebron were covered in snow and ice. Abram was not only alive, but victorious.

  “He’s escorting Lot and his family back to Sodom, along with all the women of Sodom stolen by the kings of Shinar, Ellasar, Elam, and Goim. He’s bringing food and gold back from Damascus. He’s acclaimed everywhere he goes. People are saying that his invisible god has supported him like no other god. That’s what’s delaying him, but he’ll be here within one moon.”

  While all the wives and daughters and sisters who had waited so long danced around the fires in the cold night, intoxicated with joy, Sarai saw Eliezer’s crestfallen expression. He was still questioning the messenger, arguing with him, trying to cast doubt on the news. And when he could not gainsay the truth, he grinned, in a way that seemed to express disappointment rather than relief.

  Hagar was as shocked as everyone else. “You were right about Eliezer. Forgive me for doubting your judgment. I suppose that’s what happens when a woman’s bed is empty for too long. We’re easily misled by a smile.” She gave a harsh, disappointed little laugh, and buried her face in Sarai’s neck. “How I envy you,” she murmured, “for having such a handsome husband as Abram, a conqueror who’ll soon be in your arms, full of impatience! In a few nights, all the tents in Hebron will be aquiver with lovemaking. Poor me! I’ll just have to stop my ears and drink sage tea to send me to sleep!”

  Sarai returned her hug, then moved away from her, pensively. She turned to look at her with a new expression on her face, tender and almost timid.

  “What is it?” Hagar said, with a laugh of surprise.

  “Nothing,” Sarai replied.

  SARAI did not wait for Abram at the entrance of the encampment, among the other wives, but in her tent. When he pushed back the flap and discovered her not only without her veil, but completely naked, he began to tremble.

  He came toward her like a shy young man, filled with wonder and barely able to breathe, and fell to his knees before her. He embraced her timidly and placed his brow and cheek against her belly.

  Sarai dug her fingers into his hair. How silver it was! Gently, she touched the thick lines on his brow, his tanned shoulders. With time, his skin had become less fine, less firm, and, in the places where his tunic protected it from the sun, as white as milk.

  She stood him up, undressed him, kissed the base of his neck, licked his little scars, his ribs and his muscular stomach. He smelled of grass and dust.

  She, too, began to tremble when he lifted her and carried her to the bed. He opened her thighs, as if unveiling the most delicious of offerings.

  They did not utter a word until pleasure swept through them like a breath and they became, once again, Abram and Sarai.

  IT was already night.

  “I made war,” Abram said. “I fought with the help of God Most High. But not a day went by that I didn’t think of you. I felt your love in the strength of my arm and in my will to win.”

  Sarai smiled, without interrupting.

  “I thought of your tempers. The farther I was from Canaan, and the more victorious, the more I could see how right you had been. So when I was on my way back and Yhwh called me, the first words I said to him were ‘God Most High, I’m completely naked! The heir to my house is Eliezer of Damascus. You haven’t given me a child. Someone who isn’t my son is going to take everything I have!’ ‘No!’ he replied. ‘He will take nothing from you. He who will take everything is he who will come from your seed.’”

  Abram paused. He was breathing hard with anxiety. Sarai huddled closer to him.

  “‘He who will take everything is he who will come from your seed.’ Those were the words of Yhwh. That’s all I can tell you. And I don’t understand how it can be.”

  “I understand,” Sarai said gently, after a pause. “Your god will not change my womb. There’s no point in waiting for that. But Eliezer is bad, even worse than you could imagine. Your death would have delighted him, everyone could see that.”

  “So I’ve been told. But that doesn’t matter. And driving away Eliezer won’t give me a son.”

  “Hagar will give you one.”

  “Hagar? Your handmaid?”

  “She’s beautiful, and she’s already given birth once.”

  Abram stood motionless, silent, without daring to look at Sarai.

  “I ask it of you,” Sarai insisted. “Abram cannot remain without an heir from his seed. Your god himself keeps saying it.”

  “Will Hagar want it? I’m no longer a young man.”

  “She’s pining to have a man between her thighs, young or old. What’s more, she admires you as much as you admire your god!”

