Ur
“Belessunu, you know I would help you prepare for the trip if I could,” Terah said.
“That I do know,” she said, sadness in her voice. She shuffled between the bedchamber and the great room, carrying small stacks of clothing and personal items, stopping often to steady herself with a hand on the table or having to sit. Pain was written on her face. “You have long been attentive, husband. I do not know what has come over you that you could have—”
“Nothing came over me! Nothing but love for you and our child!”
“Blasphemy!” she hissed. “Do you think I am any abler than you to make this journey tonight? I know we must go, but let me make this plain, Terah. Nothing you can do or say will dissuade me from my devotion to the one true God. He has spoken to me and you know He has spoken to you …”
“Please, I don’t want to hear—”
“You will hear whatever I have to say from now on. And I am telling you that the worship of any other god, not to mention all these”—she swept a hand over the idol remnants—“will not be tolerated in our new dwelling. Our son will be raised to know and exalt the one true God of our forefathers.”
“But—”
“I will countenance no opposition on this, Terah! The Lord has spoken, and so have I. If you command me to abandon my resolve, you will have to bind me and carry me to the cave, else I will stay right here until Nimrod’s men find us.”
“I want the boy to be healthy and safe,” Terah muttered.
“Then you will bring no idol when you visit. And you will not counter anything I teach Abram about God.”
Terah nodded miserably. “You understand that I will be your only visitor.”
“That will not be easy, but I would not know what to say to any servants anyway. I don’t know how you will be able to face them.”
“They will feel bad for me, Belessunu! One of their friend’s baby was devoured by ravenous dogs, and when the king demanded their master’s son be sacrificed, his wife abandoned him. I will gain much sympathy and respect.”
“Your entire life has become a lie, Terah. I don’t know how you can face yourself. How will you sleep?”
“I will rest easy, knowing I have done what I had to do to protect you and Abram from the king.”
“And now I will do what I have to do to protect your son from you and your murderous, idolatrous ways.”
Darkness had fallen when Ikuppi finally returned and set about loading the larger chariot with Belessunu’s supplies and making a place for her to sit with the baby.
“Prepare a place for me as well,” Terah said. “I have one more ride in me this day.”
“I’m glad you do,” Ikuppi said. “But you have become a burden rather than a help.”
“Only temporarily, my friend. Once you deliver me back here tonight, in the coming days we will enjoy comradeship once more.”
Ikuppi appeared as weary as Terah had ever seen him when finally he was ready to board his passengers. “Let me start with you, Terah,” he said.
Ikuppi tossed Terah’s crutch into the chariot, then draped the injured man’s arm around his own shoulders and walked him out, propping him against the wheel. He leapt up and squatted to lift as Terah sluggishly climbed in and lowered himself to the floor. No matter how he adjusted himself, he couldn’t avoid pressure on his most sensitive injuries. Maybe this was a mistake and he should have said his good-byes inside. But there was more he wanted to tell Belessunu, and it didn’t seem right to have another man deliver her and Abram to their new home without his being there.
Ikuppi brought him the sleeping Abram. Terah felt such a blend of emotions he couldn’t express himself to his wife when Ikuppi helped her into the chariot. Holding the baby merely confirmed in his mind that, as chaotic as the day had been, the end was all that mattered. He would soon have his family hidden and safe. How he had managed that was between him and his gods.