fixed upon his eldest son. “The sheep don’t prosper in your care. Nor does your wife.”
Tamar felt the heat flood her face and then drain away as her husband and mother-in-law turned their attention to her. Both spoke at once. Er called her a foul name, while Bathshua came to his swift defense. “She has no right to complain!” Bathshua said, glaring at her.
“Tamar hasn’t uttered a word of complaint,” Judah said coldly, “but anyone with half a brain and eyes in his head can see the treatment she receives at your son’s hands.”
“If you’re wondering about the bruise on her face, Father, she fell against the door a few days ago. Didn’t you, Tamar? Tell him! ”
“Perhaps you tripped her the same way you tripped that blind man along the road.”
Er paled, but his eyes were like hot coals. “You’re not going to take away what’s mine.”
“You still don’t understand, Er, do you? Nothing belongs to you unless I say it does.”
Tamar had never heard Judah speak so quietly or so coldly and with such authority. In this frame of mind, he was a man to be respected and feared. For the first time since she had entered his household, she admired him. She hoped he wouldn’t weaken.
“Nothing will be taken from my hand unless I offer it,” Judah said, his look encompassing Bathshua and her sons. “I gathered you here tonight to tell you that the one who proves himself the best shepherd will inherit my flocks.”
“Is this a test?” Er was contemptuous. “Is that it?” He sneered. “Give the flocks to Onan now, if it pleases you, Father. Do you think it’ll matter in the end? Onan is better with sheep, but I am better with a sword!”
“Do you see what you’ve done?” Bathshua cried out. “You’ve turned my sons against each other.”
“After I’m gone, it’s God who will decide what will happen.”
“Yes,” Er said, lifting his head as well as his cup. “Let the gods decide!” Wine sloshed over his hand as he proposed a toast. “In praise to the gods of Canaan! I vow to give my first daughter to the temple in Timnah and my first son to the fires of Molech!”
Tamar uttered a cry of despair at the same time Judah rose in anger. “No!”
She couldn’t breathe. Would she conceive and bear children only to see them die in the flames of Topheth or perform intercourse on a public altar?
Er’s pride burned white-hot. He rose as well and faced his father defiantly. “Do you think I care what you do? My brothers will follow me, Father. They will do as I do, or I will—” He stopped as though the breath had been drawn from him. His face changed; his eyes widened with fear. The cup dropped from his hand, splashing a red stain down the front of his fine tunic. He clutched at his chest.
Bathshua screamed. “Do something, Judah! Help him! ”
Er tried to speak and couldn’t. He clawed at his throat as though trying to pull hands away. Shelah, who had awakened at his mother’s screaming, scrambled back, crying, while Onan watched Er drop to his knees. Judah reached out to his son, but Er pitched forward and fell facedown into the platter of roasted meat. He lay still.
“Er!” Bathshua said. “Oh, Er! ”
Tamar was trembling violently, her heart galloping. She knew she should go to her husband’s aid, but she was too afraid to move.
Bathshua pushed at Judah. “Leave my son alone. This is your fault!”
Judah shoved Bathshua back and went down on one knee. He put his hand against his son’s neck. When he drew back, Tamar saw her own terror mirrored in his eyes. “He’s dead.”
“He can’t be!” Bathshua said, pushing forward, falling to her knees beside Er. “You’re wrong, Judah. He’s drunk. He’s just . . .”
When Bathshua managed to roll him over, she saw his face and screamed.
THREE
Tamar wept with Judah’s family during the formal mourning period. Judah was convinced God had struck down his firstborn son, and Bathshua, refusing to believe it, was
Tamar felt the heat flood her face and then drain away as her husband and mother-in-law turned their attention to her. Both spoke at once. Er called her a foul name, while Bathshua came to his swift defense. “She has no right to complain!” Bathshua said, glaring at her.
“Tamar hasn’t uttered a word of complaint,” Judah said coldly, “but anyone with half a brain and eyes in his head can see the treatment she receives at your son’s hands.”
“If you’re wondering about the bruise on her face, Father, she fell against the door a few days ago. Didn’t you, Tamar? Tell him! ”
“Perhaps you tripped her the same way you tripped that blind man along the road.”
Er paled, but his eyes were like hot coals. “You’re not going to take away what’s mine.”
“You still don’t understand, Er, do you? Nothing belongs to you unless I say it does.”
Tamar had never heard Judah speak so quietly or so coldly and with such authority. In this frame of mind, he was a man to be respected and feared. For the first time since she had entered his household, she admired him. She hoped he wouldn’t weaken.
“Nothing will be taken from my hand unless I offer it,” Judah said, his look encompassing Bathshua and her sons. “I gathered you here tonight to tell you that the one who proves himself the best shepherd will inherit my flocks.”
“Is this a test?” Er was contemptuous. “Is that it?” He sneered. “Give the flocks to Onan now, if it pleases you, Father. Do you think it’ll matter in the end? Onan is better with sheep, but I am better with a sword!”
“Do you see what you’ve done?” Bathshua cried out. “You’ve turned my sons against each other.”
“After I’m gone, it’s God who will decide what will happen.”
“Yes,” Er said, lifting his head as well as his cup. “Let the gods decide!” Wine sloshed over his hand as he proposed a toast. “In praise to the gods of Canaan! I vow to give my first daughter to the temple in Timnah and my first son to the fires of Molech!”
Tamar uttered a cry of despair at the same time Judah rose in anger. “No!”
She couldn’t breathe. Would she conceive and bear children only to see them die in the flames of Topheth or perform intercourse on a public altar?
Er’s pride burned white-hot. He rose as well and faced his father defiantly. “Do you think I care what you do? My brothers will follow me, Father. They will do as I do, or I will—” He stopped as though the breath had been drawn from him. His face changed; his eyes widened with fear. The cup dropped from his hand, splashing a red stain down the front of his fine tunic. He clutched at his chest.
Bathshua screamed. “Do something, Judah! Help him! ”
Er tried to speak and couldn’t. He clawed at his throat as though trying to pull hands away. Shelah, who had awakened at his mother’s screaming, scrambled back, crying, while Onan watched Er drop to his knees. Judah reached out to his son, but Er pitched forward and fell facedown into the platter of roasted meat. He lay still.
“Er!” Bathshua said. “Oh, Er! ”
Tamar was trembling violently, her heart galloping. She knew she should go to her husband’s aid, but she was too afraid to move.
Bathshua pushed at Judah. “Leave my son alone. This is your fault!”
Judah shoved Bathshua back and went down on one knee. He put his hand against his son’s neck. When he drew back, Tamar saw her own terror mirrored in his eyes. “He’s dead.”
“He can’t be!” Bathshua said, pushing forward, falling to her knees beside Er. “You’re wrong, Judah. He’s drunk. He’s just . . .”
When Bathshua managed to roll him over, she saw his face and screamed.
THREE
Tamar wept with Judah’s family during the formal mourning period. Judah was convinced God had struck down his firstborn son, and Bathshua, refusing to believe it, was
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