Sealed

Tamar’s Story

Based on a true story

The pain came in the middle of the night. It woke me with burning fingers, squeezing my stomach and tearing at my insides. I groaned and rolled, trying desperately not to wake the others. The pain, oh the pain… it was unlike any I’d felt before. Needles stabbed and thorns twisted, brands burned and my bones ached. I gasped as it ripped through me. Was I dying? What could cause such terrible pain, except that I was dying? The stars outside stared coldly down at me; I couldn’t take my eyes off them as I writhed under the blankets. I blinked back tears, trying to smother my groans in the folds of the blanket, but Mama heard me. Shamed, I watched her sit up, her hand settle on my forehead.

“Daughter, what ails you?” she whispered. The moon outside dusted the edge of the tent, brushing her face in pale light. “Is it something you ate?”

I groaned again, hugging my waist. My brothers rolled restlessly beside me, and with as much effort as I could manage, I stilled myself. “I… I don’t know… Oh, Mama, it hurts so badly.” I curled tighter in on myself, dizzy with the pain.

Dark eyes traveled down my face to where I clutched helplessly. They grew wide, and a smile spread across her face. I jerked in surprise as work-rough hands slipped between my thighs. Her fingers slid out just as quickly, and I stared at them in growing horror and pride. Scarlet gleamed wetly in the moonlight. Her smile widened. “Oh my love, today you become a woman.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Taaaamaaaar!” Jairus whined, climbing into my lap. “Why do Baruch and I have to take turns with you?” His nose wrinkled as he looked over the sheep below, their fluffy bodies bumping and snuffling along the ground. “It’s so boring!”

I laughed and ruffled his dark curls. “You know as well as I do that soon I’ll be leaving. Without his best shepherdess, what will Father do?” I tweaked his nose, and he answered with a slow-won smile. I bit my lip, trying to let him keep his 8-year old dignity. “After all, Father only trusts the best with his flocks. They’re the best in all of Canaan!”

My brother’s chest puffed out with pride. “Of course they are! Best wool this side of the Dead Sea,” he crowed, standing on top of the nearest rock.

I smothered a giggle at his mimicry of Father and waved him down. “Hush now and come eat some lunch. It’ll be some time still before we need to bring them home.”

Jairus’s face lit up and he slid off the stone, long limbs folding down around him. I ruffled his hair again and handed him a wedge of cheese and half a loaf of bread. The smells wafted up around us and our stomachs grumbled. “Besht part ofth th’ day,” he said, food shoved in his mouth like a camel. I grinned but didn’t answer.

We ate in silence, the sheep milling placidly below us. All of Adullam stretched before us, the city walls visible even through the late summer haze. Father’s house was just inside the wall, but in these hot months it sat empty. The tents lay like grounded bats just east of the walls. I let my eyes caress the hills and plains that surrounded the city. Grasses knee deep swayed in the breeze, the scraggly trees dotting the landscape. We sat beneath an old fig tree, its branches waving delicate fans above us in the breeze. This land, without a doubt, was the most beautiful in the world. I bit into the bread, relishing the creaminess of the cheese as I memorized yet again the shadows and dips of the land. I’d walked these paths since I was Jairus’s age. They were a part of my soul, and within my Father’s tent lay the end of it all.

The rest of the day passed in a blur for me. Jairus chattered away, practiced aiming his sling shot, and bounced from rock to rock with an energy I wish I had. My eyes kept drifting to the tents, though. Before I knew it, the sun hovered over the horizon and it was time to gather the sheep. “Jairus, let’s go.” The boy jumped to his feet, his crook held forward and his chest yet again puffed out with self-importance. I quirked an eye brow at him. “You’re not ready to lead them home just yet, you little monkey.” His face fell and I rolled my eyes. “Come on, let’s just get them home. I’ll let you herd them into the pen when we get there, ok?”

“Yay! Thanks, Tamar!” He grinned and with a shock I realized he was missing a tooth. He must have seen the look on my face, for his eyes got the mischievous look I’d been waiting for all day. “I’m gonna tell Mama that I slipped and you didn’t even care!”

“Jairus!”

He shrieked in mock terror as I chased after him. Sheep bleeted in confusion as we ran through them. “And you chased me! I’ll fall in sheep poo, I swear!”

I managed to hook him and pulled him close. “Or will I push you in?” I said. He gasped and I grinned, letting him go. “Come on, little brother. Baruch, Mama, and Vashti will be waiting for us to arrive.”

His face stilled beside mine, and suddenly he looked much older than his 8 years. “There will be a suitor when we get back, won’t there, Tamar?”

My eyes darted to the tents again. His hands tightened around his staff. “There are every night, Jairus,” I said gently. “Now come on. We both need supper, and Baruch will be eager to hear about the lions you faced today.” Jairus nodded, but the spirit was gone from both of us.

At sunset the sheep crowded towards Father’s pen, their coats dyed red by the fading light. Jairus prodded them in silently, his face clouded by the deep voices within the tents. Two camels lounged in the nearby stable and my heart dropped. Of my five suitors, three were from Adullam. So, our visitors were travelers. That left two possible suitors, and I prayed with all my might to Kotharat, the goddess of marriage,t hat the men inside bore the slight accents and almond eyes of Gederah. Surely she would look favorably upon me. Father laughed loudly inside, his shadow dancing across the tent, and another man joined in the jest. I swallowed, hearing yet again the same voice. One of the servants stepped out of the shadows and I handed him my staff, not watching to make sure he settled in the doorway of the pen. Judah and his son Er had returned.

Jairus’s face was hidden as we walked behind the women’s tent, but I could tell he’d heard them as well. I slipped my hand into his, praying to the various gods that this was merely a business arrangement despite the lack of caravan. As we walked into the tent, my hopes fell. Jairus squeezed my hand tighter, and I felt two more bodies hit me. My arm reflexively went around my other siblings. Baruch, with his face a mirror-image of Jairus’s, our bright twins, and Vashti, our little angel, both clung to my skirts. My eyes didn’t rest on them, though my fingers ran over and over through thick curls. “This is it, isn’t it Mama?”

