A Lineage of Grace Page 3

  Tamar.

  Judah hoped the girl held all the promise her name implied.

  * * *

  Tamar waited while her fate was settled. When her mother stood in the doorway, she knew the matter of her future was decided. “Come, Tamar. Judah has gifts for you.”

  She rose, numb inside. It was a time for rejoicing, not tears. Her father need not fear any longer.

  “Ah, Daughter.” Her father smiled broadly. Obviously, he’d fetched a high bride-price for her, for he had never before embraced her with so much affection. He even kissed her cheek! She lifted her chin and looked into his eyes, wanting him to know what he’d done to her in giving her to such a man as Er. Perhaps he would feel some shame for using her to protect himself.

  He didn’t. “Greet your father-in-law.”

  Resigned to her fate, Tamar prostrated herself before Judah. The Hebrew put his hand upon her head and blessed her and bid her rise. As she did so, he took gold earrings and bracelets from a pouch at his waist and placed them upon her. Her father’s eyes glowed, but her heart sank.

  “Be ready to leave in the morning,” Judah told her.

  Shocked, she spoke without thinking. “In the morning?” She looked at her father. “What of the betrothal—?”

  Her father’s expression warned her to silence. “Judah and I celebrate tonight, my daughter. Acsah will pack your things and go with you tomorrow. Everything is settled. Your husband is eager for you.”

  Was her father so afraid that he didn’t require the customary ten-month betrothal period to prepare for the wedding? She would not even have a week to adjust to her impending marriage!

  “You may go, Tamar. Make ready to leave in the morning.”

  When she entered the women’s chamber, she found her mother and sisters already packing for her. Unable to contain her feelings any longer, Tamar burst into tears. Inconsolable, she wept all night, even after her sisters whined and pleaded for her to stop. “You will have your day,” she told them angrily. “Someday you will understand!”

  Acsah held and rocked her, and Tamar clung to her childhood for one last night.

  When the sun rose, she washed her face and donned her bridal veils.

  Her mother came to her. “Be content, beloved one. Judah paid dearly for you.” Her voice was tear-choked and faintly bitter. “That Hebrew came with a donkey laden with gifts. He returns home with only his seal ring and staff.”

  “And me,” Tamar said softly.

  Her mother’s eyes filled with tears. “Take good care of her, Acsah.”

  “I will, my lady.”

  Her mother took Tamar in her arms and kissed her. “May your husband love you and give you many sons,” she whispered against her hair. Tamar clung to her tightly, pressing herself close, soaking in the warmth and softness of her mother one last time. “It’s time,” her mother said softly, and Tamar drew back. Her mother touched her cheek before turning away.

  Tamar went out into the morning sunlight. Acsah walked with her as she headed toward her father and Judah, who were standing some distance away. She had cried herself out last night. She would shed no more childish tears, though it was hard not to do so with Acsah weeping softly behind her.

  “Perhaps all we’ve heard isn’t true,” Acsah said. “Perhaps Er is not as bad as some say he is.”

  “What does it matter now?”

  “You must try to make him love you, Tamar. A man in love is clay in a woman’s hands. May the gods have mercy on us!”

  “Have mercy upon me and be quiet!”

  When she reached the two men, her father kissed her. “Be fruitful and multiply the household of Judah.” He was eager for their departure.

  Judah walked ahead, Tamar and Acsah following. He was a tall man with long strides, and Tamar had to walk quickly to keep up with him. Acsah muttered complaints under her breath, but Tamar paid her no attention. Instead, she set her mind on what lay ahead. She would work hard. She would be a good wife. She would do everything within her power to bring honor to her husband. She knew how to plant a garden, tend a herd, cook, weave, and make pottery. She could read and write enough to keep proper lists and records of household goods. She knew how to conserve food and water when times were bad and how to be generous when times were good. She knew how to make soap, baskets, cloth, and tools, as well as how to organize servants. But children would be the greatest blessing she could give her husband—children to build the household.

