35

Melah shifted on her couch, closing her eyes against the throbbing at her temples. Heavy curtains had been drawn against the daylight, but by now the light creeping in at the edges had faded to a soft orange hue. Lot would be home soon, expecting a feast. Did the man ever tire of eating? He’d grown plumper than he’d been during his days as a shepherd, sitting in the gate with the elders of Sodom, demanding richer foods, moving less with each passing year. And he rarely spoke a word that wasn’t laced with sarcasm or said in jest.

She couldn’t blame him, really. This town was obsessed with food and drink and making merry, with buying and selling and entertainment of every variety. Sometimes the pace was wearying. Still, she could not help a sense of pride at all the city had accomplished. Even Ur and Harran had not grown so prosperous or allowed for such a life of ease.

She opened her eyes, adjusting to the dusk, the throbbing in her head releasing with her musings. Life was good here despite the violence. She would just send her servants to fetch whatever was needed from the market. There was little need for her to take such risks at her age. She had earned the right to rest.

A door banged at the front of the house, and male voices drifted to her. Hurried feet, probably those of her lazy maidservants, rushed past her room, and giggles from her daughters roused her curiosity. Lot often brought visitors home, though few ever ventured into Sodom these days. No doubt rumors had spread of the vile practices of the men of the city. Especially when darkness fell. A shudder shook her, and she forced herself up from her plush bed.

She checked her appearance in the bronze mirror through the dim light of the oil lamp, pinched color into her wan cheeks, and squinted at the wrinkles she could no longer hide with oils and ointments. She never could match Sarai’s beauty. A veined hand smoothed the fabric of her embroidered robe as she took it from the peg on the wall and slipped it over her shoulders. She could match Sarai’s wealth, though, and more. The thought held a hint of a lie, but she lifted her chin and squelched the guilt, moving into the hall toward the cooking room. She found Lot directing the servants.

“Bake bread without yeast, and bring out some of our best cheeses and wine.” He looked up. “Melah, there you are. We have guests, and I promised them a meal. Can you see to it?” His helpless expression did not impress her or move her to act, and it was on the tip of her tongue to retort and tell him to make it himself.

The girls burst into the cooking area, hands covering their mouths in an attempt to suppress their laughter.

“Aren’t they handsome? Too bad we are already promised. Pirhum is not nearly as finely crafted as either of those two men!” Kammani turned to her father. “Abi, won’t you introduce us? The sounds of their voices are like music. I should so like to meet them.”

Lot looked askance at the girl, a look Melah had not seen from him in years. He shook his head as though the request disgusted him. Ire lifted the hairs on Melah’s arms.

“Why would you deny them? After your guests have eaten, will there not be a cause to introduce your family?” She leveled a gaze at him he could not ignore, one he had succumbed to all of their married life.

He shook his head again and took a step back toward the sitting area where the men waited. “Please, just hurry with the food. These are not ordinary men.” He disappeared through the archway.

“Not ordinary men? What sort of men aren’t ordinary?” Melah shot the words after him, but he did not respond.

“Perhaps they’re like the men of the city who lust after other men,” Ku-aya said.

“Wouldn’t that make them ordinary?” Kammani moved to the cutting boards and lifted a knife to chop vegetables. At least the girl could be useful when needed.

Melah glanced from one to the other. The girls accepted Sodom’s vices as though everything was normal. Had they no concept of wrong?

A check in her spirit made her pause. Was anything really sin? Abram had taught such a concept, but the thoughts had blurred once they moved to the city. She wasn’t sure what she believed anymore. Why should her daughters be any different?

She picked a cheese from the shelf and cut thick slices, adding it to the wooden tray where the flat bread waited. Kammani added sliced cucumbers and olives and honeyed melon. It would do. Whoever these men were, they had come unannounced. They would not expect a lavish feast.

Hefting the tray in her arms, she shooed the girls out of sight and walked into the sitting room where Lot waited. One glimpse of the tall, muscular men made her knees weak. When they glanced at her, she nearly dropped the tray and had to steady herself in order to place it on the table before them. She bowed low and backed away without speaking.

They spoke in low tones with Lot while Melah slipped back to the cooking area to catch her breath.

“What’s wrong, Mama? Are they not handsome?”

Melah could not speak, wondering at the strange weight in her chest. Though the glimpse had been swift, it was enough to sear her to the core, as though in a moment her conscience had been laid bare, all her pride exposed. She placed a hand to her heart. Who were these men?

A rumble of voices came through the open window, growing louder and coming closer. She moved on trembling legs to the window overlooking the courtyard and was jolted at the sight of men, young and old, descending upon their house. She quickly shuttered the window and hurried to the other rooms to make sure each fastener was securely in place.

Kammani and Ku-aya rushed after her, doing the same without being asked. They met in the hall, their fear matching her own. “What is it, Mama? Why are they here?”

