Ur
Terah lay restless for only a little while after Ikuppi had left. He decided fatigue from such a momentous day overrode any pangs of conscience Belessunu had predicted for him. As he began to drift off, he relished the chance to tell her the next night—when he would check on her and the baby—that he had gone right to sleep. But that wasn’t entirely true. Terah’s eyes popped open when he realized that two male and two female servants would arrive at dawn as usual, and he wondered whether Mutuum would be among them.
Surely the man couldn’t hold against him the misfortune of a chariot accident, or the actions of wild animals. Terah would stick to his story and ask Mutuum what he thought of the gifts Ikuppi had delivered from his storehouse. As long as the midwife Yadidatum upheld her end of the bargain … and how could she not with her son’s life and freedom—and hand—in the balance? Terah just hoped Ikuppi’s penitence would abate with the light of day so he wouldn’t feel compelled to waver either.
Satisfied everything was in order, Terah quickly faded from consciousness.
The first hint of the morning sun teased through the wood lattice of his window, and Terah could tell this was going to be one of those cloudless days—twelve hours of relentless heat that sapped energy and strength from even the young and robust. It had been years since he had been either of those, though he was pleased to find he was able to pull himself up to a seated position. He could not stand on his own, however, so he simply waited, affecting a face of mourning. He had to appear overcome by the loss of his only son—sacrificed to the throne.
When the servants knocked, Terah called out, “Come in! I need your help!”
Wedum arrived at the bedchamber door, Belessunu’s girls behind him, whispering. “I am at your service, sir,” Wedum said. “Is that not Ikuppi’s chariot outside?”
“He took a smaller one back last night and left that one for me. Is Mutuum with you?”
“He waits in the cart.”
“I did not expect him today when, as I am, he is grieving.”
“It is kind of you to mourn with him, master. But truth be told, he is angry. His wife wants him to thank you for your efforts to save their son, but Mutuum says even seeing you will bring painful images to his mind.”
“Tell him I understand and that he need not see me today. In fact, he can take these girls back after they have served me, as Belessunu is not here.”
“Not here?” one of the girls said. “Why?”
Terah beckoned Wedum close and whispered, “She has abandoned me.”
“What?”
“Have you not heard? The king required of us our son.”
“These girls said you told them he wished to see Abram. But what does this mean, he required him of you? To raise as his own? Is he to honor you by making him a prince of the royal household—”
“I fear not, Wedum. I believe he has taken Abram as a sacrifice.”
“Oh no! Where has Belessunu gone?”
“She would not tell me. And in my condition I was unable to stop her. She says she will never return because I gave up our son.”
“But surely you had no choice!”
“Of course I did not know what the king wanted with him. I assumed just to see him and rejoice with me. But when the king, a god himself, makes a request, what are mortals to do? I pray only that he and the other gods will look upon me with favor for such an offering.”
“I am sure they will, master, but what an awful price to pay!”
“I am bereft.”
“I am so sorry.”
“When you tell Mutuum to take these girls back, see if he is aware of the gifts I had Ikuppi deliver last night.”
“Oh, he is aware, master. He and his wife have already begun sharing them.”
“Those are not to share! They are for the mourning parents.”
“They say it’s too much—that you were too kind—and they want others to partake of them too.”
“How generous.”
Wedum helped Terah up, but he did not immediately assist him to the other room.
“Was there something else, lad?”
“Sir, there is. On our way we passed vultures circling over the wasteland, perhaps four hundred yards to the west.”
“That’s not unusual, is it? Some animal has left the carcass of a kill for them to pick clean, no?”
“Probably, sir. But we did not want to look.”
“Surely this is nothing new to you, Wedum … Oh, I see. You fear it could be the remains of Mutuum’s child.”
“Mutuum refused to look, and the girls thought it bad luck that we just rode on by. They will be reluctant to pass it again on the way back.”
“True, master!” one of the girls said. “May we stay here until we’re sure the birds have gone?”
“You will prepare first meal for me before leaving. And then Wedum will carry me there in the cart, and we will see if it’s anything to be concerned with.”
“But we will have taken the cart, sir.”
“Mutuum may use the chariot, but tell him to take it nowhere else and return it here tomorrow. Wedum and I will make do with the cart.”