  It was Judah’s second son, Onan, who came out to meet them. “Er is gone,” he said to his father while staring at her.

  Judah slammed the end of his staff into the ground. “Gone where?”

  Onan shrugged. “Off with his friends. He was angry when he heard where you’d gone. I stayed out of his way. You know how he gets.”

  “Bathshua!” Judah strode toward his stone house.

  A buxom woman with heavily painted eyes appeared in the doorway. “What are you yelling about this time?”

  “Did you tell Er I was bringing his bride home today?”

  “I told him.” She leaned indolently in the doorway.

  “Then where is he?”

  She lifted her chin. “I’m his mother, Judah, not his keeper. Er will be along when he’s ready and not before. You know how he is.”

  Judah’s face darkened. “Yes, I know how he is.” He gripped his staff so tightly his knuckles turned white. “That’s why he needs a wife!”

  “That may be, Judah, but you said the girl was pretty.” She gave Tamar a cursory glance. “Do you really think this skinny girl will turn Er’s head?”

  “Tamar is more than she seems. Show her to Er’s chamber.” Judah walked off, leaving Tamar and Acsah standing before the house.

  Mouth tight, Bathshua looked Tamar over from head to foot. She shook her head in disgust. “I wonder what Judah was thinking when he chose you?” Turning her back, she went into the house and left Tamar and Acsah to fend for themselves.

  * * *

  Er returned late in the afternoon, accompanied by several Canaanite friends. They were drunk and laughing loudly. Tamar remained out of sight, knowing what men were like in this condition. Her father and brothers had often imbibed freely and argued violently because of it. She knew the wisdom of staying out of the way until the effects of the wine wore off.

  Knowing she would be summoned, Tamar had Acsah array her in wedding finery. While waiting, Tamar willed herself to set aside every terrible thing she’d ever heard about Er. Perhaps those who had spoken against him had hidden motives. She would give him the respect due a husband and adapt herself to his demands. If the god of his father smiled upon her, she would give Er sons, and quickly. If she were so blessed, she would bring them up to be strong and honest. She would teach them to be dependable and loyal. And if Er so wished, she would learn about the God of Judah and bring up her sons to worship him rather than bow down to the gods of her father. Still, her heart trembled and her fears increased with each passing hour.

  When Tamar was finally summoned and saw her husband, she felt a flicker of admiration. Er was tall like his father and held the promise of great physical strength. He had his mother’s thick curling mass of black hair, which he had drawn back in Canaanite fashion. The brass band he wore around his forehead made him look like a young Canaanite prince. Tamar was awed by her husband’s handsome appearance but filled quickly with misgivings when she looked into his eyes. They were cold and dark and devoid of mercy. There was pride in the tilt of his head, cruelty in the curve of his lips, and indifference in his manner. He didn’t reach out to take her hand.

  “So this is the wife you chose for me, Father.”

  Tamar shivered at his tone.

  Judah put his hand firmly on his son’s shoulder. “Take good care of what belongs to you, and may the God of Abraham give you many sons by this girl.”

  Er stood unblinking, his face an inscrutable mask.

  All through the evening, Er’s friends made crude jests about
marriage. They teased Er unmercifully, and though he laughed, Tamar knew he wasn’t amused. Her father-in-law, lost in his own thoughts, drank freely while Bathshua lounged nearby, eating the best tidbits of the wedding feast and ignoring her. Tamar was hurt and confused and embarrassed by such rudeness. What had she done to offend her mother-in-law? It was as though the woman was determined not to show her the least consideration.

  As the night wore on, her fear gave way to depression. She felt abandoned and lost in the midst of the gathering. She had married the heir of Judah’s household, and yet no one spoke to her, not even the young husband who sat beside her. The hours passed slowly. She was bone weary from lack of sleep the previous night and the long walk to her new home. The tensions of the wedding feast further sapped her. She fought to keep her eyes open. She fought even harder to keep the tears from welling up and spilling over.