“I don’t know.” Melah reached to place one arm around each girl, suddenly grateful beyond words for their presence. “Let’s go.”

She walked them toward the sitting room where they stayed against the walls, listening.

“Lot! Open the door. Where are the men who came to you tonight? Bring them out to us so we can have sex with them.”

Horror slid down Melah’s spine. She dared a look at the two men, but they appeared unruffled by the noise or the request. Lot bounced up from his seat as though stung with hot coals. He hurried to the door, slipped out, and shut it behind him.

Melah rushed to the window nearest the door, checked the latch, and pressed her ear against it, straining to hear. She felt Kammani and Ku-aya pressing against her back.

“No, my friends. Don’t do this wicked thing,” Lot said. “Look, I have two daughters who have never slept with a man. Let me bring them out to you, and you can do what you like with them. But don’t do anything to these men, for they have come under the protection of my roof.”

At the gasps of her daughters behind her, Melah turned and wrapped them in her arms. Soft weeping came from them both, and she shook with their trembling. He was joking as he always was. Surely he was joking.

“He can’t do this.”

“Why would he do this? We’re promised to others.”

“We’re nothing to him. We were not sons.”

Melah’s heart stung with every whispered word. “He never means what he says. You know this.” He could not be serious, could he? Did he even stop to think what he was saying? The girls would be dead by morning if he gave them to such men. And these men would not think he was kidding. Did he care nothing for his family? Bitterness scalded her throat. Lot was a fool.

“Get out of our way!”

The women jumped at the shouts coming from the men outside. Melah pulled her daughters further from the door and glanced for the briefest moment at Lot’s two visitors, willing them to put an end to this madness.

“This fellow came here as an alien, and now he wants to play the judge!” The voice from outside came through the shuttered windows.

“We’ll treat you worse than them.” Another closer voice was soon joined by others. The door creaked against the pressure of the howling men, and Melah had a fleeting image of Lot pushed against it, begging for breath. Would serve him right for making such an awful suggestion!

“They’re going to break down the door!” Ku-aya’s cries sparked fear in the room.

“Someone do something!” Kammani’s screams brought Melah’s arms tighter around both girls.

In the next breath, the two visitors opened the door and dragged Lot into the room, shutting the door behind him. Cries of a different tone seeped through the window now. Melah released her grip on the girls and tread quietly to look. Men stood with hands stretched out before them, groping at air but making no progress forward. Could they not see where they were going?

“Do you have anyone else here—sons-in-law, sons or daughters, or anyone else in the city who belongs to you?” One of the visitors looked straight at Lot, who cowered in a corner and slowly nodded.

“Get them out of here, because we are going to destroy this place,” the visitor said. “The outcry to Adonai against its people is so great that He has sent us to destroy it.”

Melah looked at Lot’s ashen face. Lot returned his gaze to the men. “I have two sons-in-law, pledged to marry my daughters.”

“Go now and get them. There is little time left.”

Lot rushed to the door, then whirled around and hurried to the back, slipping out of the house. Melah stood still, unable to move.

“We are leaving?” Kammani’s voice jolted Melah from her stupor. “How can we leave?”

“They are going to destroy Sodom?”

The emotion in the girls’ voices made Melah’s eyes fill with tears. She looked around at the walls with her embroidered tapestries, the ornate furnishings, the gold and silver plating over each urn. Costly alabaster jars held fragrant oils. They would need many carts to lug it all with them. The image of goat’s-hair tents surfaced in her mind’s eye. She couldn’t bear to live like that again.

“Take only what you can carry.”

She jerked her head to look at the one who had spoken. Had he read her mind? But that was impossible.

“We cannot possibly—”

He shook his head. “There isn’t time for more.”

The comment both angered her and caused a fresh rush of fear to whip through her. She looked to her daughters. “Come.” She hurried to her room, snatched clothing and pots of makeup and ointment and herbs, and placed them in large baskets. Surely a servant could carry some of this.

“He said only what we could carry, Mama.” Ku-aya appeared at her side, a small satchel in her hand, her sister behind her.

Defeat mingled with Melah’s exhaustion. The back door slammed, and she was acutely aware of the deepening darkness. She dropped her things and hurried to the sitting room, the girls on her heels. Lot appeared out of breath and distraught. A servant brought him a goblet of wine. He took it from the man and gulped it down.

“They didn’t believe me.” His chest heaved. Had he run the whole way? “They thought I was joking.” He cast the two men an imploring look. “I couldn’t convince them.”

“No!” Kammani rushed at him, beating her fists against his chest. “You must go back, Abi. You must convince them. We cannot leave them here.”

“From the moment you met them, you did not speak a serious word to them. Why should they believe you? Why should anyone believe you?” Melah could not keep the scorn from her tone.

“Go back and try again, Abi. You must!” Ku-aya had hold of his arm, her look pleading.

