Read Online Rebekah: Women of Genesis by Orson Scott Card - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Orson Scott Card
Tags: Fiction, Old Testament
Ads: Link
downcast, saying nothing but by her presence demanding attention.
He turned at once from the man he was speaking to. Indeed, he turned so abruptly he left his own sentence unfinished. Rebekah knew this was as strong a rebuke as Pillel could give her—by treating her visit with exaggerated importance, he was demanding that her business be important enough to be worth so much bother.
Well, annoyed you may be, Pillel, but this message must be delivered.
“I need to speak with you privately,” said Rebekah.
He made as if to leave with her at once. She would not have that.
“As soon as you have finished disposing of the business at hand,” she said, then stepped aside and bowed her head again, to wait for him. It left him no choice but to finish giving instructions to the servant he had been talking to, and to watch as dripping haunches, shoulders, loins, and heads of the beasts were spitted.
Rebekah saw that he was not instructing the men to take the meat to the firepits, and became annoyed. “The firepits are ready for the spits,” she said. “The fires are banked and tended, and the women know their work.”
At once Pillel waved a hand and the men holding the spits took off at a run.
Why was Pillel so annoyed with her? It was not unheard of for her to need to talk to him in the midst of his work.
He turned and gazed at her with a face devoid of expression.
“Pillel, there are rumors that the visit of Ezbaal may have something to do with me.”
He said nothing.
“I need to know,” she went on. “Is his name a just one? Does he worship Ba’al?”
“I know nothing of his gods,” said Pillel.
“Nor I. Nor, I think, does Father,” said Rebekah. “So Father might need to be reminded that his daughter will never serve Ba’al or any other god of stone.”
Almost at once Pillel’s face changed, from one unreadable expression to another. Rebekah could not begin to guess what went on in her father’s steward’s mind.
“If you could find a discreet moment,” she said, “to remind him of this, before he agrees to anything that would be impossible for me to fulfill . . .”
She left the words dangling.
Pillel nodded, then raised one hand a little. It was a familiar gesture—the one he used whenever he thought Father was making a decision without having thought everything through. It was at once obsequious in its slightness and firm in its negativity.
“I have never heard my master speak against Ba’al,” said Pillel.
“Why would he?” asked Rebekah. “But he takes part in no worship of Ba’al or Asherah, and gives no tithes to their priests or temples. Everyone knows he worships the God of Abraham.”
“Forgive me for saying it, but as far as I’m aware, no one outside this camp knows that.”
“Well, of course he doesn’t announce it, but Abraham is his uncle, and our family is the family of the birthright.”
“Which will pass to one of Abraham’s sons,” said Pillel. “What has that to do with Bethuel? If he wanted it known that he served Abraham’s god, would he not have said so to all he meets, as Abraham does?”
For a moment Rebekah wanted to blurt out, Have you met Abraham? Face to face? What kind of man is he? Has he really seen the face of angels?
But there was a more important matter here than her curiosity. Pillel was resisting her and she did not yet know why.
“Pillel, regardless of what Father has or has not said, he cannot give me in marriage to a man who would expect me to join him in worshiping Ba’al or Asherah. I will serve the one true God and only him as long as I live, and the man I marry must do so also.”
Now Pillel looked truly shocked. “Your father will not be happy to hear such a defiant tone.”
“I’m not being defiant in saying that,” said Rebekah, becoming annoyed. “I’m being obedient. Pillel, you have served my
He turned at once from the man he was speaking to. Indeed, he turned so abruptly he left his own sentence unfinished. Rebekah knew this was as strong a rebuke as Pillel could give her—by treating her visit with exaggerated importance, he was demanding that her business be important enough to be worth so much bother.
Well, annoyed you may be, Pillel, but this message must be delivered.
“I need to speak with you privately,” said Rebekah.
He made as if to leave with her at once. She would not have that.
“As soon as you have finished disposing of the business at hand,” she said, then stepped aside and bowed her head again, to wait for him. It left him no choice but to finish giving instructions to the servant he had been talking to, and to watch as dripping haunches, shoulders, loins, and heads of the beasts were spitted.
Rebekah saw that he was not instructing the men to take the meat to the firepits, and became annoyed. “The firepits are ready for the spits,” she said. “The fires are banked and tended, and the women know their work.”
At once Pillel waved a hand and the men holding the spits took off at a run.
Why was Pillel so annoyed with her? It was not unheard of for her to need to talk to him in the midst of his work.
He turned and gazed at her with a face devoid of expression.
“Pillel, there are rumors that the visit of Ezbaal may have something to do with me.”
He said nothing.
“I need to know,” she went on. “Is his name a just one? Does he worship Ba’al?”
“I know nothing of his gods,” said Pillel.
“Nor I. Nor, I think, does Father,” said Rebekah. “So Father might need to be reminded that his daughter will never serve Ba’al or any other god of stone.”
Almost at once Pillel’s face changed, from one unreadable expression to another. Rebekah could not begin to guess what went on in her father’s steward’s mind.
“If you could find a discreet moment,” she said, “to remind him of this, before he agrees to anything that would be impossible for me to fulfill . . .”
She left the words dangling.
Pillel nodded, then raised one hand a little. It was a familiar gesture—the one he used whenever he thought Father was making a decision without having thought everything through. It was at once obsequious in its slightness and firm in its negativity.
“I have never heard my master speak against Ba’al,” said Pillel.
“Why would he?” asked Rebekah. “But he takes part in no worship of Ba’al or Asherah, and gives no tithes to their priests or temples. Everyone knows he worships the God of Abraham.”
“Forgive me for saying it, but as far as I’m aware, no one outside this camp knows that.”
“Well, of course he doesn’t announce it, but Abraham is his uncle, and our family is the family of the birthright.”
“Which will pass to one of Abraham’s sons,” said Pillel. “What has that to do with Bethuel? If he wanted it known that he served Abraham’s god, would he not have said so to all he meets, as Abraham does?”
For a moment Rebekah wanted to blurt out, Have you met Abraham? Face to face? What kind of man is he? Has he really seen the face of angels?
But there was a more important matter here than her curiosity. Pillel was resisting her and she did not yet know why.
“Pillel, regardless of what Father has or has not said, he cannot give me in marriage to a man who would expect me to join him in worshiping Ba’al or Asherah. I will serve the one true God and only him as long as I live, and the man I marry must do so also.”
Now Pillel looked truly shocked. “Your father will not be happy to hear such a defiant tone.”
“I’m not being defiant in saying that,” said Rebekah, becoming annoyed. “I’m being obedient. Pillel, you have served my
Similar Books
