Keturah, Mother of Virtue: Women of the Covenant, #3

New Life

The sun rose fiery red in the east that morning. I stood in the cold air shivering as I braided my hair, wondering at the meaning of the portent. Mother often told me the natural events of the heavens would lead to changes in my life. I did not often believe her.

I should have believed her that morning.

I dropped my braid to my back and turned as Mother approached. Keturah, you are wanted at the big tent.

The big tent? With Abraham and Sarah? I shivered. They are old people.

Yes, Mother growled. And our masters. We work for them. They provide our home, our food, and our work. Do not be disrespectful toward Sarah.

I would never disrespect her or Abraham.

See that you do not. Mother swatted me on my bottom. They wait for you. But stop by the well and wash your hands and face before you get there. You do not want to present yourself to the Mistress with dirty hands and face.

I dutifully stopped and washed, in no hurry to present myself to the mistress.

Why do they want me? She is old. She always scowls at me. Why would she ask for me?

I pulled on my braid to straighten it and brushed at my clothing, swatting away any dust from my walk and ensuring it lay smoothly before I scratched at the tent door.

There you are. Sarah’s maid Dor beckoned to me. We have been waiting for you. Come in.

I stepped through the door into a new life.

Two other young women moved about the room, cleaning and dusting Sarah’s possessions. Sarah sat in a chair with a basket of wool at her feet, carding the lengths of it straight so it could be spun into fiber and woven into cloth. Although her hands were wrinkled with age, she kept them busy.

I ducked my head. Mother said I am needed.

Sarah’s voice was creaky and rough, as old women’s voices are. You are welcome, Keturah. I am in need of a new maid. Dor is to be married soon.

And ... and ... you want me to be your maid? I stuttered before lifting my head to glance into her ancient face.

Will I ever be as old and careworn as Sarah? Will I live well past one hundred years?

I have watched you with your mother. Orpah is a good woman. She taught you well in the ways of caring for a home. Yet, am I right that she has not taught you to read or write?

I stared at the toes of my shoes. Mother did not learn to read or write. Her father saw no reason for a woman to have such skills.

"Women have many uses for such skills. Sarah’s voice hardened on the words mother often repeated from her father. Your grandfather had no understanding of the needs of women. Few men do."

Perhaps it is because he never learned to read himself, I whispered.

Perhaps. Sarah’s voice had become stronger, less creaky and rough as she used it. She softened it more. Would you like to learn to read and write? I expect all my maids to have that skill. You seem intelligent, and I need an intelligent maid. I believe you will make a good one for me. Will you do that for me?

I quickly reflected on my life, my dreams, my hopes, and the freedom I wished to gain when I had a home of my own. I loved walking in the hills among the sheep and goats. I doubted I would find time for that if I were tied to Sarah as her maid. But she offered opportunities I never hoped to have in my life.

My eyes wandered around the room, following the fingers of Avi as she dusted. She gently removed a book and dusted it, taking a moment to flip through the pages and read a word or two. I longed to be able to read. I had heard Sarah and Abraham had copies of sacred texts, including Adam’s Book of Remembrance and the books written by the ancient matriarchs.

Would I be able to read the stories written by the ancient matriarchs? I popped my hand over my mouth. How could I be so brazen?

Dor stiffened, but Sarah laughed.

You have heard of those books? Yes. I have copies. And, yes. You would be allowed to read them, after you learn to read, and after your other chores are completed. I believe it is important for women to know about the lives of our ancestors. These were your ancestors as well as mine. She reached a hand out toward me. Does this mean you will accept?

Thunder clapped, causing me to jump. It would rain soon.

I thought of Ezra in the fields with the other men. His kindness to me had saved me more than once. Would the men rush from the fields out of the rain soon?

And if a man asks to marry me?

You are young still, are you not? Dor asked.

I lifted my head. Eleven, on my next naming day.

Sarah nodded. You have a few days before it will be time to be concerned about men and marriage. However, I have always allowed my maids to marry and care for their own families when men come to call. I only ask that I be given the opportunity to ensure your young man is honorable.

I breathed out a tiny sigh. Ezra would pass her test, I was certain of it. Besides, she would teach me to read! Then, yes. I will become your maid. When do you want me to begin?

Rain pattered gently on the tent.

Sarah grinned, her face lighting up as if a ray of sunshine had somehow passed through the rain and the tightly closed tent door. Would now be soon enough? You will be given a small payment.

Mother and Shet will take it from me.

And I will give your parents a stipend for your time. Your mother and father depend on your labors. I must repay them.