In the firelight, her face seemed etched from sandstone. There was tension around her eyes and I looked away as she held her hand out to me. Mama sighed, and I heard her step closer to me. “Tamar…” She pulled my chin around to face her. Eyes the color of obsidian watched me as I moved farther into the room and away from her, towing my little parcels along with me. She sighed again. “Children, let your sister be. She needs to wash herself before appearing before her father.” Their grips tightened. “Children.” Her voice was level, quiet even, but they let me go. “Now go eat. Tamar and I need to talk.” The twins glanced at me over their shoulders, identical looks of fear, but hurried Vashti out of the room.

I watched the flap fall, then turned to my mother. “You didn’t answer me, Mama. Is Er the one Father has chosen for me?”

She smiled wanly and brushed a lock of hair out of my face. “Since you were a baby, I thanked Asherah for your beauty. Now…” Her fingers traced the curve of my cheek and a single tear slipped out. “Now, I wish you’d been cursed with the face of a demon. Oh child, it’s time.”

I stared at her in horror. “But… But… Didn’t you talk to him? Didn’t you tell him I’d refuse?”

She shook her head, the sad smile returning. “Your father, though he loves you, doesn’t see the man Er is. He sees the possessions he will inherit from his father. Judah is a great man, said to be favored by the god of his people. Look at how vast his wealth is already, Tamar. You will be married into a good home.”

“I’ll be married off for Father’s profit, you mean,” I hissed. She dropped her hand, eyes sad. “Mama, you’ve seen him. You’ve seen how he treats the boys, how he treats his animals. Er is rich by his father, but he is worse than a lion. At least a lion protects those it holds dear. Er… Er protects only himself! How can Father not see that?”

“Tamar-“

“I’ll refuse!” I sank to my knees, hopeless. “I’ll refuse Er, and then I won’t have to marry him, right? Or, I’ll be such a terrible wife that he’ll divorce me.”

My mother sat next to me and pulled my face to hers. “Think, Tamar, think. Oh, my sweet child, if there was something I could do to prevent this, you know I would. You know as well as I do that refusing Er would be a blight upon this household. You have your brothers and your sister to think of as well, and the livelihood of us all.” Sighing, she picked up my hands. I couldn’t see through my tears. “I was chosen just as you, for beauty and prosperity. We are women, Tamar. We are promises of business, contracts between families that cannot be broken. I’ve done all I can, but tonight you will be betrothed to Er. Gods above, but there is nothing else we can do.”

Numbly, I let her pull me to my feet. A basin of water was brought in, the firelight casting strange shadows of light across its copper depths. My face rippled and contorted as Mama dipped in a cloth and carefully cleaned the dirt from my skin. Lavendar and saffron drifted from the water, but instead of feeling calm, I felt sick. My hair was brushed out, oils applied, and laid about my shoulders as befitted a maiden. My face and hands and feet were worked with lotions, and my clothes exchanged for the finest of my mother’s wool. Deep brown and amber, the colors that set off the fire in my eyes. The servants clucked and nodded approvingly as my mother worked. I barely saw them. Finally, my mother slid the slippers onto my feet and helped me stand. “Tamar, you will make our family proud tonight. I send you forth with love, pride, and the prayers of my heart.” She kissed my forehead, and I realized I was as tall as she. The realization scared me. Had I really become a woman so fast? I was only thirteen. How could my life be ending so soon? “Now go, Daughter, and meet your new husband.” She pushed me out the door and stood, waiting for me to walk into Father’s public tent.

I took a deep breath. The ritual words of the covenant carried on the breeze from inside. With one last silent plea to Kotharat, I stepped into the tent.

The men turned. My father smiled. Judah smiled. Er leered. My skin crawled just to look at him. He was handsome enough, with a strong jaw beneath a full, dark beard and with a strong, healthy body, but his eyes were cold. I schooled my face into a mask of blankness, determined not to ruin my family. Father patted the pillow next to him, and I settled as gracefully as I could. “Tamar, beloved daughter, Judah has offered his son Er as a suitable match for you. What do you say to such a proposal?”

NO! No, no, no, no, no! Father, don’t you see?

I glanced up through my lashes, careful to look demure while I examined my prospective husband. He sat quietly by his father’s side, ever the dutiful son. Of course Father didn’t see how cruel Er was. What man would show such a side to his father-in-law? I swallowed, trying to steady myself. For Jairus and Baruch and Vashti

, I swore silently. Finally, I looked up. “Thank you, Father, for such a suitable choice.” I prayed he couldn’t hear the lie in my voice. Judah continued to smile benevolently, but Er tensed. I bit my lip. I had a year to get myself better under control; it seemed cruelty wasn’t the only thing this son of Israel possessed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Laughing and waving to the crowd outside, Er shut the door behind him. The fear I’d been fighting off for the past few days rushed in. I couldn’t breathe. Of all the people my father could have chosen, it was this one. I stepped back from the doorway and deeper into the room. My attendants and the women of his house had prepared the room for us. Oil lamps lit the room in bright, wavering light, and the smell of jasmine and myrrh from his sash overwhelmed me. I took another step back and stumbled, falling against the bed. The light-hearted mask of the past few days dissolved from his face and I cowered before him. He unclasped the robe and let it fall in a rumpled mass on the floor. “Finally, I can see just what my father bought for me.” I pulled my knees tightly to my chest, cursing the year between our betrothal and tonight. It hadn’t been nearly enough time for me to stomach marrying a monster, but just enough time for my more womanly virtues to appear. His eyes raked my covered body hungrily, and I pulled tighter into myself. “Come now, Tamar. It wouldn’t do to displease your husband on your wedding night.” He tossed his wedding circlet onto the little table and strode the last few paces between us. “Now then, child, prove that you were worth every last worthless ram my father wasted on you.” Harsh fingers grabbed my chin and jerked it into the light. “Not terrible, not terrible at all.” A finger caressed my cheek and I couldn’t resist a shudder. His smile grew cruel. “Oh now, do you know how many women would love to be in your place? Daughter-in-law to the wealthiest man in Adullam, married to the heir. Not such a bad fate, now is it, little lamb?”

