Ur
“We must deliver his body to the palace,” Wedum said.
“No!” Terah said. “Think, man! Isn’t it clear what’s happened here?”
“He’s killed himself, master. But why?”
“That is not for us to know, but imagine the disgrace, the dishonor, the humiliation of his family. And if the king learns of this, there will be no imperial funeral, only ignominy.”
“What can we do?”
“Remove his sword. Place it in his hand as if he used it to protect himself. Then roll him onto his back. Move the chariot far enough away that the vultures will not be scared off by the horse. Once they have begun to devour him, his scent will draw other predators.”
“You would have him torn to pieces out here?” Wedum said. “A king’s guard?”
“Better than to embarrass his family. Someone will find his bones and the chariot and deduce he was another victim of the dogs. He will be lauded for his years of service to the realm.”
“I’ve known him only a few hours,” Wedum said. “But I could tell he was a good man. I don’t know if I can—”
“Of course you can! Just roll him up on his side, withdraw the sword, and then leave him on his back.”
“Oh, master, don’t make me …”
“I’d do it myself if I were able. Think of his reputation, his family. Now move!”
Convinced as he was that he had made another prudent decision, even Terah found it hard to watch as Wedum rolled Ikuppi’s bloated body on its side to free the hilt from the ground and allow him access to the sword. Wedum gagged as he set his feet and bent to jerk the blade until it wrenched free.
“Now roll him onto his back and place the weapon in his hand.”
“Forgive me, master,” Wedum groaned, “but I cannot. I already feel I have violated the man.”
“Out of the way, coward. A dead man feels nothing, and you know this was his choice.”
Terah tottered to the body, put his weight on his left leg, and poked at Ikuppi with his crutch. The man proved heavier than Terah expected. He pushed harder, and though the body rocked, it would not roll over. “Help me, man!” Terah said. “We must be gone before we’re seen.”
Wedum placed his foot on Ikuppi’s hip and pushed him onto his back.
“Now put the sword in his hand.”
“Oh, master …”
“Just do it!”
Tears rolled down Wedum’s cheeks as he obeyed and retreated to Terah’s side.
“Now move the chariot and we’ll go.”
But Wedum found the horse as stubborn as the donkey had been. The whites of its eyes showed terror, and it would not budge. Terah cursed them both. “Help me up in there,” he said. “I will hold the reins, and you get out and make the horse move.”
When they were in place, Terah leaned precariously on his crutch and Wedum grabbed the horse’s bridle. The steed yanked its head back, lifting Wedum off the ground and flinging him aside. “Make him move!” Terah shouted. “Hang on!”
“I need the switch,” Wedum said, and he ran back to the donkey cart to retrieve the gnarly branch. He brandished it in front of the horse and raised it as if to strike. The horse reared, nearly hurling Terah from the carriage.
“Give me that and get out of the way, Wedum!”
Terah wrapped the reins around one hand, held his crutch under his arm, and beat the horse’s flank with the branch until it nickered and whinnied and finally stomped off in fits and starts. Satisfied he was far enough away from the body to allow the vultures their meal, Terah beckoned to Wedum to help him down.
In the process he nearly tripped over something on the floor of the chariot—the ivory model he had carved of Marduk, the patron deity of Babylonia. It was still intact and as beautiful as the day he had made it. Though it had been a gift to Ikuppi, he certainly had no use for it now. And Terah needed something to begin his new collection.
That night at the cave, Belessunu seemed lethargic and pale in the light of the torches.
“Fortunately, the light cannot be seen from outside,” Terah told her. “But you must resurrect that poison you concocted for the wild pigs that ravaged your garden.”
“And threatened us,” she said weakly. “It was just bat excrement I collected and added to meat I allowed to go rancid. I believe the pigs found it delicious.”
“But it left them rotting in the sun.”
“Bats live deep in this cave,” she said, “so I could collect what I need. But what am I to do with this poisoned meat?”
“We cannot risk wild dogs picking up your or Abram’s scent. This place that protects you from the throne also makes you easy prey for dogs.”
“Or jackals or hyenas,” she said.
“I don’t even want to think about it. You deposit the bait around the entrance. Belessunu, are you all right?”
“No, I am not. I’m exhausted and sore and need help here. I know we can’t let servants know where I am, but could not Ikuppi bring me—What, Terah?”
“Hmm?”
“At the mere mention of his name you turned white. What is wrong with Ikuppi?”
“Did I say something was wrong with him?”
“Terah, don’t insult me. Do you think I don’t know you after all these years? What has happened?”
“It’s awful, Belessunu. I didn’t want to trouble you with this, but Wedum discovered his body in the desert this morning! The wild dogs had overtaken him.”
She sat staring. “An armed king’s guard in a royal chariot?”
“Yes! That’s why we need the poison, to spread in front of the mouth of the cave for such ravenous and powerful beasts.”
“You cannot distract me with warnings about our safety,” Belessunu said. “I liked Ikuppi, and I thought you did too.”
“Of course I did! He’s the one who warned us of Nimrod’s plan.”
“Then tell me the truth. Is this yet another death for which you are responsible?”
Terah hung his head.
“Oh, Terah, by the time you come to your senses and repent before the one true God, it will be too late! Did you kill Ikuppi because he was a witness to your treachery?”
“No! If you must know, he fell on his own sword, and that’s the truth. That he is gone does make it easier for us, however. One less person who could betray us to the king.”
“Oh, husband, you are beyond hope. Do you not see why he took his own life? You may as well have murdered him too. At least tell me he will lie in state, duly honored.”
“Only his bones remain. We did not want the king to learn of his suicide. This way he will be lauded, yes.”
“And what of his family?”
“What of them?”
“They have been left without a husband and father because you pushed him past what his conscience could bear.”
Abram began to fuss. “Allow me to tend to him,” Terah said.
“No! You think I want him comforted by a murderer?”
“Are you saying I will never again touch my son?”
“I’m saying not now, Terah. I fear God must bring you low if you are ever to return to Him.”