Chapter 102 Ur
Two days later, Abram's caravan returned to Ur by flat-bottomed boats.
The Euphrates River flowed gently, joining the Hidghe River downstream, the two adjacent rivers forming a vast and fertile land.
If Nimrod occupied the most advantageous central section of the plain, then Ur was situated precisely at the very edge of this continent.
It was small and inconspicuous, yet incredibly wealthy due to its natural harbor.
Abram traveled smoothly southeastward with the northwest wind, finally landing at a port in Chaldea. Along the way, he was greeted by many. His clan was a prominent family in Ur, and his father, Terah, was the patriarch of this sparsely populated town. Under Terah's rule, the town was prosperous, trade was brisk, and the streets were orderly.
Looking at the peaceful scene, his heart grew increasingly worried, unsure how to explain his younger brother's misfortune to his elderly father.
Sure enough, shortly after returning home, news arrived from Abram of Haran's death. The entire tribe was deeply saddened, except for Terah, whose attitude surprised Abram.
"Harah was rebellious, boasting of his bravery, spending his days with such dissolute friends. I should have known this day would come," Terah said silently, tears streaming down his face, though his expression remained relatively calm.
Abram couldn't believe his brother had died at Nimrod's hands, and his father's attitude was so different. He looked at Terah in disbelief.
"But he killed Haran!"
"What else could we do! King Nimrod has tens of thousands of soldiers; how could we possibly stand against them!" Terah said, slamming his staff on his hand.
"So, are we really going to send a hundred men from our tribe to build the tower?"
"The rest of the land has been given away, why is it only Wu'er who rebels?"
"He has fought and killed for many years, never winning a battle. His reputation is illustrious, and he commands countless slaves. Why would he really care about a mere hundred young strongmen from our tribe?" As if the more he spoke, the more reasonable he seemed, and his face showed regret. "If I hadn't listened to you and sent someone sooner, King Ninglu wouldn't hold a grudge now."
"Now, only if I go to see him myself, abandoning my old face, and discuss some old ties with him, can I ensure the peace of our tribe."
"Father!"
"You don't need to say anything more! I've known King Ninglu for decades, and I know him better than you do. If you don't anger him, he will protect you."
"Protect you so he can slaughter my entire tribe!" Abram sneered.
"You shouldn't be prejudiced against him, Abram," Terah's eyes saw through his son's thoughts. "This world is no longer ours; you need to wake from the dreams of your ancestors."
"Recognizing the facts and being down-to-earth is better than anything else," Terah said wearily. He knew his eldest son appeared refined, but his heart was the most troubled of his three sons.
But Terah lacked that ambition. He was old and only wanted to live a peaceful life in Ur.
He had spent decades transforming this barren, muddy land into the prosperous place it was today.
But his sons were all arrogant, Abram was, Haran was even more radical, and Nahor, the only one like him, was not as astute as his two brothers.
"You are destined to take my place, Abram. Settle down," the old man said. "You should think more about your home than the outside world."
"While you've been away, Sarai has been running around every day, either waiting for you at the port or inquiring at the post stations about any returning caravans."
"Spend more time with your wife. You are no longer young, yet you have no children… If one day you suffer the same fate as Haran…"
Abram emerged from his study with a somber expression. He saw his nephew Lot weeping in the garden.
Abram remembered his reply to his father in the study: "I can treat Lot as my son."
Lot was Haran's only son, just ten years old.
He wasn't lying; he was forty, and this was the only nephew he truly cared for.
Abram patted Lot's head. The boy, feeling comforted, looked up at him, his eyes red-rimmed.
"Uncle…"
"Why are you crying here all alone?"
"They say I've lost my father, and no one can protect me anymore. I'm so scared," Lot said.
"Don't cry, I'm here. No one can bully you," he said, his eyes deep, as if he were forcing the words out from between his teeth.
Nimrod was tyrannical, and his father held onto his hopes, but he could see that the tyrant had long lost all semblance of virtue. Even if he went to show weakness, he would probably only invite ridicule.
But Ur was merely a small city in Shinar; how could he possibly contend with the entire king of Shinar?
He was filled with melancholy, but he couldn't share these thoughts with the child. After comforting his nephew with a few words, he immediately summoned his trusted servants.
Although Ur was young, he owned hundreds of acres of fertile land and thousands of cattle and sheep. During his conversation with Nimrod in the palace, every word he uttered revealed his greed for the land's wealth.
King Nimrod possessed the entire world; what could he not obtain?
From Nineveh in the north to Assyria in the west, and to Elam in the east, all of Shinar was under his control.
When Nimrod distributed lands to those who followed him in pioneering the lands, everyone received a large tract, except for his father. Nimrod, taking advantage of his father's kindness and weakness, only granted him the small land of Ur as a reward.
Simply because they were Semitic.
'I have a feeling my father's journey will not be peaceful; I must make thorough arrangements, no matter what,' thought Abram thought.
Thinking this, he secretly gathered the men of his tribe. Of the three hundred men, one hundred would accompany his father, one hundred would travel with him disguised as merchants, and the last hundred would be secretly armed to guard the family and their belongings.
Having given these instructions, it was nearly nightfall when he finally dragged his body, covered in cold dew, back to his dwelling.
At midnight, only a single lamp illuminated the dim light in the room.
In this gloom, Sarai was the only color.
His wife was the most beautiful woman in Ur, a beauty unmatched throughout the land of Shinar. They had admired each other since childhood, and many envied Abram for it.
Sarai was removing her earrings. Seeing her husband return, she didn't rise, but instead pursed her lips.
"I heard Father let you come back this afternoon. Why are you only back now?"
Abram didn't answer. He didn't want to burden his family with his anxieties until things were clear. Fortunately, Sarai was used to his occasional silences, and she changed the subject.
"I heard you're planning to adopt Lot?"
"That child is truly pitiful," Abram said, walking behind her to remove the heavy jewelry from her head.
"Isn't it because I can't bear you children?" Sarai glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.
"Of course not, my princess," Abram placed her pendant aside and patted her fair, radiant hand.
"I don't care about having children," he said, but in truth, he wasn't indifferent. Sarai, however, was spoiled by her beauty and would throw a tantrum at the slightest provocation.
Late at night, Abram didn't want to waste his energy appeasing his wife.
Sarai nuzzled his face contentedly. "I've got my eye on a piece of jewelry."
"You can buy whatever you want," he said. His extravagance, like Sarai's beauty, was renowned throughout Ur.
"I know you're good to me, Abram," she whispered softly against him. Her husband had been out for a while, and she hinted.
"I'll wear it for you after I buy it, or maybe not…that's fine too."
But Abram's mind conjured up images of King Nimrod's outrageous behavior. Looking at his beautiful wife, he felt no lust, and in fact, a slight aversion to the affair.
"I'm tired, let's rest," he said, gently rejecting Sarai's advances.
You provided the author, Twilight, with the arduous story of how a world was created in [Hebrew Mythology].