decide your fate. We both know what that will be.”
Her death, no doubt, followed by celebration.
“I will be faithful. Upon my life, I swear. If it’s the last thing I do, I will bring honor upon Judah’s house!” Despite the tears flooding her eyes, she lifted her chin and looked into his eyes before she left the room.
* * *
Judah would have forgotten all about Tamar if Bathshua hadn’t become obsessed with finding some way to take vengeance upon the wretched girl. Even after Tamar was gone, his wife gave him no peace.
“My sons must be avenged! As long as she lives, I’ll have no rest!”
And neither would he.
Bathshua ceased running the household, leaving her chores to a few lazy servants while she dedicated her days and nights to beseeching her gods for vengeance. She wanted Tamar dead and disaster to befall Zimran’s entire household.
“The girl is gone!” Judah shouted in frustration. “Give me some peace and forget about her.”
“As you’ve done!” Accusation reigned. “I have two sons in the grave because of her. If you were any kind of man, you would have killed her! I will never forget what she’s done to me! Never!” She returned to her idols, praying to them for vengeance.
Judah left her alone in her misery. Could stone idols hear? Could wood or clay teraphim change anything? Let her find whatever consolation she could.
Judah thought about taking another wife. Another woman might give him more sons, but the thought of another woman under his roof sickened him. He’d grown up in a household with four wives. He knew the trouble women could bring to a man, even women who believed in the same God he did. His father’s life had never been easy. Judah’s mother and Rachel, his father’s favorite wife, had constantly been at odds in their contest to produce sons. Matters only worsened when they both insisted that Jacob take their handmaidens as concubines, each thereby hoping to win the competition. Their sons had been weaned in bitter rivalry. And nothing had ever turned his father’s heart from Rachel. Jacob had loved her from the moment he’d first seen her, and her death in childbirth had nearly destroyed him. In truth, he loved her still. He’d loved Joseph and Benjamin more than all the rest of his sons because they had come from Rachel.
No, Judah wouldn’t bring more misery upon himself by taking another wife. One woman was enough trouble for any man. Two wives would be double the trouble. He reminded himself often that he’d loved Bathshua once. She was the wife of his youth, the mother of his sons. He wouldn’t set her aside for another, no matter how difficult she became.
Besides, he’d have to build another house for fear of what Bathshua would do to any woman he brought into this one. He’d seen her ill treatment of Tamar.
Judah escaped conflict with Bathshua by staying away from his stone house and tending his flocks. He had a justifiable reason for being away for weeks on end. Yet even out in the fields away from his wife, trouble hounded him.
His calves and lambs were cursed by disease or killed by predators. The sun scorched his pasturage. When he kept his animals protected in the wadies so that marauders wouldn’t take them, rains came upon the mountains, sending floodwaters through the wadies. Many animals were swept away by a flash flood, their bloated bodies a feast for vultures. When he returned home, he found blight had killed his grapevines. Beetles had devoured his palm tree. The garden had gone fallow for lack of loyal servants. The sky was bronze, the earth iron!
Even Bathshua sickened as the bitter rot of discontent spread poison through her thinning body. Her face sharpened. Her voice rasped. Her dark eyes became as hard as obsidian. She complained constantly of pain in her neck, her back, her stomach, her bowels. Judah summoned healers, who took his money and left useless potions behind.
Everything Judah had worked twenty years to build was
Her death, no doubt, followed by celebration.
“I will be faithful. Upon my life, I swear. If it’s the last thing I do, I will bring honor upon Judah’s house!” Despite the tears flooding her eyes, she lifted her chin and looked into his eyes before she left the room.
* * *
Judah would have forgotten all about Tamar if Bathshua hadn’t become obsessed with finding some way to take vengeance upon the wretched girl. Even after Tamar was gone, his wife gave him no peace.
“My sons must be avenged! As long as she lives, I’ll have no rest!”
And neither would he.
Bathshua ceased running the household, leaving her chores to a few lazy servants while she dedicated her days and nights to beseeching her gods for vengeance. She wanted Tamar dead and disaster to befall Zimran’s entire household.
“The girl is gone!” Judah shouted in frustration. “Give me some peace and forget about her.”
“As you’ve done!” Accusation reigned. “I have two sons in the grave because of her. If you were any kind of man, you would have killed her! I will never forget what she’s done to me! Never!” She returned to her idols, praying to them for vengeance.
Judah left her alone in her misery. Could stone idols hear? Could wood or clay teraphim change anything? Let her find whatever consolation she could.
Judah thought about taking another wife. Another woman might give him more sons, but the thought of another woman under his roof sickened him. He’d grown up in a household with four wives. He knew the trouble women could bring to a man, even women who believed in the same God he did. His father’s life had never been easy. Judah’s mother and Rachel, his father’s favorite wife, had constantly been at odds in their contest to produce sons. Matters only worsened when they both insisted that Jacob take their handmaidens as concubines, each thereby hoping to win the competition. Their sons had been weaned in bitter rivalry. And nothing had ever turned his father’s heart from Rachel. Jacob had loved her from the moment he’d first seen her, and her death in childbirth had nearly destroyed him. In truth, he loved her still. He’d loved Joseph and Benjamin more than all the rest of his sons because they had come from Rachel.
No, Judah wouldn’t bring more misery upon himself by taking another wife. One woman was enough trouble for any man. Two wives would be double the trouble. He reminded himself often that he’d loved Bathshua once. She was the wife of his youth, the mother of his sons. He wouldn’t set her aside for another, no matter how difficult she became.
Besides, he’d have to build another house for fear of what Bathshua would do to any woman he brought into this one. He’d seen her ill treatment of Tamar.
Judah escaped conflict with Bathshua by staying away from his stone house and tending his flocks. He had a justifiable reason for being away for weeks on end. Yet even out in the fields away from his wife, trouble hounded him.
His calves and lambs were cursed by disease or killed by predators. The sun scorched his pasturage. When he kept his animals protected in the wadies so that marauders wouldn’t take them, rains came upon the mountains, sending floodwaters through the wadies. Many animals were swept away by a flash flood, their bloated bodies a feast for vultures. When he returned home, he found blight had killed his grapevines. Beetles had devoured his palm tree. The garden had gone fallow for lack of loyal servants. The sky was bronze, the earth iron!
Even Bathshua sickened as the bitter rot of discontent spread poison through her thinning body. Her face sharpened. Her voice rasped. Her dark eyes became as hard as obsidian. She complained constantly of pain in her neck, her back, her stomach, her bowels. Judah summoned healers, who took his money and left useless potions behind.
Everything Judah had worked twenty years to build was
Similar Books
