Read Online Rachel and Leah (Women of Genesis) by Orson Scott Card - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Orson Scott Card
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when Zilpah was born, and in all likelihood the only reason Zilpah’s father wasn’t known was because there were too many candidates for the title to be certain.What made Zilpah almost sure that this was the truth was the way her mother watched over her once she started turning into a woman, refusing to let her do anything that would leave her alone with any man or boy old enough to cause mischief. “A man’s all full of talk about love,” her mother said bitterly, “but he cares less for you than he does for a sheep. Don’t trust them! Not a one of them! I want you to have a husband, a good man who’ll stand by you.”
That was as good as a confession, to Zilpah’s mind. Only now she was old enough to know that she was indeed a bastard, and there would be no fine husband for
her
. The best she could hope for was to be a concubine—a woman taken under a man’s protection, but whose children would not be heirs. A second-class wife, a wife who was a servant, a wife who might even be sold as a slave, if the man had no honor and he grew tired of her.
But better a concubine, Zilpah knew, than what her mother was. Zilpah was born into bondage because it was the only way for a fatherless child like her to have a place in the world, and with the taint of illegitimacy on her, there was no escaping her bondage. She’d be lucky if Laban didn’t simply sell her off to someone, who could use her as her mother had been used.
Laban wouldn’t do that, of course. He looked out for his people. He never sold any of his bondservants; he was a man who took in strangers and made a place for them, like that orphan cousin of Noam’s, Bilhah. Of course, Bilhah had parents, Bilhah had a father, and even a dead father was better than the nothing Zilpah had. Oh, that galled her, to watch that girl come in from the city, knowing almost nothing, having no useful skills at all, and get preferred above
her
, who hadfaithfully performed all her tasks—even the absolute scutwork that was often assigned to her because, after all, she was only a fatherless girl and couldn’t refuse to get up to her elbows in filth because how dare she think there was any job she was too good for?
Not that anybody ever said such a thing in so many words. Laban didn’t tolerate unkindness to children in his household. But it was clear enough, when five children were assigned to Hobbler for cleaning, and she always chose Zilpah to bury the week’s latrine—while the other children were assigned to dig the new latrine in clean ground.
Zilpah didn’t actually mind. The smell wasn’t pretty, but in a herding camp, there was nothing unusual about having dung smell of one kind or another in her nose. If she was careful, nothing ugly got on her—and it was a lot easier to scrape loose dirt over the latrine and tamp it down than to dig a new latrine in hard, unbroken earth. Let
them
get covered with dirt and streaked with sweat, while I stay cleaner doing the “filthy” bastard’s work. It suggested that God had set up the world so even the lowest-born got a bit of mercy now and then.
When full womanhood came on her, though, Zilpah learned that a man’s eyes saw only her body, not her illegitimacy. With her mother’s fierce protection, the boys and men of the camp had learned not to attempt even a moment’s solitary conversation with Zilpah—the tongue-lashing could be heard by eagles overhead and awoke the worms sleeping in the earth, as the saying had it. But that didn’t stop Zilpah from toying with them a little, loosening her clothing a bit and bending over at her tasks so that some hapless male was afforded a lingering glimpse down her blouse. The ones whofrankly stared at her, she would ignore; the ones who took only furtive glances, though, she would confront with her haughtiest glare, making sure they knew they had been caught. Let men covet her all they wanted, was her opinion, but don’t let them get away with trying to hide their lust. It
That was as good as a confession, to Zilpah’s mind. Only now she was old enough to know that she was indeed a bastard, and there would be no fine husband for
her
. The best she could hope for was to be a concubine—a woman taken under a man’s protection, but whose children would not be heirs. A second-class wife, a wife who was a servant, a wife who might even be sold as a slave, if the man had no honor and he grew tired of her.
But better a concubine, Zilpah knew, than what her mother was. Zilpah was born into bondage because it was the only way for a fatherless child like her to have a place in the world, and with the taint of illegitimacy on her, there was no escaping her bondage. She’d be lucky if Laban didn’t simply sell her off to someone, who could use her as her mother had been used.
Laban wouldn’t do that, of course. He looked out for his people. He never sold any of his bondservants; he was a man who took in strangers and made a place for them, like that orphan cousin of Noam’s, Bilhah. Of course, Bilhah had parents, Bilhah had a father, and even a dead father was better than the nothing Zilpah had. Oh, that galled her, to watch that girl come in from the city, knowing almost nothing, having no useful skills at all, and get preferred above
her
, who hadfaithfully performed all her tasks—even the absolute scutwork that was often assigned to her because, after all, she was only a fatherless girl and couldn’t refuse to get up to her elbows in filth because how dare she think there was any job she was too good for?
Not that anybody ever said such a thing in so many words. Laban didn’t tolerate unkindness to children in his household. But it was clear enough, when five children were assigned to Hobbler for cleaning, and she always chose Zilpah to bury the week’s latrine—while the other children were assigned to dig the new latrine in clean ground.
Zilpah didn’t actually mind. The smell wasn’t pretty, but in a herding camp, there was nothing unusual about having dung smell of one kind or another in her nose. If she was careful, nothing ugly got on her—and it was a lot easier to scrape loose dirt over the latrine and tamp it down than to dig a new latrine in hard, unbroken earth. Let
them
get covered with dirt and streaked with sweat, while I stay cleaner doing the “filthy” bastard’s work. It suggested that God had set up the world so even the lowest-born got a bit of mercy now and then.
When full womanhood came on her, though, Zilpah learned that a man’s eyes saw only her body, not her illegitimacy. With her mother’s fierce protection, the boys and men of the camp had learned not to attempt even a moment’s solitary conversation with Zilpah—the tongue-lashing could be heard by eagles overhead and awoke the worms sleeping in the earth, as the saying had it. But that didn’t stop Zilpah from toying with them a little, loosening her clothing a bit and bending over at her tasks so that some hapless male was afforded a lingering glimpse down her blouse. The ones whofrankly stared at her, she would ignore; the ones who took only furtive glances, though, she would confront with her haughtiest glare, making sure they knew they had been caught. Let men covet her all they wanted, was her opinion, but don’t let them get away with trying to hide their lust. It
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