  Abram fell silent again, and looked for Sarai’s eyes in the dim light. With the tips of his fingers, he stroked her lips gently. “You’ll suffer,” he whispered. “It won’t be your child.”

  “I’ll be strong.”

  “I’ll be giving pleasure to Hagar. You’ll suffer.”

  Sarai smiled to hide the mist in her eyes. “I will know what you knew when we were in Pharaoh’s palace.”

  Jealousy

  But Sarai was not as strong as she had thought.

  It began the first night that Hagar spent in Abram’s tent. As Sarai went to bed, she had the misfortune to recall the helix-shaped scar between Hagar’s shoulders, and that made her think of Abram’s lips touching the scar and covering it with little kisses.

  The pain in her stomach, neck, and lower back was so strong that she could not get to sleep until dawn. At least she had the courage to stay in bed.

  The next day, she avoided both Abram and Hagar. But when twilight came, her chest began to burn as if pierced with needles of bronze. As soon as night fell, she stood behind the flap of her tent and listened. She recognized Hagar’s great sensual laugh, then her moans, and even Abram’s breathing.

  She went outside to recover her breath. Alas, the sounds of her husband’s and her handmaid’s lovemaking were even more audible. Unseen by anyone, she crouched like an old woman, put her hands over her ears, and shut her eyes as tight as she could. But that only made it worse. In her blindness, she saw Abram’s body, Hagar’s beautiful hips, her ravenous ecstasy. She saw in detail all the things she should not have seen.

  She vomited like a drunk woman.

  The following day, she decided to be sensible. Carrying bread, olives, a gourd full of milk, and a sheepskin, she left the encampment and climbed the hill of Qiryat-Arba. For two nights, she slept under the stars and dreamed of children’s faces. When she returned to the encampment, she was smiling.

  Hagar was smiling, too. At first, neither dared to look at the other. But then Sarai laughed and drew Hagar into her arms.

  “I’m happy,” she whispered in her ear. “But I can’t help it, I’m jealous.”

  “You have no need to be now,” Hagar sighed. “Abram left this morning to travel through Canaan calling the name of Yhwh and making offerings on all the altars he built for him.”

  And the jealousy did, in fact, stop.

  Sarai waited impatiently for the new moon, and was the first to congratulate Hagar when she announced that no blood had flowed between her thighs.

  From that day, Sarai stopped thinking of Hagar only as her handmaid. She smothered her with tender loving care, like a mother with her daughter. Hagar
started to like this treatment. Although her belly was still only a little swollen, she stopped grinding grain to make flour, left the care of the tent to other handmaids, and refrained from carrying even the smallest object. The women spent long afternoons with her, brought her honey cakes and scented unguents, and showered her with compliments, just as they would have done if Hagar had been Abram’s real wife.

  She was truly radiant. Sarai noticed that her lips were becoming plumper. Her cheeks grew bigger and even her eyes seemed more luminous and more tender. She moved slowly, as if dancing, and laughed in a deep voice, pushing her shoulders back and thrusting her breasts forward. She slept at all hours of the day as if she were alone in the world, and called for food when she woke. In every way, she was a woman sated with the joy of bearing a child.

  Seeing her like that, her body fuller and her joy richer with every passing day, Sarai once again became overcome with envy.

  Prudently, she kept her distance, taking every opportunity to work as far as possible from her tent. At night, she slept in Abram’s arms, as if that could protect her—and perhaps upset Hagar a little, too.

  But one evening at the height of summer, Sarai entered her tent, the flap of which had been lifted to let the air circulate, and discovered Abram kneeling before her handmaid. Hagar’s tunic was up around her neck, and Abram was tenderly feeling her bare belly with his hands.

  The sight took Sarai’s breath away, and she leaped back out of sight. But she could not stop herself watching as Abram leaned down and placed his cheek and ear against Hagar’s belly, so taut with life, and his white hair spread over her breasts.

  She heard Abram’s affectionate whisper. A whisper that hit her full in the chest.

  She heard Hagar’s chuckles as Abram kissed her round belly, her cooing as she offered her body to Abram’s rapt contemplation.

  Her head bursting, Sarai fled, consumed by jealousy, knowing that it would never end. That she was no longer strong enough to bear it.