Sarah by Marek Halter Read Free Book Online Page B

women. Next, a slave handed each of them a white cloth with yellow stripes with which they wiped themselves before draping it over their tunic.
    Finally, the men separated from the women and took their places at table, their distance from the dais depending on their rank. None looked at Sarai, or paid her the least attention. The women, though, all passed before her. They did not so much salute her as look her up and down, reserving their lengthy comments on her appearance for later. The ceremony lasted two long hours. When they were all seated, Ichbi Sum-Usur and Kiddin went to the altar of the ancestors to make libations and prayers. Then Sarai’s father returned to his guests and, opening his arms, welcomed everyone in a loud voice and declared that the gods in the heaven of Ur wanted them to quench their thirst and take their pleasure in honor of the thirst and the pleasure that his daughter Sarai would soon know, as a true
munus
.

    A CHORUS of a dozen young women sang tirelessly at the foot of the dais, dancers twirled between the guests and the tables, musicians beat drums and blew into flutes. All of them seemed impervious to the heat, although the canopies that protected the guests from the burning sun also trapped the air inside the courtyard. There was not a breath of wind to displace the powerful odors of scents and food. Sarai found it impossible to eat, and she had already drunk as much as she could. The kaolin on her cheeks and forehead grew heavier as it absorbed her sweat. She felt suffocated.
    Next to her, her aunts, like the rest of the guests, were consuming large amounts of beer, honeyed wine, and food. Fanning themselves with wicker fans, they chattered and guffawed at the tops of their voices. On the men’s side, it was the same. In fact, nobody was paying the slightest attention to the endless chants, whose words seemed all too obviously intended for Sarai alone.
    Abruptly, the chants stopped. The dancers froze, and the slaves put down the jars. Ichbi Sum-Usur dismissed his court with an abrupt gesture. Only the music of the drums and flutes continued to ring out as all eyes turned to the entrance.
    Sarai saw him as soon as he entered the courtyard.
    Him, the man who wanted her as his wife.
    Without realizing it, she had sat up to get a better look at him. It was hard to see him clearly in the shade of the canopies. He was advancing slowly behind an older man, presumably his father. At first sight, he looked quite tall and moved with a self-confident gait.
    She opened her mouth, but felt suddenly as though her body had forgotten to breathe. Her heart was hammering against her ribs, and her hands were shaking. She hid them in the folds of her toga.
    The bridegroom’s father seemed to be taking pleasure in advancing with exasperating slowness. All the guests, both men and women, were saluting them respectfully as they passed. Sarai thought she heard a murmur of approval, but perhaps it was only the blood humming in her ears.
    And yet, as the two men approached, a joyful smile spread over her face. She could see him better now. He had a strong neck and broad shoulders on a slender body. His hair was thick and curly and gathered in a bun held in place by a silver clasp. He already had a beard; quite a bushy one, too. He was a man. The way he swung his arms, the confident way he moved: yes, a man. Not a child, not even a boy like Kiddin.
    Sarai heard the barely contained praises of her aunts as father and son presented themselves before the basin of scent. With measured gestures, the two men sprinkled their faces.
    She could see him quite clearly now. Straight eyebrows, a thin, hooked nose, mouth as distinct as a line between the curls of his beard, long lashes that almost veiled his eyes, calves and feet clearly visible below his linen toga with its threads of red and blue, solid ankles elegantly gripped by the leather straps of his sandals: Everything about him was noble. He was everything a