I closed my eyes, trying to keep the image of my family behind my burning lids. Everything within me screamed for me to run, but I was trapped. Er breathed rancid wine breath against my neck, more taunts whispered like lover’s words. I hardly heard him. My limps were frozen in terror. It didn’t seem to bother my new husband. He flipped me onto my stomach, wrenching each leg out from under me. I bit back a cry of pain as one knee popped. He laughed quietly in my ear. Tears ran like fire down my cheeks. One huge hand pinned my wrists above me while the other fumbled to pull up my skirts. Something warm and firm pressed against the side of my thigh and, shocked, I pulled away.

“Oh no, little lamb,” he hissed, fingers tightening painfully around my wrists. “There is no pulling away. You are mine now, to do with as I will. And this-” Something shoved its way inside me, splitting me nearly in half. I screamed, and his elbow pushed my head into the mattress. “This

,” he continued between further thrusts, “is what I’ll do with you.”

It was over in moments, his huge sweaty form shaking violently over me while I sobbed into the bed, and then he rolled off. “Stay where you are,” he said brusquely, and I heard him walk to the door. “It’d be best if we conceived tonight. Pretty as you are, you’re rather dull.” And with that, my wedding night was over.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

We left Adullam the night after our wedding, traveling two day’s journey to Judah’s camp. Er made quick work of informing me that I was to never leave camp and that my family was not allowed to see me. He said it was the requirement by his god to prevent me from clouding his faith. Looking at him, I couldn’t help but hate this god. Yahweh was a cruel god, or a cynical one, to make such a man as Er. Still, I followed their ways.

The years passed in never-ending monotony. In Judah’s household, I was put to work on the loom. My mother’s skill was well-known, well past Adullam. I, as her daughter, was seen as quite the prize for Judah’s household. I spent my days weaving and my nights enduring Er’s ministrations. Er was always very careful never to leave a mark where it would be seen. With each passing month and each return of my uncleanliness, the beatings grew worse. Er enjoyed torturing me, I could see it in his eyes. What were worse were the hours after he’d finished with me and before he was ready to sleep. Behind Judah’s back, he’d sneak in servants or harlots and force me to watch. “If they conceive before you do, little lamb, you’re done,” he told me. More than once, I caught a servant girl drinking the herbs to rid herself of his child. I wasn’t the only one horrified by the thought of marriage.

The days wore on, endless weaving with sunlight and endless beating with moonlight. The summer of our first year, I conceived. To my astonishment, Er stopped his abuse. Of course, he stopped seeing me at all at night and rumors flew like embers among my servants that pregnant women disgusted him. The thought made me overjoyed. To think my protection would come in one so small. Even Er wasn’t willing to risk the child’s life. I counted and held the days of my pregnancy close to my heart, dreaming of the days when it would come. I hardly thought about Er’s return to me after the birth in the joy of the moment. And then, just as the third month passed, my dream was shattered. I woke to a pain even worse than that first night of my womanhood, with blood pooling beneath me. I didn’t need my maid to tell me the child was gone.

Er grew worse with the news. His drinking became a nightly ritual; by the second year, I had mastered the art of hiding during his more drunken nights. Judah caught him once raising his hand towards me and reprimanded him, sending his wife’s personal servants to sleep next to me. Er merely turned his brutal attentions onto the women he paraded through his tent. Some even whispered that men frequented his bed. In my growing misery, I didn’t care. The only light I saw was that my family lay safe and provided for, and that Er was not the only person in Judah’s camp.

Of my father-in-law’s children, his daughters were endlessly pleasant. Some were brighter than others, sharing Er’s same intelligence without the cruelty, and some were simple. Often, they gathered in my tent to watch me weave. They were my solace for Vashti and Jairus and Baruch. I clung to the girls as if they were my lifeline. I lived for their smiles and teasings and fumbling fingers. Of the daughters, Keturah was the oldest still in her father’s house. At twelve, she stood just to my shoulder and had a mind like the edge of a blade. She was beautiful, too, with almond eyes and soft, smooth skin the color of honey. She was my first friend on those lonely days after coming to camp, welcoming me as a sister when the others were still wary. Elisheba, with her doe eyes and soft curls, reminded me of what Vashti would look like at ten, and Charis at six was everything I had hoped my own children would be, sweet and caring and gentle. Of their brothers, only young Shelah resembled his sisters. He was ten the winter of my first year, and had all the qualities his father possessed, with none of Er’s. Onan, though, two years Er’s junior, tried to emulate his brother rather than his father. I despised them both.

I relied on the girls and sweet Shelah during the long hours by myself. I taught Elisheba how the embroider the palest of rock roses along the edge. Shelah and all three girls gathered nightly around my fire to listen to the stories I’d tell, stories that for my people were our histories. They would share stories of their Yahweh with me. Through the eyes of Judah’s children was the only time the Israelite god became anything more than a sadistic mastermind. Then, Keturah was betrothed and married, and left us for a village three days north. Her marriage left a hole within me, but Elisheba and Charis’s despair kept me moving. Then, scarcely two years after her sister, Elisheba was betrothed and married. Our little meetings around the fire became lonely, only Shelah and Charis and I. I clung to the little girl, desperate for the sister I had lost. Her own desolation at the loss of her sisters made my need that much easier.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

In the fall of my fifth year with Er, locusts appeared from the south and decimated our fields. We all watched in horror, hidden in the tents, as the swarm blacked the sky and filled the air with their screaming noise. Charis clung to me, the only daughter of Judah left, and Onan’s wife Naamah stood beside us. Naamah swelled with her coming child, and I tried to ignore how her hand continually stroked its slumbering form. “What will we do?” she said, watching the dusky scene outside. We all knew it to be noon.

Charis buried her face in my side. “F-father says we’ll have to ask for aid from your father, Tamar.”