That is why Mother was willing to send me here. She and Shet always look for payment.

Shet is not my father. Mother married him when I was small. The rain pounded harder on the roof of the tent.

Sarah lifted an eyebrow. Does he not care for you as a father?

My eyes returned to my toes. Sometimes. Sometimes he is unkind.

Remember to love and respect him as a father. He will learn to be kind.

I doubt it. Shet has never been kind to me. I will remember that.

Sarah’s eyes seemed to stare through me as she considered me. I have heard Shet has fits of anger and sometimes beats your mother. He is not one of us. He has not yet learned to treat a woman as Jehovah would expect.

I bit my lip. He does not honor Jehovah, nor does he honor women.

As I thought. Let me know if you have troubles because of him.

You would — I stopped. It would be disrespectful of me to ask if she would protect me from his sharp tongue and lashing whip.

I would protect you, yes, she said.

And now, Dor said, stepping closer, you must begin to learn your duties. Yaffa will instruct you.

The portent of the red sky had not been wrong.

Serpent Skin

Life with Sarah and the other maids was easier than I expected it to be. Mother had taught me to cook and clean, so it was not a problem for me to do those tasks for Sarah. Yaffa and Avi were exceedingly kind in their willingness to show me what to do. Best yet, I would sit with the others in the afternoon while Sarah taught me to read and write.

Writing was a skill I kept to myself. I did not cherish the teasing I would receive from my brothers or Shet if they found out I was learning the skill. Sarah often told me I should be proud of it, but the teasing at home was cruel and unmerciful. I do not believe Sarah had ever heard the crudeness that emitted from Shet’s mouth when others were not listening. I chose not to be his target and avoided it whenever possible.

At first, reading and writing made no sense to me. How could squiggly lines carry meaning? How could others interpret their meaning? It seemed to be magic to me. However, I knew Sarah and Abraham would not dabble in magic and Jehovah had commanded the prophets to keep a record of their actions and prophecies. Certainly, it was right and good.

I first read short sentences, then copied them onto a thin piece of bark with a sharpened stick burned at one end. The blackened point left marks on the bark that I soon recognized as letters and words. I graduated to scraps of vellum left from the books Abraham made.

Some of Sarah’s books were written on a fine substance she called papyrus. She had used it in Egypt during the time she and Abraham lived there, waiting for the drought to end. One of Sarah’s earlier maids, Hagar, had made and sold the material from plants that grew along the edges of the Aur River, often running from the crocodiles. I always shivered when Sarah told us those stories.

We had predators there in the desert, but none like the crocodile with its sharp teeth and powerful jaws, hiding like a log in the water. Lions and hyenas stayed away from our camp, as did the serpents, most of the time.

Sadly, my work was seldom completed. Sarah would send me home after working through the long day, cooking and cleaning for her, expecting me to rest. Mother and Shet did not see it that way. As the only daughter, it was my responsibility to spend my evenings cleaning and cooking for them and my brothers. I had little time to slip away to talk with Ezra or wander into the hills.

One evening, Shet lay snoring in a drunken stupor on his bed and Mother sat in a daze nearby. The house was as clean as I could get it, until they woke, so I slipped out the door. I found Ezra standing near our tent, staring expectantly at the sky.

I heard Shet’s drunken snore. I hoped you would come out.

I set my hands on my hips. Shet is not —

Not what? A drunk? Or snoring? Ezra asked.

A loud snore echoed from within our small tent.

I grinned and lifted my shoulders in a small shrug. A good man? I whispered.

Ezra snorted. I believe that. How can Abraham and Sarah allow him to continue to live here?

I walked away from the tent a distance before I dared answer. Shet would beat me if he heard my answer. He came as a servant from Abimelech. Then he married Mother. I suppose Abraham could not send him away when he helped to care for Mother and me. Now I have brothers.

Care for you? All he does is drink any wine he finds and beat you and your brothers. I suspect he beats your mother as well.

He brings us food, sometimes, I argued. I do not know why I felt compelled to stand up for the wretched man.

Ezra grabbed my elbow. Come with me. I have something to show you.

What is it? Excitement filled me. I did not often see interesting things. That was for men and boys who left the village to herd the animals, work in the fields, or hunt animals.

You will see. He led me out of the village a short distance to a quiet spot beneath a tree. On the ground lay a long, thin, black and white speckled skin of a serpent.

I yelped. What is that doing there?

You are safe, Ezra laughed. It is only the skin left by the serpent. He discarded it here when he outgrew it.

"They leave their skins