Ur
Terah could tell from Ikuppi’s refusal to even incline his ear to him that pleading was futile. Over the rough half mile from the servant village to his estate, Terah had sat behind Ikuppi on the floor of the chariot and tried to reason with him.
“We have known each other far too long to allow this to come between us, my friend. You cared enough to warn me of the king’s intent. You helped me save my child. Foodstuffs and supplies and a little physical labor are all I ask of you now. That and your silence.”
Silence he got plenty of, as Ikuppi resolutely facing forward, not even turning his head.
“Just tell me you’re still with me, Ikuppi—that you will remain loyal and true. That I can continue to count on you. I got you your job, and there’s more I can do for you. Just help me while I am infirm, and I can ensure the rest of your life will be one of ease. I will even beseech the king to remove you from the front lines, to allow you to only supervise men.”
When Terah’s compound came into view, he peered over the top of the chariot and struggled to his feet. “Who visits?” he said.
Even now Ikuppi did not answer. Besides the chariot, now with one horse, that had been delivered, a donkey cart sat under the entryway portico, tethered to a post. “A servants’ wagon,” Terah said. “Whoever is here was not in the servants’ village to hear what’s happened.”
“To hear your lie, you mean,” Ikuppi said flatly.
“Oh, now you can hear and speak! The attack on Mutuum’s baby is your story too, remember.”
“It’s a story, but it was never mine.”
“Do you not see there was no other way?” Terah said. “It was this or my son! The gods gave me the answer, provided the substitute!”
“So your servants are mere possessions with whom you may do as you wish. Terah, you sentenced that baby to death. You might as well have murdered him yourself.”
“We don’t know the disposition of the child. For all we know—”
“Of course we do! The seers consider your firstborn a threat to the throne, and King Nimrod wanted him dead. They believe that was your child! What chance is there that he is still alive?”
“That is not our concern, Ikuppi. What the king does—”
“It is my concern! You are less than a man if you can rid it from your conscience. I cannot.”
“See who is within. They must be told what has become of Mutuum’s baby.”
“Then you tell them,” Ikuppi said. “My words have already condemned me. You can ask no more.”
He helped Terah down from the chariot and walked him inside. There, two of Belessunu’s servant girls tended to Abram. The boy was awake and alert, staring at the girl who held him, tiny hands reaching for her face.
“Your wife is sleeping, master,” the other told him. “Oh no, sir! What has happened to you?”
“It is a sad and terrible story, my dear,” Terah said. And he told the girls of the attack of the dogs and the death of the baby. Both went ashen.
“You two must get back to your quarters to mourn with Mutuum and his wife,” Terah said. “Meanwhile, we will take Abram to the palace. The king wishes to see him.”
“That is an honor, sir,” the servant said as she handed the baby to Ikuppi. “But he is too young to travel.”
“You would have me refuse the king?”
When the girls had gone, Ikuppi slumped in a chair with the baby in his lap. “Does your lack of shame know no bounds?”
“Ikuppi, think! When the news spreads that I have bestowed my son upon the king, those girls will believe they saw him just before that took place. Otherwise, I would have no choice.”
“But to kill them too, of course. Why not? They are merely property. Dispensable. Are you sure you have thought through this entire thing, Terah? When the truth comes out, as it always does, your life will be worthless. How then will you protect your family?”