I felt something stir deep down within me, something I’d thought long dead. Hope. I swallowed the sudden tightness in my throat and stroked her head. “Hush, Charis. If the locusts are here, they are probably at my father’s fields as well.”

Naamah’s pretty brow furrowed. “Your father is farther north than we are. Perhaps he has already harvested his grain.”

The hope grew. To see my father again, my family… The twins would be nearing their own coming of age, and my sister would be as old as Charis in the spring. “He does harvest sooner,” I allowed.

“And I’ll get to meet Vashti?” Charis asked, hopeful. “I want to meet her, Tamar. I’ll even ask Father. Oh please, can I meet her?”

I smiled down at her, momentarily forgetting the destruction outside. “If it’s possible, I’d love for you to meet her. She’d love you.”

The girl fairly glowed beside me, and she squeezed me in a hug. I tried to hide my wince as her arms pressed against fresh welts. Er hadn’t had a suitable outlet for his fury lately. Naamah caught the grimace but said nothing. My smile wavered. For months, Onan’s new wife had been friendly but distant. My heart dropped as I saw the slight smirk and watched her hand begin its rounds again. So whispers were being heard through camp. I brought Charis closer to me, trying to hide my sudden tears from her. I blinked them away furiously. Five years and no heir: no one in camp doubted who was the failure in our marriage.

A week later, the locusts left. The fields were barren, not even the stalks of barley left. That same day, Er fell sick. Within two sunrises, he was gone.

The entire camp was stunned. The barley crop and every other edible thing for miles around had been destroyed, and Judah’s heir was dead. Judah mourned for days. I waited. I hardly knew when I ate or slept. Overnight, the world had drastically changed. Not only was Er gone, but so was my place within the household. While he had been the one abusing me, he had also been my protection. I was his wife, the future lady of Judah’s line. Now, I was no one. If I’d been able to carry a child, that would have protected me. But now… I had nothing. I was nothing. In Adullam, I would be cast aside in my father’s house, living off the pity of others. I had no thoughts of staying with my adopted family. I was alone.

Judah called me to him. His beard was streaked with new gray and his eyes were rimmed with red. While I’d mourned my loss of standing, I’d not mourned the loss of Er. Kneeling before his shattered father, I felt the first stirrings of guilt. It took a moment for Judah to speak. His fingers twisted over and over again in one of Er’s cloaks, and I watched as he swallowed over and over, trying to get past his grief to speak with me. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Tamar, you have been a dutiful wife to Er. His death has left you without, and his name will not live on. Therefore, Onan shall be his kindsman-redeemer. Until the time that you carry a child, you shall stay with Naamah. After the child is born, he will inherit all that I would have given to his father. May Yahweh bless your womb and provide for Er’s memory.”

I bowed my head, offering the same plea to Yahweh. The thought of bearing a child with Onan disgusted me. The life I’d have if I didn’t have a child terrified me. And Naamah seemed happy with him… I left Judah’s tent and immediately went to the tent Naamah shared with Onan’s female servants. The room stilled as I walked in; Naamah’s silken head rose from her couch.

“Ah, sister dear, come sit with me, will you?” She patted the pillows next to her. “I cannot rise for the grief of losing our brother.”

Hesitantly, I sat beside her. There was something wrong, something in the servants faces that made me nervous. Naamah picked up my hand, her swollen fingers stroking my own slender ones. “You must be devastated, Tamar. I can’t imagine losing Onan.” She clucked and preened beside me, fully aware just how terrible her brother-in-law had been. I narrowed my eyes but left my hand in hers. What did she want? I didn’t need the looks of the servants telling me that I was about to meet the true face of my sister-in-law. She turned my bridal ring on my finger, admiring the carvings in the sunlight. “I hope our company will keep you from being too distraught, dear sister. It must be so desperately lonely, having no children to lean on in these times,” she said.

I met her glittering gaze with my own. “I am ever grateful to my lord for providing for Er and myself in such a way.”

The barb struck. Naamah sucked in a breath, then smiled sweetly. “Anything for you, my dear. I do so hope you can feel this some day.” She pulled my hand onto her belly and the child inside kicked at me. I resisted the need to snatch my hand back. Naamah plucked at her coverlet coyly, seeing her own attack paying off. “I hope it’s swiftly, for your sake.”

I tugged my hand out of her own and stood, offering a short bow. “So do I, sister. There is nothing greater I wish in the world than to be out of your tent so you and Onan may return to the life you knew.” I gave her a masterful smile of my own, knowing she knew my meaning. Then, I left.

As the camp’s mourning period ended, so did my brief respite from Judah’s sons. Onan sent a servant at dinner, asking me to appear in his tent at dusk. Next to me, Naamah’s swollen face purpled. I sent the servant back with as brief a reply as possible. The pregnant woman merely continued to glare at me.

The rest of dinner passed in a stunned blur. Kindsman-redeemer. I’d never thought I’d need one, and now I’d been passed on to Onan. I shuddered, goosebumps covering my arms under my robes. The sun was just falling in the west as I made my way to Onan’s tents. Naamah’s overly-gracious dismissal of me for the night still stung. The entire situation stung. I was a woman grown, nineteen years old, and this tiny speck of a child hardly fifteen was bossing me around. But she has a child and a husband, while you have neither.

I silenced my own doubts, trying to salvage what was left of my pride. Naamah was a woman, regardless of her youth. I bit my lip. She’d conceived two months into their marriage. Was I really so terrible to Er and Judah’s god that I would be punished so, while others prospered?

My thoughts remained dark as dusk fell. I waited. Every fiber of my being was tense, listening for the crunch of footsteps or the soft whoosh of breath. As the night wore on, my dark mood grew worse. The sounds of life continued outside but I remained where I was, seated in the flickering light of the lamp. I heard laughter and gossip, teasing and reprimanding. Shelah and his friends ran past at one point, their shadows dancing across the walls. One by one, the people went to their beds until only a few fires were left, tended by quiet servants. My breath caught in my throat. This was how life would be for me, I knew. Always seen from a distance, always something I could never grasp. Love and joy and friendship and motherhood: would they all be denied me? The sudden bitterness was enough to take my breath away.

