Ur
Terah sat in the great room tenderly supporting Abram in his lap, the newborn softly clicking his tongue and emitting sighs in his sleep. Terah found himself conflicted, perplexed at how his heart and soul could have callously sentenced one man’s son to certain death and an hour later feel overwhelmed with such boundless love for his own son. In the same day he had also threatened the lives of the midwife and her grown son, forced his friend on the king’s guard to violate his own conscience and moral code—under a threat to his life and the lives of his family—and was even willing to kill his wife’s servant girls if they interfered with his master plan.
But had that idea not come directly to him from the gods themselves? Even the shattered fragments of the idols he had fashioned to represent them seemed to have spoken deeply to his inner being. If that required sacrificing servants or subordinates and even their families, well, the result was all that mattered. If his son was destined to be an “exalted father,” whatever Terah had to do to ensure that was the right course.
His problem was separating what he was sure was of the gods and what might have been an intrusion by the one Belessunu believed was the one true God. Which god had led him to a haven where he had been able to avoid death at the fangs of the wild dogs? Which had warned him to worship no other gods? Which had suggested the prophetic name for his son? Terah couldn’t shake the feeling that this inscrutable tenderness and love for Abram had salved his conscience to where anything that served it seemed justifiable.
But was it? Or was Ikuppi right, that Terah had abandoned his senses and any vestige of his scruples?
Terah could barely rise and get around with his crutch when not holding the baby, so unless he found a way to safely lay the boy down, he was stuck where he was. He had been foolhardy in sending Ikuppi to do his bidding, leaving him alone with the baby.
Ikuppi returned after a couple of hours, having delivered the food and supplies to Mutuum and his wife. The king’s guard looked miserable, poking his head in the door and saying he had returned to the storehouse and filled his chariot with what Terah had requested. “I’ll now fill the other, but I need to know where you want all these goods.”
“I’ll tell you upon your return, friend, but first may I prevail upon you to take Abram back to Belessunu’s side?” Terah grew angry at Ikuppi’s hesitation. “I asked only out of courtesy. Just do it.”
“Terah, as I have tried to make clear, if you retain any shred of respect for me, you’ll refrain from referring to me as your friend. I know well that you consider me your servant, not a colleague, and so I am obligated to merely obey.”
“Then do so, Ikuppi! I am tired of your haranguing about this. If you cannot recognize my kindnesses to you—”
“Kindnesses!” the guard said, reaching to take the child. “You merely indebted me for such a time as this.”
“Nonsense! Only a friend would have warned me about the king’s designs on my son.”
“Had I only known what that would generate in your heart!”
“Just be about your business, Ikuppi.”
The guard took the baby and appeared to soften. “He does seem a peaceful child. I pray you won’t spoil that in him.”
Terah just motioned him toward the bedchamber. Belessunu roused as he tiptoed in. “Ikuppi,” she said, “where are my servant girls, and Terah?”
“I am here!” Terah called out, hoping to thwart any comments from Ikuppi. “I will join you soon.”
Ikuppi emerged, his countenance gloomy, as if he could barely stand to look at Terah. “Just tell me what to do with my cargo,” he said. “Let me finish this awful day.”
“This is a glorious day!” Terah said. “Abram has been spared and—”
Ikuppi leaned forward and whispered, “You have sentenced your family to a living dungeon. When it reaches Nimrod that the real Amraphel lives and is named Abram, what will you do then, living where you live, doing what you do for the king?”
“That’s none of your concern, friend, as your assignment is silence. If the king ever becomes aware, someone is going to die, and it’s not going to be me.”
“I pledge no further confidence, Terah. I must know the end of your plan.”