  Er pinched her. Tamar gasped and jerked away from him. Heat flooded her cheeks as she realized she had unwittingly dozed against his side. His friends were laughing and making jokes about her youth and the impending wedding night. Er laughed with them. “Your nurse has prepared the chamber for us.” He took her hand and pulled her up to her feet.

  As soon as Acsah closed the door of the bedchamber behind them, Er stepped away from Tamar. Acsah took her place outside the door and began singing and beating her small drum. Tamar’s skin prickled. “I’m sorry I fell asleep, my lord.”

  Er said nothing. She waited, her nerves stretching taut. He was enjoying her tension, plucking her nerve endings with his silence. Folding her hands, she decided to wait him out. He removed his belt sardonically. “I noticed you last year when we brought the sheep to your father’s fields. I suppose that’s why my father thought you might do as my wife.” His gaze moved down over her. “He doesn’t know me very well.”

  She did not fault Er for the hurtful words. She felt he was justified. After all, her heart had not leaped with joy when Judah came and offered a bride-price for her.

  “You’re afraid of me, aren’t you?”

  If she said no, it would be a lie. To say yes would be unwise.

  His brow rose. “You should be afraid. I’m angry, or can’t you tell?”

  She could, indeed, and couldn’t guess what he would do about it. She remained silent, acquiescent. She’d seen her father in rages often enough to know that it was better to say nothing. Words were like oil on a fiery temper. Her mother had told her long ago that men were unpredictable and given to fits of violence when provoked. She would not provoke Er.

  “Cautious little thing, aren’t you?” He smiled slowly. “At least you keep your wits about you.” He came toward her. “You’ve heard things about me, I’ll bet.” He brushed his fingers against her cheek. She tried not to flinch. “Have your brothers carried stories home?”

  Her heart beat faster and faster.

  “As my father said, you’re mine now. My own little mouse to do with as I wish. Remind me to thank him.” He tipped her chin. His eyes glittered coldly, reminding her of a jackal in the moonlight. When he leaned down and kissed her mouth, the hair on the back of her neck rose. He drew back, assessing her. “Believe the rumors, every one of them!”

  “I will try to please you, my husband.” Heat poured into her cheeks at the quaver in her voice.

  “Oh, no doubt you will try, my sweet, but you won’t succeed.” His mouth curved, showing the edge of his teeth. “You can’t.”

  It took only a day of the weeklong wedding celebration for Tamar to understand what he meant.

  TWO

  Tamar tensed as she heard Er shouting inside the house. Bathshua was shouting back at him. Even with the midday sun beating down upon Tamar’s back, her sweat turned cold. Judah had summoned his eldest son to assist with the flocks, but it seemed Er had plans of his own. Er’s temper was hot enough now that he would seek out some way to vent it, and his wife would be an easy target. After all, no one would interfere.

  Keeping her head down, Tamar continued hoeing the rocky patch of soil Bathshua had assigned to her care. She wished she could shrink to the size of an ant and scurry down a hole. Inside the house, the ranting of son and raving of mother continued. Tamar knelt once, fighting against frightened tears as she pried a large rock from the ground. Straightening, she tossed it toward the growing pile nearby. In her mind she built a wall around herself, high and thick, with a clear sky above. She didn’t want to think about Er’s temper and what he might do to her this time.

  “She’s losing her hold on him,” Acsah said grimly as she worked a few feet away.

  “It does no good to worry, Acsah.” The words were uttered more to remind herself than Acsah. Tamar kept working. What else could she do? Four months in Judah’s house had taught her to avoid her husband whenever possible, especially when he was in a bad temper. She’d also learned to hide her fear. Her heart might race with it, her stomach be tight as a knot, her skin cold and clammy, but she dared not reveal her feelings, for Er relished fear. He fed upon it.

  “A pity Judah isn’t here.” Acsah made a sound of disgust. “Of course, he’s never here.” She hit the hard ground with her hoe. “Not that he can be blamed.”