It was well past midnight when Onan finally appeared. I had put out the lamp, but sat rigidly on the sheepskin on the floor. Er had surprised me on few occasions; his filthy brother would not do the same. In the darkness, I watched as Onan pulled back the flap and came inside. A smile played around his lips and he stank of fermented goat’s milk. “Where are you, pretty Tamar?”

I bit back my retort, instead lighting the lamp. The wick glowed and caught, and the tent was cast into orange relief. “Here, my lord.”

His eyes traveled up and down my body. I resisted the urge to hide myself. “Mmm…” He stepped closer, dropping his cloak near the door and settling himself next to me. “I always did envy Er, having such a lovely wife.” Calloused hands pushed aside the top of my robes, exposing the skin of my shoulder. His eyes burned as they traveled from there down to my breast. “Yes… Naamah is pretty in her own way, but I should have been first-born. I should have had you then, and I’ll have you now.”

I didn’t move. I couldn’t move. His fingers caressed, cupped my chest, slid the wool all the way down. I couldn’t find breath to speak. I knew Er. I knew what he wanted and how to handle it. Onan, I knew nothing about. His obsessive gentleness frightened me more than Er’s brusqueness ever did. There was a sickness in his gaze; my skin crawled. “M-my lord, Naamah loves you.”

Onan snorted and pulled his manhood out. I looked away, disgusted. “Naamah loves no one but herself. And now, she is good for nothing until the child is born.” He shoved his knee between my own and lurched above me. I stared dumbly up at his glazed eyes. “But she is with child, while you never will be.”

I didn’t understand until he was finished. Just as I braced myself for that awful shaking, that moment when a man was at his weakest, Onan rolled off. I sat in surprise as he shook silently next to me. “Onan…?”

He rolled over slowly and grinned at me. “I’ll never have a child with you,” he whispered. “You’re good to me so long as you have no sons. Now clean this up. I’ll summon you again.” He stood, arranging himself and stumbling to the adjoining room. Just before he went in, he turned around, ice in his eyes. “Speak nothing of this to Naamah. I want to watch her writhe.”

I’m not sure how long I sat before the little oil lamp. Its light faded and the dim light of pre-dawn brushed the top of the tent before I felt I could move. Even my tears were frozen behind the numbness that was taking over. There, in a wadded piece of wool, lay all Judah’s promises and all my dreams. Onan would use me or his own pleasures, but Naamah would be the only one to ever carry his seed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The trip home was a quiet one. Naamah’s mourning cries followed me as we made our way out, echoing off the hills and in my memory long past the time we’d traveled out of sight. I pulled my shawl tighter around me to keep the summer sun off my face. The few servants I had led me with wary looks and whispered words. I barely looked up. Onan was dead. I didn’t need my silent procession of accusers to tell me who Judah thought responsible. I had his promise that he would come for me in three years’ time to marry Shelah. I laughed to myself. Shelah, sweet Shelah… He would have been a husband unlike the others, young as he was. The boy had compassion and loyalty in place of their cruelty and deceit. Judah had managed to raise one good son. I twisted the bridal ring on my finger, its copper worn from my nervous habit. Judah had one good son, and he’d never risk the boy on me. I had with me my dowry and a few extra things Judah had given to soften the blow. I only hoped Father would not be too disappointed.

The thought of them was my only consolation. The twins would be nearly fifteen by now, nearly men. And my darling Vashti would be almost twelve. I brought their faces to my mind again, trying to add on the years. Judah had sent a message before us, but it would be the first in all the years I’d lived in his household. I watched the rolling plains go past, holding their images tightly in my mind. They were a talisman against the black stares of the servants. Near noon of the second day, I caught a glimpse of rough-cut walls in the distance. The servant nearest to me cheered and the pace picked up. By nightfall, they’d be rid of their unwanted mistress. I only too gladly kept up with them.

Father greeted us a quarter mile from the gates and led us to his summer camp. Work bustled through the tents, as familiar as the day I’d left. For the first time since Er’s death, I felt tears prick my eyes. Someone helped me off my camel and Father walked off to finish arranging things with Judah’s messengers. I watched him go, surprised and relieved at the little changes in him. His back was still straight and his hands still strong, but his beard and hair was nearly white. Still, it was Father.

And then, I was in the shadow of a tent. A young girl stood gracefully, thick curls cascading around her shoulders and framing a pretty little face. An older woman stood as well, her mouth bracketed by deep lines and the corners of her eyes creased. “Tamar… Tamar, is that really you?” the old woman said.

The tears fell. “Mama,” I breathed. I ran to her and buried my face in her chest. “Oh Mama.” She patted my head and held me close, waiting until I’d calmed a little. Gently, I pushed away. “And, that can’t be my little Vashti.”

The girl’s face lit up. “I do remember you! I didn’t think I would, but I do! You used to sing me to sleep and brush my hair for me!”

I held my arms out to her and hugged her tight. “Yes, sweet Vashti. And…” I pulled her away slightly. “I’d like to do that again, if you’re not too grown up.” The child beamed up at me, and I hugged her again. The bitterness pressed against my chest as I held this young woman where a little girl had been. Keturah and Elisheba’s husbands had allowed them to visit their families from time to time; mine had forbidden it, due to a god he didn’t follow. I hated Er all the more, that he would rip me from my home.

“Tamar! Tamar!” I jerked, surprised to hear deep voices calling to me. Mama frowned and I tried to hide my habitual fear. “Tamar!” Two shadows burst into the room smelling strongly of sheep. One stepped back and shoved curls as thick as his sister’s out of his eyes. I stared in shock up at the young man before me. Had I shrunk? The twins were easily three or four inches taller than me! The other stepped back as well. Both wore matching goofy grins beneath the beginnings of their beards.

“Jairus? Baruch?”

The first dipped into an elegant bow, his dark eyes twinkling through the fringe of his hair. “How’d you guess, Sister?”

