Ur
“You must rest, Belessunu,” Terah said, his voice quavery. “You look spent.”
His wife nodded, the long day having engraved weariness on her countenance. She reached for his hand, but he hesitated. “Will you not help me rise?” she said. “The wife of your youth who carries your child?”
He helped her up and led her to their sleeping mat beyond another drape that hung in the narrow doorway at the other side of the great room. She lay on her back in the darkness, hands clasped above her protruding torso. “Are you laboring to breathe?” he said, sitting next to her.
“I’ll be fine now.”
“Belessunu, do you believe that was your god speaking through you?”
“You believed it. I could tell.”
Terah held his head in his hands. “I fear it, that’s all I know.”
She put a hand on his arm. “That’s not all you know. You know truth when you hear it.”
“I will test my gods,” he said.
She sighed. “The ones you carved yourself?”
“They led me in the carving! I know they are just images, but they embody real gods.”
“And you will prove this how?”
“I will ask them for wisdom, a plan, in the event we are cursed with a manchild.”
“No child will be a curse, Terah. If God gives us a son, He will also show us how to protect him.”
Terah rose. “Sleep, wife. One of us must.”
“We both must. I will sleep the sleep of the blessed.”
“I dare not,” he said, “until I devise a plan.”
As evening gave way to the wee hours, the night finally cooled and a light breeze wafted through the window, reaching Terah as he knelt miserably before his array of idols. He stretched forward and pressed his cheek against the cold clay floor. From the other room, Belessunu’s breathing came rhythmic and deep. How he envied her! Had his gods spoken to him as hers apparently had to her, he would not have been able to sleep for days.
“Why do you not speak?” he whined, voice low so as not to disturb Belessunu. “I serve you as loyally as I serve my king, and this is how you respond? I need help, a sign, a plan. Nimrod has betrayed my trust. Will you do the same? Must I pray to my wife’s god, the god of my forefathers? At least he is not silent.”
That challenge seemed to work, as something stirred within Terah and he pushed himself up to his knees. The answer was in the wilderness! But what could it be? And was this from the gods? Or from his ancestors’ God? Regardless, he must know and know soon. Now.
Alive with purpose, he stood. After a peek around the bedroom curtain to be sure Belessunu was fast asleep, he grabbed his cloak and ventured into the night, quietly closing the door. A hundred yards from his house, Terah passed the pen where two of his young servants tended sheep, goats, and cattle.
Wedum and Mutuum sat poking a small fire, but as he approached they stood, eyes wary, long staffs at the ready.
“It is only me, men,” Terah said. “As you were.”
“Master,” they said and squatted again.
The pungent smoke swirled, making Terah cough despite the pleasant aroma that dulled the sting of the odor of livestock dung. “The animals are not settled?”
“Dogs are too close,” Wedum, the taller of the two, said. “We had to chase away a pack.”
“Good lads.”
“Can we help you with anything, master?”
“Just walking,” he said. “Carry on.”
“Mind the dogs, sir,” Mutuum said. “Hear them now?”
Terah held his breath and closed his eyes. “I do. How many?”
“Five or six, if it’s the same pack.”
“And you can handle them if they return?”
“They didn’t put up a fight,” Wedum said. “But they had to smell the fear in the livestock. They may approach quietly next time, if the fire doesn’t keep them away. If you go much farther, you should take a stick.”
“No, the gods are with me tonight, men.”
“Glory to the gods,” they said in unison.
“But should they fail me, you will hear my cry and save me, will you not?”
“Without question, sir,” Mutuum said. “Absolutely.”
“I’m joking! The gods will not fail me.”
“Glory to the gods.”