Lot pushed the girls from him. “I tried. It is no use.” He glanced at the two men. “Perhaps they will change their minds before we leave.” He walked toward the hall to his bedchamber.

“We will not wait long,” one of the men said.

A deep shudder worked through Melah, her sense of foreboding rising with each step as she hurried back to her room to continue packing.

Predawn stillness settled over Sodom, the town’s night revelries spent, the quiet unnerving. Melah had given the last few hours to packing and unpacking what she would need to start life over again somewhere else. In the end, she had settled on two linen sacks, one weighted down with some of her finest robes and tunics and belts and jeweled sandals. In the other, she’d had to fit all of the creams and ointments, not only to keep her youthful appearance, but to use for healing balms. Lot would have to carry the food sacks. There just wasn’t room enough for it all. As it was, their pack animals were too far away to get to in time. The few donkeys he kept for travel were boarded at the stables on the outskirts of the city. They would have to carry their supplies until they could reach the stables.

“Can you stuff these pots into your sack?” She looked at Lot where he stood in the cooking area, one sack stuffed with clothing sitting at his feet, then at the two men who suddenly filled the arch of the door between the cooking and sitting areas. The gray light of the coming dawn peeked around the shuttered windows.

Lot turned from her to the men, ignoring her question. Where would they fit the griddle? She could not possibly make flat bread without a three-pronged griddle. The old way of cooking over stones—she could not even think of doing that again.

“Hurry,” one of the men said, interrupting her rambling thoughts. “Take your wife and your two daughters who are here, or you will be swept away when the city is punished.”

Swept away? A sense of confusion settled over her. She couldn’t leave her home. She’d raised her children here. Her son was buried here. No, wait. Her son was buried in another land, in a foreign cave. No, that wasn’t so either. Lot had brought his body back with them and buried him here. She visited his grave every week to offer him food and drink.

A little cry escaped her, and she pressed her hands to her temples. There was still so much to do, so much to gather. “We cannot go without the donkeys. There is too much to pack, and we are too few to carry it all.”

She glanced at Lot, who suddenly looked lost and confused himself. Kammani and Ku-aya huddled closer, the four of them standing in the middle of the room, unsure what to do, where to go.

One of the men stepped forward and grasped Lot’s and Kammani’s hands, while the other grasped Melah’s and Ku-aya’s. “Come.”

They moved forward without another word, the provisions left in the sacks on the floor of their home.

Melah’s head throbbed, her mind muddied and struggling to focus. Where were they going? Why were these men leading them out of the city?

They crossed the threshold of the city gate and kept walking past the ring of trees that led toward the Jordan Valley. Dawn had almost fully crested the eastern ridge now, and the men urged them faster with each step, as though everything would change once the day came to light. They stopped at the edge of the plain facing the mountains to the south.

“Flee for your lives! Don’t look back, and don’t stop anywhere in the plain. Flee to the mountains or you will be swept away!”

Melah hurried to Lot’s side and grasped his sleeve as the girls’ startled whines came from behind them.

“We can’t live in the mountains.”

“We brought nothing with us.”

“What are they thinking? Abi, please!” They spoke as one.

“Listen to them,” Melah whispered, turning pleading, sultry eyes on Lot, knowing he could not resist her.

Lot took a step closer to the men and fell on one knee, hands clasped in front of him. “No, my lords, please! Your servant has found favor in your eyes, and you have shown great kindness to me in sparing my life. But I can’t flee to the mountains. This disaster will overtake me, and I’ll die. Look, Zoar is a town near enough to run to, and it is small. Let me flee to it. It is very small, isn’t it? Then my life will be spared.”

Did he think small meant good and honorable? But surely a small town was better than the wild mountains.

“Very well,” one of the men said, “I will grant this request too. I will not overthrow the town you speak of. But flee there quickly, because I cannot do anything until you reach it.”

Lot bowed and quickly rose, thanked the men, and ran. “Go!”

His shout rang out, jarring Melah from her fear-induced stupor. She whirled about and shoved both girls ahead of her.

“Don’t look back!”

Lot’s reminder rang within her, the words of the two men searing her heart. She snatched her robes between her clenched fingers and ran after her daughters, the town of Zoar not appearing to grow any closer. She heard Lot’s heavy breaths behind her and was comforted by his presence.

The town looked small because it was so far from the plains. What was Lot thinking? And yet running across the plains was easier than climbing mountains would have been.

She slowed her gait, her legs growing weary.

“Don’t stop,” Lot said. His body was in no better condition than her own. Running was for the young and vibrant. She was too old for this. But she picked up the pace again just the same.

She glanced ahead at her girls, their long hair flowing behind them. They were many paces ahead, and Melah wondered why one of them hadn’t thought to grab a sack to carry with them. Had Lot at least tucked gold coins into his belt?

She nearly turned around to ask him, but the men’s warning stung her ears. Don’t look back, they’d said.

She ran faster and didn’t.