I laughed, the sound strange to my ears. “A jokester as always, I see, Jairus.”

Baruch took my hand and squeezed it. “We missed you,” he said.

I smiled up at him, my sweet, innocent brother. “I missed you, too. All of you.”

“Well then! You boys need to go clean yourselves, since I’m sure your father will have the servants with the sheep for the rest of the day. And Vashti, go fetch Tamar something to eat.” The three of them hovered for a moment, and my mother flapped at them again. With sheepish grins, they all left.

I watched them go with a bittersweet ache in my chest. “They’ve grown up.”

My mother tugged me down onto the pillows. “So have you, my child.” I couldn’t bear to look at her. Instead, I stared at my folded hands, ashamed of the easy tears. She wiped them away but didn’t make me look at her. “Judah promises you Shelah once he’s of age. This isn’t the end.”

I laughed bitterly. “Two of his sons have already died, and he’s not the only one who thinks I had something to do with it.”

Mama sighed. “How did Er die?”

“A sickness. He caught it just after the locust plague.”

She nodded. “And Onan?”

“A knife wound which festered.”

She picked up my hands and rubbed them gently. “Tamar, how did you have anything to do with that? Did you bring Er the sickness? Did you stab Onan or cause his fever? No. Judah is an honorable man. When Shelah is grown, you shall marry him as well.” I let her think such pleasant thoughts, content to enjoy my mother’s company once again. She didn’t know what had happened like I did. She didn’t see the looks or hear the whispers. She didn’t see the fear on the faces of the tribe of Judah. I watched her out of the corner of my eye, tenderly caring for a daughter she should never have had back in her house. Let her continue in her delusion. I knew the truth. Judah, honor or not, would not sacrifice yet another son to the Canaanite witch. To me.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Jairus brought the news. He burst through the door and fell in a heap against my wall. “Jairus! Gods above, why aren’t you out in the fields?” I stood, suddenly alarmed. “Where are you hurt? Do I need to let Adin know?”

He looked at me with such stunned surprise that I sat back down. “Adin? Why? Wait- no, I’m not hurt.” He grinned and sat up, using his staff to keep from falling down. His chest heaved in the effort to keep his breath. “And by Kotharat, she doesn’t need any more stress, with her time coming.”

I hid the automatic pain at the unintentional reminder. Jairus’s new wife was blossoming with her pregnancy, and I wouldn’t let my own pain hold back his joy in her. It seemed like neither the Israelite god nor my own goddess of marriage and pregnancy wanted to help me. I instead rolled my eyes and returned to my weaving. “Then why are you collapsing in front of me?”

He grinned and sat up straighter. I rolled my eyes, reminded of the eight-year old version of my brother. “Hirah is taking Judah to the sheep shearing.” He grabbed my hands and pulled me to my feet. “Hurry, Tamar. This is your chance! Go to him and ask him to remember his promise to you!”

I stared up at Jairus in wonder. After four years, my family still had such faith in this man. Still, a plan was beginning to form. I hugged Jairus, then shoved him out of my room. “Go back to your work, you little monkey. And thank you. I will go talk to him.” Proud to be helpful, Jairus bounded out the door and back towards the fields.
I watched him leave and, making sure no one else was around, stepped back inside. The plan spun around and around in my head. Would it work? Could I pull it off? I opened the closet and pushed aside my widow’s clothes. There, just behind the coarse wool, were my clothes from before. Rich ambers and oranges and olives, the fabric soft as a breeze compared to my clothes now. I pulled the finest ones out and pulled a veil out of my chest. The silk slid over my fingers, catching on the calluses of weaving. Footsteps hurried past, and I shoved the garments under the sheepskin of my bed. I held my breath, praying to the gods that it wasn’t Baruch coming to tell me what Jairus already had. I wrinkled my nose at the thought of serious Baruch telling me of Judah. While all of them foolishly believed my father-in-law would follow through on his promise, only Jairus thought I should take it into my own hands. The footsteps faded and I sat back in relief. Quickly, before I could doubt myself, I changed into them, tucking the veil into the front of my robes. My widow’s clothes went over-top. I felt a moment’s guilt knowing that Jairus never intended for me to go down this path, then stepped out into the bright spring sunlight. My fate had been sealed eleven years ago when Father sold me to Judah. It was time to collect what he owed me.

I followed Hirah and his men from a safe distance. Once or twice, a man would look backward, but never did he see me. This land was my land. I knew every dip and rise with my eyes closed. Seven years away hadn’t diminished those memories, and I clung to the rocks like the sheep I once guarded. In the distance, I saw the dust from another caravan. My chance had come. Slipping from shadow to shadow, I made my way past Hirah and hurried on to Enaim. Judah and Hirah would meet at the crossroads just before the little town, and I would be waiting for him. I slipped off the coarse woolen robes that marked my status, relieved to let the breezes run through the much thinner wool beneath. Deep voices carried over the plains. They were nearly here. I fastened the veil in place, leaving only my eyes bare. I wanted Judah to look me in the face. Without knowing it, I wanted him to face what he had made me.

As I’d planned, the men passed Enaim near noon. I weaved my way through their masses as I’d watched Er’s harlots do so many years before. I teased and flirted and stole little sips of wine and fermented goat’s milk. The men swayed around me, drunk on drink and the joy of companionship. Slowly, I worked my way to the center of the group. Hirah glanced once at me, then away. Good, even he doesn’t recognize me.

Judah, though, didn’t look away. I smiled, letting it reach my eyes, and took a deep breath. “Oh my lord, how weary you look! Come, come, let me ease your burden before you continue on your journey.”

The others called and teased him, but Judah had eyes only for me. I smiled again, knowing I’d caught him. He followed me back to the roadside, out of the throng of cat-calling fools. “Come now,” he breathed, his eyes just barely glazed over with wine. “Let me sleep with you.”

I batted lashes at him and laughed coyly. “And what will you give me to sleep with you, my lord?”

He looked confused for a moment, and then he brightened. “I’ll send you a young goat from my flock,” he said.