  Tamar said nothing. Her mind worked frantically, searching for an escape and finding none. If only Judah hadn’t gone ahead. If only he’d taken Er with him in the first place, rather than send a servant back later to fetch him. When Judah was present, Er could be managed. When he was absent, Er ran wild. The chaos of this family came from Judah’s failure to exercise his authority often enough. Judah preferred the open spaces of hills and fields to the confines of his house. Tamar didn’t fault him—sheep and goats were peaceful, complacent company compared to a contentious wife and hot-tempered, quarrelsome sons. Sometimes Er and Onan behaved like wild beasts tied together and thrown into a box!

  Judah could run away from unpleasantness. Judah could hide from responsibility. Tamar had to live with danger day after day.

  Her body jerked as something large crashed inside the house. Bathshua screamed tearful curses down upon her son. Er retaliated. More crockery hit the wall. A metal cup flew out the doorway and bounced across the ground.

  “You must stay away from the house today,” Acsah said quietly.

  “Bathshua may prevail.” Turning away, Tamar gazed toward the distant hills while the battle raged behind her. Her hand trembled as she wiped the perspiration from her face. Closing her eyes, she sighed. Perhaps Judah’s command would be enough this time.

  “Bathshua always prevails in one way or another,” Acsah said bitterly. She scraped angrily at the dry earth. “If screaming fails, she’ll sulk until she gets her way.”

  Tamar ignored Acsah and tried to think of more pleasant things. She thought of her sisters. They had squabbles, but they enjoyed one another’s company. She remembered how they had sung together as they worked and told stories to entertain one another. Her father had a temper like any other man, and there had been loud arguments at times between her brothers, but nothing in her experience had prepared her for Judah’s household. Each day she tried to arise with new hope, only to have it crushed again.

  “If only I had a place here, Acsah, some small corner of influence . . .” She spoke without self-pity.

  “You will have when you produce a son.”

  “A son.” Tamar’s heart ached with longing. She longed for a child more than anyone, even her husband, whose desire for a son was more an extension of his own pride than a desire to prosper his family. For Tamar, a son would secure her position in the household. She would no longer feel such loneliness, with a baby in her arms. She could love a son and hold him close and receive love from him. Perhaps a son would even soften Er’s heart toward her—and his hand as well.

  She remembered again Bathshua’s crushing condemnation: “If you didn’t disappoint my son, he wouldn’t beat you so often! Do as he wishes, and perhaps he will treat you better!” Tamar blinked back tears, fighting against self-pity. What good would
that do? It would only weaken her resolve. She was a member of this family, whether she wanted to be or not. She mustn’t allow her emotions to prevail. She knew Bathshua delighted in making hurtful remarks. A day never passed without her mother-in-law’s finding some way to stab at her heart.

  “Another moon has passed, Tamar, and still you haven’t conceived! I was with child a week after I wed Judah!”

  Tamar could say nothing without rousing Er’s temper. What defense had she when nothing she did pleased her mother-in-law or her young husband? She ceased to hope for tenderness or compassion from either of them. Honor and loyalty seemed to be missing as well, for Bathshua had to resort to threats to get Er to obey Judah’s summons.

  “Enough, I say!” Er shouted in frustration, drawing Tamar’s attention back to the altercation between mother and son. “Enough! I’ll go to Father! Anything to get away from your carping!” He stormed out of the house. “I hate sheep! If I had my way, I’d butcher every one of them!”

  Bathshua appeared in the doorway, arms akimbo, chest heaving. “And then what would you have? Nothing!”

  “I’d have the money from their meat and hides. That’s what I’d have.”

  “All of which you’d spend in a week. Then what? Have I raised such a fool?”

  Er called her a name and made a rude gesture at her before turning and striding away. Tamar held her breath until she saw he was taking the path away from Kezib. She would have a few days’ respite from his cruelty.

  “It seems Bathshua won this battle,” Acsah said. “But there will be another, and another,” she added dismally.

  Lighter of heart, Tamar smiled and returned to her work. “Each day has trouble enough, Acsah. I’ll not burden myself with worrying about tomorrow.”