Free Rachel and Leah (Women of Genesis) by Orson Scott Card Page B

terror of their tongues; how others never raised their voice, but had trained their men to be alert to every nuance of their mood. Those quiet ones, it was amazing to watch them. It took only a hint of disappointment and their man would be all over himself trying to find out what was wrong, how had he disappointed her.
    Even the bullies were often under some woman’s control. Some of them struck their wives and even beat them, as the law allowed, but they had Laban to keep them from going too far, and between beatings, those same women still got theirway about a lot of things. Though Zilpah still had contempt for them—why would they let a man hit them a second time? Didn’t they have any knowledge of the herbs that would put a stop to that at once? She said this to her mother once, and got a slap for her trouble.
    “Or will you poison me now because I hit you?” whispered her mother.
    “Why did you slap me?” Zilpah asked.
    “Because even to think of murder is wicked. An offense to God!”
    “If a man beats another man, then it’s honorable for the beaten man to get his friends together and kill the man who humiliated him. But if a man beats a woman, it’s wicked for her to take the vengeance that is within
her
reach?”
    “Poison is vile and sneaky, and it’s done cold, not in the heat of anger.”
    “Oh, if a man ever beat me like Chadek beats Tamaleh, I’d keep my anger hot enough.”
    “And how would you keep from poisoning the whole camp?”
    “I wouldn’t,” said Zilpah. “I’d make sure to eat a little of it myself, enough to get very sick.”
    Her mother looked at her in horror. “Have you thought so much about it? What kind of monster have I raised?”
    “God made women smaller than men, so we can’t fight them as equals. We can’t divorce them and send them away; we can’t even leave them, because where would a runaway woman go, except to be a prostitute or a priestess? But we’re just as much alive as any man. We have our honor, too.”
    “The honor of a woman comes from the love and respect of her husband.”
    “Exactly,” said Zilpah. “Tamaleh gets
none
from her husband, so he deserves none from her.” She did not add, What love and respect do you get from yours?
    Oh, Zilpah was sure she knew all about men, despite her mother’s assurance that she had “no idea of what goes on between a woman and a man, and I mean to
keep
it that way until you’re married.”
    Except this Jacob. He did not seem to be a brutal, bragging man, though he was obviously strong and tall. The kind of man who didn’t have to fight because few would dare to fight him; the kind who didn’t love to fight, and so if he was left alone, he left others alone as well. That much could be told from the way he talked to Reuel, a mere steward—so simply and quietly, explaining how he came from his mother’s house after being blessed by his father with the birthright blessing.
    “It was bound to provoke Esau,” said Jacob. “Better not to stay where he might look for vengeance.”
    “But if you don’t stay there,” said Reuel, “won’t your father’s men follow Esau, taking all your father’s flocks and herds, the moment the great Isaac dies?—may God delay the day.”
    “If God wants me to have flocks and herds, and men also,” said Jacob, “then I’ll have them.”
    Reuel nodded wisely, but Zilpah knew enough about the man to guess that he was thinking that this Jacob was insane.
    “The birthright that I have is the one that matters,” said Jacob. “Tell Laban that I have the holy books.”
    Reuel nodded wisely. Clearly he had no idea what Jacob was talking about.
    “Tell Laban that I inherit the blessings of Abraham and Isaac.”
    Reuel finally had to admit his ignorance. “And which of their blessings might these be?” Zilpah could almost hear what he must be thinking: It’s certain that these “blessings” don’t include flocks, herds, lands, servants, tents, or worldly goods of any