Even within my charade of prostitute, I was stunned. Such a rich price! I held the bitterness at bay. He could afford a young goat for a whore, but he couldn’t spare a son for the daughter-in-law his honor bound him to? I tugged him towards Enaim, towards the room I had rented. “Will you give me something as a pledge until you send it?” My voice sounded forced. I swallowed, trying to regain my air of indifference. “While I’m sure you are an honorable man, I need reassurance that I will be paid.”

He was too drunk to hear the hollowness in my words. Instead, he nodded once and stepped into the shadow of the room. “What pledge should I give you?”

I stepped behind him and shut the door. “Hmm…” I tapped my chin, pretending to think. He waited impatiently, the desire clearly warring with the liquor. I walked behind him and slid my hands under the neck of his robes. He stiffened as I slid them off, pretending to admire him. For a man of his age, Judah was more than attractive. He had the physique of Er but the gentleness in his face that his son never had. His body was leaner than Er’s or Onan’s, but still robust. I let my fingers trail down his arms, enjoying the power I had over him. Power unlike I’d ever had. Power like he and his sons had had over me. “Your seal and its cord, and the staff in your hand.”

“They are yours.” He slid the little clay cylinder over his head and laid it and his staff on the table next to the bed. “Now then, you have been paid.”

I dipped low before him. “So I have been, my lord. Let us begin.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I told Jairus the moment I was sure. It didn’t take long. Compared to my other pregnancies, this one was many times worse. Of everyone, I knew this imp of a brother would be the only one to understand. Now, he and Adin stood by my side, the petite woman holding my hair back as I vomited yet again into the pot. “You can’t hide this much longer, Tamar. You know we can only do so much,” Jairus said, his dark eyes worried.

Adin hushed him. “We will do as much as we can for her, Jairus, or so help me.” I glanced up from the pot to see her green eyes flash at my brother and hid a smile. The pair was well-matched. Mama had chosen the perfect wife for him. Adin’s tiny hand rubbed at the base of my back slowly, but her eyes never left her husband’s face. “You can’t understand what drove her to this, but I can. Leave her be. If you can’t help her, at least pretend not to know. Everyone in town knows that you and Tamar are thick as thieves: if you don’t know something, it doesn’t exist.”

Jairus harrumphed. “Still, isn’t she a little too sick? You weren’t like this, Adin.”

I could feel his worried gaze. Sitting up, I wiped my face and rolled my eyes at him. “Every pregnancy is different, Jair.”

Beside me, Adin frowned. Jairus blanched beneath his tan, stammering, “I-I didn’t mean-”

I cut him off. “I know.” I softened the words with a weak smile. “Now go. A week or so more, and I’ll let word of it be known.”

Suddenly, there was a commotion outside. Jairus started, curls flying as he stuck his head outside. Adin tensed, her free hand circling her massive stomach. I bit my lip, hoping against hope that the cries weren’t what I thought they were. My hopes disappeared like smoke as Father burst into the tent. His eyes blazed as he looked from Jairus to Adin to me. “You- You knew about this?”

“Father--” Jairus began.

Father backhanded him, splitting his lip. I stood, horrified. Father had never lifted a hand to any of us children in such a way before. “Father, it isn’t his fault-”

“Hush,” he snarled, grabbing me by my arm. “I’m doing everything I can to keep you from being stoned right now. Judah is on his way to pronounce judgment upon you.”

My feet slid across the carpets and I tried to shove him off. “Father! Will you listen to me?”

He didn’t turn around, merely shoved me outside. Everyone in town cheered as I covered my eyes. “Whore! Harlot! Prostitute!” they chanted. “Stone her! Stone her!”

Desperate, I turned back to the tent. “Adin, send what we discussed. And hurry!” I caught a glimpse of the hem of her skirt vanishing back into the darkness and prayed she heard me. If not, I was dead, as was my child within me.

My father hid me in his tent, tied wrist and ankle. Guards stood at my door and one sat just opposite of me, his eyes never leaving my face. I hated the look in them. Prostitute, they called me. I cringed as another rotten vegetable hit the side of the tent. The guard obviously thought I was worth it. Only Father’s wrath held him back, I could see it in his eyes. The bile rose in the back of my throat at the thought, and I keeled over the pot just in time. The guard’s nose wrinkled at the smell, but the desire faded from his eyes. I lay panting over my own vomit. No one helped. No one cared.

Dawn rose on the second day. Those at our camp cheered, and I knew Judah was here. Had Adin not taken my message? Judah threw open the flap and glared down at me. I stayed where I was, my mouth crusted with sickness and my limbs devoid of energy. “Bring her out and have her burned to death!”

A sob escaped. The guard stood and dragged me to my feet. Sunlight burned against eyes too long used to the dark. The people cheered. I squinted through the light, just making out the stake and the pile of wood surrounding it. No…No, this can’t be how it ends.

Another sob escaped, ragged and worn.

“Wait!” Judah paused as Jairus shoved through the crowd. They jeered at him, sheep dung and rotted figs hitting him from all sides. “Wait!” he said again, determined to reach us. Judah held out a hand, and the people stilled. Defiant, Jairus held out a staff and a little clay seal. I fell to my knees in relief. Judah stared in growing horror. He turned to me. “What is the meaning of this?”

I smiled up at my brother. How clever were he and Adin, to humiliate Judah before everyone. “I am pregnant by the man who owns these,” I said. My voice carried in the sudden stillness. I pushed myself shakily to my feet, meeting his eyes with a fury all of my own. “See if you recognize whose seal and cord and staff these are.”

The moments crawled by. Judah stared at me. I glared at him. Finally, he took them from Jairus’s hands. “She is more righteous than I, since I wouldn’t give her to my son Shelah.” The crowd gasped, their weapons falling in shock. Judah turned to my father and knelt before him in shame. “Your daughter bears the child of my body, and now my debt to her and to your house has been paid. From this day forth, the child is heir to everything I own. She will live with you and your household, and when I die it shall come to her. So says the servant of Yahweh.” He stood and tore his clothes. Then he left.

I didn’t see Judah or his household again until many, many years later.


The time came for the children to be born. Early in the pregnancy, I had discovered that Judah had gifted me with twins. Adin stood at my right, and my mother at my left, as the midwife instructed me to push. I screamed, the pain ripping through my thighs and up through my womb. “There, child! Push!” the lady crooned. “I see… I see an arm!” She tied a scarlet thread around the little wrist. “This one came out first.” My mother squeezed my hand, but a wrenching filled my stomach. I screamed again, rocking forward on my heels. Something pushed, shoved against me, and then there was the release of pressure. “A son!” the midwife crowed, holding up a squalling purple mess. She gave him to Adin, then frowned. “But he bears no scarlet thread. So this is how you come out.”

“Name him Perez,” I grunted. Adin nodded and took him aside to clean him. I grunted and pushed, nearing the end of my strength.

“One more! One more, my dear. He’s almost here.”

And with a gush of fluid, my second son was born. “Name him Zerah, for he has arisen to free me from my pain.”


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

1500 years in the future

“Yeshua, James, sit still!” The older boy sat up and folded his hands in his lap, big brown eyes watching his mother. The younger glanced at his brother, made a face, and threw a block at his head.

“Ouch! James, we need to obey Mama!”

“Yeshua’s being a goody-goody again!”

Mary closed her eyes in a silent plea for patience. “Boys! Sit still, or I’ll get your father.” The boys immediately sat straighter, though James cast a glower at his brother. “Now then, this is the genealogy of our family: Abraham was the father of Isaac, Isaac the father of Jacob, Jacob the father of Judah and his brothers, Judah the father of Perez and Zerah, whose mother was Tamar, Perez the father of-”

“Mama,” James interrupted. “Why are there women listed in our genealogy? Everyone knows women are nothing.” He smirked at Yeshua, waiting for his brother to take the bait.

Instead, his mother flicked his ear. The little boy yelped. “Tamar and the other women in our genealogy are there because they are examples of what God can do with terrible situations. Have I never told you the story of Tamar?

Yeshua shook his head and scooted closer, little face bright with excitement. “No, Mama. Will you tell it to us now?”

She smiled down at him and ran her fingers through the soft waves of his hair. “It was a time long ago, before the tribes were known as tribes. Judah, one of Isaac’s twelve sons, left his father’s protection in search of a wife…”

Genesis 38

At that time, Judah left his brothers and went down to stay with a man of Adullam named Hirah. 2 There Judah met the daughter of a Canaanite man named Shua. He married her and made love to her; 3 she became pregnant and gave birth to a son, who was named Er. 4 She conceived again and gave birth to a son and named him Onan. 5 She gave birth to still another son and named him Shelah. It was at Kezib that she gave birth to him.

6 Judah got a wife for Er, his firstborn, and her name was Tamar. 7 But Er, Judah’s firstborn, was wicked in the Lord’s sight; so the Lord put him to death.
8 Then Judah said to Onan, “Sleep with your brother’s wife and fulfill your duty to her as a brother-in-law to raise up offspring for your brother.” 9 But Onan knew that the child would not be his; so whenever he slept with his brother’s wife, he spilled his semen on the ground to keep from providing offspring for his brother. 10 What he did was wicked in the Lord’s sight; so the Lord put him to death also.

11 Judah then said to his daughter-in-law Tamar, “Live as a widow in your father’s household until my son Shelah grows up.” For he thought, “He may die too, just like his brothers.” So Tamar went to live in her father’s household.

12 After a long time Judah’s wife, the daughter of Shua, died. When Judah had recovered from his grief, he went up to Timnah, to the men who were shearing his sheep, and his friend Hirah the Adullamite went with him.

13 When Tamar was told, “Your father-in-law is on his way to Timnah to shear his sheep,”14 she took off her widow’s clothes, covered herself with a veil to disguise herself, and then sat down at the entrance to Enaim, which is on the road to Timnah. For she saw that, though Shelah had now grown up, she had not been given to him as his wife.

15 When Judah saw her, he thought she was a prostitute, for she had covered her face.16 Not realizing that she was his daughter-in-law, he went over to her by the roadside and said, “Come now, let me sleep with you.”

“And what will you give me to sleep with you?” she asked.

17 “I’ll send you a young goat from my flock,” he said.

“Will you give me something as a pledge until you send it?” she asked.

18 He said, “What pledge should I give you?”

“Your seal and its cord, and the staff in your hand,” she answered. So he gave them to her and slept with her, and she became pregnant by him. 19 After she left, she took off her veil and put on her widow’s clothes again.

20 Meanwhile Judah sent the young goat by his friend the Adullamite in order to get his pledge back from the woman, but he did not find her. 21 He asked the men who lived there, “Where is the shrine prostitute who was beside the road at Enaim?”

“There hasn’t been any shrine prostitute here,” they said.

22 So he went back to Judah and said, “I didn’t find her. Besides, the men who lived there said, ‘There hasn’t been any shrine prostitute here.’”

23 Then Judah said, “Let her keep what she has, or we will become a laughingstock. After all, I did send her this young goat, but you didn’t find her.”

24 About three months later Judah was told, “Your daughter-in-law Tamar is guilty of prostitution, and as a result she is now pregnant.”

Judah said, “Bring her out and have her burned to death!”

25 As she was being brought out, she sent a message to her father-in-law. “I am pregnant by the man who owns these,” she said. And she added, “See if you recognize whose seal and cord and staff these are.”

26 Judah recognized them and said, “She is more righteous than I, since I wouldn’t give her to my son Shelah.” And he did not sleep with her again.

27 When the time came for her to give birth, there were twin boys in her womb. 28 As she was giving birth, one of them put out his hand; so the midwife took a scarlet thread and tied it on his wrist and said, “This one came out first.” 29 But when he drew back his hand, his brother came out, and she said, “So this is how you have broken out!” And he was named Perez. 30 Then his brother, who had the scarlet thread on his wrist, came out. And he was named Zerah.

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 10.01.2013

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